The Soul Believes It

by Julie Allan

  Lizzie grabbed on to Ben’s arm, and they walked towards the porch. “Oh?” Lizzie felt the butterflies stir in her belly.

  “Don’t get too excited, we have not found her. But we did finally track down where the records from the adoption agency landed. We were unable to obtain them, only the adoptee has that right, but we were able to ascertain that the letter your Aunt Dorothy had placed in the file is still there. I asked if you could add a letter to the file, and they said that would be fine. That is, if you’d like to.”

  Lizzie sat down on the top step to the porch. “So, I guess that means she hasn’t tried to find her birth parents.”

  “We don’t know that, we just know that she hasn’t located these files and trust me, it was not an easy task. What do you think about adding a letter from yourself?”

  “I need to think about it, but it probably wouldn’t hurt. Aunt Dorothy’s letter was written so long ago, and I have learned so much more than Aunt Dorothy ever knew about the circumstances around her birth.”

  Ben turned to go back down the stairs, “I best head over to the ball field. If you decide to write the letter just drop it by the office and we will get it added to the file.”

  “Thanks, Ben, enjoy the game!” Lizzie watched him go and felt a pang of nostalgia for the days when Sawyer was a little leaguer.

  Chapter Eight

  Lizzie threw another crumpled ball of paper at the wastepaper basket. It bounced off the rim and joined about a half a dozen predecessors on the rug. This is harder than I thought! Lizzie had spent the better part of the last hour trying to pen a letter to her unknown sister. She had rejected typing as too impersonal. But handwriting with her thoughts all over the place was proving to be a challenge.

  Lizzie got up and retrieved the rejects from the floor and two that had made it into the basket. She brought them back to the desk and smoothed them out. She examined them for strong sentences and then began making notes on a pad. This is becoming a school essay. Finally, she created an outline of all the major points she felt she needed to cover, but something still didn’t seem to ring true.

  She sighed and stared across to the chairs in front of the windows where afternoon tea with Aunt Dorothy had been a ritual. I wish you were here to talk to about this. The air clicked on, disturbing the silence. Aunt Dorothy’s voice floated through her mind, Child, just speak from the heart. Goosebumps rose on Lizzie’s arm, and for a moment she was not sure she thought Aunt Dorothy’s voice or heard a ghostly whisper in her ear.

  “Speak from the heart.” Lizzie uttered the phrase aloud and nodded, and as if in obedience, selected a fresh piece of stationery.

  Dear Sister,

  My name is Elizabeth Sawyer Long Wilson, and I am your little sister. Everyone calls me Lizzie. I am sad to say that I didn’t learn anything about you until I was grown with grown kids of my own. I hope we will all get to meet someday. We share the same mother, Caroline Bowman Sawyer. She was killed along with my father in a car accident when I was just five. I was raised by my father’s older sister and her husband, and I knew nothing of Caroline’s family. if you are reading this, then you have also seen a letter from my Aunt Dorothy, the woman who raised me. She learned about you after our mother died and she did try to find you. Unfortunately, she didn’t tell me about your existence. I discovered some things in her papers that led me to this file. Along the way, I did learn who your father was and why our mother gave you up for adoption. Your daddy was engaged to our mother but was killed in Vietnam. Caroline’s parents were not supportive, and she ran off to have you, soon realizing as a woman without a college degree in the 1960’s she could not give you the home you deserved. I can only imagine how hard that was. I pray that you will see it that way and that you have a lovely set of parents and family. If you could find room in your heart for a little sister, I would love to connect with you. There is so much to this story I couldn’t possibly put in a letter. If you are reading this, you must be seeking some answers. I don’t know how, as we haven’t met, but I already love you.

  Your Sister,

  Lizzie

  Lizzie read and re-read the letter. Each time she was more certain she had finally gotten it right. She pulled a contact card from the desk drawer and tucked it into the letter and placed it in an envelope. Then grabbing her purse and her keys she headed out to Ben’s office before she lost her nerve.

