by Karen Kelly
“If he was the one who made the notations, he definitely had something else on his mind besides just doing his job well.” Annie scanned down the spreadsheet. “The themes of the verses are justice, truth, defending the poor, false witness, widows, and orphans; these are understandable for his vocation. But then there are also wood, ships and boats, and a ‘great house.’” Annie lifted her hands, index and middle fingers extended, crooking them down for quotation marks as she spoke the last two words.
“We need to figure out what those notations mean.” Alice rubbed her hands together. “Nothing like a little intrigue to finish out the year. Make sure you bring your spreadsheet to the Hook and Needle Club meeting.”
Annie set her laptop to print two copies of the spreadsheet. After a brief pause they heard the wireless printer clicking in the library.
“I’ll put a copy in my tote before you leave so I don’t forget. After I finish cleaning the guest rooms tomorrow, I’m going to look around the house for anything else from Uncle Will. Maybe I can find something to confirm that it’s his handwriting in the Bible.” When the computer showed the printing job was complete, Annie put the laptop to sleep, lowering the top. “Maybe I’ll find a translation key with complete explanations tucked into one of Gram’s drawers.” She stood up to head to the library.
“What?” Alice sputtered. “And spoil all our fun?”
Annie’s merry eyes caught the two bowls of mousse, sitting forgotten on the other side of the table, as she headed to the door. “Dip us fresh bowls of dessert, will you?”
“Sure.” Alice pushed away from the table and stood to pick up the two forlorn looking puddles of mousse. “After this project we’re in desperate need of the restorative properties of chocolate.”
6
“Did you find anything?” Alice hadn’t even shut the door to the passenger side of Annie’s burgundy Malibu before blurting out the question.
“Good morning to you too.” Annie briefly considered stringing her friend along for a while before answering her question, but she decided to show mercy. “Behind your seat, next to my crochet tote is a leather portfolio. That’s what I found.” Annie kept her foot on the brake to give Alice time to retrieve the find.
Twisting her torso, Alice felt behind her for the portfolio. Her fingers first brushed the double handle and then grabbed a better hold. She turned back around, placing it on her lap. “How long did it take you to find it?”
“I hadn’t even started looking yet!” Annie admitted as she slowly backed the car onto Ocean Drive and headed toward Main Street. “I was still cleaning the guest rooms. I pulled a couple of clean sheet sets from the closet in the twins’ room, and the portfolio fell over. The thump caught my attention.”
Alice pulled the two parts of the handle apart and peered at the contents. Two bundles of envelopes filled the main compartment. Taking the top bundle out, she gently rifled through the envelopes. They were addressed to Charlie or Charles Holden, and the return address was Portland, Maine. Many of them designated the sender as William or Ida Holden, but others simply had a return address.
A low whistle fluttered from between Alice’s lips. “A perk of being a conscientious housekeeper. Have you read them yet?” She exchanged the top bundle for the bottom one. They, too, were from either William or Ida Holden.
“Not yet.” Approaching A Stitch in Time, Annie pulled into a parking spot along the street. “I thought we could start at lunch, while we wait for our food.”
“Now that’s what I call an appetizer. At least we now know the handwriting in the Bible is from William, unless someone else addresses his envelopes.” Alice tucked the second bundle back into the portfolio and closed it. “Do you want to bring this into the meeting?”
“I don’t think so, since we don’t know what’s in them yet.” Annie paused to think. “Let’s put them in the trunk.”
Alice gathered her needlework bag, exited the car, and stored the aged portfolio in Annie’s tidy trunk. She and Annie waved at the dark-haired man who stood next to an older but meticulously maintained white Lincoln. “Hi, Jason!” Alice called out.
The middle-aged man tipped his hat to them. “Good morning, ladies.” His employer, Stella Brickson, was the matriarch of the Hook and Needle Club.
Alice glanced at her watch. “At least we’re not late.” Stella frowned upon any lack of punctiliousness as much as Alice frowned upon early rising.
