“I can’t believe you haven’t looked at these before now.”

I twist my mouth into a grimace. “I have…a little. Besides, I’ve been busy.”

“Not that busy.”

“I think most of us weren’t at our best in high school.” I gave her a teasing grin. “Not all of us are like you, you know. Some of us were just trying to make it to graduation.”

“So what does that have to do with not looking at Dora’s yearbooks?”

“I wouldn’t want someone to try and figure out who I was by searching through my high school yearbooks. Maybe Dora felt the same way. Maybe she wouldn’t want me to think of her this way.”

She studied me for a moment. “You’re overthinking it. Besides, who you were in high school is still a part of who you are now. Even if you’ve evolved. Maybe Dora did too, although she didn’t look like she was the type of girl who’d be bullied or treated as an outcast.”

We continued to scroll through the names, then I flipped the page.

“That’s her! Hattie Rush,” Neely Kate exclaimed, pointing to her photo. “She looks nice too.”

She had dark brown hair and bright friendly eyes to match her smile.

“I suppose we should make sure she’s the right Hattie.”

“How many Hatties could there be?” But Neely Kate quickly scanned the rest of the junior class all the same. “I suppose she could be in a different grade, but I’m betting that’s her.”

“But we’re not sure.”

Neely Kate pulled the yearbook in front of her and flipped to the front pages which were full of notes and signatures. “Your mom was popular,” she said. “Look at all these notes.” She scrolled through the pages, then flipped to the back, finally saying, “Aha! Dora, you’re the best part of Fenton County High School. Thanks for helping me pass that cooking exam in Mrs. B’s class! I’m so glad we became friends last year. Hattie Rush.”

It wasn’t irrefutable proof, but it was good enough. “Next question is how do we find her?”

“Give me a second.” She pulled out her phone and typed Hattie’s name into an Internet search engine. I wasn’t sure anything she’d find anything, but sure enough, several Hattie Rushes popped up.

“How are we gonna know which one is her?” I asked.

“Well, seeing how we’ve seen her photo in the yearbook, I think it’s safe to assume this woman who looks like she’s Native American can be ruled out, as well as the African American.”

I glanced over her shoulder and teased, “What about the one who is Mrs. Octogenarian Michigan?”

Her gaze lifted to mine, but she glared at me without saying a word.

“So she’s not there?” I asked.

“Not necessarily. Sometimes you have to search a few pages. My cousin has the same name as a famous singer. When she Googles herself, she doesn’t show up until page five.”

Poor Dolly Parton. But then again, I’d never searched for myself. Who knew what page I’d end up on?

Sure enough, Hattie turned up on page three.

“She lives up in Magnolia,” Neely Kate said, searching her Facebook page. “She works at the Magnolia hospital as a nurse. She’s not married, but it looks like she’s divorced and took back her maiden name. No kids.”

“You found all of that out from Facebook?” I asked in disbelief.

She gaped at me. “You’ve seriously never Facebook-investigated someone?”

“No.”

“Huh. You should try it sometime. You never know what you’ll turn up.” Neely Kate continued tapping on her phone.

I sighed. “This is all great, but what do we do? Friend her and hope she accepts?”

“We could…or we could try to find her phone number in the white pages. And when that doesn’t show up, we can look for her parents’ phone number.” She kept typing all while she was speaking, then she finally looked up and grinned at me. “Bingo.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” She dialed the number. “Hello? Mrs. Rush?” Her eyes lit up with excitement. “Yes, my friend’s mother was a friend of your daughter Hattie and she would love to talk to her.” She listened for a moment. “Her mother was Dora Middleton.” Her smile returned. “Yes, Rose. I know! Rose only just found out about her birth mother a few months ago and she’s eager to learn as much as she can about Dora. Do you think Hattie would be willing to talk to her?” She grinned as she listened. “Thank you so much! But have her call Rose’s number instead of mine.” Then she rattled off my cell number and hung up.

I clasped my shaking hands. Why was I so nervous?

“She says she’s sure Hattie will want to talk to you. She was devastated when Dora was killed.”

I was silent for a moment. “Thank you.”

“What are friends for?” A soft smile lit up her face. “Hattie’s momma says she works the night shift. She might not call you until tomorrow, but she’ll want to talk to you, so don’t worry.”

I glanced up at the clock and saw it was close to five. It seemed like an awful long time to wait. “We could search more for the other journal, but I think I should probably get you back to your car so you can go home.”

“Yeah.” But she didn’t look too happy about it.