“And how do you know she is going to do that?” Caroline asked, bending down to look at him.
“Because I have it, Grandma.” He held up the purse.
“Wouldn’t you rather go play with your rabbit or race some cars in the playroom or something?” Adelaide rubbed her arm where the stitches had been. It itched.
“No, I like this.”
“You might want to take Mimi’s advice and find something else to do,” Caroline said as she stood back up. “Pearl is coming over. She likes you.”
“Maxine and Deloris too,” Adelaide added.
“Why?” Hudson whined.
“They need to talk business, Hudson,” Caroline said.
“I’m outta here.” Hudson crawled out from under the table. “When are Dad and Marielle getting back? They’ve been gone forever. How long does it take to buy a scarecrow anyway?”
“Scarecrow?” Adelaide said to Caroline.
“Escrow,” Caroline said. “They’re closing escrow on your new house, Hudson. It’s a big deal. They’re probably going to drive up to the Capitol and celebrate with the president afterward.”
Hudson stared at her and then puckered his mouth. “They will not. You’re teasing me.”
Caroline nodded toward the stairs. “Go give your sister her purse back.”
The boy left them but headed for the drawing room, not for the stairs and Brette’s bedroom.
“This house won’t be the same without them,” Adelaide said.
“Yes, I know.”
“The children don’t even seem to be bothered by the idea of moving.”
Caroline began to roll the fabric back on its bolt. “Anything new will require adjustment. They’ll find that out when they’re actually living in Fairfax and attending a new school and making new friends. Right now they feel only the thrill of the unknown. Not the danger.”
“Oh, to be young,” Adelaide said. She stared at the fabric as her thoughts now took her to imagining an empty house. “So it’s a smart idea to invite the Blue-Haired Old Ladies into my business, right?” she asked.
Caroline laughed. “Is that what you call them?”
“They have blue hair and they are old.”
“Some of them are younger than you, Mother. Pearl is—”
“Yes, I know. Pearl is seventy-nine. They all have blue hair but one. It’s ridiculous. The color of your hair is the color of your hair.”
“Well, yes, I do think inviting them into the business is a good idea. That is, if you’re sure you want to keep doing this. You can retire, you know.”
Adelaide exhaled heavily. Yes, she could retire. She had thought long and hard about it. But then, what would she do? Especially now that Carson and Marielle and the children were leaving. She needed something to fill her days. Besides, there was no one to appease by making the uniforms. There never had been. So why should it matter if she kept at it?
“I’ll go crazy if I don’t have something to do,” Adelaide said.
“You could sew quilts instead.”
Adelaide let her eyes travel over the spread of gray wool—stiff, smooth, and clean. In a few days it would be a Confederate States Army major’s greatcoat for a grand game of pretend. No blood would be spilled on this coat. “There are some things that are worth remembering, Caroline,” she said. “Be a shame to forget what the past has taught us. Especially when it about near killed us.” Adelaide reached for the chair behind her and sat down. “Although Pearl will make a fuss about sewing in the parlor.”
“But you told her about the letters, right?”
“I did. She says Eldora’s never been wrong about anything.”
Caroline waited until Adelaide raised her head to look at her. “Nobody is ever right all the time,” Caroline said. “Nobody.”
Adelaide smiled wanly. “I suppose you’re right.”
And Caroline laughed.
When she stopped, Adelaide spoke. “I already miss her a little.”
“Who? Marielle?”
“No. Not Marielle. The ghost I never had. I miss her a little.”
Caroline walked over to Adelaide and knelt down. The little golden cross at her neck glittered in the sunlight spilling into the room from the windows. “It’s not a crime to long for spiritual things, Mother. It’s what you’re meant for. We all are. And in time I’m going to prove it to you.”
Spiritual things. The notion made Adelaide tremble a bit. “Not sure I’ve the courage for all that,” she said. “Not after all that’s happened.”
