Chapter Nineteen
Lily’s visits became an anticipated enjoyment, and I looked forward to her description of life with Mrs. Yoder.
“When I first met Rosa, I thought she looked as fragile as an empty eggshell.” Lily chuckled. “Maggie, I couldn’t have been more wrong. She’s as fragile as piano wire. She is so independent, that I wasn’t sure she really needed someone to look after her. But she isn’t an easy person to argue with. It wasn’t long until I realized that, even though Rosa thought she was still able to do what she wanted, her strength gave out long before her spirit.”
Lily’s obvious compassion and affection for Mrs. Yoder aroused my sympathy.
“We’ve worked out a system. Every evening she gives me a list of chores for the next day. You know, a little shopping, what books to return to the library or borrow more, a trip to the store for a few groceries. She asked me to help with the flowerbeds but I know next to nothing about plants, so we settled on my trimming the hedge. She has someone from an agency to come once a week to clean the house and do the laundry, so I don’t do housework except for dishes and tidying up. She’s been teaching me some of her favorite recipes and, in exchange, I explain the computer to her. She’s a good student. We have become great friends, Maggie. That’s why I’m worried about her.”
“I had been at Rosa’s for a month,” Lily said. “One rainy afternoon, she told me all about Roberta; things Pops never knew. She said she never learned anything about Roberta’s family, then she went on to tell how it all came about.”
I knew from the way Lily recounted the story she was telling it just as Rosa had told it to her. Her inflections even sounded like Rosa’s voice.
“It was a beautiful morning in late spring when Dr. Franz called, but I felt only cold. The Doctor’s office was on the first floor of his home, and Jacob and I hurried so. Jacob almost carried me, I was still so weak from the baby, you know. When we arrived, his housekeeper showed us into the waiting room and left us. My dear, I was so excited and nervous, I couldn’t sit still. I paced around the room until Jacob actually made me sit down in the chair. Finally, Dr. Franz and his nurse came in with the baby all wrapped up in a white blanket. He placed her in my arms and I looked down at those big dark eyes blinking at me, and her tiny pink hands waving about and I cried. Jacob cried, too.
“The nurse had a satchel and she opened it. ‘Here are the clothes the mother left for the baby. I’ve put in some extra so you’ll have enough for a few days.’ Then Jacob and Dr. Franz gave me a paper to sign and we took Roberta home.” Lily continued her story about Mrs. Yoder. “She just sat there, staring into the past until I asked her if there was anything in the satchel to explain who the mother was. Maggie, she looked at me, kinda surprised like…” Lily continued on.
“You know, I never looked. I took out the few pieces of clothing, some extra diapers and put the satchel away. I seem to remember something else in a pocket on the side, but it was snapped shut and I never checked. Actually, I forgot about it until the day when we had to leave in such a hurry, but then there was no time. I stuffed the satchel with some trinkets and books and pictures for Roberta and gave it to her.” She cried then, the tears dripping through her fingers. “I never saw her again.”
“What’s worrying you, Lily?” I asked.
“Just what I told you before. All Rosa talks about is Roberta. It’s like she’s still in the past and trying to get beyond some terrible event. She keeps going on about the young man Roberta was in love with and how he seemed so possessive and controlling. I try to divert her attention and sometimes it works for a little while, then she’s back to the same old subject. I don’t know what to do.”
I put a hand on her arm. “Rosa’s old, Lily, and old people sometimes tend to live in the past. Do what you can, but if you need to, don’t hesitate to call me or Dr. Mason.”
Chapter Twenty
I was at a loss to know just what else to try. I decided to go talk to Miss Harriet again. Maybe a flash of inspiration would hit me. I pulled into the circular drive and parked under the branches of the huge, maple tree. Eddie Coblet was stretched out on a long chair near the tree surrounded by scattered papers and books and he appeared to be hard at work with his laptop. He looked up as I approached.
“You look like you’re settled in for a long time, Eddie,” I said. “School work?”
