The Soul Believes It

by Julie Allan

  The Soul Believes It

  by

  Julie Allan

  Palmettos and Pearls Publishing, LLC

  This book is dedicated to my Laurel Hill Primary family. Y'all have encouraged and supported me on this journey of becoming an author. Family is not just shared blood, family is the people who you bond with through years of shared life and most importantly, through love.

  Book Club Questions

  1. At first Lizzie is hesitant to learn more about her mother's past, missing sister and Aunt Dorothy's omission. Would you react the same way or differently?

  2. If you answered differently, how do you think you would handle this situation?

  3. would you pursue an unknown sibling? Would you worry about disrupting their lives?

  4. Lizzie's maternal grandparents are at the very least disappointing to her. What would you say to Lizzie to help her process what she has learned?

  5. What are your thoughts on the character Aunt Beverley?

  6. Lizzie's image of her mother from childhood memories, changes after the revelations. Do you think one image is better than the other and why?

  Chapter One

  The letter fell from Lizzie’s hands as if the very fibers of the paper had singed her. She wished she could stuff it back in the innocuous envelope she’d discovered it in, and hide it in the closet under the stairs. Laying her head on her hands, she contemplated her options. The house was so still; all she could hear was the steady tick of the mantle clock in the dining room. It was futile to wish the letter away. Much like a broken egg—some things just couldn’t be undone.

  She picked up the letter again, lifting it off the semi-sorted piles of pictures, artwork and family letters. For the better part of a week, she had been going through boxes and coming up with a preliminary plan to organize them all. Aunt Dorothy had started the project a few months before her stroke and Lizzie had intended to help her. But when Aunt Dorothy died, Lizzie couldn’t handle the idea of going through all those memories without her. At the time, Lizzie imagined that she would have more time for such things as the children grew. Not so. Keeping up with Dot and Sawyer had been a full-time proposition, and before she knew it, here she was, a decade later looking at the same pile. Her daughter Dot was now out of college, gainfully employed, and living with a few friends in a beach house they rented a few miles away on Sullivan’s Island. Dot’s younger brother Sawyer was almost through his junior year at the Citadel. Lizzie finally had the time she’d longed for, yet all she could think about was how much she missed those chaotic, far-off days of carpools, after-school activities, and homework. Though she’d resolved at the beginning of the new year to finally tackle the boxes and organize her family history, it had taken her until mid-March just to get started.

  She stared at the folded letter in her hand. Strange how impersonal the typed words looked while revealing something so personal and earth shattering. The contents of the letter challenged everything Lizzie believed she knew about her mother. It hurt Lizzie to think that Aunt Dorothy had known everything, yet had never shared any of it with her. Lizzie read the letter again—this time slowly and carefully.

  February 11, 1979

  Dear Mrs. Long,

  I’m replying to your inquiry in regards to the female child born to Miss Caroline Bowman on July 22, 1968. I must inform you that the adoption records are sealed. I offer my condolences over your family’s loss of the birth mother. If you wish to compose a letter to the female child with family history and contact information, it will be placed in her file. If at a time in the future the child contacts the agency regarding the identity of her birth mother, we will make the letter available to her.

  Sincerely,

  Ms. Roberta Jenkins

  Moses Ministries Adoption Services

  Caroline Bowman was Lizzie’s mother’s maiden name. Her parents had married in 1970, so the truth was inescapable. Had her father ever known about this other child?It was difficult for Lizzie to process the idea that she had a sister or a half-sister out in the world somewhere. She realized how little she knew of her parents, having always been content to hear stories about the five happy years they had all spent together before the car accident had taken them from her.

