by Jenny Hale
There was a creak in the floor, and she turned around. “Oh, good morning,” she said to June.
June was wearing her housecoat and slippers, but her hair was still as perfectly combed as it had been yesterday, with one side tucked behind her ear. Without her make-up, however, her face revealed the secret that her life hadn’t been easy at times. Normally, it was hidden very well.
“You’re up early,” June said. “You look like you haven’t slept.”
“I haven’t,” Leah said, getting up to offer her some juice. She needed a break from all the caffeine.
June accepted and joined her at the counter. She was quiet as she got two glasses down from the cabinet.
Leah wondered if June had any knowledge of Nan and Samuel. She looked tired, but somehow more settled, so she decided to bring up the subject. “Do you know anyone by the name of Samuel Patterson?” she asked.
June poured some juice into the glasses and put the container back into the fridge before she turned around, her eyes squinting in her attempt to recall the name. “I don’t think so, why?”
Leah told her about the letters.
“An admirer.”
They took their glasses to the table. “It was more than that. He said he loved her.”
“He sounds charming.” She swirled her juice around in her glass and then took a sip.
“I didn’t think she’d had anyone significant in her life since my grandfather Jack died,” Leah said. “She’d said how devastated she’d been when she’d lost him. I always assumed she’d just never quite gotten over it.”
June’s face dropped from curious to understanding; she knew all too well what loss was like. Suddenly, Leah worried that she might have reminded June of the sensitive topic of her friend’s death. June’s expression confirmed it. “David told me about your friend,” she said cautiously. “I’m so sorry.”
She nodded, the emotion clearly robbing her of her words.
Leah knew that just saying sorry was what everyone said to someone who was grieving, for lack of anything better to say. There wasn’t anything to say that could make her feel better. “Since Nan died,” she said, “I’ve felt like a part of me is missing. I’d been going along just fine and it was like getting hit out of nowhere by a speeding van. I didn’t see it coming and then my favorite person was gone. I’d never get to hear her voice or feel her comforting hand in mine or listen to her sing to the radio. There are so many little things that I miss every day.”
June nodded but looked away. Her hands were tight on the glass. Leah just sat, wondering what it must be like for David to see his mother this way.
“Did Samuel say anything else in the letters?” June asked, her voice still not completely recovered from her emotional moment. She obviously didn’t want to go into detail about her friend.
“The most shocking thing he said was, ‘Sometimes, we meet people and we know right away how perfect they are for us—Nina, you were that for me.’” Leah tipped her head up to look outside but the view wasn’t registering. She had too much on her mind. “I can’t believe I never heard about him,” she said. “Nan never said anything about a great love affair.”
June shook her head. “She never would. She probably didn’t want to burden you with a sad story. That was how she was. And she wouldn’t have wanted any pity.” June’s voice was clearer now, focused on the conversation. “What else did he say?”
“He told her that if she ever wasn’t okay, she could find him.”
“Do you think she left him to come here?”
“I don’t know.”
June’s hands were folded in her lap now, and she had a faraway look on her face. “I remember my mother telling me that Nina had bought Evergreen Hill from us. I was beside myself. Mom wasn’t a businesswoman at all. Nina had gotten the business running smoothly, making it more profitable than we ever imagined. She had these amazing plans to take it to the next level, but Mom just wasn’t up for it. She didn’t want the hassle. My mother had gotten carried away by all that money. She ran up debt that was so large she couldn’t afford to pay for the house anymore, and she was tiring of the property and the business. She told me that the house needed Nina as much as Nina needed that house, and she sold it to her. After we left, I kept in touch for a little while. Nina applied for grants to help her maintain the house, she applied to non-profits, she researched and found all kinds of ways to shave off costs. And she was great at it. Then, when she started to book weddings, hold events for businesses from as far as Washington D.C., people took notice.”
Leah knew all of this, but she was glad to see June opening up, sharing some of her own history of the house. As she talked, Leah was brought right back around to thinking about regrets: the regrets she’d feel once Evergreen Hill was no longer part of her life; the regrets Nan spoke of, and Samuel Patterson.
* * *
After her conversation, Leah had gone to find David, wondering if they could look at that online list of Samuel Pattersons again.
“Thank you for letting me use your computer so we could look,” Leah said, after checking. She got up. “I don’t think I’m going to find him.”
Leah had re-read every one of Samuel’s letters and looked at all the Samuel Pattersons online, bewildered. She was no further forward in her search.
David set his book on the arm of the chair and followed her out of the room. “What are you going to ask him if you find him?”
“Why she let him go.”
She kept thinking about how Samuel seemed like a perfect man. He’d said in his letters that he wanted her to move in with him, enroll her children in private schools that he’d pay for, and he’d even mentioned the word marriage. People don’t just offer that unless they’re in love. Niggling at the back of Leah’s mind was the thought that Nan had let go of something she loved dearly. And despite all Samuel’s letters, she’d been strong enough to stay away. Why?
“Should we go look in the parlor one more time?” David said. “What if she’d put the address inside something in her desk?”