Annie was pushing open the shop door when they heard the sound of staccato steps and huffing breaths. A quick look over their shoulders revealed the rusher to be Peggy, the hem of her pink waitress skirt winking below her coat with each step.
“Am I late?” she gasped. Her quilting bag swung wildly from her arm.
“Catch your breath, Peggy,” said Annie. “You’re not late.” She held the door open for her friends.
“And even if you were, lateness is not a punishable offense,” Alice added. “We’re just thrilled you can get away from the diner at all these days for the meetings.”
“Aw, thanks,” Peggy said, a shy grin spreading across her round face. “Been flustered since the truck broke down yesterday. Still waiting to hear how long it’ll take to be fixed.”
“You let me know if you need a ride anywhere, Peggy,” said Annie. The three walked through the front room of the shop.
“You’ve already helped by bringing that driftwood by last night. The job will help pay for the repairs.”
Annie reached out with a furtive hand to finger some skeins of luxurious cashmere yarn as they walked close by a display. “I gave Wally a tall order with such a tight deadline. I am so thankful he can do it; the twins will be thrilled.”
They entered the shop and saw that three women were already seated in the circle of chairs: Stella, Gwendolyn Palmer, and Kate Stevens. Mary Beth Brock, the owner of the shop, was nowhere to be seen.
“Hello, Stella, Gwen, Kate,” Alice greeted the early comers. Where’s Mary Beth?”
“Mary Beth had a quick errand to run,” Kate, Mary Beth’s assistant, explained. “She should be back any minute.”
“Oh, I’m glad she won’t be gone long.” Peggy took off her coat, draped it on the back of her chair, and sat down with a sigh. “I’m almost done with a quilt for my niece and could use some help with new ideas.”
Gwen lifted her knitting needles, revealing a pillow cover in shades of chili-pepper red and mocha. “I’m at the same point you are, Peggy. This is the last of a set for my daughter. It’ll be completed by tomorrow, and I’ll need something new to start.”
The doorbell jingled, and Mary Beth strode into the shop, shrugging off her coat. “Is everyone recuperated from Thanksgiving and ready to get crafty for Christmas?” She ducked into the back room to toss the coat onto a rack in the corner of her small office, and then returned to take a seat next to Gwen.
“Do you have a project for us?” Peggy asked, bending down to retrieve her quilt from her bag. “All I have left to do on this is hand-stitching the binding.”
“You’ve really streamlined your quilting process, Peggy.” Mary Beth nodded toward the cheerful quilt. “I don’t have anything in particular in mind.”
Gwen looked up from her knitting. “I was hoping you would, Mary Beth. I’m almost finished too. My pillow covers will be ready to tuck under our Christmas tree when we put it up next week.”
“Me too.” Annie added herself to the almost-filled club circle. “And for once, I’m not crocheting anything for the twins this Christmas.”
Stella had been quietly adding row upon row to her knitting, but as always she had not missed a syllable of the discussion. “Using our talents for the good of strangers seems appropriate for the season.”
Annie’s mind raced to Psalm 69:33, one of the verses underlined in William Holden’s Bible: “For the Lord heareth the poor, and despiseth not his prisoners.”
“I’ve been thinking about the families of prisoners lately,” she said.
“A
wonderful idea, Annie!” Gwen exclaimed as she smiled across the circle at Annie. “Have you ever heard of the organization called Santa’s Stocking? They match donors with children of federal and state inmates to provide Christmas presents. Both toys and more practical items are given to each child.”
Stella nodded. “They do excellent work and run a very organized program.”
“Do either of you have their contact information?” asked Mary Beth.
“I do.” Gwen lowered her knitting into her lap and pulled her smartphone from her purse. “I fussed at John for buying me this techno-phone, but I have to admit, it has come in handy.” She tapped in the organization’s name. “Here it is.” She handed the phone to Mary Beth, who wrote down the information on a sticky-note pad she always kept in her pocket.
“Does anyone have other ideas?” Mary Beth asked as she gave Gwen’s phone back to her.
