Echoes

by Naida Kirkpatrick

  After Mike left, I changed my direction and went to the Williams Flower and Lawn shop. They were very busy so, while I waited, I browsed lazily at the variety of vases and small pitchers on display. I was still waiting when Mike returned. “Mike, can you find out who ordered the plant you delivered to Max Williams?” I asked.

  He frowned at the list of orders on the screen.

  “Here it is. I had to go back a ways. It was a Francine LeClar, and she ordered a potted ficus tree at the end of April to be delivered on the 7th of June to Max Williams of 472 W. Roseberry.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  I was halfway through the month and still hadn’t found anything solid, either about Emily Washburn or Max Williams. I couldn’t find a soul in Tuxford who remembered anything about the Washburn family that I didn’t already know. I went back to talk to Miss Harriet. It was a spur of the moment idea and I wasn’t sure whether she would even talk to me.

  Miss Harriet was kindness itself. When I told her I wanted to find out about Emily, she nodded.

  “Mr. Manning told me he was trying to locate any possible family, although I don’t think there are any. But…” She gave me a direct look. “How can I help?”

  “Do you have any old pictures, articles, letters that might be helpful?”

  She stared at the floor so long that I thought maybe she hadn’t heard me.

  “Perhaps there is something. Come with me.”

  I followed her up the turn of the century, curving staircase bordered by carved, wooden banisters to the second floor. She opened a door at the end of a short hall and I followed her inside. The room faced the front of the house, looking out onto the drive.

  “This was Aunt Emily’s room. My father always kept it just the way she left it. I guess he couldn’t accept the fact that she was dead. I make sure it’s cleaned and dusted, just as we always did.” She pointed to the chest beside the door. “There is a box of letters in the top drawer. Emily wrote them to my father. Feel free to look around. Perhaps you’ll find something helpful.” She left, closing the door quietly behind her, and I heard her soft footsteps fade away down the carpeted stairs.

  I circled the room slowly, studying everything from the pictures to the carpet. It was a young girls’ room, with white furniture and a soft, grey rug with a leaf pattern. The walls were papered in pale green with a scattering of lilies overall. In front of the large, double window stretched a chaise lounge between twin bookcases. There were many books about horses on the shelves, as well as several trophies from riding events. On the wall beside the bookcase was displayed a framed collection of blue ribbons and medals. Evidently, Emily was more than just a casual rider. The small desk had the usual blotter, ink stand and assorted stationery along with a delicate, pale green lamp. I peeked into a closet the size of a small bedroom. It was filled with a treasure of clothing from the early 1920s. There was a rack of gowns of satin, chiffon, lace and several riding habits in soft shades of brown and dark blue. One entire wall had shelves of hats behind a door of sliding glass. The lower portion contained drawers of gloves, scarves and shoes. I felt as though I had wandered into an old time haberdashery.

  Finally, I took the box of letters from the chest drawer and sat on the chaise lounge to read them. The first ones were written while Emily was away at college. She told of her classes, her classmates and some of the professors. I found one reference to Louis Devereaux. But the ones written to her brother were the most revealing.

  Dear Robbie,

  You must tell me all about your military adventures. I feel so cooped up here now that graduation is over. I did something quite daring last week. I asked Louis if he wanted to marry me. Of course he told Papa, and Papa was furious. He threatened to send me to stay with the nuns. I have decided I don’t want to marry Louis after all.

  Dear Robbie,

  I have such great news! Laura and Tess from school are joining up and going to serve as nurses and I’m going with them. Papa’s quite upset about my going too, but I’ll talk him out of the sulks.

  Dear Robbie,

  Oh, Robbie, never have I been as sick as I was on the ship coming over here. It was so bad that I wasn’t afraid of dying, I was afraid I wouldn’t die. But now, I’m on solid ground and feel good as new again. The food here is different, to say the least, as I’m sure you already know. I’m in France, but I can’t tell you just where. I met an interesting man today. I’ll tell you more another time. He’s coming to take me for a walk and show me around the village.

