Drawing a deep breath, Allison slipped the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “I keep feeling like God wants to teach me something through Aunt Emma’s life. Do you think that’s silly?”
“No. I don’t think it’s silly. If God can speak through a donkey like He did in the Old Testament, then He can just as easily talk through words written in the past.”
“Aunt Emma’s circumstances weren’t the same as mine. Not that I can see thus far.”
“I don’t believe they have to be the same. I had the Lord reveal a truth to me when I was looking at a wildflower growing through a crack in a rock.”
Allison leaned over and gave Susan a tight hug. “Do you know how thankful I am for our friendship?”
“Likewise.”
They turned in unison and headed for the glass doors of the library. Darkness had fallen over the town while they were in their meeting, but it was relieved somewhat by a half-moon floating above the eastern range. Their cars were parked side by side under a light in the parking lot. They walked over to them and stopped in front of Allison’s SUV.
“Thanks for inviting me to be part of the book club. I’ve enjoyed it so much.”
“Well, your book choice was a great one. Lots of good thoughts. I’m just sorry for the talk that went on before we got started.”
“You mean about Chet and Marsha.”
Susan nodded.
“Yes, I was sorry to hear it too. I saw Chet here at the library last week and he told me about the divorce. How’s he holding up?”
“Okay some days. Not so good on others.”
“I know how that is.”
“Ned tries to be there for him as much as possible. Of course, Chet’s one of those independent cowboy types. Strong. Kind of quiet and thoughtful. You know what I mean.”
It was Allison’s turn to nod.
“In some ways I think this is harder for Chet than not knowing where Marsha was. At least then he could believe his wife would return to him. He doesn’t have much hope for that now.”
“They seemed a happy couple.”
Her expression sad, Susan drew a deep breath and released it slowly. “I guess this is a good reminder that things aren’t always what they seem.”
“No, they aren’t.”
“All I know to do is to pray for them.”
“God hates divorce. He doesn’t hate the divorced.” Allison gave a slight shrug of her shoulders. “That’s what Mom said to me when I was hurting and in such despair.”
A small smile bowed Susan’s mouth. “I’m glad you aren’t in despair any longer.”
“Me too.”
They bid each other good night and got into their respective vehicles.
On the drive home, Allison’s thoughts turned again to Chet and Marsha, and she prayed both of them would find peace. “Your will be done, Father,” she whispered when she didn’t know what more to pray, then added, “In my life too, Lord. Your will be done in my life too.”
Allison
Allison was as excited as a kid on Christmas as she awaited the arrival of her parents on that first Saturday in May. She found herself returning to the deck again and again, hoping to catch a glimpse of their car as they turned into her driveway. It was just before four in the afternoon when she finally got her wish.
As the car approached the house, she waved her arm in a big arc, grinning like a fool. She told Gizmo to sit and stay. Then she hurried down the steps so she could hug her parents the instant she could get to them.
Her mother was out before the engine died. Tall and slender like her mother had been before her, Maggie Knight looked a couple of decades younger than her seventy-two years, despite having let her hair go gray. Whenever someone mentioned her more youthful appearance, she was quick to declare she could take no credit for it. “Good genes,” she would always say. “I inherited good genes.”
“Look at you, Mom. You’ve got a bit of a tan.”
“We’ve been golfing a lot,” her mom answered.
Allison hurried to the opposite side of the car as her dad disembarked.
A couple of years older than his wife, Robert Knight looked closer to his real age, but he also was in great physical shape. All that golfing, no doubt. He still had a full head of hair, hair that used to be as black as ink and was now a rich silver-gray. The kind of silver that women paid a hundred dollars or more to achieve in a beauty salon.
“Dad, you look fit as a fiddle.”
“Feel fit, thanks. And you don’t look so bad yourself, Allison. We’ve missed you, honey.” He embraced her.
“I’ve missed you both too. Come inside. I’ll get your bags in a bit. Are you hungry? We can eat sooner rather than later if you want.”
“We’re fine,” he answered. “We can wait. Can’t we, Maggie? I need a bit of exercise more than food. Mind if I walk about outside before I come in?”
“I don’t mind, Dad. Go ahead.” Allison returned to her mom’s side, and the two women walked to the stairs and went up the steps to the deck. “Mom, meet Gizmo.”
Maggie Knight bent down and stroked the dog’s head. “Hello, boy.” As she straightened, she added, “He’s well-behaved.”
“Not always, but for the most part.”
When they entered the house, her mom stopped again. “My goodness. I didn’t expect the place to look so different.”
“I’ve added my own touches.”
“You’ve done more than that, sweetheart. Even with all the modernizations, it always felt like a cabin when Aunt Emma was living. You’ve made it feel more homey.”
The praise felt good. “Thanks. I’ve tried.”
Her mom moved toward the framed photographs on the wall. “Are these some of the photos you found in the trunks?” She perused more of them on the mantel and a side table.
“Yes. And those I haven’t framed, I’ve put in scrapbooks. I finished the last of them earlier this week. Well, except for duplicates or similar shots. I left those in a box.”