  Amy and Lizzie stood in the sacristy selecting a variety of altar linen so they could teach the newest members of the Altar Guild what was used during which liturgical season.

  “I am praying your sister will be searching and come across that file.” Amy picked up the pile, and the two headed back to the fellowship hall.

  “I am too. I think that will be the only way we’ll be able to connect. Besides, I think it’s best if she finds me. That way, I know she’s open to learning about our shared family.”

  Amy nodded. “I think it will be good for you to put this aside for a while.”

  Lizzie began arranging the linens across the display table in liturgical order. “Well, at least my sister will be on the backburner. I plan to spend some time with my Aunt Beverley and some time in Beaufort to see if I can figure out some more things about my mother and my grandparents.”

  “Are you sure you want to? You’ve said that the revelations so far have changed the image you had of your mother.”

  The door opened at the far end of the hall, and the class of new altar guild members began to enter.

  “Yes, but now that I have learned some of her history; I’m determined to learn all I can.”

  Lizzie turned to greet the new arrivals, glad for the interruption. It had been painful to have the idealistic version from her five-year-old self’s memory shattered. But the picture of her mother that was emerging was connecting her to Caroline in ways she never thought possible. Lizzie was still processing and found it difficult to discuss it, even with the ones she loved.

  Bennett had taken over the dining room table with his packing of gear for the fishing trip. Lizzie eyed the medium-sized duffel bag and the large number of items on the table. If she hadn’t watched Bennett pack before, she would be highly skeptical it would fit. Bennett’s packing abilities still amazed her. When she packed, even for an overnight stay, there were always multiple bags involved.

  Bennett carefully rolled his shirts and shorts. “So, are you still planning to go down to Beaufort and Hilton Head while I’m gone?”

  “Yes, I think I will stay a couple of days in Hilton Head with Aunt Beverley and then a few days in Beaufort.”

  “What are you trying to do in Beaufort?”

  Lizzie handed Bennett his pairs of rolled socks. “I’m not sure; I just have a feeling I might learn a little more about my mother and her family if I spend some more time there.”

  Bennett took the socks and tucked them in the gaps around what he had already packed. “Makes sense, just don’t be disappointed if you don’t uncover much. I think Aunt Beverley has the best chance of filling in the details for you.”

  Lizzie stood up, “You’re probably right. I’m going to get supper started.”

  “I have one request.”

  “What’s that?”

  “No fish, I’m going to be eating it for a week.”

  Lizzie kissed Bennett on the cheek, “Red meat it is.”

  Lizzie pulled the marinating flank steak from the fridge. Lucky for Bennett, she had already considered his fishing trip diet when planning the menu. She grabbed the bunch of spinach and began washing the leaves. I just know there is more to learn about my mother and her family. Surely there is still some people in Beaufort who knew them well. Lizzie put the spinach into the salad spinner and pulled the cord over and over. The pleasing motion of the spin pushed down the anxious feeling building inside of her.

  Time in the kitchen was time to process feelings and thoughts. Lizzie did her best thinking while working her culinary magic. The work of chopping, kneading, even stirring had a rh
ythmic quality that always soothed her. The aromas triggered happy memories with Aunt Dorothy. Even the physical space wrapped her in a cocoon of familiarity and warmth that was only rivaled by Bennett’s arms.

  She poured boiling water over the golden raisins and set to the task of mincing up a shallot. Bennett came in and retrieved a beer. “Would you like me to get you a drink?”

  “I would love a glass of wine. I would also love for you to turn on the grill for me.”

  Bennett handed Lizzie a glass of her favorite Malbec. “Done and on my way to get it done.”

  Lizzie took a sip and closed her eyes to savor the peppery finish. She put the last of the chopped pecans into a bowl and turned on a burner to heat up a skillet. She tossed the nuts into the hot pan. As they toasted, she breathed in deeply, waiting for just the right fragrant note to indicate time to remove them. She spread them out onto a piece of parchment paper to cool.

  “I love that smell!” Bennett said as he returned from the grill. He reached around her to pinch a few of the nuts and Lizzie smacked his hand.