  Dear Robbie,

  I wish you could meet Eduard. He’s funny, brilliant, loves Chopin and me. I absolutely adore him. We had lunch in a little café yesterday. I’m not sure what we ate because just being with Eduard was all I could think about. Is this what love is like? Afterward, we walked through the whole village. It’s very small. Then we walked through the woods to see the spring flowers, what few there are. The new leaves are just beginning to show and it looked as though a veil hung over the trees, just like the woods back home. I was off duty until this afternoon, so Eduard and I stayed in the village overnight. I’m sure Papa would frown, but it seems so right. This morning Eduard left to rejoin his companions. He’s the leader of a group of resistance fighters and often has to leave at the drop of a hat.

  There were several letters where Emily told about her duties, the food, and the hardship caused by the shortage of essential supplies. There were occasional references to her two friends from school that were stationed in different areas. The last letter showed a different Emily, a distraught Emily.

  My Dearest Robbie,

  Even as I write this, I can’t believe it. Eduard is dead. He and his men ran into an ambush and everyone was killed. The woman that runs the café told me. Her son was one of Eduard’s team.

  Oh Robbie! What am I going to do? It’s still early and Eduard didn’t know. I didn’t have a chance to tell him. Papa will be furious.

  There were no more letters to Robert. It was a few weeks after the signing of the Armistice that the account of her return to Tuxford appeared in the newspaper. In that picture Emily looked ill, and very thin. Eddie Coblet told me his grandfather said Emily was always crying. I changed my mind about any involvement with Louis Devereaux. A few pieces of this puzzle were beginning to fit together.

  Miss Harriet joined me while I read Emily’s letters. “I never read these letters. My father always kept them here in Emily’s room.”

  I handed her each one as I read it.

  “I never knew much about my aunt. Father talked a great deal about their early years growing up here in this big house but the only thing he said about, when she returned was that she was in poor health. He would talk at great length about how Emily loved riding and what a brilliant student she was, but never mentioned her work overseas.” She sighed. “I guess it was too painful for him.”

  “Miss Harriet, what do you think about that last letter? Is it likely Emily had a child while she was in France and left it there?”

  She read through the letter again, and slowly nodded.

  “Perhaps.” She handed the paper back to me and watched as I sorted through all the letters. “It would be impossible to locate the child after all these years.”

  “The child would be a grandparent by now.” I tried to do the math but got tangled in the numbers.

  “That’s true,” she said. “Perhaps we should be looking for a grandchild.”

  She had a good point, but where to start looking?”

  I took as many notes as I could then returned the letters to the box. Miss Harriet placed it back in the drawer. A flat, jewelry case sat on the dressing table beside a hand mirror.

  I figured Miss Harriet wouldn’t mind, so I looked inside. Everything was in order. A string of matched pearls, another of pale pink beads and a double strand of jet beads. There were matching earrings to go with each necklace. Tucked in one corner was one earring of silver filigree with a yellow topaz. Somehow, it looked familiar and, at first, I wa
sn’t sure why until I remembered the old earring I found in the woods a long time ago. I didn’t say anything to Miss Harriet just then. I’d have Mac send the one I have so I could compare them.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Donny came over Saturday afternoon. I showed her my notes about Emily’s letters. I made iced tea and we sat at the dining room table sipping tea, munching pretzels and trying to itemize the information about Emily Washburn. The warble of the phone startled us. It was Mrs. Yoder, inviting me to visit again.

  “May I bring a friend?” I asked. She agreed, so I told Donny to put down the papers and follow me.

  This time, Lily showed us into the book room where Mrs. Yoder sat in front of a low table covered with photos. I introduced Donny.

  “I’ve been wanting to meet you, Ms. Thatcher. Mr. Randall has spoken very highly of you many times. He considers your work to be exemplary. Please, sit down.”

  We perched on the edge of two fat, plum-colored chairs on the other side of the table.

  “I told you I had more pictures to show you, Ms. MacKenzie.” She opened a large photo album, turning it so we could see. She described each photo with such loving detail that I felt I knew her Roberta. She was apparently a child who knew what she wanted and didn’t let anything stand in her way.

