Cupid's Holiday Trilogy

by Geeta Kakade

  Cody’s low bark at the back door got their attention. If he was around, Jacob usually came in and fixed himself a sandwich for lunch at one. Christy quickly put everything back in the tin box with Bridget’s help and re-wrapped the box in the scarf. “We’ll leave you to talk to Jacob,” she told Laurel quickly. I need to go upstairs for a while with Bridget.”

  They disappeared towards the stairs. Mrs. Kemp said something about curtains and vanished with Moira in the direction of her room and shut the door.

  Jacob came into the kitchen and saw Laurel in the living room. He knew she’d been avoiding him till dinner time the last few days. He’d let things take their course, as she seemed fine. He was content that they had gone out again with Moira and Holt to a movie last night and she had sat next to him.

  Noticing her dazed look now his heart did its usual flip of worry.

  “What’s going on?” A glance took in the sheets, the ladder and her expression. “Are you all right?”

  Laurel turned to him, “Jacob sit down. There’s something I have to tell you.”

  He sat down looking at her intently. “What is it? Another breakthrough?”

  Laurel shook her head. “No. I want to show you something.”

  At a loss for words suddenly she held out the chain and pendant to him.

  “Did I lose that?”

  “This one isn’t yours. We just found it.”

  He felt around his neck and pulled out the one his grandmother gave him. His eyes widened in shock as he looked at the one in her hand. “Where on earth did you get that?”

  Laurel told him about finding the box in the chimney. He took the chain from her and removed the one around his neck, took it out of its case and put the jagged edges of the pendant together as if he still wasn’t sure about what he was seeing. He looked tense and a muscle twitched in his cheek.

  “Oh Jacob.” He looked at her and she could see the blur of tears in his eyes.

  “This proves White Feather was your ancestor and the Jacob whom she loved was a Cupid.”

  He stood up suddenly. “I need to think about all this.”

  Laurel was aware of an ache in her heart as he left the room. Would the discovery about White Feather change Jacob’s attitude to Christy and the family? He had mentioned a lot of the native Americans on the Reservation resented what had happened to them.

  Moira and Mrs. Kemp came out cautiously. They’d heard the kitchen door close.

  Just then Bridget and Christy came downstairs too.

  Instead of grilling her about how Jacob had taken the discovery they simply got lunch ready and talked of the jewelry in the box. Christy said she’d called Mark and he’d been amazed over their find.

  After lunch Laurel took a tray of soup, bread and salad for Jacob and left it on the kitchenette counter. Then she decided to go for a long walk by the lakeshore.

  Christy and Bridget said they needed some exercise too and the three of them set off with the dogs on leashes for a walk that kept them away from the house for a good hour.

  When they got back Jacob’s car was missing. Laurel knew he had gone to the Reservation to see his grandmother and show her the two halves of the pendant.

  Bridget said she was going to take a look at Holt’s car before he took it in for repairs and a paint job, just to make sure the mechanic didn’t cheat him. She might, she said, be able to do a few minor things and save him some money.

  Christy said she was going to work on her quilting squares.

  Later as Laurel showered for the second time she realized Christy hadn’t mentioned the contents of the plastic package yet. Picking up the journal she sat down to read the beginning again now that it had special meaning.

  Around four Christy and Bridget looked at the stash of papers that had been in the plastic bag in the attic. Bridget had reported that Holt’s Beetle would need more than he’d paid for the car in repairs. He’d been sold a lemon. Toby and Laurel were discussing her photographs of the garden.

  “Wait a minute,“ Bridget said as Christy picked up the first piece of paper. “Didn’t you mention something about having bought a hundred of those clear plastic see through files.”

  “Yes,” said Christy. “They’re in the bottom drawer of the desk by the window.”

  She and Mark often spent an evening up here, he at the desk in front of the window and Christy in the rocking chair with a book or her laptop, working undisturbed.

