I walked through the burnt remains of Fred Taylor's house. The charred dreams and ashen possessions that once belonged to a broken man. I'm still not quite sure why I stayed at the site for as long as I did, perhaps I held out hope that Fred wasn't as crazy as he sounded.
The call came in at half past eight on a warm Sunday night. I met the fire department at the scene and saw Fred's house totally engulfed in flames. I saw two of the firefighters struggling with Fred. As soon as I walked up to him, he turned to me with a look of complete and utter horror on his face. He grabbed me by the shoulders and screamed, "my wife and daughters are still inside!"
I had known Fred for years. We went to the same high school, and at 47, he was two years older than I was. Fred was always known as a loner, never going out unless it was to work. He always stayed home. As far as I knew, he had never married. I was confused, and for him to be carrying on as much as he was, disturbed me to say the least.
I spoke with the captain of the fire department. He told me that if there was anyone inside, there was no way of getting to them. I watched Fred collapse to the ground and cry like I have never seen a man cry before. I stayed with him that night and helped him check into a hotel.
Fred had no family, I decided to allow Fred to stay with me until he could figure things out. He pretty much kept to himself, but sometimes we would stay up late into the night and he would tell me about how much he loved his wife, Helen, and his three daughters, Jane, Allie, and Margaret. They had been his whole life, and now they were gone. How do you talk to someone who has just lost everyone he loved in one night?
It was strange to me that I wouldn't have known that Fred had married. He had lived in Tarkenton Mill his entire life. I went to the courthouse and looked up marital records. I wasn't entirely shocked to discover that Fred had never been married. I thought that perhaps he had only lived with Helen and never married her. I looked for birth certificates for his three children. Once again, I came up empty. I found myself making excuses for Fred. Maybe they were Helen's kids and they were living with Fred. I spoke with Fred later that evening and he told me how they had a large wedding at the Baptist Church and half of the town was present. He also was proud of the fact that he was present at the birth of all three of his daughters at St. Mary's Hospital.
It had been about a week since Fred's house had burnt to the ground. I talked to Fred about my findings. He looked at me as if I had lost my mind. He argued vehemently and actually had me second guessing myself. He left my house shortly after our argument.
I received a call at two in the morning from one of my deputies. Fred had hung himself from a limb in the front yard of where he used to live. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I rushed to the scene in time for the paramedics to haul him into the ambulance. He seemed to have a certain peace in death that I don't think he would have ever found in the remainder of his life.
I watched the ambulance drive away. Ralph Carson, one of Fred's neighbors walked over, apparently he had discovered Fred while he was walking his dog. Ralph was one of Tarkenton's oldest citizens. "Poor Fred." He said.
I talked to Ralph at length about Fred. He never knew that Fred had been married, let alone that he had children. He rarely saw Fred outside. Ralph shook his head and started walking back to his own home. "Hey Ralph?"
He turned around and looked at me. "Who lived in Fred's house before he did?"
He thought a moment, "Widow Evans, I think. It's been awhile."
I didn't sleep at all that night. Bright and early the next morning I was at the courthouse once again. I discovered that a widow named Helen Evans had lived at the house before Fred had bought it. Helen had three daughters. Their names were Jane, Allie, and Margaret. They had been killed when a fire accidentally started in the kitchen. The house was saved and remodeled.
The discovery shook me to the core. I didn't have an opinion of what had taken place. One thing was certain, Fred was convinced that he had been married to Helen and that he had three daughters with her.
A shiny object caught my attention in the ashes. I picked up a picture frame and wiped it off. It was a picture of Fred, a woman, and three small girls.