  Times were changing, though. Patrols of soldiers swept through the small town, randomly rousting bewildered people from their homes and jobs at all hours of the day and night. The people didn’t understand since the fighting had not yet reached them and news was slow.

  “We were so frightened, my dear. Soldiers banged on the door when you least expected it, sometimes just bursting in and ordering everyone out to the street while they rampaged through your house. We never knew what they were searching for. Finally, we told Roberta we had to leave, but she didn’t want to go with us.” She bowed her head for a moment. “We didn’t tell anyone about our plans, only Roberta.” Rosa shook her head.

  “Why did Roberta stay, Mrs. Yoder?” Donny’s question caused the old woman to close her eyes.

  “Ah.” She sighed. “Roberta had a position as a cryptologist for the soldiers stationed nearby. She liked the work and said they needed her. She also was in love with one of the men; a handsome, arrogant and dominating man. She thought she could do whatever she wanted. She didn’t want us to leave but he told her if we stayed, we would all be sent to the camps. He would let us go if she stayed because she was carrying his child. We wanted her to have a nice wedding in the church, but he wouldn’t hear of it. It broke our hearts, but we had no choice.”

  “How awful for you.” I said.

  “I didn’t trust that young man, but what could I do? I couldn’t change her mind. We had to leave her.” She sighed, and repeated, “It broke our hearts.”

  “We got a letter every week for a while. Roberta told us about the museums they visited. She told about the beautiful park where her Major took her for picnics when the weather was nice. She described her new apartment and the neighbors and then, suddenly, she stopped writing. Finally, she wrote that she wasn’t well. The next letter came from a Doctor Parker of the Red Cross.”

  Taking a deep breath, she continued.

  “In his letter Dr. Parker stated that he had treated a Roberta Yoder for a head injury suffered in a fall down a flight of stone steps. The injury was quite severe and she didn’t recover. Her small daughter was rescued by a passerby, but was not injured. The passerby told Dr. Parker she saw the father strike the child’s mother, causing her to fall. The father seemed very angry. He told the woman to ‘take the child if she liked; he wanted nothing to do with it.’ The baby was taken to the nuns for safe keeping, since the war had now reached the doorsteps of the village and none of the people were safe.”

  Rosa sighed and closed her eyes.

  “I tried so hard to find Roberta’s child, but I couldn’t. All I learned was that the child was a girl named Allilie.”

  “Jacob was gone and I wanted to get as far away from war as I could, so with the help of a friendly priest, I got away. Eventually I arrived here, in Tuxford. I made new friends, met Gerry and Mavis and invited the local priest to tea. After I moved into this house, I met all the neighbors except Mrs. Williams, so one day I decided to call on her. They were from the old country. Gerry told me their name had once been Wilhelm, but was now Williams. I took a plate of little cakes like the ones I once baked in the old country. She cried when she saw them. She said they reminded her of home.” Rosa paused, staring out the window.

  “We chatted about Tuxford, the weather, mostly unimportant things while she continued working at cleaning a leather wallet. It was her son’s wallet, she said. They had finally managed to arrange for him to join them. She shook out the pictures and papers in order to clean it thoroughly, and the photos scattered across the table.”

  Mrs. Yoder looked at each of us, tears filling her eyes.

  “One of the pictures was of my Roberta. My heart became a shard of ice. I picked up the photo and said something like ‘what a lovely girl.’ She didn’t continue.

  “Mrs. Yoder, then what?”

  “Oh, nevermind, my dear. I don’t wish to discuss the Williams any more just now, except that Mr. Williams was a genius when it came to growing things.”

  It was such an abrupt change of subject“Rosa, you should go lie down for a while,” Lily said, sensing something amiss. “You’re all tired out.” Lily tried to help the old woman out of her chair, but Rosa shook her head.

  “I’m all right, Lily.” She gave her a sad little smile. “Be a dear, and make some of that vanilla tea for us will you, and bring some of the cookies you baked yesterday.

