PeggyPoet

"Identity"

Chapter 1

Belle pulled off the narrow country road and stopped her car on the rutted lot of a deserted gas station. The e-mail she'd printed was on the seat beside her. She read over it again, making sure she was following the directions it gave. It was clear to her that this remote part of the world was exactly where she was supposed to be. The deserted gas station with it's ancient pumps was one of the landmarks listed. According to the instructions she was given, her destination was only a few miles away on a road that seemed neglected and forgotten. She gazed at the narrow stretch ahead of her and wondered if she was doing the right thing.

The anonymous person who had sent the e-mail knew what she had tried to hide from others. This person knew she was searching for her roots and seemed to believe the answer was ahead, just around another curve or two in the road. Belle had no idea who this person was or even if this person could be trusted. Wouldn't an honest person reveal a name or a reason for contacting her? And most disturbing of all, what would her mother think if she knew about Belle's current mission?

Her mother. Joan Marshall would be hurt and understandably so. She'd taken Belle into her heart and home when she was eight years old. She nurtured, and loved, and protected Belle as if she'd given birth to her. The remainder of Belle's childhood had been filled with all the normal things like school, and friends, and activities that kept her on the go. Always busy, never time to look back to her first eight years of life. What had they been like? she wondered often. Why were there hazy patches in her memory? Sometimes an image would almost form in her mind, only to disappear a second later. And why did her mother avoid all her questions?

"Oh, Belle," she'd say, "why must it matter now? You have a home and a family who loves you. The past is unimportant."

"But who am I," Belle persisted. "I have a right to know."

"You are Anabelle Marshall, my precious daughter, that's who you are." Joan would smile and tweak her nose and the subject would be dropped.

Belle stared at the road ahead of her. She had come this far and saw no harm in driving another mile or so. If her destination triggered no memories of her former life, she could just keep on driving. Nothing said she had to investigate. Yet, the anonymous e-mail said the answers were there.

She pulled onto the road again and carefully avoided the potholes as she made her way down the winding path. Autumn was making an early entrance and the wind was constantly rearranging the leaves that rained in front of her. She slowed as the road curved while her eyes keep darting from one side of the road to the other. The directions told her the road would end at her destination. Patches of grass jutted up where the worn asphalt had once been and some sections of the road seemed to blend in with the natural surroundings of the area. Belle slowed for another curve and ahead of her she saw the end of the road.

A piece of rusted fence marked the dead end and Belle stopped within inches of it. To her right, was the house she was told about in the e-mail. It was hardly visible from the road and she would have missed it if she hadn't known it was there. Thick underbrush concealed part of it from her view. What she could see were windows that were partially boarded with rotted wood, a sagging porch, and a door with a heavy lock on it. Most of the paint had peeled away from the house, but there were random curls of green paint, a color that would obscure the house when summer was in full bloom. Belle stared at the delapidated house and wondered what secrets it held. Where would she begin to look? The place had been deserted years before. Any secrets that might have been there could easily have decayed along with the structure. And, anyway, Belle didn't know what she was looking for.

She suddenly shivered as she stared at the old house. She tried to picture it new as it might have been when she was younger. Still, it had no appeal. It offered nothing. And Belle felt no signs of recognition as she stared at it. Who sent the e-mail that directed her to this place? What secret could be found among the decay? For a brief moment, Belle wondered again about the wisdom of this search. Maybe she should be content to be Anabelle Marshall, Joan's precious daughter. But something told her she had to learn the truth