Madame Clarabelle Fitzgerald's Arc

Chapter 4 of 4

Clara walked through the market square as vendors called out their prices. Flour, nails, rope—all the ordinary goods people needed to live. She stopped at a fabric stall and ran her fingers over a bolt of cotton. The woman behind the table smiled and asked if she was making something new. Clara shook her head and moved on. Every person she passed could be someone who knew the Thorntons. Every conversation was a chance to ask. She bought bread from the baker and showed him the name in her notebook. He squinted at it, then shrugged. Clara thanked him anyway. At the edge of the square, she noticed a man loading crates onto a wagon. He looked older, the kind of person who'd lived in Gritstown a long time. She approached and asked if he remembered a family by that name. He paused, wiped his hands on his pants, and said maybe. Years back, he thought. Clara wrote down what he told her—a street name, a general direction. It wasn't much, but it was something. She tucked her notebook away and kept walking. Each small answer built on the last. Each conversation brought her closer. The man mentioned the old railroad station. People passed through there, he said. Someone might remember the family leaving town. Clara followed the directions he'd given her until she found it—a building that looked like it belonged in the dusty old west, with worn wooden beams and a platform that stretched along the tracks. A vintage train sat silent on the rails. She climbed the steps and walked inside. The station was quiet, but a board on the wall listed arrivals and departures from years past. Clara ran her finger down the dates, searching for the year the Thorntons left. She found records of families who'd bought tickets, their names written in faded ink. Some had noted their destinations. She pulled out her notebook and copied what she could read. The station keeper's desk sat empty, but papers stacked on top showed passenger logs. Clara checked each page carefully. When she finished, she looked out at the platform where so many people had said goodbye. The Thorntons had stood here once, ready to start over somewhere new. Clara closed her notebook. She had more names now, more dates. Tomorrow she would visit the next place on her list.