Caroline smiled. “You’ve lived your whole life wanting to reverse what most thought was a terrible curse. You could’ve left this house long ago. But you bravely believed you could end its suffering, and you stayed. You’ve the courage to discover what you’re meant for, Mother. Trust me.”
Adelaide felt her cheeks grow warm, and she sniffed to dispel the warm rush. “I suppose I shall have to hang around then.”
Caroline patted her knee and rose. “I think you should.”
The front door opened, and Adelaide and Caroline both turned toward the sound. Carson and Marielle had returned. A few seconds later they appeared at the parlor door, the smell of late summer clinging to their clothes. He held up a set of house keys.
“It’s done,” he said, a smile easing across his face and Marielle in the crook of his free arm.
“Congratulations,” Caroline said.
“Yes, congratulations,” Adelaide echoed.
Hudson was at their side in seconds, followed by Brette, both asking multiple questions about the new house, and Carson and Marielle moved away from the parlor doors to answer them. Brette slid her hand into Marielle’s as they walked away, and the child leaned against her hip. Carson had his hand on Hudson’s shoulders and his other hand on the small of Marielle’s back. Adelaide was struck by how they were all connected to each other by touch. Joined. Bound.
Watching them walk away like that, Adelaide became aware of a sudden urge to touch that which she had never had the desire to touch before, though others had. Many others. Many times. She would have to make her way outside, though. “I think I might want to poke about in the backyard for a few minutes before the Ladies get here,” she said. And she rose slowly from her chair.
“Want someone to come with you?” Caroline asked.
“No. I’ll be fine.” Adelaide made her way out of the parlor and into the foyer. “And you probably want to spend some time with the children before you head back to Bethesda.”
“Actually, there’s something else I’d like to take care of before I head back,” Caroline said, following her out.
“Fine, fine,” Adelaide said, intent now, but wanting a few minutes of quiet before heading to the north side of the house to do the thing she had never done before. She made her way into the dining room and through the french doors as Caroline followed after Carson and Marielle in the opposite direction. Adelaide opened the door to the patio and stepped out, inhaling the scent of warm flagstones. The late afternoon sun had slipped behind the house, and the patio was now under the house’s ample shadow.
A breeze from the summer’s heat was kicking up spent leaves that had collected under the patio furniture. They danced around her feet like tiny adoring fans. She pulled out a patio chair to sit for just a few moments and enjoy the applause before heading to Holly Oak’s north side. The air smelled preautumn—sweet and playful—and she could hear the tinkling of her next-door neighbor’s wind chimes. Someone nearby was operating a leaf blower, and a dog began to bark. Despite the various noises, the garden was serene and golden hued. Adelaide had only been there for a few minutes when she heard the patio door open. She turned to tell Caroline that she was truly fine sitting out on the patio alone, but the person who had emerged from the house was Marielle. She had car keys in her hand.
“Off somewhere?” Adelaide asked.
“The kids and I are going out for ice cream.” She looked as if she was going to say more. But she didn’t.
Marielle nodded. She paused for a second. “Caroline is. Caroline has decided to show the journals to Carson while she’s here today and before we start packing things up for the move. We both thought a little uninterrupted time would be nice for him while he looks at them. The kids are so excited about the house; they’re kind of bouncing off the walls here.”
So that’s what Caroline had said a moment ago that she wanted to do before she left.
It had been eight weeks since Caroline told Adelaide about the journals Marielle had come across in the studio and that she planned to show them to Carson when the time was right. Adelaide had hoped Caroline would offer to show them to her, but she hadn’t.
“Let’s let Carson be the one to share them with you. If he chooses to. I think in time he will,” Caroline had said.
Adelaide now looked up at Marielle, knowing Marielle had read them before handing them over to Caroline. And she thought of Susannah’s unsent letters, safe now in her bedroom and for the moment known to only a few. “You’ve read them. Will they change anything? Those journals?” Adelaide asked.
Marielle ran her finger absently across the circle of her key ring. The diamond in her engagement ring caught a snatch of sunlight and sparkled. “I don’t know, Mimi. I guess I hope they do.”
