November 17, 2011

Dad came back downstairs while Catherine was eating the pancakes he made. He was wearing his suit. He seemed calmer now.

"Do you want some pancakes before you go?" she asked nervously, worried of another outburst.

He looked at her with a vacant expression. All except his eyes. He looked so sad. "Best not," he answered, swallowing back whatever else he might have wanted to say.

"What did I do?" she asked. Christ, she felt like a little girl again, not understanding why her daddy didn't want her.

"I'd rather not talk about it," he answered gruffly. "I'll be back in time for dinner. I'll make something for us. To…to make up for missing breakfast."

Catherine just nodded solemnly. "The pancakes are really good, though."

He softened, very nearly smiling. "Good. Enjoy. I'll see you later. We can…we can put all this behind us." And with that, he got his car keys from the front table and left.

That was just like him, wasn't it? Just push through. Keep calm and carry on and all that old wartime bullshit. He was suppressing every feeling. Well, not every feeling. He'd lost it when she'd mentioned sweet tea, throwing the pan in the sink in a terrifying, violent fashion. And Catherine had no idea why. She had no idea what would set him off, what would upset him. He wouldn't talk to her. She wanted to help. She wanted him to process this and feel better and move on with his life. He was getting old. Wasn't it time he found a little happiness?

Catherine resigned herself in that moment not to leave until her dad was okay. Which honestly might mean that she'd be living in that house with him for the rest of his life. And she really didn't want to do that. So she needed to figure something out.

She finished her breakfast and washed the dishes and put everything away. That was one thing that Dad was good about, keeping things orderly. He never could abide by mess or clutter. She'd gotten one good trait from him, it seemed.

When everything was all done, she stood in the kitchen and tried to decide where to start. The cause of all this was Ruth. Ruth who worked with Dad. Ruth who Dad loved. Ruth who died. And that was really all Catherine knew. She didn't even know the woman's last name. What did she look like? How had she died? What had made Dad fall in love with her so deeply that he had turned into a shell of a man as a result of her loss?

Surely there was a clue somewhere.

The best place to start, she decided, was the office. Dad would absolutely kill her if he caught her snooping around in his things, but there was no other way she'd learn anything. And she might not have spook training like he did, but Catherine was her father's daughter. She could probably sneak about carefully enough for him not to notice anything was amiss. And it wasn't as if she was looking for national secrets. She wasn't going to try and go on his computer. Ruth was all she was looking for.

The desk was almost eerily tidy. Manila folders in neat piles. Pens all in a square holder. Laptop computer closed and plugged in to charge in the center. Catherine decided to start with the drawers. One at a time. Vigilant to ensure everything was put back exactly as she found it. He'd never know.

The top drawer on the right just had extra office supplies. Bit weird. Well, not for Harry Pearce, perhaps. But for any normal person.

Second drawer on the right was a little more interesting. There were huge bound volumes of legal documents. One of them was the record of proceedings from Dad and Mum's divorce. That was strange. She wasn't actually very interested in that, since she'd lived through that nightmare herself. Not something she needed to revisit. Underneath that, though, was Dad's estate plan. Now that was very interesting. Catherine couldn't resist taking a look to see who was getting what. Though it wasn't really as interesting as she'd expected. Everything split evenly between herself and her brother. That made sense. That was nice of him. He'd made provisions for a trust, for Catherine to manage Graham's inheritance. Also very nice, actually. Save Graham from himself. But what was surprising was a specific gift of personal property in his house. And the appointed executor. Ruth Catherine Evershed.

That had to be her. There was no way it was anyone else. He had named her as executor of his estate, assuming she outlived him. And he'd wanted her to have the pick of whatever she wanted from his house. It was actually pretty heartbreaking. Were there items in this house that Ruth would have wanted? A memory of Harry Pearce to have when he was gone? Things she had given him as gifts or items that had special meaning for the two of them? Catherine had no idea.

But she had a name. And with a name, she could do more.

Carefully, she put the will documents back in the drawer beneath the divorce papers so Dad wouldn't know she'd been there. Briefly, she considered the fact that Dad would have to make changes to his will now that Ruth was gone. Catherine would not remind him.

After she snuck back out of the office, Catherine got her own personal laptop and settled herself on the sofa. She opened the web browser and typed Ruth Catherine Evershed into the search engine. And an instant later, the results were there. She tried not to think about the fact that Ruth's middle name was Catherine. It was a very common name. And obviously that had nothing to do with how Dad felt about her. But it was an interesting coincidence. One of the few things Catherine knew about her family was that she had been named for Dad's grandmother. He had been the one who wanted to name her Catherine. That was a name that mattered to him. Maybe he had liked that coincidence, that Ruth's middle name was the same name as his daughter.

In reviewing the search results, there wasn't much that was actually about this Ruth. Evershed was not an extremely common name. Catherine Evershed, Ruth Catherine, those were popular results. The full name was not. She scrolled through, opening various links in other tabs so she wouldn't have to go back to the results again. When she'd amassed three or four, she paused. There was one she'd already clicked on…but it wasn't the same…was it?

She looked at the first tab. An obituary. Short. Catherine did not read it through yet. She looked at the date. October 23, 2011. Right, that was correct.

Catherine switched tabs. Another obituary. Longer than the first. Dated October 2, 2006.

Well, obviously a woman named Ruth Catherine Evershed died in 2006. But then Catherine read through each of those obituaries. They were placed in different publications, which may have been why no one noticed. Though why would anyone notice?

Ruth Catherine Evershed died twice.

Catherine put the laptop aside and let out a deep sigh. She had even more questions now. She'd have to ask Dad. Somehow. She'd have to find a way to ask him.