“Thank you.” The baby cooed and drooled on the toy in his hand.
Mrs. Garrison smiled at the baby and gently ran her hand over the side of his blond curls. “Give the baby to Samuel. He will see that the boy is fed and cared for while you and I attend to his mother.”
Adele studied Mrs. Garrison’s creamy skin and neatly trimmed nails. “You have delivered a baby?”
Mrs. Garrison rinsed her hands in the water and dried them with one of the towels. “I have seen babies born.”
“Can we get you anything else, Mrs. Garrison?” Samuel asked.
“No, Mr. Jessup. You may leave us now. This is a job for women.”
Samuel took the boy, who appeared fascinated by his knit cap. When Elise curled on her side and gripped her belly, Samuel and the boy quickly departed.
Victoria stripped Elise’s shoes, her knitted stockings, and then her clothes. After covering the woman with a blanket, she stacked pillows at the top of the bed and with Adele’s help pulled Elise up to elevate her head.
“Do you have children?” Adele asked.
“No. My husband and I were not blessed.” A faltering smile flickered on her lips. “Go on—wash your hands. I think it will not be much longer.”
The baby boy arrived two hours later in a rush of screams and blood. He had a strong, lusty cry, but Elise did not respond to the sound of her newborn son. She was unresponsive, and her eyes had rolled back in her head. Mrs. Garrison wrapped the baby in a large, clean towel and held him close for a long moment.
Elise began to scream again, and, though she was not lucid, her body was again convulsing and straining as if trying to expel another child. “There should be an afterbirth,” Mrs. Garrison said.
“But her pains are so violent,” Adele whispered. “I helped my mother at other births, but I’ve never seen anything like this.”
Mrs. Garrison pressed her fingertips to Elise’s neck. “Her pulse is racing.”
“She was sick before we arrived.”
Victoria pushed up the woman’s legs, and this time, they both saw the crown of another head in the birth canal. “Another child!” Victoria grabbed the shoulders and pulled. A small baby boy slid out. His complexion was blue and his body still.
As blood gushed over the sheets and blankets and Elise’s face grew even more ashen, Mrs. Garrison raised the baby up by his feet and rubbed him hard between the shoulder blades. For several moments, the child did not make a sound, and Adele feared the child was lost.
Mrs. Garrison laid the baby on his side and cleaned out his mouth with her finger. She then covered his mouth and nose with her mouth and blew in several quick breaths. “Come on, little one.”
“How do you know to do this?” Adele asked.
“I saw it done once.” She rubbed her knuckle firmly into the center of the baby’s chest.
Finally, the child twitched and began to cry. Smiling, Mrs. Garrison wrapped the boy in another towel. “Elise, you have two sons. You must open your eyes for them.”
Elise’s breathing had stopped. When Adele touched Elise’s neck, she felt no pulse. Mrs. Garrison laid the baby aside and shook the woman. She tipped her head back and blew air into her lungs just as she had done with the infant moments ago. But Elise did not respond.
She was dead.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Megan
Friday, May 4, 2018
Cape Hudson, Virginia
4:30 p.m.
“Victoria’s first son was born in 1938, and her twin boys were born in 1939. She kept all three of Elise’s children and passed them off as her own,” Megan said.
“The decision was made that night when Elise’s body was buried at sea,” Adele said. “Everyone aboard ship was there, and we all said a prayer for the lost girl. I went back to my cabin and was sitting with the babies when Mr. and Mrs. Garrison came to see me. They were willing to raise the babies, but they wanted the world to know the children were theirs.”
“I always wondered why Victoria’s children never laid claim to the Buchanan monies.”
“Claire was waiting for us on the dock when we arrived in Norfolk. She and Mrs. Garrison spoke privately, and I assume a deal was struck.”
“Samuel knew.”
“Yes.”
“When Mrs. Garrison refused to take the dreidels or the identification papers, Samuel took them both. He said he would keep them for the children if they ever wanted to know about their heritage. One day, he said, the secret would come to light.”
“He knew by then that Victoria was his biological mother, and he thought the boys would need a connection to their past.”
“Yes.”
Later that afternoon Helen drove Adele back to Norfolk, and Megan fed Diane again. As she laid the baby in the cradle in the parlor, the front door to Winter Cottage opened and closed.
Lucy and Hank appeared in the door, and when they saw the baby sleeping, the trio stepped into the kitchen. “Lucy tells me you found out something about my ancestry.”
“I did. Adele, Grandmother Jessup, told me.” She laid out the dreidels and Elise Mandel’s travel papers and began to retell the woman’s story. “From how Adele describes it, she hemorrhaged to death. Maybe if you relay the story to an ob-gyn, they can explain better about what happened.”
Hank ran his hand over his hair, staring at Elise’s face. “She looks like my sister, Rebecca.”
“I’ve not seen Rebecca in years,” Megan said.
“My grandfather was the oldest of Victoria and Edward’s children. Dad and I planned to see Grandpop next week. Can I take these to show him?”
“They are yours to keep,” Megan said. “Maybe your father and grandfather can figure out if you still have family in Germany or France.”
