by Jim Wetton
“Mrs. M.,” Henry called out with his usual term of endearment towards his mother-in-law. “I’m right there with you and I know that Nellie is as well, but. . . .”
“There will be no buts, Henry!” Lizzy slammed the paper down next to her and rose abruptly. “I was raised to use my mind. I was raised to speak. I also raised my children to do the same!”
Henry smiled as he looked over at Nellie, admitting defeat.
“If it won’t be this McKinley gent, then it will be the next or the next or the next!”
“Who was McKinley’s running mate anyway?” Nellie asked.
“Garret Hobart,” Henry answered. “But keep in mind, he’s just the VP. Nothing special. McKinley will have eight great years right here in our own city. Mrs. M., if I were you, I’d go right to the top and meet the dog that no one bows to. Get him on your train, and all will happen faster than. . . .”
“Dog that no one bows to?” Nellie burst into a laugh. “It’s my mother who will be that dog and McKinley or whoever his sidekick is or will be are the ones who need to wake up and take notice; right, Momma?”
Lizzy laughed at Nellie’s comment. She turned towards Henry and lovingly tilted her head and winked before continuing on with the article, reading in silence. She paused and looked over at Mary Elizabeth and frowned again.
“You sure you’re all right, dear?” Lizzy asked, lowering the paper. “You look a bit pale. Stomach ailing you, or is it, well . . . ?”
“I’m fine, Momma!” Mary Elizabeth stammered. “Just a little headache, that’s all. Must be from all the raucousness around here. Think I’ll help get the place cleaned up and then call it a night, if that’s all right. A good night’s sleep will do me good.”
“By all means, dear,” Lizzy replied, still concerned. “But, don’t you fret about the dishes; they can wait.”
“No, I want to. Plus, the kitchen is the best place for us women, right? Especially us spinsters of the world. The ones who can’t marry, can’t have children and will never land in a man’s world.”
Lizzy scoffed and threw a dinner napkin across the room, hitting Mary Elizabeth square in the face.
“That’ll teach you.” Lizzy laughed. “You just wait and see. Man or no man, you and me, girl. We’re going to make a mark in this here ‘man’s world’ and mark my word, soon it will be me following your lead to the ballot box!”
Mary Elizabeth smiled at her mother and nodded her agreement. She bent over to retrieve a napkin and as she did so, she grunted loudly and grabbed her chest.
“Now don’t you get me all worried about you, daughter, hear me?” Lizzy leaned forward. “Maybe we need to call on Doctor Bolton tomorrow.”
Mary Elizabeth straightened up, her color returning to her face. “Nonsense. Just got a bit dizzy bending over, Momma. No need for dramatics.”
Lizzy smiled as she watched her oldest daughter throw the cloth napkin on top of her head and turn towards the kitchen. Her over-accentuated shake of the hips made Lizzy burst into laughter.
“Don’t I just look like the grandest of brides with my veil of cotton over my head?” Mary Elizabeth yelled over her shoulders.
Lizzy laughed again and shook her head as she continued to read about the new president.
She looked up once more and watched Mary Elizabeth in the kitchen. Her back was to Lizzy but she could hear the sounds of her daughter beginning to sing a tune that Lizzy knew was one of her favorites. You’ll find your man, sweetheart. Just don’t be in a hurry. I kinda like you here with me for the moment, if that’s all right.
Lizzy looked at her oldest daughter again and frowned.
Somethings not right.
* * * *
Lizzy gave one last hug to her granddaughter followed by a soft kiss to her forehead. Nellie hugged her mother goodnight as the three walked down to the curb and to their waiting carriage. Lizzy stood on the small front landing. She watched them as they slowly boarded their carriage. The driver closed the doors and hopped up to the front and grabbed the reins. With one flick of his wrist and a click of his tongue, the carriage creaked forward and soon was out of sight.