“I suppose we can check,” Leah said, not holding out too much hope. Nan wasn’t one for shoving important things into books or drawers. But it was worth a try.
They both looked through the desk again and even some of the drawers on the bottom of one of the old bookcases, but they’d come up empty. At a loss, she looked around the great parlor, taking a moment to really see it. Beneath the period furniture was a hardwood floor in light wood that was so glossy it shone. The walls were done in thick, ornamental cream-colored woodwork that stretched over the large, rounded doorways. At both ends of the room there were windows that filled the whole wall, the light from outside pouring through them. She’d done a lot in this room: danced, thrown parties, listened to Nan read to her from the history books in the bookcase at the front of the room.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t find anything,” David said.
“It’s okay.” She tried to downplay her disappointment.
“Mama?” Sadie said, peeking around the oversized doorway. “Oh! May I play the piano?” Her hair was in a crooked ponytail and she was wearing pink, sparkly lip gloss.
“Sure.”
Sadie climbed up onto the bench and lifted the lid, sliding it into its pocket. With her little fingers spread as far as they could reach, she began to play. It was a simple song, the notes tinkling into the air and echoing in the large space.
“That’s very nice,” David said, sitting down beside her.
“Thank you,” Sadie said, not looking up. “Nan taught it to me.” She missed a note and went back over the keys to replay it.
“What else did you and your nan do?” he asked, visibly curious.
“All sorts of things!” Sadie stopped playing and twisted around on the bench to face him. “She taught me how to dance in here!”
“She did?”
“Yes,” Leah chimed in, the memory so vivid it made her chest ache for that day again. “Nan was the lead.
”
David stood up and held out his hands to Sadie. “Would you show me?”
Sadie jumped off the bench and grabbed his hands, a smile spreading across her face as she slid a little in her socks on the highly glossed floor. “I’ll bet you don’t know the dance like Nan did!” she said with a giggle.
“I’m not so sure about that.” David twirled her outward and then spun her back in, taking her hand again.
Sadie shrieked with excitement. “Do it again!” she said.
David began to move across the floor, twirling Sadie, moving her in and out as effortlessly as the tide in the ocean. He was a natural.
“Where did you learn to dance like that?” Leah asked.
“My grandmother taught me in this very room. She also taught your nan.” He twirled Sadie one more time and then let go of her hands. “Sadie, why don’t you play us something on the piano and I’ll dance with your mom?”
Sadie went back over to the piano and began playing a song. David took Leah’s hands. He began to move across the floor, so she followed his lead, his embrace more affectionate than it had been with Sadie. The feelings that Leah had been trying to push away were coming back in full force. He dipped her, surprising her and causing her to laugh.
“What’s all this laughing I hear?” June said, coming in.
Sadie stopped playing for a minute to address her. “We’re dancing!”
“I can see,” she returned happily, but her eyes were questioning, curious, as she looked at David and Leah.
“Keep playing, Sadie,” David said, letting go of Leah. He walked over and took his mother’s hands, waltzing across the shiny floor. June’s lips were pursed, her eyes at the ceiling, but her attempts to be annoyed were failing because she found herself laughing along with them all. David twirled her around and caught her at the back with his arm, dipping her dramatically.
“You like that dip move, don’t you?” Leah said with a grin.
“I hated learning this as a kid. Do you remember, Mom?” He pushed her outward and drew her back in, Sadie’s little notes rising into the air. “But my grandmother insisted, telling me that it would wow the ladies. And now, here I am, in a room with three!” He turned June around and then back toward him.
Lydia had been correct, Leah thought. He was definitely wowing her.
“This room isn’t just good for dancing,” Sadie said, pulling off her socks and laying them on the piano bench. She did a front walkover, landing right in front of all of them. “When we move here, I’m going to set up gymnastics mats and practice my handsprings every single day! There’s so much space!” She did a cartwheel. “I’ve been waiting my whole life to have space like this every day! I can’t wait!”
Leah felt like she had a thousand pins sticking her skin, the anxiety over telling Sadie filling her up. She looked over at David and his expression said it all: he’d only just realized that Leah hadn’t told Sadie anything yet about selling the house. He looked worried, and suddenly, she wondered if she’d waited too long to tell Sadie. Had she only made things worse? She broke eye contact with David, still unsure of when would be the right time to give her daughter the news.
Chapter 17
“I’m ready!” Sadie said, holding her coat and standing at the front door. She had been up at the crack of dawn, since today was the national gymnastics meet in town. They went with Nan every year that they were in town, and this year would be no different, except for the fact that Leah had asked David and June to go. June had decided to stay at Evergreen Hill, but David was coming with them. Leah could see now why David was so against opening up the house to endless strangers. He was just thinking about what his mother needed.
Leah hurried to the door. David had started the old farm truck, having decided that the snow was still too deep for their cars, and knowing that more was supposed to fall later that day.
“Off we go!” he said, his eyebrows raised, his face showing excitement for Sadie’s benefit. The old door creaked against the cold as he opened it.
