“Wait a minute…wait a minute,” Jake interrupted when he heard the slightest of hitches in her voice. He definitely didn’t want to go there. “I don’t think it sounds crazy. I’m not certain what I think just yet, but I don’t think it’s crazy.”
“I think it’s a good idea,” Tom said quietly. He glanced at his old friend. “I haven’t seen the house so I have no idea if the concept would work but I think the idea in itself is a good one.” He shifted his gaze to Mary. “You’re right in that people spend too much time alone. I’m guilty of that myself. And once you get in the habit of it you don’t find yourself with many reasons to change it.”
Jake nodded in the direction of his cousin. “There you go, an absolutely independent opinion that you can’t claim I somehow influenced.” Which he knew she would if given the opportunity. “How about you tell me why you have concerns about it in regards to great-grandmother and grandfather, neither of whom either of us have anything but the vaguest memories of.”
“I’d be letting a bunch of strangers into their home. To live in their home.”
Jake just stared at his cousin. The words had been spoken softly, so much so he’d just barely heard her. He had to stop himself from looking at Tom. When the heavy weight of the other man’s foot bore down on his own under the table it was as if to remind him as nothing else could that he needed to choose his words carefully. In that moment he wondered if Tom had a sister he’d learned from as well. “Mary.” He waited for her to look up at him. “Think back to everything we’ve been told about them by our mothers.” He watched her eyes clear, narrow slightly, and stay steady on his. She was most definitely listening. “I can’t remember how many times Mom would tell us about how great-grandmother would bring people home with her that simply needed a place to stay for a while. I think one of her favorite stories was how she’d go to the train station to pass out food and water to the soldiers travelling through during the war. The way my mother told it and I bet yours did the same, it seemed she brought half of them home for the night if she found out they needed a place to stay. There were probably a lot of them who had to wait until the following day to catch the next train that would take them wherever they were going.” He watched her face, waiting for the memories they shared to gather. The answers to all her worries were right there in front of her if only she would see it. “Remember the story about the gypsies? No one else in town would so much as acknowledge them but Great-Grandma let them camp out in her yard. Probably would have let them stay in the house if they wanted. I have no doubt she fed them as well.” He paused, let it all sink in. “That’s who she was. And because that’s how she was I think she would love what you have in mind for her home.” He squeezed the hand under his. “I think it’s exactly what she would want from her great-granddaughter.”
“I’d be more than happy to be your first boarder,” Tom said into the quiet that had fallen in the room when Jake finished talking.
Mary looked at him. Just looked. A myriad of memories had been jarred loose by the few Jake had reminded her of. And she thought of what her Daniel always said. And he was right. Things did work out as they were meant. She smiled at Tom. “Okay.”
Jake let out a long breath. He hadn’t doubted she would come around. But he also knew Tom needed a place to unwind and the Summer Street house would be a perfect place for him to do so. “You want me to run Tom over there after we’re done here?”
“That’s fine,” she paused, thought about the little room behind the linen closet. And decided for the moment they could wait until Tom was settled in to explain that part of their history to him. From what she’d seen he didn’t appear to be the type to blatantly scoff at what they’d found. Odds were that his journalistic background would make him curious about it if nothing else. “I might go over there with you. When we did the renovation it was geared more towards redecorating and not so much to making sure there were necessities someone would need to live there comfortably.” At her cousin’s questioning look she explained. “You know, things like towels, sheets for the beds, plates to eat off of, all those kinds of things,” she said in a teasing voice as his expression shifted. “Don’t worry, you’re not going to get roped into shopping for them. I probably have a lot of it on hand anyway. I just need to figure out what’s needed. We were doing so much there at the time I’m not even certain what all is there and what isn’t.”
“Okay,” Jake said with a relieved sigh. “I probably have some stuff at my place we can take over there as well. I don’t know how but somehow I ended up with three toasters,” he said as he glanced in Tom’s direction. “You’re more than welcome to one of them.”
“Sounds good to me,” Tom said as he gave in to temptation and spooned more of the goulash onto his plate. “We can head over there when I’m done.”
CHAPTER SIX
Mary stood quietly in the doorway of the small room that had for so long been hidden away from view. Even now she felt tremendous gratitude for Addie’s perceptiveness that had brought about the discovery of the small room behind the linen closet in what had once been her great-grandmother’s home. She could still remember that day with Addie, her cousin Carrie’s niece, when they’d measured out the space between the rooms and found a discrepancy. That missing space had been easily located. They knew where it was. It hadn’t been nearly as easy to figure out how to reach it.