  Bridget went to the desk and found what she was looking for. “I think we should slip each paper we unfold into one of these,” she said. “Just to keep the sheets from crumbling or coming apart at the folds.”

  “Good idea,” said Christy opening the first and putting it into a sleeve.

  She stared at it while Bridget kept unfolding the other papers and slipping them into their protective covers.

  “You’ve got to read this,” said Christy in a voice that shook.

  “What is it?” Bridget reached for the sheet of notepaper.

  “Dear Mrs. Cupid,

  There’s something you should know that I don’t have the courage to tell you about in person. Brian and I are leaving for Australia but there is a secret in my heart that I have to share lest I go insane.

  We have had a baby girl and I’ve named her Bridget. I’ve left her here with people who will care for her as I am too ill to do so myself. Above all else in the world, I want what’s best for our child. I am afraid if anything happens to me Brian will not be able to care for her. He has taken his father’s refusal to make amends very hard and is drinking more than ever. I am afraid that having had everything given to him his whole life makes it doubly hard for him to accept his father’s rejection. I have told him I would understand if he left me and returned to you but he says he will not. His depression increases every day and I am sometimes afraid that with the drinking might result in him killing himself. I encourage him in this new idea that we should leave the area and start a new life abroad.

  I will contact you once I am in Australia in the hope that your husband will have forgiven Brian for marrying me by then.

  Is love such a terrible thing? Is he to be punished for it for the rest of his life?

  Lucy

  Bridget looked up after she’d read the letter twice and the next minute she and Christy had their arms around each other and were crying.

  To Bridget it was the final confirmation of proof for the evidence she had sought that her parents were indeed Lucy and Brian Cupid. Her heart ached for the mother who’d been faced with such a difficult decision but who had been brave enough to choose what was best for her child even if it meant giving her up.

  It was a while before Christy and she went back to the contents of the box.

  The papers were marriage certificates, birth certificates and letters from family members through the ages.

  There was a third journal, newer and smaller in there below all the papers and below it was a key that she set aside.

  Christy knew she was going to read the journal if it took all night.

  “With Andrew gone why don’t you spend the night here?” she suggested to Bridget. “As soon as I’m done with the journal you can read it. If I start now it shouldn’t take me long.”

  Bridget nodded. “I was thinking the same thing.”

  It was a good thing she always brought Sheba with her when she came over if Andrew was away. It gave all three dogs a chance to play and train with Frank.

  She and Andrew both had changes of clothes here so that wasn’t a problem either.

  Bridget reached for the letter her mother had written again.

  Laurel looked up as Frank came in and put his heavy backpack down by the door.

  Toby had chosen the pictures for his calendar and gone home.

  “Hi!” she said.

  “Hi.”

  “Good day at school?”

  “They give us too much homework,” he said as he took out some milk from the refrigerator in the kitchenette and coo
kies from the well stocked jar on the counter.

  “Like?” asked Laurel.

  “Like a two page science essay I have to write by tomorrow on a unique topic.” He put a whole cookie into his mouth and said, “Know any unusual topics? Mrs. Curtis says she will give us an A for choosing something that will interest everyone. I need the A or I’m failing Science. I didn’t turn in my last project and I didn’t tell my Mom about it. Mrs. Curtis gave us two weeks to do this essay and I forgot all about it.”

  The whole weight of the world seemed to rest on his shoulders.

  Laurel thought hard. “The only topic I can think of is amnesia. I can help you with that if you like.”

  Frank’s face lit up. “That is unusual.” A frown pleated his forehead. “You don’t mind if I ask you more about it? My Mom said I shouldn’t bother you.”

  “You won’t be bothering me. Let me get my laptop and I’ll be right out. I can explain the kind of amnesia I have better with a picture of the brain.”

  An hour later Frank was happy with his essay. He had a copy of the picture of the brain with the hippocampus and amygdala outlined in red to show the areas mainly affected by retrograde amnesia.

  “Can’t believe it’s done. I might get an A+ for it.” He sounded very happy. “Thanks Laurel. I’m glad there’s no injury to your brain and it’s just a matter of time before you get your memory back.”