“Trying to get my paper finished. I have until the end of the week. What can I do for you, Ms. MacKenzie?”
I eased myself down on the ground, beside a stack of books.
“I’m still trying to learn more about Emily Washburn. Do you remember your grandfather saying anything about her friends, or places she liked to visit?”
“As I told you, I spent my summers here with grandfather when I was little. Dad was gone a lot and, during the school year, I stayed on base. But every summer I spent with grandfather, following him around while he took care of all the flowers and gardens here. After Mom died when I was ten, I came to live with Gramps. He never stopped talking about the Washburns in the old days.” He twisted around in his chair to point in the direction of the house.
“Along the side of the drive, is a flowerbed that Gramps always called ‘Emily’s garden’. It’s full of lilies, her favorite flower. He said he always had a few for her room when they were in bloom.”
“What about her friends, Eddie? Did Gramps talk about them?”
“Nothing particular, except for one. A girl named Marcia, or Marie, something like that. They were really close, like sisters. I think she became a nun.”
“Did Gramps leave any letters?”
“Nah, he wasn’t much for writing things down. He always said, ‘If you have anything to say, then say it. Otherwise send a flower. A flower can say more than a passel of dry ink on paper.” He chuckled. “Gramps was one of a kind.”
I struggled to my feet.
“Thanks Eddie. You may have just given me the flash of inspiration I was looking for.” I dusted the seat of my jeans and left him to his books.
When I returned home, I dug out the yearbook from 1914 where all the students had written comments and signed their names. Bingo! “Best friends forever, Emily and Marietta.” The notation was under the picture of a Marietta Osborne. Another of the girls in a white dress with her blond hair held back with a white ribbon.
I gathered up the book, my purse, notebook and keys and headed out to have a chat with Sister Beatrice. I crossed my fingers as I drove out to Windom that Sister Beatrice would be able to talk to me. If not, I would enjoy the lovely drive. This was my lucky day. Sister Beatrice appeared almost immediately after I asked for her. “Maggie, it’s so good to see you again. What’s new with your investigation?” She didn’t wait for an answer but motioned me to follow her.
She led me to the library and chose two chairs arranged by a window that looked out onto a garden sheltered by a hedge of cedars. As always, there was an air of calm and silence everywhere and I relaxed. Sitting there, in that room, I felt the worry and stress just melt away.
“Sister, I came to ask whether you know of any friend of Emily Washburn’s that became a member of the Sisters of Charity. I’ve talked with Eddie Coblet. He said his grandfather told of a friend named Marietta Osborne. Was she here?”
“We can look through our old records.” She went to the far corner of the long room where a series of red bound yearbooks lined several shelves. “What time frame are we looking for, Maggie?”
“Emily graduated in 1914, so sometime after that. Are these like college yearbooks with graduates?”
“More like records of events and achievements.”
Naturally, the older volumes were located near the floor. Sister Beatrice and I were compelled to search on our knees. She was undoubtedly more comfortable than I but, still, it took considerable groaning, not to mention extreme lack of grace. We found Marietta Osborne. She entered the convent in 1914 shortly after graduation and remained there eventually becoming Mother S
uperior.
“Sister, did she leave any personal letters or papers, something that might show whether she and Emily kept in touch?”
“Nothing here.” She dusted her hands, staring at the shelf of volumes, then turned, a bright-eyed look of excitement on her face. “Come.”
I followed her through corridors, up a short flight of stairs until we reached a small, circular room above the chapel.
“Here’s where the personal papers are kept.” She found a bulky file of letters belonging to Sister Mary Lawrence, formerly Marietta Osborne. It contained letters from her family, a few from classmates and a great stack from Emily Washburn.
Sister Beatrice handed the packet of Emily’s letters to me.
“Here. Perhaps these will help explain something. But you should stay here with this. Feel free to take notes. I have a class in a few minutes, some summer students. I’ll return in about an hour.”
