by Geeta Kakade
“Can’t wait to meet them all,” Mr. Kemp glanced at his wife. “Bea and I can move out if you want while they are here and then you can have one bedroom free.”
“Of course not,” Christy and Bridget chimed together.
“You stay put,” Mark ordered. “You’re family too.”
“What would a reunion be without your pot roasts?” Andrew asked smiling at Mrs. Kemp.
Bridget nodded. “This is my dream of having a large family come true and you are all an important part of it. First I found you all, then Andrew came into my life and now I have this extra bonus.”
After Bridget and Andrew left on their way to St. Mary’s to tell Sister Winifred the news in person, they all sat down and came up with things they could do to help make the reunion perfect for Bridget. A big party so her father and sister could meet all the people important to her. Laurel was named official photographer and Mr. Kemp videographer of the visit. Holt and Toby said they would help Mark put up the canopy he wanted to in the backyard so they could have the party there. Jacob said he would help Andrew with the driving and rent a van so they could all go out together if they decided to. If they wanted to travel, he offered to put together some itineraries for them to see places in the area while they were here. Mrs. Kemp mentioned some Australian food favorites and Moira and she decided to come up with a menu. Christy had what Mark and Toby called her ‘cleaning gleam’ in her eyes and they said did not bode good for their polishing arms. Even the dogs Christy announced would get a special grooming and new collars for the occasion.
Making plans kept them all happy though the consensus was that they would just let events shape up and see what Bridget her father and sister felt inclined to do.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ma knew it was time to give Moira and Holt a nudge. She wasn’t above using Frank to help matters along and she’d already done so without any qualms.
She was pleased by the fact Jacob's love for Laurel had grown since the baby incident. Laurel trusted him the way she hadn’t trusted any man. Walt, Agnes knew, had been a loser, but young women in lust don’t always stop and think. This time it was love that would endure.
Agnes was glad the new approach to love the couple was taking included getting all the obstacles quickly out of the way. Jacob’s straightforward approach was wonderful.
Agnes had undertaken that two of Cupid’s arrows would find their mark this time around and she was determined to prove she was up to the task.
For perfect results, timing was everything.
Stephen was so impressed with Bridget his heart was ready to burst with pride. She had immediately sensed her father’s worry behind his words in his first letter and gone out of her way to talk with Brian every day since she’d received it. She told him about her life in the Convent and her upbringing and convinced him that she’d never felt the lack of love or security. She had lifted the burden from Brian’s heart so expertly that Alex was deeply grateful to her.
Phillip was excited about what was coming up next. He had slipped the key into the tin box just before Laurel had found it. The sight of it had done just what he expected it to; reminded Christy of the one trunk still unopened.
He and Agnes both knew Christy could be trusted to make the right choices that would once and for all repair the damage done in the past.
The next day Laurel and Jacob visited Ama and were glad to see she was back to her usual self. She had the head of the Tribal Council with her. Jacob had met Chief Running Water before and he introduced Laurel to the dignified old gentleman.
“Ama says you want to discuss programs with me for the youth here,” he said.
Jacob nodded. “Laurel and I have been giving the matter some thought. I’m going to offer counseling services through Medic America but we want to involve them in programs that would give them a continuing interest in the future, maybe even turn into a profession eventually.”
“You can try,” said the Chief.
Jacob nodded. “Laurel would like to teach them about photography and journalism in a weekly class. Ama says Aunt Mary would love to start a culinary program for both boys and girls once a week too. My cousin Charlie who’s in construction says he know a man who will teach carpentry and we have two people lined up for one day programs on gardening and auto shop. We’d like to start as soon as we can.”
“There is plenty of land here for a garden.” Chief Running Water said. “I will announce this plan at the Council Meeting tonight. When do you want to start?”
“Next week if possible. We’d like to meet every day for the first week and then once a week after that. We have someone who is getting each new student in the photography class a digital camera to start with and notebooks and pens for the journalism class.”
“Not too expensive cameras.” There was a touch of asperity in Ama’s voice. “Or you’ll never see them or your students again.”
They all smiled. There was no denying the fact it was going to be a struggle to keep the students coming back.
“I’ll let them have the use of the cameras the first few classes,” Laurel said. “If they come back they can have the cameras. They are inexpensive ones.”
On their way back Laurel said to Jacob. “There was no sign of Sylvie today.”
Ama had another woman serving the tea and cake whom she had introduced as Sylvie’s sister in law.
“I think Ama said Sylvie’s gone away for three days.”
“A trip with the boyfriend? Maybe they’ll get married.”
“If Joe Crutch’s the father I doubt it. He’s probably got some money and they are holed up in a casino for a few days.”
It didn’t bode well for Sylvie.
A very subdued Frank was sitting on the couch in the family room and they both immediately asked him what was wrong.
“Nothing!” His expression contradicted his statement and they sat down on either side of him.
“Sharing whatever’s worrying you lightens the load,” Jacob told him.
Frank kept quiet for a minute then he said, “Remember the day I went out for ice cream with Holt?”
“Yes,” said Laurel.