  “I am too,” said Laurel.

  Jacob came in and paused. He’d heard the last words and wondered how they were discussing Laurel’s memory loss.

  “Hi Jacob,” Frank grinned. “I’ve been working on a paper on amnesia for Science. Laurel helped me with the research.”

  “That’s great,” said Jacob.

  “I’ve got to go finish the rest of my homework before dinner or I don’t get to watch any TV today.” Frank stood up, smiled again at Laurel and retreated.

  “Did you go and see your grandmother?” Laurel examined his face for signs of tension.

  He nodded and sat down next to her on the couch. “ I should have known Ama knew all along about the connection with Cupid Lodge. When she heard I would be here for a while this year, she said she realized White Feather’s spirit had decided it was time to unlock the secrets of the past. Knowledge she says is given to us to use as we wish and she knows I will not let this revelation change my outlook on life.”

  “You aren’t upset?” She ought to have known better than think he would be.

  Jacob shook his head. “No one alive today is responsible for what our ancestors did or didn’t do.”

  Laurel was relieved. Jacob’s omniscient grandmother always put everything in the right perspective and Jacob had inherited her ability to reduce situations to the simplest form.

  She put her hand up and patted his back not even aware she was doing it. “I’m so glad you’re okay with all this.”

  “I am but tell me about you. Have the last three days been easy for you? Do you like it here?”

  Laurel thought of his promise to move out if she was uncomfortable. “I love it here and I’m planning new projects to fill my days with.”

  His gaze examined her and then he nodded and stood up. “Let’s get ready for dinner,” he said. “It’s Mr. Kemp’s turn to choose what we have tonight and he told me he’s chosen hamburgers. Holt cannot be trusted around hamburgers so I want to get mine first.”

  Christy and Bridget had eaten earlier, Mrs. Kemp told them, as they wanted to get on with reading the third journal.

  Holt manned the barbecue and produced burgers that even Moira approved of.

  Laurel heard Holt ask if she would go out for coffee later and she said as she did every night, “I can’t leave Frank alone.”

  “We’ll keep an eye on Frank,” offered the Kemps. “We are going to be watching in the garage tonight.”

  Moira turned to Laurel but the latter knew it was time to bow out of the picture. “Jacob and I are going to work on the pictures of our trip and send them to Uncle Paul and my Aunt Grace. They’re waiting for them. We’ll be in the family room if Frank needs anything and I’ll make sure he’s in bed by eight thirty.”

  “It’s only for an hour,” Holt pleaded his case.

  “Very well.” Moira’s lack of enthusiasm was ignored.

  Mrs. Kemp beamed at Laurel as they took the plates inside. Moira was cleaning the grill outside while Holt polished off the last burger.

  “That was brilliant dear,” she said. “Moira needs to take the blinkers off and look at life without Frank in it. Holt’s a really good man. Andrew says he’s a genius. When I look at that car I have my doubts and Moira says he’s been swindled.”

  Laurel smiled. “We’ll just highlight his strong points. The barbecue was great and he has his own secret sauce, which impressed Moira. She’s finally going out with him alone and that’s a start.”

  “And I hope someone up there will work just as hard to help you and Jacob,” said Mrs. Kemp to herself as Laurel went out for the rest of the dishes.

  The next morning Laurel went in for breakfast to see a very subdued Holt in there working his way through eggs, sausage and pancakes. Moira wasn’t even looking at him.

  “The car broke down,” Mrs. Kemp told her. “Moira’s tired. They only got back at midnight.”

  Laurel decided to fix a tray and take it back to the apartment. Mrs. Kemp nodded as if that was a wise decision but didn’t say anything.

  Jacob came out just as she got back with the tray but other than saying ‘Good Morning’ kept quiet as he poured himself a mug of coffee and opened the morning paper.

