Emma described all of the sights and sounds of the parade in her journal that night, but she was certain she would never forget any of it. Not the snow-flurry of paper falling from the windows of tall buildings. Not the sense of excitement in the crowds on the street below. Definitely not the moment when she caught a glimpse of Lindbergh himself, waving as the car he rode in passed by.
“Why do you do that?” Alexander asked her.
She looked up from the journal. “Do what?”
“Write in that book all the time.”
“I want to remember. I love to look back in my diaries and recall what’s happened in my life. The things I’ve learned. How I felt.”
“Do you write about me?” He grinned.
She returned the smile. “Of course.”
“Have you written about our honeymoon? You know.” He motioned with his head toward the bed, his meaning clear.
Heat flooded her cheeks.
Alexander rose from his chair and approached the small desk. “I think I’d better read what you have to say about me.”
“No, Alexander.” She closed the journal, not caring that the ink was still wet and would smudge. “A diary is a private matter.”
“I’m your husband. You shouldn’t keep any secrets from me.”
“I’m not keeping secrets.” She pulled the book against her chest, clutching it with both hands. “It’s just private.”
His grin vanished in an instant. So fast, she wondered if she’d imagined it in the first place. “I want to read it.”
Seeing his anger, a shiver raced up her spine.
“Give it here, Emma.” He held out his hand. “Don’t be stubborn.”
She shouldn’t be stubborn. What did it matter if he read it? All he would find were glowing words about how much she loved him. How much she’d always loved him. How happy she was now that they were married. How she delighted in his touch when he took her into his arms.
“Emma, hand it over.” There was a cold, hard edge in his voice.
She gave him the journal, though doing so felt like a betrayal to herself.
Allison
Just about everybody who lived in or near Kings Meadow—or so it seemed—turned out for the funeral of Rick Leonard. The teenager had been popular among his peers, and his parents were loved and respected in the community. Allison hadn’t known the boy all his life, as others had, but that didn’t make the service any easier to go through. It was a wrenching thing, a memorial for a young man gone too soon.
The Leonards—Chet, Marsha, Rick’s two younger brothers, and an older couple whom Allison assumed were the grandparents—sat in the front pew in Meadow Fellowship Church. Chet had his right arm around his wife’s shoulders, and every so often her body shuddered. Even from the last pew where Allison sat, she knew Marsha was keening on the inside. Susan had said her friend was inconsolable. Allison believed it.
The service wasn’t much longer than half an hour. The reverend spoke for awhile. Rick’s grandfather said a few words on behalf of the family. A teenage girl sang a song Allison didn’t know but that moved her deeply. And always she was aware of the shudders of Marsha’s grief, shaking her again and again.
Mourners left Meadow Fellowship and gathered to eat and console one another in the gymnasium of the high school where classes had been canceled for the day. Allison had volunteered to be one of the servers, and so she took her place as directed at one of the long tables. There, she scooped two different casseroles onto plates as people passed by. She was thankful for the job. It kept her from dwelling too much on the sorrow of the day.
She remained with Susan to clean up after most had returned to their homes.
“You’ve been a godsend,” Susan told her as they tightened plastic ties around the tops of garbage bags filled with paper plates and cups.
“I’m glad I could be of use.”
“Marsha and Chet are grateful for everyone who pitched in to help.”
“I wish there was more I could do for them.”
“I know. Me too. But for now, we’ll have to trust that the Comforter will see them through the coming days.”
Allison nodded. The Holy Spirit had been with her through many trials during her lifetime. Sometimes she’d been physically and emotionally aware of His aid and comfort. Sometimes she’d believed in His care by faith alone. She prayed it would be the former for the Leonards.
With the cleanup completed, the two women gave each other a warm hug and bid farewell. Then Allison returned home.
Gizmo was overjoyed to see her. She let him outside, but she decided to skip their usual walk. She was exhausted and the beckoning sofa was too much to resist. After dropping a favorite movie into the Blu-ray player, she pulled the soft throw off the back of the couch and lay down. It wasn’t long before her eyes were drifting closed. The movie became a kind of white noise, lulling her to sleep.
When she awakened, the light coming through the living room windows had dimmed and the movie was over. Allison yawned as she sat up. Gizmo moved to sit in front of her, leveling a beseeching gaze at her.
“Need out, fella?”
He darted to the front door.
Allison smiled as she stood. “Okay. Okay. I’m coming.” She grabbed the throw to wrap around her shoulders and went out onto the deck to wait for him. Thanks, Lord, for little dogs who can bring a smile even when there are reasons to be sad.
Gizmo barked at something stirring in the underbrush. Never sure if there might be something dangerous lurking where she couldn’t see, Allison called to Gizmo. Thankfully, the obedience training she’d invested in when he was a puppy had been top-notch. He might want to chase whatever wild creatures were out there—mostly squirrels and chipmunks—but he always came when she called.
“Let’s get something to eat,” she said, and mistress and dog returned indoors.