Adelaide cocked her head, surprised. “You do?”
“Well, sure. If Carson reads them and has no reaction at all to anything that Sara wrote, I think I’d be a little worried. They were her journals, the one place where most people aren’t afraid to tell the truth.”
Marielle was right. Truth always changes things.
“And I know you’re wondering if he really needs to read them at all,” Marielle went on. “He does for the children’s sake, Mimi. And for the memories of Sara he will keep. Those are what he gets to hang on to. Right? We get to keep the memories of what was, not what might have been or—”
“Or wasn’t,” Adelaide finished for her.
“Yes.”
The two of them were quiet for a moment. The wind chimes from next door clanged a fairylike tune in the silence between them.
“Want me to bring you back some pecan praline?” Marielle asked a second later. “I know it’s your favorite.”
Adelaide thought for a moment. “I’d like to try your favorite, Marielle. Bring me back that.”
Marielle smiled. She turned to go back into the house, and Adelaide called her name. She turned back around. “Yes?”
“I’m really very happy you and Carson bought the house in Fairfax. Really, I am.”
“Thank you, Mimi. I am too.”
“And I am sorry I didn’t insist on it from the beginning. I didn’t … There was a lot I didn’t …” But she couldn’t piece the words together.
“It’s okay,” Marielle said softly.
Adelaide shook her head. “Anyway, I am actually looking forward to rediscovering my house. I don’t think we know each other very well.”
The minute the words left her mouth, Adelaide knew she only had it half right. It was she who didn’t know the house. The house had always known who she was.
The patio door burst open, and Hudson poked his head out. “I thought we were going!” he said.
“Coming,” Marielle said. She waved to Adelaide and went back inside the house, closing the door gently behind her.
A few minutes later Adelaide heard the sound of a car starting and then driving away. All was quiet. The leaf blower had stopped, the dog had ceased its barking, and the breeze had abated, leaving the wind chimes voiceless. Inside the quiet house, Carson was reading Sara’s journals. The past was again making itself clear within the walls of Holly Oak.
Adelaide was reminded then of why she had stepped outside in the first place, and she stood and pushed in her chair. She walked to the edge of the house and paused for a moment at the beginning of the long row of hydrangeas at the west end. Below her the grassy knoll stretched to the steps of what had been Holly Oak’s slaves’ quarters, now a modest home for a lop-eared rabbit and a playroom where a ball could be flung in any direction and nothing would break.
She walked the length of the back of the house and then turned to face Holly Oak’s north side. She hadn’t been back there in years. She couldn’t remember the last time she had stood there. Adelaide’s gaze traveled up the massive wall to the cannonball half buried in the stone. For decades she hated the thought of even looking up at the black half-orb, that terrible reminder of what the house had endured. Her house. The only house she had ever known. She thought of her great-grandmother, fleeing to the cellar, running down the same stairs she had fallen down, as cannons rained destruction on Fredericksburg. Susannah had not deserved what happened to her. Few survivors of war ever do.
She stood on tiptoe and stretched as far as she could with her good arm, but her fingers couldn’t quite brush the cannonball’s flinty surface. It was beyond her reach. Instead her hand brushed the stone around it, warm and smooth, and her fingers tingled where she touched it.
She had feared that sensation for as long as she could remember; the cannonball was a ghastly memento of what the house had been subjected to, and the stone and wood around it were the wound it had created. But now, as she pulled her hand away, she marveled at the lingering sensation on her fingertips. She was aware of something invigorating on her skin, something sharp and vivid. Different. Alive. The cannonball was more than just a reminder of what the house had suffered; it was a reminder of what the house had survived. She closed her eyes against the ache of suddenly realizing that it had always been this way, from the very moment the ball slammed into the house and did not crush it.
And she had only ever seen the half of it.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured to the hulking back of Holly Oak. “I am so sorry.” She reached up again to rub her fingers on the ancient stone surrounding the cannonball—a caress that begged for forgiveness.
