Letters in the Attic

by DeAnna Julie Dodson

  “This looks just like one my friend used to have when she lived here.” Looking closer, she saw that the letters EWB were carved into the top. “This is the same one. I’m sure of it. Susan and I used to try to figure out what the initials stood for.”

  Sandy perched on the edge of a ladder-back chair that looked to be of an age with the desk. “That’s not surprising. Most of this stuff was in the house when we bought it. I’d guess that the previous owners bought it furnished too.”

  “You’re probably right. Susan wouldn’t have needed a houseful of furniture.”

  “Not where she was going.”

  Annie turned to look at her. “Where she was going?”

  “I—my husband said he’s heard people talking in town, asking about your friend and saying she went off to marry a rich man. I guess she wouldn’t have wanted stuff like this in some fancy family mansion.”

  “Probably not.”

  “It seems like it all should be here anyway.” There was again something tentative in Sandy’s smile. “It belongs with the house.”

  “Susan would be glad to know things are still the same as when she lived here.”

  “Is that what you came to talk to me about?”

  “No. Not really. I mean, I appreciate your letting me come in for a minute. It brings back some really happy memories from when Susan and I played here.”

  “I’m glad.”

  Annie returned her smile, but Sandy quickly looked away.

  “I came because I’m a little bit worried about you.”

  “Why would you be worried?”

  “When I was here before, you seemed concerned about something. I don’t want to pry into your personal business, but I did want you to know that I’d like to be your friend.”

  Annie wished Sandy would turn around and face her, but she only stared into the fireplace and didn’t say anything.

  “I guess I’ve been thinking about Susan a lot lately, since I’ve been trying to find her,” Annie added. “I used to come up to visit my grandmother in Stony Point when I was growing up. I was kind of an outsider here, just coming in the summers and all. My grandmother got me to invite Susan to play with me and my other friends. Gram tried to include her as much as possible while she was in Stony Point, and I think she’d feel the same way about you if she were still here.”

  “Your grandmother’s dead now?”

  Annie nodded. “I came here to settle her estate and fix up the house. I might sell it. I haven’t decided yet.”

  “I’m sorry she’s gone. She must have been nice.”

  “She was. And she cared about people. You know what?”

  Annie waited until Sandy finally faced her again; then she smiled.

  “If she were here, I bet Gram would invite you over for some coffee and a piece of pie and show you how to cross-stitch or something.”

  Sandy’s face turned pink, but she seemed shyly pleased. “You think so?”

  “I’m sure of it. It’s what I’d like to do, if you’ll come.”

  The warmth in Sandy’s face turned to wariness. “That’s nice of you, but I don’t think—”

  “I mean, I guess I’d have to teach you to crochet or knit because cross-stitching isn’t my specialty, but if you like it better, Alice could show you.”

  “Really, I just don’t—”

  “Everybody should have a friend.” Annie’s throat tightened. “I lost track of Susan when she needed one most.”

  Sandy ducked her head, and Annie couldn’t help staring. What was it about the gesture that tickled Annie’s memories?

  “You know, sometimes you remind me of her—of Susan.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Maybe it’s because she’s been on my mind so much lately. Maybe because you’re out here alone in her old house.”

  “Maybe.” Sandy looked her straight in the eye for perhaps the first time. “Maybe it’s because there’s a little bit of a family resemblance.”

  “Family resemblance?”

  Annie stared at Sandy, studying her face. Maybe that was it. She had Susan’s fine features and dark blue eyes. Except for Sandy’s dark hair, Susan might look a lot like this now if she had lived.

  “Susan always told me that, besides her aunt and her parents, she didn’t have any family.”

  “It’s not something her father or mine liked to talk about. Dad and I never talked about it even when I was older.” Sandy shrugged. “I only saw Susan a couple of times anyway.”

  “Your father and her father were—” Annie raised one eyebrow.

  “Brothers. But they didn’t know anything about each other until their father died. Their father, my grandfather, was Sterling Morris. He was married to Mary.”

  “Grammy Mare. I remember Susan telling me about her. She passed away the summer Susan and I met.”

  Sandy glanced at Annie, and then the words came out in a rush. “Five years after he married Mary, he also married Laura. And, no, he and Mary never divorced. He was a truck driver, so it was fairly easy for him to spend time with both of his families and not have to explain the times he was away from home. Either home.”

  Annie fought to keep the astonishment off her face. She didn’t want to make Sandy regret her decision to open up about herself and her family.

  “Wow.” Annie gave her a small, reassuring smile. “I guess you’ll find a skeleton or two in every family closet if you go back far enough.”

  “My dad, Sterling’s son Jim, found out about the first family when his father died. Evidently Mary didn’t care to have him and Laura show up at the funeral. Things got ugly, and Dad just walked away. After my Grandma Laura died, Dad’s brother Jack tried a couple of times to get in touch with him, I think, but Dad didn’t see the point. Jack had the house and the legal name and everything else. All Dad got was the embarrassment of the situation.”

  “Is that how you ended up living here?”

  “Why shouldn’t I?” There was a flash of defiance in Sandy’s usually mild eyes. “My ancestors built this place. My family is buried out back there. No matter what my grandfather did, I’m a Morris as much as any of them. As much as Susan was.”