He studied Elise’s picture for a long moment. “Thanks, Megan. This means a lot.”
“I’m glad I found it.”
Hank hugged Lucy close and then kissed her.
“I have one more surprise.” Megan picked up the planchette and popped the latch. She carefully opened it and watched as their eyes widened.
“Diamonds?” Lucy said.
“Stolen over a century ago by a con woman on a cruise ship,” Megan said. “Adele showed me the latch.”
Lucy looked at Hank, shaking her head as if she could not believe it. “Did she ever sell any of these?”
“She said she never touched them.”
“Are they traceable?” Hank asked. “Can we return them?”
“Loose stones are nearly impossible to trace. I think Madame LeBlanc knew that.” Megan smiled. “Those diamonds will send Natasha to any school she wants to attend.”
“I don’t know what to say,” Lucy said.
“I’ll leave it all to you now.” Megan checked on the baby, and, confirming she was still sleeping, she stepped out onto the back porch. The sun was setting low in the sky, and soon it would dip again behind the horizon. The sound of footsteps approached, and she turned to see Helen.
“I took Grandmother Jessup back to Norfolk. She was quite exhausted.”
“I’m glad I got a chance to meet her,” Megan said.
“I am truly sorry, Megan. I have said things to you that are unforgivable.”
“You’re right,” Megan said.
“I’ve been so angry since Scott died, and you’ve caught the brunt of that. I’m so sorry.” She ran a trembling hand over her hair. “I know my son wasn’t perfect. But I loved him.”
Megan knew Helen could be difficult, but she loved her son. Now that Megan had Diane, she understood the power of a mother’s love for her child. “Can you do a favor for me and watch the baby? I want to run an errand.”
Helen drew back, tears glistening in her eyes. “Of course.”
“I won’t be gone long.”
“Take as much time as you need.”
Megan ducked inside, grabbed her purse, and a minute later was driving off Winter Cottage property toward the main road. She drove north on Route
13 and took the turn to Rick’s house. When she turned into his driveway, she was glad to see his truck parked there.
She parked beside it and got out of the car, smoothing damp palms over her jeans. She knocked on the front door, but there was no answer, and she thought maybe he was not home. But then came the sound of a hammer banging behind the house.
She hurried around the side and down the sandy path filled with crushed oyster shells. His shipment of siding had arrived, and he was now stripping off the old. He wore faded jeans, a weathered blue T-shirt, and work boots as he raised his hammer. He seemed to sense her, and he turned. His expression was an unreadable mask, but she could see the tension rippling through his body.
“Megan, I should have told you about Brandy,” he said.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I didn’t know how. But I swear, I wouldn’t have let you walk down that aisle, knowing what I did. I was just doing my best to make sure I wasn’t going to blow up your wedding for the wrong reasons.”
She took a step toward him. “Telling me about Brandy wasn’t a bad reason.”
“I never wanted you to marry Scott.” His voice was rough with emotion.
“Why not?”
“Because I wanted you for myself.” He tossed his hammer aside and rubbed his hand over his head. “I can’t tell you how many times I wanted you to give up on him and come to me. But I knew Scott loved you, and I couldn’t betray that trust.”
She closed the distance between them and took his hand. “I’m tired of trying to figure out Scott’s complicated idea of love.”
Rick tightened his hold around her fingers. “I can promise you, my view of loving you is far simpler. All I’ve ever seen when you’re around is you. No one else.”
“Diane and I are a package deal now.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way. I love that kid like she was my own.”
Megan rose up on tiptoe and kissed him. He rested his hands on her hips. “Let’s see how it goes, Sheriff Markham. You might get tired of me.”
Pulling her close, he kissed her again. “No way in hell, lady.”
April 8, 1939
My dearest sister,
I am entrusting you with my heart and soul, my precious daughter, Adele. Gilbert will not leave France, and I cannot leave him or the village when I know in my bones that darkness is coming soon.
Each time you see Adele, remind her that her mother and father loved her more than life. Tell her to find love, to make beautiful babies, and to live well. If she finds half the happiness I have found with Gilbert, then she will be truly blessed.
Love,
Diane
April 18, 1939
From the Journal of Samuel Jessup
The ship docked first in Baltimore, where Mr. and Mrs. Garrison departed with their sons. Miss Claire met us on the docks. She and Mrs. Garrison spoke only briefly, and no one could hear what they said. But the women hugged. As the Garrisons entered a waiting car, Miss Claire went to Adele and wrapped her arms around her. “You are home,” she said. “Finally home.”
I left them on the docks, my mind already turning back to my ship and the cargo that would soon stock it for my return trip to Europe.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2017 Studio FBJ
A southerner by birth, Mary Ellen Taylor’s love of her home state of Virginia is evident in her contemporary women’s fiction, which includes her novels Spring House and Winter Cottage. When Mary Ellen’s not writing, she spends time baking, hiking, and spoiling her miniature dachshunds, Buddy, Bella, and Tiki. For more information about the author, check out www.MaryEllenTaylor.com.
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