The Jewels of Sofia Tate
The Jewels of Sofia Tate
Doris Etienne
Copyright © Doris Etienne, 2009
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Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Etienne, Doris
The jewels of Sofia Tate / by Doris Etienne.
ISBN 978-1-55488-230-4
I. Title.
PS8609.T43 J49 2009 jC813’.6 C2009-900504-2
1 2 3 4 5 13 12 11 10 09
We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program and The Association for the Export of Canadian Books, and the Government of Ontario through the Ontario Book Publishers Tax Credit program, and the Ontario Media Development Corporation.
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J. Kirk Howard, President
All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the New King James Version ®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
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For
my sons,
David, Michael, and Benjamin,
who never doubted,
and my husband,
James,
who always believed in me
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank everyone who assisted in any way with providing me the little details, all of which eventually helped to put this story together, but especially: Lynn Weimer for her medical expertise; Karen and Amy Stickel, and Ann Mclnnis, my first readers, for their valuable comments; Kathy Stinson and Lyn Hamilton, past Edna Staebler Writers-in-Residence at the Kitchener Public Library, for their helpful feedback on early drafts of parts of this book; and the lovely, dedicated, and talented women of the Kitchener Public Library Writers’ Collective — Susan V. Barclay, Sharon Blomfield, Kimberlee Feick Lowry, Paula Kienapple-Summers, Tracie Klaehn, and Jennifer Ross, for their thoughtful insight, criticism, suggestions, and encouragement. I couldn’t have done it without you.
I would also like to thank Michael Carroll, editorial director at Dundurn Press, for giving me this most remarkable opportunity; my sons, David, Michael, and Benjamin Etienne, for their continuous enthusiasm; and my husband, James Etienne, for his ongoing support and encouragement to live my dreams.
Ask, and it will be given to you; seek, and you will find; knock, and it will be opened to you.
— Matthew 7:7, New King
James Version
Prologue
Russia 1895
Masha whinnied as Marie led her from the stall.
“Shhh, Masha,” Marie whispered, reaching up to stroke her mane. “Shhh, easy now.”
She guided the mare behind the building and mounted her a short distance away, swinging a bag with only a change of clothes and a small amount of money up with her. She looked at the starry sky and breathed in the crisp early autumn air. It would soon be light. She had no time to waste.
They began at a walk, slowly at first, so no one would hear, and when they had moved far enough away from the house, Marie urged the horse into a canter. Her heart beat wildly as she thought of what her father would do when he discovered her gone, five days before the wedding was to take place. But if she was ever to be happy, she had to take that chance. She did not love the Count Uvorov and she would not marry him no matter what her father wanted. Her mother would have understood.
She clutched tightly at her coat, feeling for the slight bulge beneath. Everything was safe, sewn securely inside. The pearls would be sold when money was needed and the treasured heirloom ... Well, that was another matter.
She remembered the day it had been given to her. It was her eighteenth birthday and her mother had already begun to fade by then. But she was sitting up in bed that day when Marie entered the room and bent over to kiss her mother on the cheek.
“Happy birthday, my dear,” her mother said with a weak smile. Then her eyes twinkled mischievously. “I have something special for you.” She pulled an oblong box out from under the covers and handed it to Marie. “You are old enough now and I must give this to you while I am still able.”
Marie’s hands shook with excitement as she lifted the lid, then nearly dropped the box when she eyed its contents. “Mama! This must be worth a fortune!” she said breathlessly.
“Yes, but you must promise me that, no matter what, you will never part with it. You must not sell any piece of it and it must never fall into the wrong hands. Do you understand?” Her mother’s voice was sharp.
Marie nodded.
Her mother went on. “Above all,” she said, licking her dry lips, “do not tell anyone that you have it. Not even your father. Especially not your father. He has mishandled our finances and thinks that I do not know. He fooled me for years about many things but in the end, the truth always comes out.” She gave a deep sigh. “Once I am gone, Marie, unless there is a miracle, there will be no more money for him at all. My brother has only helped us for my sake, but there is no love lost between those two. Your father’s only hope to climb out of debt would be to sell the contents of this box, or make a good marriage, either for himself or for you or your brother. He knows about this box and that I would never sell what’s inside. But it is up me now to fulfill the vow to my own mother, never to part with it except to pass it along. The sapphire is said to have powers, but only for those who are worthy.”
Marie’s eyes widened. “Powers? Whatever kind of powers do you mean?”
Her mother’s eyes were intent as they looked back at her daughter. “It is said that divine favour rests upon the wearer — that the sapphire has the power to draw protection and wisdom and prosperity. Now, promise me that you will look after it.”
Marie nodded again. “Yes, Mama. Of course. I promise.”