  Annie put one hand on Sandy’s shoulder. “I think she’d like it, knowing that you’re here.”

  Sandy smiled faintly and let out a slow breath. “I hope so. I love this house and that it’s been in our family for so long. It means a lot to me, too, to keep up those graves back there. They shouldn’t belong to strangers. They’re my people.”

  “Of course they are.”

  “But, um, I’d really rather you not say anything about what I told you, especially to the folks in town. It’s been a while back now, but I don’t want anyone to think any less of the Morrises because of what my grandfather did.”

  “You don’t have to worry. I understand. And I’m glad you felt you could tell me about them.”

  “I always thought—” Sandy dropped her eyes. “I mean, you seem like you’ve always been easy to talk to.”

  “So does that mean you’ll accept my invitation?” Annie grinned. “I have a pie recipe that’s to die for.”

  “I appreciate it, but really … I really prefer to stay at home.”

  “But—”

  “And I need to start getting dinner ready. Tom will be back before long.”

  It was only the middle of the afternoon, but Annie took the hint and stood up. She was pleased, after all, that Sandy had felt she could share some of her family history. No need to overwhelm the woman in their first real conversation. Still, there was one thing she couldn’t help asking about.

  “You said you had met Susan a couple of times. When was that?”

  “When?” Sandy’s forehead wrinkled. “I don’t remember exactly. Once when I was in grade school. Once when I was grown up, nineteen or twenty or something. Why?”

  “Was it here in Stony Point? That last time?”

  Sandy nodded.

  “Did you talk to her much?�
�

  “Not really. I just came with Dad. His brother had invited him.”

  “Did she seem … upset to you?”

  “Upset? No. She was quiet but polite. She just seemed normal to me. Why?”

  “I don’t know. It’s probably nothing.”

  “What?”

  Annie hesitated, but surely Sandy knew what had happened to Susan.

  “You know Susan drowned, right?”

  Sandy nodded, blank faced.

  “It was right after her parents and her Aunt Kim died,” Annie said. “In August of 1989.”

  There was a slight flicker of emotion in Sandy’s eyes, but again she answered only with a nod.

  “That had to be a pretty hard time for her,” Annie added, still watching her face.

  “It would be for anyone, wouldn’t it? But I couldn’t tell you about her then. The last time I saw her, her parents were still alive.”

  “And her aunt?”

  Again Sandy shrugged. “I don’t know if she was alive then or not. They didn’t mention her, and she wasn’t living here.”

  “No, she was in New York. Susan lived with her while she went to school there.”

  “OK,” Sandy nodded. “So what does this have to do with what you wanted to ask me?”

  Annie took a deep breath. She’d just have to say it and get it over with.

  “With all that happening to her, I’m just wondering if there’s any chance she might have taken her own life.”

  “Susan?” Sandy considered for a minute. “No. No, I don’t think she’d do something like that. I mean, I guess just about anybody might think about it when they’re in hard times.” She shrugged. “Sometimes just making the pain stop can seem worth it.”

  “But you said you didn’t really know her?”

  “That’s true, but she was a Morris. She wouldn’t have killed herself. She would have figured out how to deal with whatever was going on in her life, no matter what it was.”

  Annie squeezed Sandy’s arm. “I hope you’re right. I just … I feel bad that Susan and I drifted apart the way we did. I wish I had been there for her through everything. I feel like we could have been friends all our lives. Did I ever tell you why I’ve been looking for her?”

  Sandy shook her head.

  “I found her letters up in my grandmother’s attic. They reminded me of how much fun we had back when we were girls, and I wanted to know she was OK. I wanted to see if we could be friends again. She had been kind of lonely back then, and I wanted to make sure she wasn’t still.”

  Sandy swallowed hard. “Do you always take in strays?”

  Annie’s eyes twinkled. “I come from a long line of stray-taker-inners.”

  For the first time since Annie had met her, Sandy laughed.

  Annie zipped up her jacket and turned toward the front door. “Thanks for letting me come in. And truly, I don’t ever want to impose on you or your privacy, but I’d like us to be friends. If you ever need anything or just want to talk, please let me know.”

  “You’d better go.”

  Sandy’s face was emotionless once again. She had obviously had enough company for one day.

  Annie hurried out onto the porch and down the steps to her car. Sandy stood in the front door watching her. Then, just as Annie drove away, she waved one hand.

  “Thank you for the cookies.”

  13

  Before she was halfway home, Annie’s cell phone rang. She pulled over to the side of the road and answered it.

  “Annie, it’s Mary Beth. Is, um, everything going all right?”

  “It’s OK. I’m on my way home.”

  “Whew. Tom just left here, and I wanted to let you know.”

  “Wow, I was hoping I’d be home before he headed this way. I’d better take a side street and come around the back way. I don’t want him seeing me coming down the road from his house.”

  “Good idea. Call me when you get home.”

  “Will do.”