  After reading the letter half a dozen times, Lizzie finally put it back in the envelope, took it to her office and pushed it into the back of the top middle drawer. She needed time to process its contents and figure out what she wanted to do. It was already three in the afternoon, and the day was slipping away. She moved to the kitchen and fixed a cup of tea. At least, she didn’t have to prepare supper tonight. Her husband Bennett had come home for lunch and suggested they try the new Italian place. Now that she and Bennett were empty nesters, they were free to be spontaneous like this. It reminded her of the early years of their marriage, before the children. Yes, she treasured her years with her children, but even after twenty-five years of marriage, she still savored alone time with her husband.

  Bennett came home around five and cleaned up. Traffic was fairly heavy going over the bridge, but they lucked out with a spot on the first floor of the parking garage. The restaurant was just around the corner. At the restaurant, it was half price on bottles of wine, so they ordered the house red and snacked on the basket of bread on the table between them.

  “Looks like your making some progress on the piles. Any skeletons in the closet yet?”

  Lizzie stared blankly at Bennett, thinking for a moment that he knew. His silly grin reassured her that he was teasing. “Who knows what I’ll find,” Lizzie replied as vaguely as possible. Her heart beat rapidly. She concentrated on buttering a piece of bread, hoping Bennett wouldn’t notice. She promised herself that eventually she would tell him. Thankfully, Bennett wasn’t that curious about the piles on the dining room table. He would take more interest once the photos were organized into albums that he could thumb through. Steering the conversation in another direction had been easy.

  Back at the house, Bennett convinced her they should turn in early. Yes, there were definite perks to having a child-free house. Long after Bennett fell asleep, Lizzie stared at the ceiling. She tried to picture her mother—Caroline Bowman Sawyer. In Lizzie’s mind, her mother was always young and impeccably dressed. She had blonde hair like Lizzie, and it was always perfectly curled. She remembered sitting with her mother reading books and watching her paint. Before her untimely death, Caroline was beginning to be known for her landscapes and still-life paintings. A few of her pieces had been hung in a respectable Broad Street gallery.

  After the death of her parents, friends and family spoke to Lizzie about how they had been deeply in love and had doted on her. Now, her mother’s life was veiled in mystery. Questions raced through Lizzie’s mind. Who was my mother?

  At some point, amid the swirl of questions, Lizzie had drifted off to sleep. She heard the alarm go off and Bennett rise to get ready for a day of charter fishing with some of his favorite clients. Before he left, he kissed her on the forehead and whispered, “See you tonight, love.”

  Lizzie stretched and began digging through the boxes once again. She didn’t bother with the sorting. She was on a mission to find every scrap of information she could about her mother, her mother’s family and her parents’ courtship and marriage. After an hour of digging, she’d discovered nothing. When she did finally find the photos of her parents’ wedding, she noticed only her father’s family seemed to be pictured with the happy couple.

  After two weeks of digging out what she could, she turned to the Internet. She first searched for the adoption agency name on the letter. They had gone out of business in 1992. She googled her mother’s name but found very little. She needed more information. It was time to confide in s
omeone and get some help.

  She picked up the phone, had a brief conversation, and within twenty minutes was headed out the door, letter in hand. It was good to have a nephew who was an attorney. She knew she could count on Ben’s confidentiality and hoped he could help her figure out this mystery.

  Ben had offered his lunch hour to meet with her. She swung by The Biscuit Box to pick up takeout. Faith greeted her at the counter. “Did you come to see how your baby is doing in my hands?”

  Lizzie laughed. “I knew the minute I sold this place to you, you would keep it going just fine. Actually, I’m treating your brother today.”

  It pleased Lizzie that her niece had taken over the business. At one time, she thought Dot would follow in her footsteps. Dot was an accomplished cook, and she loved cooking for family and friends, but ultimately she had pursued a career in architecture and Lizzie was very proud of her.

  Faith slipped some Pecan Tassies into the bag along with the sandwiches. “Tell my brother I love him.”

  “I will,” Lizzie promised.

  At Ben’s office, Lizzie presented the lunch with his sister’s message. Ben smiled. “I still have a difficult time believing my baby sister is old enough to be a business woman.”