As Allison headed for the kitchen, she realized how hungry she was. She’d stayed so busy serving at the high school she’d forgotten to eat anything herself. She opened the refrigerator and stared at the shelves. Something quick and easy was in order. She settled for cheese and crackers and a dill pickle. Not the most nutritious of meals, but it didn’t hurt to eat that way every once in a while. She gave Gizmo one of his favorite dog treats, which he took to his bed in the living room.
Allison toyed with the idea of putting another movie in the player, but instead, she retrieved the first of Aunt Emma’s journals from the bedroom. She wasn’t going to get any work done this late in the day, so she might as well do something she enjoyed. She’d read a little of this first diary every night before turning out the light.
As Allison had expected, Aunt Emma had a way with written words, even at only fifteen. The stories in the journal—whether long or short—had captured Allison’s imagination. She could easily envision the Carter family home back in the early twenties. And even though she’d seen many photographs of her grandmother, Elizabeth Carter Hendricks, there was something about Aunt Emma’s descriptions that caused her to see her grandmother in a whole new way.
Before long, cheese and crackers were forgotten as Allison traveled back in time.
Emma
1927
After returning from their honeymoon in New York City, Emma and Alexander rented a one-bedroom cottage in the north end of town. Her husband’s job at the sawmill would never make them wealthy, but Emma was proud of how hard he worked and of the way she could make a dollar stretch. Still, she wondered sometimes if Alexander noticed all she’d done to make their house a home.
It was a warm Sunday in early September, and the family had gathered at Liza and John’s house for a leisurely dinner after church. When J.J. began to fuss, Liza took him upstairs to her bedroom so she could nurse him. Emma followed after them.
The baby wouldn’t eat at first. He seemed to prefer crying to nursing. He’d been that way since birth, and the strain of it showed on Liza’s pretty features.
“Are you getting enough sl
eep?” Emma asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
Her sister shrugged. “I never get a full night’s sleep. Everyone tells me this won’t last forever. That he’ll grow out of it. But, Emma, it’s like he’s hungry all the time, even after he nurses. I’ve tried everything I’ve been told to try, and nothing seems to help.”
Emma felt ashamed. She’d been so happy setting up house with Alexander she hadn’t seen Liza very often over the summer. Not often enough to be of any help to her. Of course, Liza and John had servants to see to their needs and tend to their big house. Emma had no one but herself to clean and cook. She told herself she needn’t feel guilty—but she did.
Tears slipped from Liza’s eyes to trail slowly down her cheeks. “Maybe there is something wrong with me. Maybe it’s my fault.”
“Oh, sis. That isn’t true.” Emma stood, went to the rocking chair, and knelt beside it, placing her hand on her sister’s knee. “It will get better. I’m sure it will.”
Liza wiped away the tears with the back of her free hand. At that moment J.J. stopped fussing and latched onto his mother, suddenly ready to eat. The sisters exchanged a glance and laughed in unison, then they settled into a contented silence.
Emma watched the baby nurse and prayed that motherhood would arrive for her as quickly as it had for Liza. Alexander hadn’t said he was eager for children. Not in so many words. But every man wanted a son to carry on the family name. And if she could give him a son, then maybe he would—
“Are you happy, Emma?”
She lifted her gaze to meet Liza’s. “Yes.”
“You didn’t look happy just then.”
“If you must know, I was wishing for a baby of my own.”
“Are you sure Alexander is ready for the responsibility?”
Emma stiffened as she drew back from her sister. “What do you mean? He’s as able to handle the responsibility as John is.”
“I wasn’t trying to insult him or you. It’s just that Alexander has always seemed . . . I don’t know, concerned with his own happiness first. Others come in a distant second.”
Emma started to rise.
“Please don’t go,” Liza said. “I’m sorry. I enjoy your company, and we so seldom get to be together like this.”
“Well . . .” Emma settled down again. “Be careful what you say.”
“I will. But promise me something, Emma.”
“What?”
“Don’t let yourself forget that girl you used to be. The one who climbed trees and dreamed big dreams and seemed so fearless.”
“Liza . . . ,” she said in warning.
“Sometimes it seems as if she has faded into a ghost of herself and she’s in danger of disappearing in an instant.”
“You are talking gibberish.”
Liza gave her head a slow shake, but finally answered, “If you say so, Emma.”
Allison
Excitement churned in Allison’s stomach as she parked her SUV in the short-term lot at the Boise Airport. It seemed an eternity since she’d seen her daughter, but now she was going to get to spend time with her for the next six or seven weeks. The company Meredith worked for had sent her back to Boise to oversee an important project, an assignment that would last until after the New Year.
The only way this visit could have been better was if Meredith could stay with her mother every night. But with the accident of the Leonard boy still fresh in Allison’s mind, she’d insisted Meredith remain in the valley with Tony during the week and come up to the mountains for the weekends. That long drive to work every day wasn’t worth the risk. But she would have her daughter with her for both Thanksgiving and Christmas, and they would get to ring in the New Year together. Knowing that was all ahead of her made her heart sing for joy.