“I had a stomach ache that night because I ordered three scoops. Too much ice cream always makes me sick but I just wanted to have those three scoops that day. Mom was mad and I let her think Holt had ordered the three scoops, as I didn’t want to lose my tech time. He hadn’t. I insisted on having them even though he said it didn’t seem like a good idea. I had to have a sick day off from school the next day and I heard Mom telling Holt off about the ice cream. The worst part is he never said he’d told me it wasn’t a good idea. He just apologized. Now she’s not talking to him and he still won’t tell her it’s my fault.”
“Give us a few minutes to wash up and then we’ll go find her. You have to tell her what happened and make things right.” Laurel stood up.
Frank looked at them, his eyes huge.
“It’s the best thing to do,” Jacob concurred. “The sooner you get it off your chest the better you’ll feel.”
The aroma of baking bread invited them into the kitchen.
“Smells heavenly,” Laurel looked at the table with the crusty new loaves on it.
Bridget smiled. “Great timing. We were just about to have our monthly bread and jam fest.”
Mr. Kemp, Toby and Frank had identical expressions of anticipation on their faces. Laurel was glad she had her camera with her.
“I have some work to do. Excuse me.” Holt had come in behind them and he headed for his room without looking at the table.
“Is he sick?” Mr. Kemp asked anxiously.
“Never known him to pass up food before.” Toby gave Moira a sharp look.
Moira transferred strawberry jam from the bubbling pot on the stove to two bowls as if she hadn’t heard them but her face was red. Mrs. Kemp got some butter out telling them she’d collected the cream from the milk for a week following a recipe in the old cook book. Then she’d foun
d a new way of churning it on the Internet, simply shaking it in a glass bottle. She was delighted with the result.
“I helped churn it too,” Mr. Kemp reminded her and she kissed him on the cheek.
“Yes you did. I couldn’t have done it without you.”
Christy tore a hunk off and passed the bread to Laurel. “This is the way we do it. No formalities. It’s like the crawfish fest just not as messy.”
There was silence for the next few minutes as everyone enjoyed the warm bread, fresh butter and jam.
“Feast for a king,” Toby’s voice oozed with pleasure.
“This really is the best jam,” Jacob pronounced, making everyone laugh.
Christy looked at Frank. He’d barely finished one piece of bread. “Not hungry?” she asked.
He shook his head and looked at his Mom.
“Homework for you young man,” Moira said.
Frank swallowed, “I need to talk with you first Mom in private.”
Moira looked at him, “What have you done now?”
He didn’t say anything and she said. “Let’s go into the garage.”
“There’s chili for dinner dear,” Mrs. Kemp told Bridget. “I’ll pack some for you to take home. I’m going to be watching Keeping Up Appearances if anyone needs me.”
“Thanks,” Bridget had told them all earlier that Pops would call tonight with the dates of their visit and she couldn’t wait. Bridget called him every night since she’d got his first letter sensing his hesitancy about her feelings towards him.
A few minutes later a subdued Frank came into the kitchen followed by Moira.
“No tech time for a month young man,” she told him.
“Where are you going?” Frank watched as his mother picked up her bag from the counter.
“Captain Holt and I are going out for a while,” Moira looked flustered.
“Oh!” Frank wasn’t sure what to make of it but Toby reminded him the dogs were waiting to be fed and he left the room.
“Robert and I will keep an eye on him,” Toby told Moira. “We’re going to be in the garage.”
Moira marched to Holt’s door and rapped on it. He opened it and she went in.
They could have heard a pin drop in the silence that followed.
“Laurel would you like to come up to the attic with us?” Christy asked. “Bridget and I are attacking a project there.”
“I’d love to,” said Laurel quickly. It would give Jacob a break from her.
When they were all upstairs, Christy said, “I’ve been wanting to open that last trunk for a while now and waiting for the right time to do it.”
“It’s awfully heavy,” warned Bridget. “I couldn’t budge it when I cleaned up here last year.” The memory of the scene that had followed in Christy’s bathroom made her cheeks warm.
“Mark said the same thing. He tried when I told him what you’d said and then we forgot all about it.” Christy looked away as she thought of what had made them forget all about trunks and other ordinary things.
“It’s got a really huge lock on it,” Laurel pointed out.
“That’s strange,” Bridget said. “The other trunks weren’t locked.”
“I found this key in the tin box remember?” Christy held it up. “It reminded me of this trunk.”
“This is exciting,” Laurel wondered what was inside. She knew the first had held the quilts, the second the dolls. A box had yielded Jacob Cupid’s sketches and paintings, another the wedding gowns.
“Yes it is,” Bridget agreed.
Christy knelt in front of the trunk. The key went in smoothly but wouldn’t turn.
“Why don’t you try?” she asked Laurel while Bridget looked for the tool box that Mark kept up here.
Laurel knelt beside her and jiggled the key a little changing the angle that it went into the lock slightly and suddenly it turned. She removed the lock carefully and got back on her feet so Christy could have room to open the trunk.
The old clasp lifted up without a problem and Bridget and Laurel helped one on either side to lift the curved lid and rest it against the wall making sure it wouldn’t come down suddenly.
