Chapter 20 Present
I stood alone in the midst of files and quiet chaos.
I wasn’t sure how much time had passed since Saddie walked me through the maze of desks and left me just outside the archive room.
“Have at it,” she’d said, offering a soft Southern grin before disappearing with a swish of her floral skirt and the click of her low heels—her red bow bobbing with every step.
I don’t even remember opening the door, though I could still feel the weight in my shoulder—the lingering pressure from where I’d nudged it open.
I took a few steps closer to the filing cabinets, then paused, glancing back at the heavy barrier that had sealed shut behind me—it was the only thing that separating me from the rest of Shay.
I inhaled deeply. The air was thick with old paper and hidden truths.
I hesitantly reached for the handle of the first drawer—its label written in dull, fading ink: ’45-‘50.
The filing cabinet groaned as I pulled it open, the metal resisting like it hadn’t been touched in years.
Inside, rows of manila folders sagged under the weight of time—curled edges and paper yellowed.
The musty scent of mildew clung to everything, thick and sour.
The air felt heavier with every breath I took.
I knew I had to go through them one by one—slowly, carefully.
For all their worn edges and musty smell, the cabinets were surprisingly organized—each drawer quietly building a timeline, year by year.
I grabbed the first file and began thumbing through it.
…
It was filled with neatly clipped articles and carefully folded papers. None of which hinted at scandal or shadow—just the usual town chatter, preserved like pressed flowers.
For a second, I let myself believe maybe Shay wasn’t all that bad—at least in earlier years.
I let out a quiet breath—part relief, part disappointment.
I kept flipping, careful not to tear the delicate pages.
With each turn, I felt a little more at ease—nothing stood out.
I was just about to close the drawer when I saw them:
a pair of familiar eyes.
And an unmistakable smile.
Tucked between the town’s budget and its daily dose of gossip was Phil and Katie Newsome’s wedding announcement.
Something about it tugged at my heart and left a strange ache in its place.
A photo had been pressed flat against the page, its corners worn and edges torn just slightly.
The ink had faded—softened by time and the quiet years it spent hidden away in the cabinet.
Katie stood beside Phil on the church steps, her lace gown catching the light, a bouquet of lilies cradled in her arms—and a honeysuckle tucked behind her ear.
Her smile was wide, meant for the camera.
But her eyes…
Her eyes reminded me of something I wasn’t ready to remember.
So I didn’t.
I stopped myself before the thought could settle and focused on the man standing beside her.
Phil stood tall in uniform, one hand resting at the small of her back, his posture practiced, proud. He looked like a man already used to being watched.
Together, they looked perfect—happy.
The article read:
Newsome–Sumner Nuptials Draw Local Attention
Shay’s newest attorney, Phil Newsome (22), son of County Commissioner Robert Newsome and his wife Lillian, was united in marriage to Miss Katie Sumner (17), daughter of well-known store owner Thomas Sumner and his wife Shelly, on Wednesday, March 20, 1946.
Following the ceremony at First Baptist Church of Shay, a reception was held, with attendees including family, friends, and notable community figures.
The bride wore a traditional lace gown and carried a bouquet of white lilies and freshly gathered honeysuckles—an early sign of spring and Southern sweetness.
The groom, a recent law school graduate and decorated veteran, opened his practice on Main Street earlier this year. The couple will make their home in Shay.
It was a beautiful article, capturing what appeared to be two people deeply in love.
I almost let myself believe it—that the photo told the whole truth.
That their smiles weren’t posed.
That the light in her eyes was real.
It looked so full… full of promise, full of hope.
But that’s the thing about pictures—they freeze a moment, not the truth.
And sometimes, a smile is just what’s left when you’re playing a role.
I couldn’t help wondering—what happened between then and now?
What led to Katie’s tragic ending… and Phil’s unraveling darkness?
Suddenly, I could feel my heartbeat in my throat.
The room felt smaller, the air thinning—like it was being pulled from my lungs.