  “I can’t believe how all of you are grown, not to mention my own children.” Lizzie pulled out the chicken salad sandwiches on croissants and passed Ben one with a napkin.

  “Do you miss running The Biscuit Box?” Ben handed her a paper plate from a drawer in his desk.

  Lizzie raised her eyebrows. “Eat at your desk much?” She took a bite of her sandwich. It pleased her that Faith had not tinkered with her recipe. “Everyone asks me that. Yes and no. This past holiday season I missed the hustle and the creativity, but on most days, I am glad. After all, I worked almost twenty-six years, and the food business is tiring even when it’s your passion.”

  Ben and Lizzie talked about the family, polished off the Pecan Tassies, and lapsed into a comfortable silence. Ben looked across the desk at Lizzie. She knew she couldn’t put off her reason for coming any longer.

  Lizzie folded and unfolded her hands. “Ben, what I’m about to tell you is something I am really struggling with. I don’t understand it, and it is important to keep it confidential for now.”

  “Aunt Lizzie,” Ben nodded, “as your attorney, I am legally bound to keep your confidence. As your nephew, I offer you my loyalty and love.”

  Lizzie sighed and reached into her bag. She handed the letter over to him and watched his face as he read it. Ben looked up a few times. He was skilled at keeping his emotions hidden—a useful quality for a courtroom attorney. Ben handed the letter back to her, stood up and grabbed a set of keys from his desk. “I’ll be right back.”

  Lizzie sat frozen in her chair. Did he know something? He was out the door before she could say a word. Lizzie sat for almost fifteen minutes in nervous silence before Ben reappeared. He held a document pouch secured with a string and a letter attached on the outside. Lizzie’s name was scrawled in a familiar hand on the front.

  Ben sat down behind his desk, still holding the pouch. “Before I give this to you, I need to confess I’m not sure if it’s related or not to the letter you showed me. A little after Valentine’s the year Aunt Dorothy died, she asked me to make a house call. She gave me this pouch, just as it is, and instructed me to only give it to you if or when you sought information about your parents or anything related to them.”

  Lizzie frowned, why on earth has he not told me about this! “I take it you’ve never opened it.”

  “Correct. Even if I wanted to, I would be too afraid Aunt Dorothy would come back and haunt me.” Ben handed the pouch over to her with a smile meant to lighten the mood.

  “She still holds sway over my behavior as well,” Lizzie laughed, “but I’m a little angry she never told me I had a sister or half-sister.”

  “Knowing Aunt Dorothy, she had a good reason. Perhaps the pouch will explain.”

  Lizzie shook her head. “Or, it could be a whole other set of secrets.”

  “Do you want me to look things over with you, Aunt Lizzie?”

  “No, I appreciate the offer, Ben, but I think I want to be alone. I’ll come see if you if the contents reveal anything I might need your help with.”

  “I’m always here for you.”

  Lizzie stood to leave. Ben stepped around the desk to hug her. “If you have any questions or need any help, just call. I’ll even make a house call, especially if payment is in the form of your cooking.” Lizzie hugged him back

  On the drive home, the presence of the pouch loomed large, burning in the seat beside her. When she pulled up to the house, Bennett’s truck was in the driveway. She slipped in the back door and secured the pouch in her office before searching him out. She hated to wait to open the pouch, but she wasn’t sure what she would learn or how she would react. She found Bennett fresh from a shower in their room.

  “What brings you home so early?” Lizzie sat on the bed and watched him pull on clean clothes.

  Bennett sat down next to her. “I decided the charter was all I wanted to do today, especially knowing my lovely wife was home all alone.”

  “I’m glad I came home from my errands then,” Lizzie smiled. She was glad Bennett wanted to spend time with her and forced herself to push the pouch to the back of her mind. She had not known about it for ten years, so what was a few more hours?