She hadn’t had many opportunities to come here since that day. She knew that Jake’s daughter, Beth, spent a tremendous amount of time here. She could tell she’d been busy going through the numerous volumes that lined the many shelves in this small room. Volumes of books that held the history of the women of their family going back untold generations. She wondered if her cousin’s daughter had been able to learn how to better deal with the overwhelming memories that still hung over the room, literally emanating from the heavy books, some centuries old. Even she could feel the strength of those potent and compelling emotions and had yet to actually walk completely into the room. It had been this way almost since the first time she’d been here with Addie. And each time they were stronger. For a while she had wondered if what she felt was just her or if the emotions pouring from the old, and in some cases ancient books, was somehow becoming greater. Now, as she finally took a step into the room she believed it was her own acceptance of what science could not always explain. And in accepting she was able to more totally feel what was here.
With a deep breath she walked over to the single window in the room to swing open its shutters so the light of day could shine through and brighten the darkness that pervaded the room…in more ways than one. It hadn’t taken them long to learn that more often than not the women of her family hadn’t led easy lives. Their abilities and desire to share them with those in need had often brought harsh results to their lives. Sometimes ending their lives because of that which was not understood. In days gone by the remedy for what was feared and often misunderstood was harsh and quick. She closed her eyes thinking how much had changed yet in some ways hadn’t. The remedy might not be the same. But she knew many suffered humiliation and worse for no other reason than fear and ignorance. She gazed at the rows of books thoughtfully. How many who knew her, considered her a friend, would change that tune should they come to know that she felt strongly connected to family who lived long before her own life began?
She walked back to one of the shelves where many of the more recent volumes of her family’s history lined the wall. All of the women of her family for generations upon generations far into the past had contributed to them, their stories, their lives…their grief at what could and could not be. In the months since their discovery of this room she knew her cousins, Casey and Carrie, along with Beth had painstakingly organized them the best they could in date order as much as was possible. Many weren’t dated at all. Some were only able to be identified as to their possible place in time by references to other family members and their connection to them.
She knew Beth had
taken a special interest in one of the older volumes written by one of their earliest ancestors. While the woman had made mention of her mother numerous times throughout her writings she’d never done so by her given name. Beth was determined to make that connection and learn who her mother was.
Mary knew too that both Carrie and Casey came by whenever they could to read through some of the other older volumes. Their interest was very much in those who had come first. Or at least those women who had begun the tradition of writing of their lives for future generations. Who knew how many before them had lived before that but had not been able to record the story of their lives other than by the stories they handed down from daughter to daughter.
Mary ran her fingers along the lower shelf looking for the volume that interested her. The one that had brought her here unexpectedly that morning. She had awoken in the middle of the night and almost came over then. She hadn’t just woken up with a thought…a question she needed an answer to. She’d woken up with a driving need to know more about the woman who had lived here. And she strongly suspected…died here.
She gently slid out the old volume that she somehow instinctively knew was the one she was looking for. It was large but not nearly so much so as many of the others. She laid it down flat and carefully wiped away the layer of dust clinging to it. The book itself was older than the time when her great-grandmother would have written in it. Much older.
Mary slipped her fingers under the thick and ornate gold and burgundy cover and gently lifted it open. Inside on the very first page was a listing of names that filled the page. Each line held a single name. Each written in similar but different script. Beside each name was more writing. She turned the page over to find the same on the following page. And the one after it. Only on the fourth page did she finally realize this was a listing, a genealogy, a record of all the names of the women of her family…generation by generation through time. Beside each name was a date. At the very last line filled with writing she saw the name of her great-grandmother. And the date beside it was what Mary knew to be that of her birth.
“My God!” she whispered the words as the meaning of what was before her sunk in. The names of her ancestors. The women whose knowledge and so much more filled this small room. As she glanced up, overwhelmed by what she’d found, her eyes caught the glint of something that was lodged in the narrow but deep space left empty by the book now laying on the table in front of her. She carefully pulled out each of the books on either side before she was able to reach back and retrieve what it was that caught her eye. When she did she found herself holding a small silver box. Tin maybe. But delicately ornate with engravings surrounding it. It wasn’t any bigger than an eyeglass case. She lifted off the lid. Inside was an aging envelope crumpled with age as well as from being pressed to fit into its tight confines. She lifted it out and opened it carefully. Almost immediately a small ring dropped loose to land on the table. Mary carefully lifted it into her hand to study the almost child-size ring. The setting was gorgeous and while obviously small in size was not a ring that had belonged to a child. It was a beautiful and delicate silver filigree surrounding a gorgeous red stone. Mary knew she was most certainly holding a ring that once belonged to her great-grandmother. She had heard of the simplistic beauty of her great-grandmother’s ring. A ring that no one had seen since her death. Now she knew why.