Most of Emily’s correspondence was ordinary, young woman chatter. There were many comments about the college, her studies, the usual difficulty with math, that sort of thing. But, gradually, the tone began to change. She asked Sister Mary Lawrence whether she, Emily, should sign up as a nurse and go overseas with her schoolmates. In her next letter, Emily informed her friend that she had made her decision. Then came a series of letters about life as a nurse. Much of the comments were like those I read in her letters to her brother, until she met Eduard. She wrote how he treated her like a piece of fragile crystal. The time they spent together, she said was the happiest time of her life, then the terrible news.
“Dear Etta,
The most dreadful thing happened today. I learned that Eduard and his team have all been killed in an ambush. Etta, Eduard didn’t know about the baby. I hadn’t had a chance to tell him because I only found out just after he left. I don’t know what to do. Please, please, dear friend give me your wise advice.
There was more, but that much confirmed what I suspected.
I stacked the letters and tied them up as they were before and made sure I had all the notes I needed. When I replaced the letters in the file folder, I discovered a small book, a diary. Surely Sister Mary Lawrence wouldn’t mind after all this time so I settled back to read what observations she made about Emily’s problems. Flipping through the first part, I finally reached her entries and reactions to Emily’s accounts of life abroad and Eduard.
“I am worried for my friend. She seems to have lost her way and has been persuaded by this very, romantic man. I have advised her to seek out a priest to perform the ceremony but, as yet, she has not done so. I will pray for her.”
Another entry: “Emily has sent me a photo of her Eduard. Indeed he is a handsome man, with kind eyes and a captivating smile. But, still, she ignores my advice. The news of the war is disturbing, even here where we are so distant. I managed to send a package for Emily to share with her patients. I will pray for them all.”
Entry: “I learned today that Emily has returned home. She is quite ill and will see no one. I have written to her, but she hasn’t answered. I fear for the worst.”
Entry: “Emily came to visit me. I was overjoyed to see her because it has been several years. What a change! She has lost all the sparkle and gaiety of earlier times and looks quite worn and ill. We talked in the garden, by the sundial, where she told me of the last days before she decided to leave her post and stay with a family in the village where she was so happy with Eduard. The baby was born, a beautiful little girl, but she couldn’t bring her home. She knew her Papa would be furious if he knew and other people at home would not understand. She didn’t want her beautiful child to become an object of rejection. The family she was staying with could not help so she turned to a friendly doctor who knew of another woman who had just lost her baby. He would see that Emily’s daughter had a good home. Emily and I talked for several hours and, when she left, I saw for the first time, a touch of the old, happy Emily. I wished her well and told her I would pray for her and for her daughter, whom she named Roberta.”
That’s what I was looking for. When Sister Beatrice returned I asked to make a copy of this entry.
On my way home, I remembered something Eddie told me. His grandfather had said, that last day before Emily went for her ride on Champion, she seemed happy for the first time since returning home. That must have been after her visit with Sister Mary Lawrence. Maybe, somehow, she felt relieved of the burden she had carried.
Chapter Twenty-One
My next visit was to Miss Harriet. She showed me into the room where Grandfather and I had been years ago. I looked around at the walls of books, the displays of swords and knives and the table with the glass paperweights. They were just as I remembered them. I took the copy of Sister Mary Lawrence’s diary entry from my bag and handed it to Miss Harriet.
“I came across this in the records room at the Sisters of Charity library. I think you should have this copy. It should clear up the question of any descendants of your Aunt Emily’s.”
She read through the paper twice, then sat with her hand over her eyes for a few minutes.
“Poor dear.” She straightened. “That’s why Aunt Emily was so sad.” She nodded at the portrait of the woman in the yellow dress. “I remember your asking about the painting of my Aunt Emily. You said she was beautiful but looked so sad.”
“I remember.” I studied the jewelry in the painting. “I saw one earring in the box upstairs. Is it one of these?”