“I think we should keep to Annie’s idea, unless everyone else says no,” said Peggy. “Christmas can be a challenge for two parents who work these days. How sad for the kids when one of their parents is suddenly taken from them, even if it is the parent’s fault.” Peggy and Wally both worked hard to provide for their daughter and yet had known scary financial times often during their marriage.
Alice threaded a scarlet length of embroidery floss through her needle. “I agree with Peggy. Mary Beth, can you let us know what Santa’s Stocking says before next week’s meeting? I’d like to buy the supplies ahead of time.”
“Sure. I’ll email or call everyone once I have all the details.” Mary Beth flourished the neon green sticky note. “I’ll contact them right after lunch.”
“Now that we have that decided, I have to tell everyone how much Emily loved spending time with Joanna.” Peggy continued her ladder stitch along the pinned binding. “They were quite a pair, those two.”
“Joanna felt the same way,” said Annie. “I need to thank your sister Mitzy for giving the girls that pampering session last week. Joanna couldn’t stop looking at her fingernails. I’ve never seen her be so careful.” She chuckled at the memory. “If LeeAnn had packed her sandals, I think she would have braved frostbite to show off her toes!”
“It was delightful to meet your family, Annie,” said Gwen. “I can see your image in LeeAnn.”
“Not a spittin’ image, but enough to make parenting her interesting,” Annie admitted. “I think she’s more comfortable now about my decision to stay in Stony Point after meeting so many folks during the visit.”
The corners of Alice’s mouth curved into a mischievous smile. “Annie had a visit with another family member also this weekend.” She primly added stitches to her cross-stitch as the other women tried to recall hearing about other relatives of Annie’s.
“Clever, Alice, very clever.” Annie kept her eyes on her crochet as she neared the fastening-off point on the tunic she was crocheting. “LeeAnn found something interesting in Gram’s attic on the day of the nor’easter,” she explained to her friends.
“Something mysteriously interesting?” Kate asked, her crochet hook dancing through loops of soft alpaca yarn.
Peggy lowered her work into her lap. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about it last night! Shame on you, Annie.” Her eyes flashed humor, belying her scolding. “Well, what was it?”
“It was a Bible, almost a hundred years old,” answered Annie. “Apparently, my grandpa’s Uncle Will received it when he took the bench as a Cumberland County judge back in 1915.”
Alice couldn’t hold back any longer. “Uncle Will left all kinds of notations throughout the whole Bible and underlined a bunch of verses.”
“What do the notations say?” asked Mary Beth. To the casual observer Mary Beth might appear to be too business-minded to be interested in something like the mysteries hiding in Annie’s attic, but she found them as exciting as the others did.
A sheepish look crept across Annie’s face. “I’m not sure yet. William didn’t write them in English.”
“How puzzling,” said Gwen. “The Holdens have been in America almost as long as my family. Was William bilingual?”
“You’re right, Gwen,” Annie nodded. “Our family has been in America for over two hundred years. Alice and I think they are written in Latin, but we could use a more educated confirmation.”
“I was well-schooled in the classics, including Latin,” said Stella. “I should remember enough to recognize it at least, if you have the Bible with you.”
Annie reached into her tote, pulling out the spreadsheets. “Alice and I copied out the underlined verses, and any notations found next to them.” She stood to bring them over to Stella.
Stella tucked her knitting carefully into her bag and took the sheets of paper. Annie moved behind Stella’s chair to make it easier to discuss her discovery. Only the soft movement of hooks and needles on yarn, floss, and fabric could be heard as Stella studied the list of notations. When she reached the end of them, she gave a quick nod. “You and Alice guessed correctly. Judge Holden wrote these in Latin.” A hint of a smile floated across her lips. “I even remember some of them.”
Annie almost flung her arms around Stella’s shoulder, but she caught herself, fearing the display would make her staid friend uncomfortable. “Oh, thank you, Stella!”
“What do the words you recognize say, Stella?” asked Peggy, glancing anxiously at the clock on the wall opposite her chair. It told her lunchtime was almost at an end.
“Here’s an easy one.” Stella placed a little finger knobbed with age and arthritis next to a word. “Stella—that means star.”