Allison got out of the car and pressed the key fob to lock the door. She leaned into a bitter November wind as she hurried across the lanes outside the lower level of the airport. Once inside, she rode the escalator up to the waiting area. Her watch told her she had a little while before the plane was due to land, so rather than stand staring at the automatic glass doors leading out from the concourses, she sat in one of the chairs off to one side.
A short while later passengers spilled through the doorway. Businessmen in suits carrying briefcases. A tired-looking mother with two small children dragging their own rolling suitcases. Several soldiers, male and female, in desert-brown fatigues, duffel bags in hand. The enthusiastic welcome for the military passengers brought a mist to Allison’s eyes. She was a sucker for such scenes—in airports, on the evening news, wherever.
Blinking the tears away, she glanced at the arrival board. Meredith’s plane had landed. She stood, feeling the excitement rising again. Then she saw Tony walking toward her and her stomach dropped. Allison hadn’t seen her ex since she visited him in the hospital in September. He’d looked gray and tired then. His appearance today was improved. He looked . . . healthy.
“Good. I’m not too late to welcome her,” he said as he stopped at her side.
“Her plane’s landed.” Allison glanced through the glass doors and back again. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“I’ve missed her too, Allie.”
“I know, but . . .” But I wanted her all to myself.
“I was hoping we could go out to lunch, the three of us, before you go home.”
“I don’t know. Meredith’s bound to be tired. It’s a long flight from San Antonio. She left before six this morning.” Allison felt as selfish as she sounded.
Tony smiled, not seeming to notice her moodiness. “She’s young. She can take it.”
Respond in love, her heart told her. But how could she? She didn’t love him anymore. Only she knew it was Christian love she was to put into practice, not the romantic kind.
“Look!” Tony’s grin widened. “There she is.”
Allison turned toward the glass doors in time to see them open before Meredith. Oh my. She looked wonderful! Allison headed toward her daughter at the same time Meredith saw her. Both of them grinned and laughed and were almost in tears as they embraced. Holding her daughter was the best thing Allison had felt in ages.
When they drew apart, Meredith moved immediately to repeat the embrace with her father. Allison knew then that Tony had been fully forgiven by their daughter. For the ways he’d failed Meredith. For his drinking. For walking out on Allison. For the divorce. For everything.
Even as Allison remembered that forgiveness was what she’d taught her daughter to do, she felt a twinge of resentment.
Meredith stepped back from Tony and looked toward Allison again. “I didn’t expect to see you both here.”
“I surprised your mother,” Tony responded. “I wanted all of us to eat together before you head for the hills.”
“I’d love that, Dad. I’m famished. I ate a little at four o’clock this morning, and all I’ve had to eat since then were some peanuts. There wasn’t time for a sandwich when I changed planes.”
The decision had been made. Allison tried to put her best face on. “Where to?” she asked Tony.
He named a popular Mexican restaurant—always Meredith’s favorite kind of food. “We’ll have missed the lunch rush. Shouldn’t be crowded by the time we get there.”
“Sounds good,” Meredith said.
He held out his hand to take her roll-aboard. “Let’s go get your checked luggage.”
Allison followed in the rear, feeling like the proverbial third wheel.
Emma
1927
Emma was with Liza and John in the hospital when their six-month-old son passed away. Even though J.J. had been such a fussy baby from birth, Emma had never thought her infant nephew would die. How could he when so many people were faithfully praying for him? How could he when he was adored by aunt and parents and grandparents and friends of the family?
As the life left their baby son’s body, John gathered Liza into his arms, and the two of them wept softly. A lump formed in Emma�
��s throat. Tribulation caused some couples to pull apart, but Liza and John were drawing closer. It was as clear as if there were a visible cord holding them together. Lucky pair, to have each other so completely.
Emma remembered the day Liza had told her she was pregnant. She remembered thinking how everything good happened to her younger, prettier sister. She’d had to fight envy that day. And every month since her own wedding, every time Emma had discovered she wasn’t pregnant, she’d found herself fighting envy of her sister again.
But she hadn’t wished this loss on Liza. Not this.
John’s parents arrived then. There was more hugging and crying. Next Emma and Liza’s parents came, and the sorrow that filled the small hospital room became more than Emma could bear. After promising her sister she would come to her house the following day, she slipped out of the hospital room and headed for home.
Dusk had settled over Boise by that time, and everything around Emma—sky, buildings, sidewalks—seemed dim and gray. Fitting, under the circumstances.
When she turned the corner onto her street, she saw Alexander’s 1913 Model T parked in front of the house. A flutter erupted in her chest and she quickened her steps. Her husband was always hungry when he got home from the mill, and he didn’t like to wait to eat. But surely he would understand why she didn’t have his supper ready tonight.
Tears returned. Unhappiness welled up inside of her. It shamed her to feel that way. She had no right to be unhappy. There were many greater sorrows to be borne, like the sorrow John and Liza were carrying today. Emma, on the other hand, was married to the man she loved. God had given her the desire of her heart.
If only Alexander loved me.
But she’d known that was how it was—on the day he proposed, on their wedding day, during their honeymoon, even in their marriage bed. He didn’t love her, and she was afraid he never would.
Allison
A Promise Kept Page 7