“Did you frame one of that mystery man you asked about?”
“No. But I have a surprise for you about him.” She hesitated a moment for effect before saying, “He was Aunt Emma’s husband.”
The look on her mom’s face as she turned around was priceless. “Husband? Aunt Emma was never married.”
“Yes, she was. She wrote about her wedding and her honeymoon in her diary.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Well, it’s true, whether you believe it or not. And what’s more, she wrote that Alexander Monroe was in love with Grandma Elizabeth when he married Aunt Emma.”
Maggie stiffened. “I don’t believe that either. My mother never had eyes for anyone but my father.”
“I didn’t say Grandma returned his feelings. It’s actually quite sad to read about.”
“If there were any truth to it, we would have been told years ago. Who could keep that kind of secret for so many years? Especially these days with the Internet and such.”
“The secret-keeping began long before computers and the web. Maybe even before you were born. It would have been easier back in the thirties and forties to hide information. Would you like to see some of the diary entries about him?”
Her mother shook her head. “Maybe later. It really isn’t important, after all. Everyone it might have mattered to is dead.”
Allison could have argued. It mattered to her. For some reason, it mattered a lot. But she sensed her mom wouldn’t understand, even if she tried to explain it. And she probably couldn’t explain it. Not yet. Not until she read more of the journals.
Her dad knocked on the glass door from the back deck off the kitchen. Gizmo barked as he raced to see who it was. Allison followed at a more sedate pace.
“It’s drying up nicely,” he said when the door slid open. “I remember the snow still being neck deep on the first of May some years.”
“I remember that too. I thought it would be that way this year. The snow was really deep all
winter long. But the warmer temps have melted it fast.”
Her dad grinned. “You look good, kid. Awful good. Lighter. Like a burden’s been lifted. It’s good to see you like this.”
Glad you didn’t see me a year ago when I was a mess.
Her dad insisted on going with Allison to bring in their luggage. Then she left her folks in the guest bedroom to settle in while she went downstairs to see to the remainder of the supper preparations.
It surprised her, how completely natural it felt to have her parents here. In so many ways it was as if this had been her home for years and years. She looked forward to taking her mom and dad to church in the morning. She wanted them to meet her friends and many acquaintances. She wanted them to know she was in a better place. Emotionally as well as physically. Spiritually too, although God was still remodeling her heart. A major project, to be sure.
Emma
1929
Emma stared at her reflection in the mirror. When had she become the woman who looked back at her? Not only the sad turn of her mouth or the dark circles beneath her eyes. When had she become a woman without an opinion, someone who seemed afraid of her own shadow, someone who entertained self-pity in the night? What happened to the little girl who loved to climb trees and ride horses bareback and swing from a rope on the tree and drop into a pond? Liza had asked her a similar question once, but Emma hadn’t been willing or able to see that she was right.
“Where did you go?” Emma whispered. “Are you still in there somewhere?”
She leaned closer to the mirror.
What sort of person lets herself disappear in order to please another? Like a chameleon, always changing colors.
Whom have I pleased? Not Alexander.
Not God either.
She’d drifted away from the Lord. Not on purpose. Through neglect. She rarely picked up her Bible. She seldom prayed. She hadn’t gone to church in a long, long time. Alexander refused to go, and it had become easier to simply stay home with him than to make him angry when she went alone.
Easier. Was that how she made her choices today? She would do this because it was easier. She would do that because it was easier.
“Easier is not necessarily better,” she told her reflection.
Somehow, Emma had to find her way back to her true self. She hadn’t lost herself in a day. She wouldn’t find her way back in a day. But she could take the first step. She could start looking.
She turned from the mirror and picked up her Bible from the nightstand, wiping away the fine layer of dust on its cover with her free hand. Then she retrieved her bound journal from its hiding place and carried both books to the table in the kitchen.
“Lord, help me.” She let the Bible fall open and began to read.
Allison
Pastor Josh preached a sermon on courage that Sunday morning, and Allison felt as if he’d prepared it for her alone. That wasn’t an unusual experience. It was often that way these days.
It seemed most of the congregation waited outside to meet her parents when the service was over. She was on a first-name basis with everyone, and it was fun to make the introductions. Time and again she heard someone tell her parents how glad they were to have Allison living in the Kings Meadow area. Two women said what a terrific addition she was to the book club. And Chet Leonard said he was grateful for the encouragement she’d been to him in recent months, although he didn’t go into specifics.
“My, what a handsome man,” her mom said as they walked toward Allison’s car later. “Is he single?”
“Mom, don’t start matchmaking.”
“Well, is he single?”
“He’s about to be divorced. Maybe he is by now.”
Her mother cocked an eyebrow. “I think he likes you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Allison pressed the button on the key fob to unlock the doors of the SUV. “He’s still in love with his wife.”
“Hmm.”
Susan Lyle had invited Allison and her parents to Sunday dinner, so she turned the car east when pulling out of the parking lot and drove toward her friend’s house.