“Your parents named you wisely,” said Gwen. “You’re such a guiding light to our little community.” The rest of the women smiled their agreement.
Knowing Stella’s aversion to “too much fuss,” Alice asked, “Which verse is that word next to?”
“Psalm 109:16.” Stella continued to read, “‘Because that he remembered not to show mercy, but persecuted the poor and needy man, that he might even slay the broken in heart.’”
“Are there other words that you recognize, Stella?” Annie asked.
“Here’s another: filia,” answered Stella. “That means daughter, and it’s next to Psalm 82:3.”
“That was one of the first verses I read in William’s Bible,” Annie told the group. “It has stuck with me. ‘Defend the poor and fatherless: do justice to the afflicted and needy.’”
Gwen’s knitting needles paused. “Whose daughter is it referring to? William’s?”
“I don’t know,” answered Annie. “But William and Ida Holden never had children. I think that’s one reason why Grandpa had William’s Bible … his aunt and uncle didn’t have any direct heirs.” She nodded at Stella to continue.
“Next to 2 Timothy 2:20 is the word altus. It means high.”
“Altus,” Peggy repeated. “Like altitude!”
“Yes.” Stella nodded. “The word ‘altitude’ is what is called a ‘derivative.’ Our Latin master drilled those sort of words into us students daily to help build our vocabularies and to help us understand where many of our English words originate. You might have become a Latin scholar, Peggy.”
“I doubt it,” Peggy brushed off the idea. “But I always have wanted to go to college.”
“You should!” Gwen encouraged her younger friend. “A college education is never wasted.”
“We’ll see.” Peggy shrugged, knowing they didn’t have nearly enough money to consider more education, and hurried on. “Stella, what does the verse say?”
Stella read: “‘But in a great house there are not only vessels of gold and of silver, but also of wood and of earth; and some to honour, and some to dishonour.’”
“That verse is totally different from the others we’ve heard so far,” observed Kate. “I can see now why you were intrigued by the notations, Annie.”
Annie pointed at some letters typed all in capitals that were next to the word altus. “Stella, these letters don’t make
a word, do they? My guess is that they’re Roman numerals.”
“Yes, you are right. Those are Roman numerals.”
“They did teach us that in school.” Annie leaned closer to the paper. “X’s are tens, aren’t they?”
“Yes, they are,” Stella confirmed. “This notation reads CXXVII. The C is one hundred, the X’s equal twenty, and they are followed by a V, which is five, and two I’s for two more. All together, the number is one hundred and twenty-seven.”
“One hundred and twenty-seven and high,” muttered Alice. “What connection could these possibly have to the verse?”
“One thing does seem certain,” said Gwen, coming to the end of a row. “There is, indeed, something mysterious about those Bible notes! But how do we begin to figure it out?”
Annie told her friends about the portfolio full of letters she had found the day before. “Hopefully, after I’ve read them, I’ll have more to go on while interpreting what William Holden added to his Bible. And I’m pretty sure they go way beyond preparation for a Sunday School class.”
“Thank you, Stella, for getting us started,” said Kate, aware that Peggy needed to get back to the diner. “I can’t wait for next week!”
Stella handed the spreadsheets back to Annie, who returned to her chair. “This task will call us to ora et labora.” A circle of blank faces surrounded her. “Pray and work,” she added.
Peggy stood, having already settled her quilting back into her bag. “From what I can figure, doesn’t just about everything call for … ora et labora?” She slipped her coat on over her uniform.
“Amen!” Annie and Alice chorused. “We’ll see you in a couple minutes, Alice called to Peggy before she ran out. “We’re coming for lunch.”
“Better get a wiggle on, or you’ll have a wait,” Peggy warned them, as she headed for the door. “It’s been crazy busy.”
7
After stopping by her car to retrieve the portfolio and tuck the spreadsheets inside it, Annie and Alice hurried to The Cup & Saucer. The diner filled up quickly during lunch hour, as Peggy had warned, and by the time they pushed open the door Peggy was already topping off coffee mugs and taking orders from a booth full of sawmill employees.