THE DISAPPEARANCE OF MICHELLE
By: Marcia Rice Fleetwood
"What a pity!" The old man snorted as he slammed the heavy coffee mug down on the table and gave his young waitress a look as harsh as his tone. "Read about it in the paper last month. What a pity." He repeated, again searching the small diner to summon the attendant with his glance. "I knew the family."
Recognizing his glance, Michelle headed toward the counter to retrieve the coffee pot. Her soft white oxfords squeaking as she crossed the freshly mopped floor.
The grill's burner and the flame to the french fryers had been lowered in wait for the suppertime crowd. Marjory Sutter, the restaurant owner's third wife, had stepped out of the kitchen for conversation during the daily "slow time".
Mr. Sutter, who would have frowned at the remarks of his Mrs., would never have allowed her the opportunity to consort with his customers. He had gone for the day in search of his fishing pole, barking something about the catfish 'aught to be a bittin' with the storm clouds a sittin' low overhead.
Marjory had thought of herself as clever to urge a conversation regarding the Tempest girl's disappearance the past month. However, the only thing she had accomplished was to rile an old farmer who had wondered in from the corn harvest and out of a certain afternoon rain, for a cup of coffee and a slice of the restaurant's famous Rhubarb pie.
Michelle gave the old man a perky smile. "More coffee, Mr. Jacobs?" He nodded, "Yup...just a warmer."
"There go." The young waitress responded, receiving an appreciative wink for her attentiveness.
She took pride in being alert to her customer's needs. Her efforts not only gave her the reputation of being good at her job...it assured decent tips...for which she would squander away in a grease jar.
She was saving all her extra pocket change for a down payment on a used car. Not that there was anyplace she had a particular itch to go to--she just wanted the ways and the means if the desire ever hit her.
Michelle Atwood led rather a simple life--existing entirely within walking distance of her single room apartment above Jenkin's Five and Dime. She had called Ameara, Tennessee her home for all her twenty-three years.
Her parents had been killed in a Railroad accident barely five years before and her younger brother had spirited off with friends early one morning shortly there after. Even with all the heartache that left her to face life alone, she felt she was amidst family in the small rural town of Ameara, Where the familiar faces of friends and neighbors provided her security and a sense of belonging, though there were no one in her age group that had stayed beyond high school.
Again Marjory commented, trying to hold onto an unwelcome conversation. "The young girl's mother was just in a few days ago. Still no word about what became of her. I personally think she ran off with one of the Semi drivers that pass through here from time to time off the throughway."
Mr. Jacobs voice sounded with irritation,as if in defense of the missing girl's character. Without looking away from his coffee mug, he denied the possibility. "Not that girl...Katherine Tempest hadn't a thought such as it would have took to have hopped cab with the likes of what passes through these parts, leaving her dear mother to waste away with a broken heart. They are inclined to believe she's met up with wrong doin'."
"I'm supposin' everybody's got some speculation about her bein' gone." Marjory paused to catch her reflection in the stainless steel drink mixer over the counter. Repining a curl that had fallen lose at the nap of her neck, she urged Michelle to comment. "I'm supposin' you got your own theory, Miss Atwood, Let's hear it."
Michelle glanced towards her customer with sympathy for his obvious familiarity with the girl's family and with apology that he should have to be subjected to such inconsiderate remarks by Marjory Sutter. "I've not given it any thought..much." She corrected. "I can say, however, I should like to believe she will turn up soon, and with good reason for causing her family to worry. I pray that she has not fallen victim to any crime."
Marjory hissed, "There could be no good reason now...too much time has passed without so much as a word. Wrong doin' or just plain doin' wrong, whatever the case may be...I say the Tempest girl left of her own will. Girls are subject to perversion just the same as men."
Her comment had shocked Mr. Jacobs into silence, Michelle commented no further out of disgust for the topic of perversions. No doubt Marjory Sutter could teach them all a thing or two about the misdeeds of men and women.
With his coffee mug resting with it's top side down, the old farmer set out for the field in an easy wet mist that was no threat to man or crop. He had had his fill of distasteful conversation that was as sour as his pie and as strong as the coffee.
The young waitress stole away into the privy to freshen her ash blond hair and make-up before facing the rush of about a dozen regulars wanting their fill of good old fashioned home cookin'. She couldn't help but to ponder on the disappearance of the seventeen year old Tempest girl who vanished without a trace and without a clue. Michelle indeed wanted to believe the girl had ran off to live a more colorful life in some fantastic city, somewhere else--any where else, or perhaps she had been seduced by some handsome and romantic man who had offered her the moon should she fly away with him quickly, and without hesitation or regret.
As exciting as this sounded to Michelle, she hoped it only for someone else. She knew in her heart she could never leave for fear her brother would one day happen by for a visit and would be greeted by sorrow at not having found his sister. She neither had the ambition or the funds to scamp away from the only place that comforted her.