“Aunt Emily’s Papa gave her that necklace and earrings for her eighteenth birthday. She loved them and insisted on wearing them for this portrait. My Father told me that Emily’s Papa denied her nothing.” She stepped over to the sofa and sat down. “But to answer your question, yes, the solitary earring upstairs is one of those in the painting. I was told that when Emily returned from Europe, she had only the earrings. One was lost when she fell from her horse the day she died.”
“Miss Harriet, I know where the mate to that earring is. Years ago, I found an old earring when I was collecting leaves in your woods. I cleaned the mud off and polished it with silver polish, but I couldn’t wear it. I put it away and pretty much forgot about it until I saw the one in Emily’s box upstairs. I had Mac send my jewelry box to me. I’ll bring the earring to you.” I got to my feet. “Thank you, Miss Harriet. You’ve been very helpful. I’ll show myself out. I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
As soon as I reached home, I phoned Mac, but he didn’t answer right away. When he finally picked up, he sounded out of breath as though he’d been running.
“Mac, is everything all right?”
“Maggie. Yes, I’m fine. I’m caught in a bit of drama just now though. I’m looking after Peter for a few weeks and we just got back from a soccer game.”
“Why are you taking care of Peter? Is Charlotte sick? Or Troy?”
“Charlotte and Troy are going through a rough patch, Maggie. They just need a little time to themselves to sort things out. You remember what it’s like with a youngster during summer break. Peter can stay with me for a while. I took him to work last week and he watched Dr. Overby do an autopsy. He thought it was ‘cool’.” Mac laughed. “He brought some of his games with him. You know, those electronic ones? Did you realize there are sixteen levels to the Dragons and Elves? I strained and struggled and finally reached level two.”
“Is that good?” I had no idea. These electronic games are a complete mystery to me.
“Peter patted my back and declared me a ‘cool gramps’ even though I was barely competent. He reached level twelve.”
“I’m sure Charlotte and Troy will straighten things out. If Peter becomes too much, Mac, bring him down here to Tuxford.”
“Nonsense, Maggie, I’m having a ball, even though I’m stuck on level two.” Mac laughed. “I took him fishing last week. Peter fell off the pier, but we haven’t told his mother. He thinks I’m cool, even though I’m a pathetic example of a warrior.”
“Mac, remember my jewelry box? It had t
he answer to one of my puzzles.”
He chuckled. “Are you getting yourself into more trouble, love? Should I worry?”
“No Mac, darlin’ nothing to worry about. I’ll fill you in when I get everything straight.” I leaned into the phone. I missed his warm voice and feel of his nearness. “I miss you Mac. Are you sure Charlotte and Troy will be all right? We went through some rough times too remember?”
“I remember. But I had you, Maggie. You’re the strong one and we pulled through those times. Charlotte isn’t like you, and Troy isn’t like me, but I think they’ll figure things out. It just might take a little time. Don’t worry.”
“If you’re sure.” Mac seemed so positive. “Mac, are you sure you two are eating properly? Something besides pizza and take-out?”
He assured me he was fine.
“Don’t worry, Maggie. I’m taking my vitamins and I make sure Peter eats his vegetables and drinks all his milk.”
The next afternoon, Lily asked me to come over; she wanted to show me her new dress.
“What’s the occasion, Lily?”
“It’s the annual dinner dance put on by the Archaeology department. I don’t know anyone very well since this is my first summer here, so I invited Kevin Thatcher to be my escort.”
She spun around, her skirt swirling around her ankles.
“How do you like it?”
The dress was dull gold, with fitted bodice, spaghetti straps and a gauze over jacket. It was breathtaking. But the most startling was her jewelry. Around her neck she wore a necklace like the one in Emily Washburn’s portrait.
Lily, that’s a beautiful necklace. Is it a family heirloom?” I nearly choked as I croaked out a feeble question. She fingered the yellow stone.
“Pops gave this to me. He told me it belonged to my mother. It was in a beat up old box with a book that looked like it had been through a war. It’s an old book with lots of writing like a diary perhaps, but it’s written in a language I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it for years until now. When I saw this dress, it just seemed to go with the necklace.”
Echoes Page 11