  “Too hot and just enough for dinner, thank you.” She turned and kissed him, “That will have to be your appetizer.”

  “I better stop at one then, any more and dinner will not take place at the table.” Bennett pulled her to him.

  Lizzie leaned into his chest and closed her eyes. No matter how many times over the years they had stood like this, her heart always knew to savor the moment. When cancer had threatened to take him away, she became even more determined to appreciate every moment with him. “I love how you still give my heart a flip after all this time.”

  Bennett kissed the top pf her head. “You are the reason my heart keeps beating.”

  “Have a fun and safe trip!” Lizzie called as she, M.A. and Amy stood in the driveway watching Bennett’s truck pull out. The men were off to the airport and their week-long fishing trip in the Gulf of Mexico. The women turned back to the house. Lizzie had fresh coffee and muffins ready, and the three filled up their cups and plates and headed out to the back porch. The humid air was relieved by intervals of breeze that came off the water.

  M.A. sat her mug down. “So, ladies, we are all off on our own adventures for a week.”

  “Well, I’m not leaving town, but having a house full of contractors will be an adventure in and of itself,” Amy said.

  Lizzie slathered butter onto her muffin. “I am so excited for you! I know how long you’ve wanted to re-do that kitchen.”

  M.A. reached for a second muffin, “I want to hear more about what you finally decided on. Last time we talked you and Scott were still debating light or dark cabinets.”

  “I am happy to share I won that battle. We are going to have lovely cream cabinets with a waxed finish.”

  “How did you manage that?” M.A. asked.

  “I took him to my friend Rachael’s kitchen. She and her husband had just remodeled, and once he saw how it looked in a completed space, he was on board. I am so excited to finally get rid of those drab oak cabinets and especially the worn-out laminate counter tops.”

  “M.A. wait until you see the stone they picked out for the counter tops, it almost makes me want to re-do our kitchen.”

  Both friends turned to look at Lizzie, “You can’t change Aunt Dorothy’s kitchen.”

  “Well, we made a few changes when we moved in with her, but truly I can’t make too many changes, I wouldn’t want to erase her from the space.”

  Amy set her coffee mug down on the table, “You know we said that, but I think Aunt Dorothy will be with you no matter what you did to the house. Besides, she would want you live in that kitchen, not treat it like a museum.”

  Lizzie nodded and took the last bite of her blueberry muffin. “I am really looking forward to my time with Aunt Beverley. I was able to book the guest suite right at the retirement home.”

  M.A. stood and stretched. “That ought to be a unique experience. I hate to rush off girls, but I need to get the packing finished for the trip to New York with all my girls tomorrow.”

  Amy began to gather the plates. “I need to get going as well. I need to clear out the cabinets so the demolition can start and I’m pretty sure it is going to take all weekend for me to do it.”

  “If it gets too much, you are welcome to stay over here while I’m gone.” Lizzie held the door so they could move back into the house.

  “Thanks, I might take you up on that, I hear kitchen renovations are tough to live through, I guess that’s why Scott arranged to be fishing.”

  Laughter filled the kitchen as they cleaned up from breakfast. The three friends said goodbye and Lizzie set to the task of her own packing.

  Bright and early Saturday morning Lizzie headed South to Hilton Head. She had packed more than enough clothes for a week; she knew she would need to be a bit dressier around Aunt Beverley and would need to change for dinner. Lizzie also packed her mother’s yearbook. She was hoping Aunt Beverley would be able to tell her about her mother’s friends. She was also hoping to learn more about what growing up in her grandparent’s home was like. Lizzie had a feeling despite the sad and tragic circumstances they had already discussed; Aunt Beverley had put that polite and happy veneer on the story as her generation was known to do. To Aunt Beverley, even though Lizzie was family, she was essentially and outsider. Lizzie wanted to get underneath to the realities no matter how upsetting they might be.