Glancing in the clouded mirror, Michelle sighed at the dullness of her own existence and the paleness of her sun deprived complexion, smiling at herself for her thoughts. In some strange way she was truly satisfied with her choices with the only exception of having no peers. Male or Female.
Her desire to have a companion for even the idlest of chit-chat of common interest was all that was lack in her surroundings. Not even to mention the fact that a touch or a kiss from a gentleman of her age would be regarded as divine.
Only one man even came close to fitting the bill, the Deputy Sheriff from the next town over. Deputy Ronald Hastings. He was a far cry from handsome, and she had passed on his awkward attempts at asking her out on dates, but as of last month, when thoughts of a young Katherine eagerly giving her innocents to an adventurous lover, filled her heart with the desire for romance and her body with need for masculine touch, she had reconsidered his offer and was willing to tell him so. The idea of accepting his advances no longer seemed as though it would be settling for any thing short of second best.
Michelle had hoped for his patronage at the diner ever since she had set her mind in favor of his suggestion for a movie or a drive, but he hadn't shown. Not even on Saturday Afternoon when the Sheriff stopped in for a donut and 'a cup t' go' on his way through Ameara.
"You gonna take up housekeepin' in there?" Marjory called sarcastically. "I suppose I could just go in the dish water."
"No need." Michelle sounded, a bit taken by the woman's rudeness. "I'm finished."
The evening played hell with her nerves. She watched the door for the Deputy as much as she watched the clock for her cue to leave for home, half hoping for the later. The night as well as the talk of the harvest and the rain seemed to wear on endlessly.
Finally, Michelle was able to wish Mrs. Sutter a good night. With the jingle of her tips in her apron pocket she started off for her apartment, nibbling on an egg salad sandwich while crossing the darkened and vacant street.
As she neared the alleyway to the steps that led to her apartment a voice timidly called out to her. "Hey...Michelle...Is that you?"
Michelle's eyes darted down the alleyway and again on the street for some visual sign as to who was calling her name. There was no one.
As she reached the top of the wooden stair provided for her a private entry to her room, again she heard a soft voice requesting her to take notice. "Michelle...I've been waiting for you to get off work...Come here."
Her bright blue eyes studied the shadows amidst the watery pavement, streaked with the colors of a nearby streetlamp. "Come into the light." She asked, listening with intensity for so much as a foot shift.
"Michelle...I've been waiting here all evening for you to come home...step down from the stair and join me here...I beg of you...come to me."
"Where are you? Who are you?" She insisted, unfamiliar with the voice that was beckoning for her to descend the stair. She hesitated for an answer that did not come promptly. Quickly the young waitress unlatched her door and stepped inside.
This was the last time Miss Michelle Atwood of Ameara, Tennessee was seen...alive.
Two young boys, defying their parents orders to go to bed, were leaning from a nearby window smoking a cigar stolen from their father, told the Sheriff and his Deputy that they had heard the woman calling to someone down below the stair, though, they neither heard nor saw an intruder. They also claim that they saw Michelle enter the apartment above the Discount Department Store, alone.
Upon their investigation they found among the ordinary items of practical and daily living...a half eaten egg salad sandwich...a grease jar containing four hundred, twelve dollars and eight cents...and an apron containing a tissue, a piece of peppermint candy, and a handful of change. There were no clues as to her whereabouts or why she had chosen to abandon all her worldly belongings including her scant financial resources.
A new crop of speculations sprang up to haunt the town with stories of Michelle's mysterious disappearance, some believing the two missing women met with the same end.
Mr. Jenkins boarded up Miss Atwood's old sleeping room after the incident and kept it boarded for nearly a decade before letting it to a young single mother and her two small children.
To date, the young mother insists the ghost of a young Blonde woman can be seen ascending and descending the exterior staircase on dark and quiet nights when a fine mist of rain is in the Autumn air. Perhaps the ghost of Michelle Atwood reliving her last moments on this earth?
One can, of course, only speculate as to why Ronald Hastings lost his position with the Sheriff's department and has never married. Neighbors of the former Sheriff's Deputy claim he has become mentally unstable. It seems, he has taken to the notion, that a beautiful, female apparition is desirous of him and demands all of his time and touch. He is often heard making idol conversation to an unseen companion. While other times he is seen about town seemingly enjoying the attentions of his invisible lover, for whom he lovingly calls Bev.
If you ever find yourself in Southern Tennessee, in the vicinity of State Road 45, and the Ameara Exit. There is a hometown diner that serves a fabulous Rhubarb Pie. It is said to be a true and certain fact that the ghostly sound of a satisfied sigh can be heard shortly prior to the evening rush, along with the gentle squeak of soft soled shoes against a newly cleaned floor, and your coffee mug is never allowed to grow cold.
While you are there be sure to ask your waitress, her name. She might tell you her name is Katherine Tempest-Alt. As it seems the teen came home with her new husband and baby daughter, and took a position at the Sutter's Diner, three years following the disappearance of Michelle.