As Lizzy stood in the chill of the evening, she felt alone. She could hear Mary Elizabeth singing inside and it brought a smile to her face. The dishes and plates clattering made her realize that her life now was just hers and her oldest daughter. She had no desire to look for another companion. She was far too old, plus she had no interest. Martin had been her love. He’d been the father of her children and she needed no other. She thought of William in California. She hoped they were well but rarely heard from them, which she placed herself to blame. She smiled at the thought of Nellie and Henry boarding the carriage along with their little one. She knew that they’d be OK and it brought a sense of peace to her. She thought about God. It was a subject that had been missing for a while. She knew her father would have been very disappointed in her for it, but she had to admit it to be true.
As far back as she could remember, God had been the centerpiece of their family. What’s changed? She moved up closer to the railing. She could see the Potomac to her right; though it wasn’t as close as the Hudson had been, she could still see it. She felt an odd chill and a lonely feeling. She prayed for God to come back to her. If not for her sake, for the sake of giving her father a chance to smile again.
As she began to turn towards the door she noticed a courier coming down the street. Out of curiosity, she moved towards the railing again. Not expecting anything, she was just curious to see which home the courier was going to. She heard a loud crash from inside, followed by a reactive expletive and a frustrated scream. She smiled wide at the thought of Mary Elizabeth’s battle with the dishes. Sounds like she’s feeling better by those words coming out of her mouth.
“Ma’am, is you a Mrs. McKeever by’s chance?” the courier yelled from the street.
“Uh, yes I am,” Lizzy replied. “May I help you?”
“Just has a letter for yous, if in fact that’s who’s you say you is.”
“I am and yes, you have found the right person and. . . .” Lizzy scolded herself on her formality. “You say you have a letter, son?”
“Uh, yes um. I’s needs for yous to sign for it.”
As the young man approached the front porch, Lizzy leaned over, signed for the letter and looked at him. The boy’s face was dark black. His face was littered with pock marks and his hair looked dirty and greasy.
She apologized for not having any money with her for a tip. She looked at him again and a sense of grief poured over her. She thought of her days on the Underground Railroad. She thought of Martin. We saved them for this?
“Again, I’m so sorry that I haven’t some loose change, young man.”
The boy smiled. His white teeth shined bright in the moonlight. He waved it off as he turned towards her. “Think nutten of it, missus. Gots me a real good tip on my last house, so’s momma’s going to smile tonight, das for sure.”
Lizzy shook his hands and smiled as he turned to leave. She instinctively wiped her hands on her apron and rebuked herself for doing it. He’s poor, Lizzy, not dirty. She shook her head in shame. Dear God, how they were all so poor and lost back then. She watched the boy turn the corner before looking down at the telegram.
Lizzy laughed again at some inaudible obscenity from inside followed by another loud bang. That girl keeps dropping pans like they’re fresh hot off the stove. She felt a deep thump under her feet which vibrated the entire wooden landing. She laughed. Must have dropped the whole stove that time. “Dear Lord, Mary Elizabeth, get ahold of yourself, child.” She waited with amusement for another angry outburst, but this time there was none.
Lizzy turned her back to the full moon to get better light and looked at the return address on the letter. Realizing that the light was still too dim, she tucked it into her sleeve and proceeded to the door. Once inside, she closed the door behind her and reached once again for the letter.
To Mrs. Lizzy McKeever,
It would be our honor to have you join us for our annual meeting of the National Woman’s Suffrage Movement. We will be discussing our nation’s equality and rights for all people. On behalf of women like you, who have pledged their loyalty and dedication to equality amongst men, we would be honored if you could join us. The meeting will be held in the Capitol’s Rotunda on December 15, 1896. From there, we have reserved a room in one of our senator’s chambers down the hall. We do hope that you’ll be able to join us.
Respectfully,
Harriet Tubman
Harriet Tubman. Moses! Martin, it’s Moses!
She held the letter to her chest and smiled. The same woman we met back during the railroad days. The very one. And she still remembers me? Lizzy looked up to the ceiling. Dear God, thank you for listening. She felt a rush of adrenaline. She wanted to shout.
Oh, I’ve got to tell Mary Elizabeth.