So Marie found a hiding spot for the box under a loose floorboard in her bedroom and told no one about it. Months later, after her mother’s death, she heard her father through closed doors as he pulled things apart in every room, cursing with increasing agitation and frustration, causing Marie to become fearful at times. She knew he had become a desperate man. But she would not reveal her secret. Not even when he arranged her marriage to Count Uvorov. She would not betray her mother.
So tonight, when she had packed to meet Johann, she had removed the contents from the oblong box and had carefully sewn them inside her coat, taking with her the precious promise of hope that the heirloom offered.
She was nearing the city now, the faint light slowly ushering in a ne
w day. People were beginning to stir. She caught her breath when she saw Johann in the distance, waiting for her at the back of the building, as he had promised. From there, things would go quickly. He had arranged everything. If she wanted to change her mind, this would be the time.
But she knew she wouldn’t.
1
Missing Jewels
Kitchener, May 2000
The scent of lilacs, heavy in the late afternoon heat, drifted over to the front porch step of the townhouse where Garnet sat. She took a sip of her cool, pink lemonade and watched as the stooped figure of a plump, elderly woman in a flowered dress sluggishly made her way along the sidewalk with her wooden cane.
Though the street itself was a quiet oasis, the honking of horns and occasional sirens on the surrounding downtown Kitchener streets irritated Garnet more than usual today.
It was Friday, the start of the Victoria Day weekend, and everyone seemed to have somewhere to go and something to do. Everyone except her. Not that this was entirely unexpected, she supposed, living in a new city.
She hadn’t wanted to move. In fact, she had fought tooth and nail against the idea, and now that she and her mother were here, her nightmare had been realized. Cameron Heights was the worst high school on earth. Everyone there was so unfriendly.
The woman was closer now, almost in front of Garnet, and seemed to be slowing down. She stopped to mop her brow with a white handkerchief before taking a few more unsteady steps. Suddenly, she stumbled, her cane flying to one side and her purse to the other. She landed on the grass, her legs sprawled before her.
“Oh!” Garnet cried. Her cup rattled as she set it down on the step, and she stood up, puzzled for a moment, wondering what to do. Should she go help the woman or would she get up by herself? But the woman sat as though she were in a daze. Garnet hopped down the step and hurried to her side. “Are you okay?” she asked.
The woman’s pale blue eyes fluttered behind her gold-rimmed glasses. “Y-yes, I think so,” she replied breathlessly. “I don’t know what happened. It-it must be this heat.” She put a hand to her chest and said, “My pills. They’re in my purse.”
Garnet reached for the cream leather purse and unzipped it. Her eyes bulged as she spotted an unsealed envelope with a bundle of brown hundred-dollar bills jutting out of the end. She pushed the envelope aside and pulled out a blue prescription bottle.
“These?” she asked, holding up the bottle.
The woman nodded. Garnet fumbled with the security cap and, with shaking fingers, placed a tiny, white pill into the palm of the woman’s hand. She popped it into her mouth and allowed it to dissolve under her tongue while Garnet sat down on the grass beside her, wondering whether she should be calling an ambulance.
“I’m feeling better now,” the woman announced after several minutes. “I think I’ll be on my way. Thank you, dear.” She reached for her purse and, with a trembling arm, placed the tip of her cane onto the sidewalk, pinching her eyes closed as she mustered the strength to pull herself up into a standing position. But no sooner was she up than she sank back down again onto the grass, defeated by her own uncooperative body.
“Do you want me to call someone to come pick you up?” Garnet asked.
The woman shook her head. “No, no, that won’t be necessary. I’ll be better in a few minutes. I just need to wait a little longer.”
Wait a little longer. Now what? Garnet thought. Should she go back to the house and leave the woman here on the grass to regain her strength? She noted the woman’s flushed face. “We have air conditioning,” she offered. “Do you want to come inside and cool down?”
The woman didn’t reply right away. Instead, she looked at Garnet as though summing up her appearance, her eyes fixed on her hair. Without thinking, Garnet put her fingers up to her ponytail of red curls. Was there something wrong with her hair? Why didn’t the woman just answer?
“So, do you want to come in or not?” Garnet asked again, trying to keep the impatience out of her voice.
The woman blinked. “You ... I ... uh, yes,” she stammered, frowning.
Garnet bit her generous lower lip. “So, is that a yes?”
The woman nodded. “Yes,” she said, and she tried to get up again.
“Here, I’ll help you.” Garnet sprang to her feet and slipped an arm around the woman’s cushiony middle. She was taller and heavier than Garnet had expected, and as she strained to lift the woman, Garnet hoped that she didn’t fall back on top of her own slight frame. Garnet took her arm, and couldn’t help but notice how the reflection of the sun sparkled brightly across the huge blue sapphire, encircled by diamonds, in the woman’s ring.