Unwilling to believe her great-grandmother would leave this so carefully hidden without an explanation Mary turned her attention back to the envelope that had held such a treasure. As she again lifted the flap she saw the writing on the pages within. Her heart literally skipped a beat before it began pounding in anticipation. She took a deep calming breath, intent on forcing herself to take her time as she gently removed the pages of paper from the envelope. After so many years it was almost falling apart at its seams. Unwilling for the same fate to come to the pages written most certainly by her grandmother’s mother, she carried her treasures over to the small desk on the opposite side of the small room and sat down in front of it. She carefully set the ring nearby before laying the folded sheets of paper on the desk. Then she gently lifted the pages open until they lay flat, holding her breath as she did, praying they wouldn’t crumble. Once flat she shifted the top sheet to the side to unveil the second page beneath it. And what she had somehow known was right before her. Near the bottom of that second page was her great-grandmother’s spidery signature. Her gaze shifted to the top of the first page wondering who it was she had meant this for. And seeing it, reading it, her heart almost stopped. To the Daughters of my Daughter’s Daughters.
How could she have known? In her heart Mary knew her first thought should be to call her cousins. But for this moment she needed to read the words left behind for them so many years ago. For her. For the three of them. It was selfish. She knew it was. But the dream the night before had been so real. And now here she was. She would take this moment for herself. Then she would share what she had found with Casey and Carrie.
For centuries we have lived among those who fear us yet benefit the greatest from all that we are. Who we are. It has oft been said to live amongst ones enemies is to know the meaning of fear. But in truth it has more often been our friends who we have learned through the millennia to fear more.
A man far greater and wiser than I or any of those who came before me once said that wisdom is more precious than rubies. In the writings of she who knew him in their time is written too that faith alone is not nearly as great as faith with grace. Does not wisdom bring both or must we find one before the other?
The ruby in the ring I’ve left with my words has been passed from daughter to daughter longer than the mind can comprehend. The power within it comes from the belief of she who wears it. The ability to wield the power from deep within comes from the faith in those beliefs we who have born this responsibility over thousands of years since the beginning of time know to be true.
There are many of us born from those of the beginning of our clan. But only few in each generation are able to reach deep within themselves to that which once was at the core of who we are. Of my own there have been none. Of theirs I see little more. But of those who are theirs I see all that I can’t in my own life-time. A life I know is soon to pass into that which is only the beginning of the next journey. One I find myself waiting for, accepting of, as I grow weak and tired, alone with the responsibility of so many.
“Mary.” Tom spoke quietly from the open doorway. One he had not immediately realized was anything more than a closet of some sort. Even as he stood there watching the woman sitting silently at the small desk to his right he allowed his gaze to travel the remainder of the small room. “Is everything okay?”
Mary shifted her eyes from the words in front of her to the man standing in the doorway. She saw the worry in his eyes but had no idea how long he’d been standing there. Hadn’t heard a sound as he had moved through the house to reach the doorway where he now stood. Normally she would hear every step as someone approached her and Lord only knew this old house had plenty of creaks and squeaks when you walked through it.
“I’m sorry. Time must have gotten away from me.” For the life of her she couldn’t come up with anything better. But even as she slowly stood, her first and so far only boarder made his way into the room with movements that could almost be described as cautionary. If she hadn’t been watching so closely she wouldn’t have seen the sudden tensing in him. Almost as if he’d been hit by an unseen object.
“Tom?”
He turned to look at her with the oddest expression. She’d seen the same not long ago in this room. “What is it?” she asked softly. But she knew. Knew too she needed Casey for some research that her cousin was far better and quicker at than she.
“I’m not altogether certain.” But he was certain he was going to take the time to figure it out. “Would it be okay if I go through some of the books in here?” He had no idea if they would have the answer to the questions he suddenly had, but wan
ted to look anyway.
Mary let her gaze roam the room. If she was right there was no reason for him not to. “It’s all pretty fragile.”
“I’ll be careful,” he said into the pause he had a feeling she’d allowed on purpose.
“I know.” Was all she said but her eyes said far more. He had a feeling they would be talking more in depth before long. But like him he had a feeling she wanted more information before they spoke further about this. He didn’t blame her a bit. “Why don’t I show you what I brought over?” Even as Mary said the words she was mentally composing the text message she needed to send Casey. She would call Carrie after that. She wanted all of them to meet as soon as they could and not just about the letter their great-grandmother had left behind for the three of them.
Tom took another look around the room as they walked out through the very real linen closet that led to it. Couldn’t help but wonder about the need for secrecy and who and when it had began with. Decided that could wait as well. “I know I told you last night but this is an awesome house.” Even more so than he’d initially realized.
Refuge on Leebrick (The Hills of Burlington Book 4) Page 4