  Two hours flew by as she distracted herself with music and the scenery. The highway rolled on and had less than fifteen minutes to go. What if I can’t get Aunt Beverley to tell me the complete truth? Lizzie suspected Aunt Beverley felt the need to protect the Bowman’s image, particularly Theodore Bowman. The more Lizzie learned about her grandfather, the less she liked him. I wonder if it would be different if I had known him from childhood? Family could be complicated. We feel obligated to love people we would not necessarily like or spend time with if they were just random people we met. When Lizzie thought about family, the Bowman’s had never really been on her list. Now that she was learning about them, it was confusing about what she should feel. They were her flesh and blood, but they had also been willing to disown her mother and deny her and her sister’s existence. A few days with Aunt Beverley would hopefully help her figure it out.

  Lizzie pulled into the visitor parking and went to the front desk to check in. With key and bags in hand, she went straight to the guest suite to freshen up a bit before going to Aunt Beverley’s suite. The Guest Suite definitely had Aunt Beverley’s hand in it. The walls were covered in a paper with a watered silk look in a neutral cream. The artwork all framed in ornate gold frames. The sofa and matching chairs were covered in a mint green matelassé fabric and pink toned floral pillows trimmed in gold tassels were arranged on all three. The carpets were Aubusson. The bedroom had a mint green with floral pattern wallpaper, and the bed was dressed in white with a floral quilt folded at the foot. The dressers and tables were all elegantly carved and dark wood. Too formal for Lizzie’s taste, but comfortable just the same.

  Lizzie re-applied her lipstick and ran a brush through her hair. Then she grabbed her key and a tin of homemade cheese wafers. It was time to confront Aunt Beverley for the whole truth.

  Chapter Nine

  She found Aunt Beverley sitting at her writing desk with several boxes on the floor around her sorting their contents into piles.

  “Oh, my dear Lizzie, I am so pleased you’re here! I have been going over a few of my families, I should say our families, papers so I can share some things with you.”

  Lizzie walked over and gave Aunt Beverley a kiss on the cheek and set the tin of cheese wafers down in front of her.”

  Aunt Beverley clapped her hands together, “Oh these must be the famous cheese wafers you make!”

  Lizzie nodded. “I made them especially for you.”

  “We can enjoy some with afternoon tea.” Aunt Beverley handed Lizzie a photograph. “This was taken when your mother was about three.”
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  Lizzie examined the photo. The family was posing in front of the house. Beverley and her grandmother were holding hands, and each was clutching a purse. Caroline was smiling and clutching an Easter basket, Beverley looked a little less thrilled, and the tight smile Annabeth had, indicated to Lizzie they were not the happy family they were pretending to be.

  Lizzie bit her lip; she did not want to start the visit by offending Aunt Beverley with her thoughts. Instead, she smiled, “Tell me more about this, what do you remember?”

  Aunt Beverley took it back and really looked at it. “Well, I think your mother was oblivious to it, but I had just witnessed an argument between your parents. I was home from Europe on a visit that coincided with Easter. You have to understand— well I mean to say—my brother-in-law was not the easiest if men. He was upset because along with our new Easter dresses, Annabeth had had her hair cut in the new style and Ted thought it was totally inappropriate.”

  Lizzie peered over Aunt Beverley’s shoulder at Annabeth. She was sporting a mid-length bob and looked beautiful. “I think she looks stunning.”

  “I did too, but Ted was furious that she would emulate the hair of some movie star when he could not abide their politics.”

  Lizzie’s stomach did a flip, but her brain was too quick, and before she knew it she blurted out what she was thinking. “So, he was a racist?”

  Her face reddened, and her hand flew up to her mouth. “I’m sorry Aunt Beverley, that was much more direct than I intended.”

  Aunt Beverley gave her a smile. “At my age, direct is all I have time for my dear. I think I have tried to forget that side of Ted, but yes, he was a racist, and he was really not a nice man, even to those he claimed as family.”

  Lizzie raised her eyebrows. “Maybe I should sit for this conversation.”

  Aunt Beverley backed her chair with a press of a button and rolled over to the settee, motioning for Lizzie to sit.