“Be careful, Sadie. It’s slippery.” Despite her mother’s warning, Sadie went bouncing down the stairs and out to the drive, and then set off in a run toward the truck as Leah watched her with trepidation. “She’s so excited,” she told David.
“I can tell.”
They all piled into the old truck and David put it in drive. Sadie bounced along in the backseat happily. “Do you think I could ever be good enough to do a competition like this?” she asked.
“I believe you could. You have great potential,” Leah said.
David put the truck in gear and started through the heavy snow that had filled the front drive. Once they got onto the main roads, they were relatively clear, a plow having finally made it down more than once, followed by a salt truck. The school was only minutes into town, and they were driving amidst the throng of other spectators.
“I’ll drop you two off at the door,” David said, “and then I’ll find a place to park.” The old truck idled as David pulled up at the curb.
Sadie had the door flung open before he’d even come to a complete stop. She grabbed Leah’s arm and tugged. “We’ll save you a seat, David! Hurry! Don’t miss anything.”
He grinned at Sadie’s enthusiasm. “I’ll go as quickly as I can.”
Inside, the energy was electric, considering it was only ten in the morning. But it didn’t matter what time of day it was—these events were always buzzing with excitement. The high school building was brand new—an enormous facility with shiny white, tiled floors, vaulted ceilings, and skylights. They passed by the cafeteria; that one room was bigger than Sadie’s entire school, with two lines for food, stainless steel drink coolers, and rows upon rows of tables with the bobcat mascot printed in the center. Sadie dragged her into the ticket line; they were about ten people deep.
While Sadie held her hand and bounced beside her, the music kicked up inside the gym—a world-class high school band that marched in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade every year. A thrill zinged through Leah as the drums echoed in her chest. She turned to read the flyers that were pinned to the bulletin board on the wall—parents’ coffee night with the principal, drama club try-outs, swim team meetings. The town was small, but with the wealthy families that lived in it and supported the schools from elementary to high school, the education that one could get here was among the very best—a stark contrast to the overcrowded, old school Sadie attended.
“Hi,” David said over the sound of the band as he joined them in line. Sadie, who was still holding Leah’s hand, grabbed David’s with her other. “I had to park down the street. This is quite an event.”
“It’s so awesome!” Sadie said, smiling up at him.
When they got to the ticket counter, David insisted on buying their tickets, promising a disapproving Leah that she could get their drinks and snacks. But after they were seated, David excused himself and returned with two large plumes of pink-and-blue cotton candy on sticks.
“For you,” he said, handing one to Sadie. Her face lit up as she grabbed it. “And for you.” He handed one to Leah.
“Haha!” Sadie laughed as Leah took the stick from him. “You got one for Mama!” She threw her head back and laughed again.
“Well, I didn’t want to leave her out. Plus, then you can have all yours and I can steal bites of hers.”
“Thank you, David,” Sadie said. She held her cotton candy out and hugged him with her free arm.
The gymnasium’s glossy floor reflected the overhead lights as the area above the stadium seats became dark. A spotlight shone on the uneven bars and a wisp of a girl in a blue leotard, her hair yanked back into a bun and secured with clips on each side, dipped her hands into the bucket of chalk and clapped them together, causing a small cloud of dust to rise in the air. A hush came over the crowd when the announcer called out her home school. With a hop, the little girl swung herself onto the lower bar, her feet only inches from her hands as she circled it, gaining speed.
Leah caught a glimpse of Sadie. She was on the edge of her seat, her cotton candy barely touched as she hung on every movement that little girl on the bars made. She was in her element, and Leah thought again about the gym where Sadie took lessons. It was all Leah could afford, a small space at the back of an old warehouse. It wasn’t well lit, and they had to wear coats when it wasn’t their turn because it was so drafty. And the coach was nearing retirement. She didn’t know what would come of the gym once the coach decided to finish working. But now, Leah could afford lessons for Sadie by a coach with a track record of success, in a gym with brand new equipment, and Sadie would have a chance to realize her potential. Maybe she could lead with that good news when she told Sadie she wasn’t going to get to live at Evergreen Hill. Leah bit her lip. She knew that even news that good wouldn’t overshadow the sadness Sadie would have at not living at the plantation.
Sadie didn’t move the rest of the time, and two and a half hours later, she was still holding her cotton candy. David had picked on Leah’s and they’d finally abandoned theirs by their feet when they’d both had enough. The lights came back on, and the crowd began to filter out. Leah scooped up what was left of their cotton candy to throw it away on the way out.
“That was so cool,” Sadie said, with stars in her eyes. “When I get back, David, I’ll show you what I can do. I can do a one-handed cartwheel!”
He smiled at her adoringly and Leah couldn’t take her eyes off him. Leah had dated a few times in Sadie’s life, the last time being a man named Rich. Sadie had fallen in love with him herself, and when things ended, she’d gotten her little heart broken. Leah had had long conversations with Nan about it, and she’d told Nan, “No more men. I don’t want to ever do that to Sadie again.” But both Sadie and David had that look when they were together and the chemistry was undeniable.