  Bennett had planned a full afternoon and evening downtown. They wandered through the Market like tourists and took in one of the historic house tours on the Battery. Even a lifetime in Charleston couldn’t dull the effect this beautiful city had on her. There was something reassuring that this place had not only existed for hundreds of years but that it had survived and thrived despite wars, natural disasters, and societal struggles. After all, hadn’t she and Bennett done the same? The turmoil over this lost sister was just another challenge, she reminded herself. She fought hard to push it out of her mind.

  They strolled hand in hand through the city wandering into shops along the narrow streets. Then taking in an early supper at a Thai place, Bennett presented her with tickets to The Charleston Music Hall to hear some jazz. After enjoying their meal, they window shopped along the way to the hall and found their seats. The lights of the hall dimmed, and Lizzie lay her hand on Bennett’s arm drawing calm from his presence. The music reverberated through her, and the tempo improved her optimism.

  It was late when they arrived home. Lizzie was exhausted. It was still difficult to get used to the silence of coming home to a house with no children or dogs. Monroe and Maddy had passed away during Sawyer’s first year of college. Sure, it was nice to have a break from the responsibilities of animals and kids, but she missed the chaotic energy of it all.

  As her head hit the pillow, thoughts of the pouch returned. She felt restless and got up to step into the bathroom. After a bit of rummaging, she found a bottle of sleeping pills. Checking the expiration date, she popped the cap and shook two out into her hand.

  Bennett called out to her. “Everything alright?”

  Lizzie swallowed the pills and hurried back to get under the covers. “Yes, I’m fine, just a slight headache. Goodnight, my love.”

  “Good night,” Bennett yawned, already halfway to dreamland.

  Lizzie turned off the lights and prayed the pills to do their work. She needed to forget the pouch and prayed for a dreamless trip into unconsciousness.

  Chapter Two

  Bright rays flooded the bedroom with light. Lizzie stretched and rolled over, fighting through the heavy fog of sleep. Her surroundings, slow to come into focus. She reached her hand over to Bennett’s side of the bed. The sheets were cold. He had been up for a while. What time is it? Lizzie struggled to sit up and blinked, trying to focus on the alarm clock. Nine o’clock! Lizzie couldn’t remember the last time she slept this late. Her mind raced to the sleeping pills the night before to the pouch waiting in her desk drawer. The urgency to ri
se and go to it electrified her brain, but her body was less cooperative. Her limbs felt heavy, and she gave in to lie back into the pillows for a few more minutes.

  Finally, she got up and splashed cold water on her face. She pulled on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeve Clemson orange Henley. Downstairs she fixed a cup of tea and a scrambled egg with toast. Lizzie knew she better eat before tackling what lay ahead; she might not want to once she discovered what was inside.

  She retrieved the pouch and took it over to the chairs by the window, sitting in the one that was always Aunt Dorothy’s. She draped the chenille throw over her legs, seeking the security more than the warmth. Lizzie detached the envelope and ran her fingers over her name. In Ben’s office, it had been unsettling to see Aunt Dorothy’s script; now it was pleasing. Lizzie felt Aunt Dorothy beside her. She knew they were settling in for a serious conversation.

  She opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. It was written on one of Aunt Dorothy’s favorite Crane stationary patterns with her initials top center. The handwritten words were much more personal than the typed letter she had found. Lizzie hoped that meant it would have more information to give. She began to read.

  February 5, 2017

  My Dearest Lizzie,

  I sit here in my little sanctuary you helped me create by the window in the den turned bedroom. I am not sure how to begin. Before I do, let me remind you how much I love you. I have not intentionally kept things from you, life has just gotten in the way. What I am about to tell you, I truly know little about. You will find in the contents of this pouch that I have tried to gather as much information as I could.

  Lizzie paused, putting the letter down in her lap. Aunt Dorothy sat in this chair when she wrote this. Chill bumps rose on Lizzie’s flesh. She closed her eyes. She could smell the essence of roses and bergamot as if Aunt Dorothy had just come in from the garden. She picked the letter up again and continued.