From the backseat, her mom recalled meeting Susan years before. “She was very close friends with your aunt. Does she know anything about that mystery man you believe was Emma’s husband?”
“No. Not a thing. And if Aunt Emma would have told anyone, I think she would have told Susan.”
“Exactly. So it must not be true. But I don’t want to talk about him. I want to know more about that cowboy. Leonard. Was that his name?”
Allison released an exaggerated sigh.
Her mom laughed.
“You’re hopeless, Mom. You know that?”
“I know, but you love me anyway.”
“Yes, I do.” Allison glanced at her dad, seated to her right. “You too, Dad.”
“Thanks, my girl.”
Her mom’s voice turned serious. “I can’t help wanting you to be with someone, Allison. I hate the thought of you being lonely.”
“I know that too. But I think it’s good for me to be alone right now. I’m in a good place. Really and truly I am. Maybe I needed to learn to be alone with myself so I can learn to be better with another if the time comes.”
“My goodness,” her mom replied. “That sounded wise.”
“Didn’t it, though.”
As all three of them laughed, Allison sent up a silent thanks to God for the parents He’d given her. She knew men and women who hadn’t spoken to their fathers or mothers or both for years because of some rift or another. She didn’t believe that could happen with her parents. Oh, she could disagree with them at times. Strongly disagree. But love ruled, even in an argument. How grateful she was for that example.
Allison pulled up to the Lyles’ house with those words of thanksgiving in her mind.
By the time Allison had turned off the engine, Susan stood in her doorway, smiling and waving. “Welcome,” she said as Allison and her parents walked toward her. “Maggie. Bob. I’m so glad you could come. The last time I saw you was at Emma’s funeral, but we didn’t get a chance to talk.”
“I’m not surprised,” Maggie answered. “There were a lot of people at the funeral.”
“She was dearly loved by everyone in Kings Meadow. She was an institution, really.” Susan motioned for her guests to go inside, then she brought up the rear. “Would any of you like something to drink? It will be about half an hour before dinner is ready.”
Susan Lyle was the kind of hostess who made everyone feel important and special. Allison sensed it wasn’t something Susan had learned to do over time. It was innate. One of the gifts of the Spirit—the gift of hospitality.
Conversation around the dinner table eventually turned back to Aunt Emma. Susan shared a number of stories that were new to Allison and her mother. “Did you know she took flying lessons when she was older than I am now?”
“Flying lessons?” Maggie Knight shook her head. “When was this?”
Susan frowned in thought. “Maybe nineteen seventy-two or -three. Ned and I hadn’t been married more than five years.” She looked toward her husband for confirmation. “Am I right?”
He laughed. “I haven’t a clue. All the years tend to run together. But I do remember her talking about those lessons. She was right proud of herself.”
Allison thought about the Emma Carter she was discovering in the pages of the diaries. That younger Emma didn’t seem particularly adventurous or courageous. And yet, those traits had been very much true of the aunt Allison knew as a child. Growing old hadn’t slowed Aunt Emma down much either. Not until almost the end of her life.
“And do you think my aunt was married when she was younger?” Her mother’s question pulled Allison’s attention to the present.
Susan gave a small smile. “I must believe it, Maggie. Emma had no reason to lie in her diaries. Not any reason I can think of, at any rate.”
“Why keep it a secret?” Allison’s mother pressed. “Why use her maiden na
me the rest of her life?”
“I don’t know that either.” Susan looked at Allison. “But I do believe Emma meant for Allison to find her diaries and read them. And eventually Allison will discover the answers to your questions and her own questions too.”
Emma
1929–1930
The crash of 1929 was felt immediately by people like John Hendricks and his parents. People with money. People with investments in the stock market. People who owned businesses. It embarrassed Emma to see the smug satisfaction in her husband’s eyes when he learned the Hendricks family had lost so much.
“They won’t be sticking their noses in the air anymore,” he crowed. “How the mighty have fallen!”
She could have told him that for all her sister’s husband and in-laws had lost in the stock market, they were far from destitute. They hadn’t lost their homes and cars. They could still afford their servants. She could have warned him not to be so pleased about the troubles of others because the Monroes just might have to turn to the Hendrickses for help one day.
She could have but she didn’t.
Alexander ceased to gloat when the effects of the crash began to trickle down to people like him. And trickle down they did. First Alexander’s hours at the mill were reduced. Then he was let go. Even his bootlegging business fell off; his customers didn’t have money to buy the bathtub gin. By late summer the Monroes were evicted from the cottage they’d rented since the summer they married, and with no other options, they moved into her parents’ home.
October 2, 1930
Alexander leaves the house every morning to look for work. Or so he tells me. Most days he doesn’t return until long after dark. When he does, he is still unemployed. He smells of liquor when he comes in. Sometimes he is so drunk I’m surprised he can make it up the stairs to our bedroom. Last night, when he crawled into bed beside me, there was a new smell. Perfume. Cheap perfume. There is only one way I know of for him to smell like that. He was with some other woman. A woman who was close enough to him for her perfume to get on his clothes and skin.
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