  After they ate he said he had to work for a couple of hours. Bridget had mentioned on their walk yesterday that Jacob kept in touch with a lot of men he’d helped over the years and some of them still discussed what was going on in their lives and asked for his medical slant on whatever it was they were facing. It was almost like he ran an online counseling clinic.

  His patience was limitless and the fact he gave so generously of it made Laurel all the more determined not to take advantage of it. She had woken this morning and sadness had come flooding in for no reason but she’d pushed it away determined to make an effort to get on with life as she knew it now. Jacob had shown her if she stayed busy she felt better. He could only write the prescription. It was her job to fill it and take the medicine.

  Laurel decided to help Christy and Bridget fill the jars for Moira’s business. She wanted to see the new labels. She picked up her camera wanting to take some pictures as they filled the jars.

  All the guests had left for the day and Christy was there setting the jars out in rows according to size.

  It was Holt, Mrs. Kemp told Laurel, who had finally come up with the design for them making a border of whimsical ribbons in red and adding a little figure with Moira’s dark hair looking up at the writing. To start with he had printed up two dozen each for the six kinds she had said she would start with.

  “These are gorgeous,” said Laurel. “Holt’s done an amazing job.”

  “Yes,” Moira’s voice had a snap to it as she turned away to the sink.

  Laurel and Christy looked at each other.

  Bridget walked in and saw what they had in their hands. “G’morning everybody. Holt was up two nights working on those labels. He put a lot of time and thought into them. I know because he mailed Andrew some ideas, asking for his input. These are great. As Toby’s got the jars all ready, I’ll fill and someone can put the labels on. Look at the gingham check for the covers I’ve cut into circles with my craft scissors and I picked up the raffia we forgot yesterday.”

  “Those circles are cute,” Christy stood back and counted the jars on the table.

  “Why don’t I put the labels on,” said Mrs. Kemp, “and Moira tie the covers with the raffia? My fingers are too stiff to do that.”

  “The three of us can work on one kind of a jam or jelly at a time,” Laurel picked up a small spoon as Christy and Bridget came out of the pantry w
ith the large jars.

  “It’s six jars of each kind, two of each size to start,” Christy reminded them.

  “Thirty six jars.” Moira sounded doubtful. “I don’t know if they’ll sell.”

  Andrew and Mark returned at noon. Laurel heard the car pull up. She was in the garden chatting with Toby, enjoying the crisp Fall day and taking pictures of him, the garden, the dogs as they chased each other around. Of Jacob there was no sign. His car was gone too. She’d brought back a tray with a ham sandwich and a bowl of salad and left it on the kitchen counter for when he felt inclined to eat.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Ma was excited and happy on three counts. One, that Laurel had found the old tin box she’d brought with her on that first wagon ride out West. Two, that Brianna had so carefully stored all the most valuable things in it. Three, she’d thought of hiding it in the old cubby hole that Phillip had made for their valuables when he had first built the fireplace.

  “See what good use Brianna’s made of our old safe in the chimney Pa?” Agnes asked her husband as he came up beside her to look at the things on Christy’s chest of drawer.

  Phillip nodded proudly. “It was a good idea to make that hearth so big and the fireplace huge. Building that ledge on the inside and then positioning the cubby hole above it protected the things in the cubby hole from the fire.”

  “You were always so clever, Pa.” Agnes was relieved to see him looking more cheerful than the last time she’d seen him.

  Stephen came up beside them. “Thank God Brianna hid these things from me.” His voice was filled with relief. “I don’t know why I wanted to destroy everything. I couldn’t be happier that there is something left to pass on.”

  “It means so much to them it’s unbelievable,” Agnes told him. “Not the monetary value but having things that belonged to us.”

  “Yes,” Stephen and Phillip chorused.

  Christy, Bridget, Mark and Andrew withdrew to Christy and Mark’s bedroom after lunch and went over all the details of the discovery in the chimney. First they showed them the jewelry that was laid out on top of the chest of drawers and the gold coins and told them about finding the other half of Jacob’s pendant.