Garnet pushed open the door of the townhouse and guided the woman to the black leather couch in the living room. “Would you like a glass of lemonade or water or something?”
“Water would be wonderful, dear.” The woman leaned back on the couch, pulling the skirt of her dress over her round knees and straightening out the gold locket necklace in front of her. She patted her short, white curls and appeared more comfortable in the coolness of the air-conditioned room.
Garnet returned to her side a few moments later and handed her a glass.
She took it and sipped gratefully. “Ah, much better. Thank you. And I do believe I’ve forgotten my manners. My name is Elizabeth Tate.”
“I’m Garnet Walcott. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Tate.”
“It’s very nice to meet you, too, Garnet, but please, call me Elizabeth. So many people have called me Mrs. Tate in my lifetime that sometimes I like to be reminded of my first name.”
Garnet smiled. There was something she liked about this woman. “Okay, Elizabeth,” she said, taking a seat in the armchair across from her. But when she looked up, she noticed the woman’s eyes on her again, causing her to shift uneasily in the chair. Garnet felt relieved when Elizabeth began to speak.
“I’m sorry to have bothered you. An old body like mine just doesn’t work the same as a lovely young one like yours. And lovely you are. Please forgive me for staring, but I’ve not seen a copper head of hair as beautiful as yours in quite a long time.”
“Thanks,” Garnet said, and she felt her face flush as it did when any compliment came her way. “My mother was actually going to call me Angela if I was a girl — I mean, before I was born — but when she saw my hair, she decided on Garnet instead. You know, like the jewel. Guess it’s better than Ruby,” she said, rolling her eyes.
Elizabeth chuckled. “It’s a very good name and your mother was right. It does suit you.” She took another sip of her drink, then pointed to the chair Garnet was sitting in. “That chair. I have a pair of them nearly like that, only they’re looking more worn. Yours looks wonderful.”
“Oh, thanks,” Garnet said, pleased that she had noticed it amongst their eclectic mix of furniture. “Mom and I picked it up dirt cheap a couple of years ago at a yard sale outside of Owen Sound, where we used to live. The seat was ripped out and the wooden arms were all scratched up, but Mom — she loves this stuff — said, ’Let’s get that chair. It’ll be beautiful when we’re done with it.’ So we took it home and refinished it. We’re going to work on an antique dining room table next — that is, when my mother finds the time.”
If she ever finds the time. But Garnet didn’t say that. The thing was, Garnet didn’t see any point in refinishing any more furniture, as long as they lived in this place. The antique furniture had been perfect in their Victorian house in Owen Sound, but here, it looked out of place with the modern architecture.
“Very lovely,” Elizabeth said. “So, how long have you lived in Kitchener?”
“Only a few weeks,” Garnet replied. Five weeks to the day, to be exact.
“And how do you like it?”
Garnet shrugged. “I miss my friends.”
“Of course.” Elizabeth nodded with understanding. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
Garnet shook her head. “No. It’s just me and my mom. My parent
s got divorced when I was seven and my dad travels all over the world for his job. I don’t see him much.”
“I see,” Elizabeth replied. “So, I suppose you miss him a little, too?”
Garnet shrugged. “Hardly. He calls sometimes and I saw him last year when he was in Toronto. But it’s really not that much different from when I was a kid. He was never around much then, either.”
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “How old are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I’ll be sixteen in September.”
“Somehow you seem older than your years.” Elizabeth set the empty glass down on the coffee table, then pursed her lips as she glanced at her watch. “Well, I’d best be going home.” She stood up and leaned on her cane to steady herself. “Thank you for the water.”
“Would you like me to walk with you?” Garnet asked.
“Oh, I couldn’t trouble you, dear. I’ll be fine.”
“It would be no trouble. I’d like to go with you,” Garnet found herself insisting, surprising even herself with her interest in this woman. What was the matter with her? Why did she care? This woman was a total stranger in a city she had so far found to be only unfriendly. And yet she felt inexplicably drawn to her.
Elizabeth tilted her head. “All right then. If you’d like to, let’s go.”
Garnet matched the woman’s snail-like pace as they walked under the shade of the tall oaks and maples that lined the streets in this part of the city. The houses were at least a hundred years old, each one unique and different from the one next to it. Her mother told her that houses like this once stood where Garnet’s townhouse was, until a developer knocked them down a few years ago and built a modern condominium complex in their place.
“This is it,” Elizabeth said when they reached one of the houses in a quiet cul-de-sac just a few doors away from Victoria Park.
Garnet looked up at the facade that greeted them. “You live here?”
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