  “Lily is such a comfort to me,” Rosa explained, as Lily left the room.

  When Lily returned with the tea, Rosa continued her story.

  “Tuxford felt like home, that is, until the Williams son arrived. As you know Mr. Williams owned the local flower and lawn shop. He had magic in his fingers, that one. Everything he touched seemed to grow and flourish. Mr. Williams was friendly, always chatted with customers. He showed me how to take care of my African violets. The whole town knew how much he looked forward to having his son work with him. But it didn’t work out that way. Max was so arrogant, strutted around as though he owned the very earth he trod upon. None of the customers liked him, so finally his father put him in charge of the office, managing the books.” She stirred sugar into her tea. “One day I went back to the greenhouse for geraniums. No one was back there except Max and he was talking on the phone. I couldn’t hear all he said, just that someone got in his way and he ‘took care of her’.” Rosa set her cup on the table. “The thing that made me afraid, was the terrible coldness of his voice. He had no feelings at all.”

  Just for a second or two, Rosa’s eyes held a look of such hopeless emptiness that made me shiver.

  Rosa’s cane hung over the arm of her chair. I tried to make an effort to lighten the atmosphere.

  “That’s an unusual cane; is the head of it made of ivory?”

  “Yes, this has been in my family for generations. It has been carried by generals and officers of high rank for more years than I can remember. My grandfather gave it to me just before he died.” She turned it over so we could see the curved top. “This is hand-carved with the inscription of an ancient royal house, although the symbols are now nearly worn away. The body is made of ebony.”

  It was beautiful; black and cream with a silver tip. Talking about her cane seemed to cheer her a little, and the empty look faded from her eyes. Donny and I left soon after and walked back to my house in silence. When we reached my steps, she hesitated.

  “Maggie, did you---?”

  “I did.” I shivered. “It gave me goosebumps. She sounded as though she’s losing touch with reality.”

  “Me too.”

  After Donny left, I prepared my supper, all the time seeing that hopeless, empty look in Rosa Yoder’s eyes. I never worked much with psyche patients, but this s
weet, frail, elf-like woman was either insane or on the edge or my name wasn’t Maggie. I stopped dead in my tracks, right there in the kitchen. Was Lily safe with her?

  Before I had a chance to indulge in a proper panic, Donny phoned.

  “Maggie, do you think Lily Thomas is in any danger? I think we should tell Archer.”

  “I had the same thought,” I said. “But she’s family and has been with Mrs. Yoder for several months now and seems ok. Besides, I didn’t notice anything until she talked about Max Williams.”

  “You’re right.” She paused. “I think I’ll just give Archer a hint anyway.”

  I moved through the rest of the evening seeing those eyes everywhere. Finally, I gave up trying to make sense of my notes and went to bed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Another of the Midwest’s thunderstorms moved through the area late in the night. Sleeping was difficult. Flashes of lightning flickered through the blinds and the house shook as thunder crashed and rolled. When the thunder finally subsided, the sound of pounding rain was far from relaxing. I slept fitfully, skipping from dream to dream.

  I dreamed about Emily Washburn. I found myself riding through Washburn woods beside her. She wore a yellow dress and a silver, filigree necklace. Her gown whipped behind her in dripping shreds over the horse’s rump. The rain pelted the leaves and I felt the sting of raindrops in my face, although I wasn’t wet. A sudden clap of thunder caused Emily to scream. She clapped her hands over her ears, dropped the reins and fell from her horse. I realized that I was no longer riding, but falling onto the soggy leaf covered ground. The horses were gone. The sky was black with lightning flashes illuminating the branches thrashing about. Willie Manning grinned above me but his eyes were full of hate. I rolled away from him and ran. The woods disappeared and I found myself at the top of a set of stone steps. Pressure at my back sent me tumbling forward. I rolled down the steps, banging against each stone. At the bottom, I stood up, surprised and unhurt. I saw a tall man come down the steps. Willie, I thought. But no, the man was in some kind of uniform. He had blond hair, but no face. Suddenly, he had wide staring eyes, staring at someone beside me. I turned.