Then she brought her fingers to her mouth and nose and breathed deep the heady fragrance of resilience.
AUTHOR’S NOTES
The Battle of Fredericksburg as my fictional Susannah describes is a historical event, and much of what she pens in her letters to Eleanor is based on fact. Holly Oak is not a real house, but I saw many beautiful and stately homes in current-day Fredericksburg with a view of downtown and the Rappahannock the way Susannah describes Holly Oak. As for the military details, I endeavored to stick to the facts as much as possible. It was not unheard of for West Point cadets to join up with a volunteer infantry from their home state, as I have suggested here, though it was likely not the norm. And I have placed the infirmary at Libby Prison in such a way as to make it convenient for my story. Other liberties with historicity were taken with care, and every attempt was made to make the story ring true whenever possible. I recommend the following resources for further reading and study:
Chesnut, Mary Boykin. A Diary from Dixie. New York: Barnes and Noble, 2006.
The Civil War: A Film by Ken Burns. DVD. Arlington, VA: Public Broadcasting Service, 2004.
Foote, Shelby. The Civil War, a Narrative. 3 vols. New York: Vintage, 1986.
Gallagher, Gary W., ed. The Fredericksburg Campaign: Decision on the Rappahannock. Chapel Hill, NC: University of North Carolina Press, 1995.
McPherson, James M. The Illustrated Battle Cry of Freedom: The Civil War Era. New York: Oxford University Press, 2003.
READERS GUIDE
1. Describe Adelaide. What is her greatest strength? her greatest weakness? What is her relationship with Holly Oak, and how has it colored her entire life?
2. Holly Oak withstood the Civil War but not unscathed. Along with the cannonball embedded in its walls, it acquired a reputation. What do people like Pearl think of the house? How does Adelaide think of the house? What about Susannah? Which is true? Do you think a home can take on any of the characteristics assigned to Holly Oak, or is it simply a building?
3. Why does Mari
elle agree to live in the same house her new husband shared with his previous wife? Do you think she was right? What would you have done in her situation, coming into a family as a stepmother far from the only home you’d ever known?
4. Susannah is referred to as a spy, a traitor, and a ghost. Who was she really? How does knowing the truth about Susannah’s life free Adelaide? How does it free Marielle? Caroline?
5. Why does Caroline come back to Holly Oak? What do you think would have happened to Adelaide and Marielle if she had not?
6. Eldora claims to be in contact with the spirit world. Do you believe her? What did she feel in Holly Oak? What happens when she meets Caroline?
7. When she is interviewed by the journalist, Adelaide says, “People will think what they want. They will always think what they want.” How is this statement a key theme of the story? In what ways does it apply to Holly Oak, Susannah, the Blue-Haired Old Ladies, and even Adelaide and Marielle?
8. In a way, A Sound Among the Trees is a ghost story without a ghost. Who is Adelaide’s ghost? Carson’s? Does Marielle have a ghost?
9. Adelaide tells Marielle that Holly Oak is stuck, like a needle on a record. What does she mean? At the end of the book, Caroline explains that it is actually Adelaide who is stuck. In what way do the characteristics Adelaide gives to Holly Oak refer instead to herself? Why do you think she projects her unhappiness upon her home in this way?
10. With which character do you most closely identify? Adelaide? Marielle? Susannah? Caroline? Someone else? Why do you relate to this character? What similarities does her story have to your own?
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Every book I write bears the influence of so many wonderful people in my life. I am deeply grateful:
• To Jeff and Sarah Sumpolec and their sweet family for sharing Fredericksburg with me, for opening up their lovely home and driving me from museum to battleground to historic street to cemetery as I researched for this book.
• For the keen editorial minds of Shannon Marchese and Jessica Barnes at WaterBrook Multnomah, and Jennifer Peterson and Lissa Halls Jackson. Thank you for the trips to the crucible. The book, if it shines, shines because you saw where it needed the Refiner’s fire and sent me there.
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