“What on earth?” said Christy.
All they could see were bundles of different sizes wrapped in newspaper.
“Crockery.” Laurel hazarded a guess reminded of her parents things packed away in her aunt’s attic.
Christy picked up the first one and unwrapped it and all three of them stared at the delicate blue cup with the gold pattern on it.
“It’s beautiful.” Bridget said.
Christy handed the cup to Bridget and looked at the trunk. “All this is china? Help me.”
They all started unpacking and for the time being set everything on the bed.
In an hour they stood around the bed and looked at the treasure. Some of the special items had been in bags of their own, some wrapped in old clothes. A massive silver tea set, three sets of dishes, an assortment of cups and saucers, crystal ware; figurines, other small odds and ends that they knew were all collector’s items now.
Royal Danica, Haviland Limoges, Wedgewood, Foley’s.
Christy had named some of them as her maternal grandmother had owned a collection of china that as a child she had been allowed to play with and arrange as long as she could tell her grandmother which country each piece was from and who had made it.
Some pieces Laurel and Christy turned over to announce the names. Others they would have to research.
“This has been collected since Agnes Cupid first came here.”
“The last journal has a list of things each grandmother brought. Agnes mentioned the Royal Danica. It’s from the 1700’s,” added Christy.
“That was in Grandmother Agnes’ family a long time,” Bridget picked up a plate carefully. “She mentions the china she brought with her belonged to her great grandmother.”
“Every grandmother mentions a set of china and silver and a tea service.” Christy looked at the Foley china, the Limoges and the Wedgewood. Besides all the china there were a set of silver serving platters, dishes, ornate serving spoons and cutlery.
“Dishes, cutlery, glassware and tea sets were pretty important back then,” said Laurel. “I remember my mother saying there was a set of old china in our attic too.”
Bridget had picked up a small pitcher and held it to the light. It was so translucent the afternoon light from the window shone through it.
“Such beautiful things.” Her voice was filled with awe.
“I hate to stop looking at this stuff,” Christy agreed, “but we have to finish emptying the trunk.”
They went back to it. They’d stopped when they’d come across a new board at odds with the wood of the trunk placed across the bottom.
Christy tried finding a way to lift it but couldn’t. “This couldn’t be the bottom could it?”
“It isn’t. The trunk is much bigger on the outside,” Laurel measured it with the span of her hand to prove she had eyeballed it correctly.
“Let’s move it now that its three quarters empty,” Christy suggested.
Laurel and Christy tried to push, while Bridget pulled it but it still wouldn’t budge.
“I think it’s nailed to the floor on this spot.” Christy wondered what to do next.
Bridget looked in Mark’s tool box and when Christy nodded she inserted the chisel into the side and tried to lift the wood up. It yielded easily and they stared at the old black velvet dress inside.
“More clothes?” asked Bridget.
“It’s protection for whatever’s under it,” Laurel guessed.
Christy handed the black dress to Laurel to set aside and then they looked at the stuff underneath.
More paper wrapped objects. Oblong ones this time.
She lifted one and unwrapped it.
“Whiskey!” They all stared at the bottle in her hand. Of all the things they had expected whiskey wasn’t it.
Bridget took it from her and she reached fo
r another bottle.
“Look!” Laurel urged as she examined the side. “The bottom of the trunk’s been removed and there’s actually another space under it. It was created so the bottles could be stored upright.”
“They’ve used pieces of wood to anchor the trunk to the opening in the floor like splints,” Bridget noted. “No wonder we couldn’t move it.”
“Think it was hidden here during prohibition?”
“I think it was a collection that was added to by generations,” Laurel told them. “One bottle says 1850 and other is from 1920. Whiskey unlike wine does not go bad. And the level in these two bottles is intact so it’s still good.”
They were so engrossed in their discoveries, no one heard the men till the door opened.
“Where’s my wife?” Mark walked in with Andrew and Jacob behind him.
Christy jumped up to hug and kiss him and then led him to the bed where all the china was laid out.
“More treasure?” Mark smiled.
“When you didn’t come home by six, I just thought Sheba and I would come over and see what you’re doing,” Andrew told Bridget.
“We brought Jacob along as he hasn’t seen the attic and he wanted to know where you three were hiding,” Mark added.
“Is that whiskey?” Andrew’s eyes had narrowed as he looked at the one unwrapped bottle on the floor. He had gone closer to the bed to look at the china and his gaze was now on the bottle by the trunk.
Bridget nodded and he picked it up to examine the label.
”Do you believe it? This is from 1830. I’m glad someone collected this stuff.”
Andrew handed the bottle to Mark as if he was passing a live bomb. “The level of the liquid is intact which means none of the whiskey has evaporated. That makes this bottle worth a fortune.”
Jacob was looking at his IPhone where he’d entered the name on the label. “Worth approximately about 60-100000 dollars.”
“There are about twelve more bottles in the trunk,” Christy sounded dazed.
“That’s about 1.2 million at best and a paltry 800000 is the least we can expect for it. We can all retire now.” Mark grinned at his wife.