  When Annie had first visited the old Morris house alone, she had seen an old white pickup parked behind the house. When she and Alice first arrived at the house, the truck hadn’t been there, but she had seen it after Tom Maxwell had “encouraged” her and Alice to refrain from visiting in the future. Now she kept on the lookout for such a vehicle, but nothing even remotely resembling it crossed her path.

  She was almost giddy when she reached Grey Gables.

  “You sound like you’ve been running,” Mary Beth said as soon as she answered the phone. “Are you OK?”

  Annie laughed. “I guess I’m a little breathless. It takes a lot of energy to sneak around, you know?”

  Mary Beth chuckled. “How’d it go?”

  “Pretty well, I think. Sandy talked to me and actually let me come into the house.”

  “Really? You’re making progress.”

  “It’s interesting, too, that she has a lot of the same furniture Susan’s family used to have. I guess it’s been in the house since it was built. It was pretty amazing to see it looking just about the way I remembered it.”

  “You don’t think there’s anything weird going on, do you?”

  “I’m still not sure. But the only way I know to find out is to get Sandy to trust me, to be a friend to her, and to listen. I just want to let her know that I want to help, that we all want to help, any way we can.”

  “Sounds like what Betsy would have done.”

  “Gram was the best at making people feel at home. I hope I’ve learned at least some of that from her. One thing I learned is that it takes a while. I may have to make a few more visits. How are things going with the cabinets? Do I have a little more time?”

  “Another workday at least. I think, anyway. But Tom said he won’t be able to come back until next week sometime.”

  “How did it go? Was he … OK?”

  “He doesn’t talk much, that’s for sure. But he’s polite and businesslike, and from what I can see, he does a good job.”

  “Hang on, Mary Beth. Somebody’s at the door.”

  It was Roy Hamilton.

  “I hope you don’t mind me dropping by, Annie. The chief wanted me to tell you what he found out about that drowning in South Carolina.”

  “Thanks for coming by. Come in.” Annie put her phone to her ear. “Mary Beth? Can I call you back in just a second?”

  “Sure thing. I wouldn’t want to interfere in a budding romance.”

  “You’re so hilarious,” Annie deadpanned. “Anyway, I’ll call you right back. Thanks.”

  She hung up the phone and smiled at Roy.

  “Come sit down. What did you find out?”

  “Not a whole lot, I’m afraid.” He followed her into the living room and sat next to her on the sofa. “The report pretty much echoes what was in that newspaper article. She drowned while her boyfriend was asleep below deck. There was a little bit of a squall around midnight, a pretty stiff wind, and over she goes. Not much to it.”

  “Did they mention any possibility that it was suicide?”

  “No. The report says they asked the boyfriend about it. He said there was no note, nothing about her behavior that would indicate she wanted to kill herself. She never said she didn’t want to live, never talked about wanting to end it all. Do you think she would have?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve talked to Pastor Wallace. To people who knew her, and there’s no indication that she might have. But she seemed to have changed too, around the time her parents died. She seemed more withdrawn, less like herself. She canceled her wedding plans without warning.”

  “Grief strikes different people different ways. If you don’t have more to go on than that, I wouldn’t think it was very likely she killed herself. Sure, it’s possible, but I don’t see any indication of it, and I’ve dealt with all kinds since I’ve been in this line of work.” He put his hand over hers. “Look, for whatever reason, the bottom line is that she’s dead. Not just gone, but long gone. Why does it matter whether or not she killed
herself?”

  She moved her hand away from his and stood up. “How about some coffee? I know I need some.”

  “That’d be great. Thanks.”

  She took her time filling the cups, replenishing the sugar bowl and the little stoneware cream pitcher Gram had always used, and then putting everything on a tray. Why did it matter how Susan had died? Why did it matter why Susan had died? Why couldn’t she move on? She carried the tray back into the living room and set it down on the table in front of Roy.

  “Ah, thank you.” He picked up a cup and took a sip. “That’s good.”

  “Thank you.”

  She drank from her own cup, not saying anything for a long moment.

  “You know, Roy, it’s a good question, and to be honest, I don’t know why it matters. Maybe it just bothers me to see someone so completely disappear without knowing more about what happened to her.” She let a little bit of a smile turn up her mouth. “My grandmother used to own this house. She always told me I was more stubborn than a snapping turtle when I wanted to know something. I guess that hasn’t changed after all these years.”

  “Your grandma’s place, huh?” He looked around the room, nodding in approval. “Must be nice to have a family home, something that’s been around a long time. I’ve always moved a lot, but at my age you get a little tired of that. Stony Point seems like a good place to settle down.”

  “You’re not from this area?”

  “Nah. I was born in Tucson, and I’ve lived all over. Never did find the right place, or the right person.” He glanced at her. “Till now.”

  “Stony Point’s a good town. Lots of good people too. Can’t argue with the choice, even though I may not be staying long.”

  “No?”

  “Once I get the house fixed up and cleaned out, I’ll probably head back to Texas.”

  “But what about your friend? You still haven’t really found out everything you want to know.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe, as you say, there’s just not anything more to know.”

  “There’s those notes you got.”

  “Yes. And that does bother me.”

  “See? If you’re a snapping turtle like your grandma said, you’ll have to find out who left those for you before you can leave.”