“Mary Elizabeth?” she announced faintly at first. She cleared her throat and yelled out again. “Mary Elizabeth, you won’t believe what I just received! Come here quickly, dear; come look at this!” she yelled out with excitement.
“Hey there, you’ll never believe this until you see it for yourself, but we’ve just been asked to join up with one of the most prominent women in the country. Yes, indeed we have. Well, I knew her as Moses, but that story can wait for another time!”
Lizzy crooked her neck at the odd silence. The room which had just recently been filled with the sounds of pans dropping and oaths of frustration were now filled with utter silence.
“Mary Elizabeth?” Lizzy called out and frowned at the odd stillness.
Lizzy walked into the kitchen and laughed at the scene in front of her. “Well, I can surely see what was making all that racket.”
Pots and pans were scattered throughout the floor. Leftover food spilled over the counter’s edge, still dripping onto the floor. She snickered at the lost battle in front of her.
“Run out of energy or just surrendering to the might of a dirty kitchen?” Lizzy chuckled out loud as she called out to her daughter again. When she didn’t hear a reply, she tucked the invitation into her sleeve and walked down the hall towards Mary Elizabeth’s room.
In the dark, she spotted Mary Elizabeth and a bolt of panic raced down her spine. She rushed towards her. Down on her knees she reached for her. She pulled her daughter’s limp body towards her and put an arm under her neck.
As Lizzy looked down, her heart erupted in horror. Staring back at her was a blank and lifeless expression. Mary Elizabeth’s eyes were open but motionless. Her skin was clammy and her limbs were limp. Lizzy pulled her towards her and held her tightly to her chest. She yelled out but there was no one to hear her desperate plea.
Lizzy’s cries became loud and frantic. She felt alone and scared. Unable to process. She looked around and then shut her eyes as tight as she could. “Oh God, no!” She opened her eyes again and looked back into the eyes of her oldest daughter. Those cold and blank eyes were still looking back up at her.
“Mary Elizabeth!” she yelled and shook the young woman. “Oh, dear God, no!”
Lizzy began to shake uncontrollably. She pulled her daughter’s body into her once more and squeezed tight.
“Oh God, no!”
She forced herself to breathe. To process the scene around her. She reached for a pillow and placed it under Mary Elizabeth’s head. She brushed her daughter’s hair back. It was damp and plastered to her forehead. She wiped her cheeks. She thought she felt tears on her daughter’s left cheek. She rubbed her arms. Grabbed firmly to her hands.
Time stood still. Nothing made sense. She thought back. At one point she was yelling at a pot and then again at a pan slipping from her hand and . . . and now . . . !
Lizzy cried out. “No!” she wailed uncontrollably. “Oh, dear God, No!”
The room became a vacuum. She looked once again down at the lifeless eyes of her daughter. She yearned for an answer. She pleaded for it to all go away. She wished for someone to help her; there was no one.
Her panic overwhelmed her as her screams filled the house.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Reflection
1897
Lizzy stopped to remove her coat. She’d been walking for nearly two hours and though the spring morning had started out cold, the day was beginning to warm up.
She’d headed out that morning as she’d done every few days for the past several months, dressed and out the door by eight in the morning. Searching for an answer she was realizing would never come, she walked out to her street and to the left on a stroll that took her down 22nd Street. It was as routine as closing her eyes to sleep at night, something that she still had trouble doing.
It had always been a favorite walk for her, but since that horrific night, it was a mere attempt to find normalcy in her life again. She’d turn towards the Potomac on Constitution Avenue where she’d stop and feed the pigeons scraps from her morning toast. Once her bag was empty, she’d continue walking down towards the Tidal Basin where she’d sit and look out at the vast body of water and marvel at the backdrop of President Washington’s monument.
On this particular day, Lizzy was dressed in a long, brown skirt, its hem barely touching the ground. It was one of her favorites, especially because of the large rose embroidered on the front. Her blouse of soft white cotton with slightly puffed upper sleeves and ruffled cuffs was covered by a wool shawl draped around her shoulders. Her hair was pinned up and back from her face, though she kept her curls flowing down past her ears and almost touching her shoulders. She never wore her hat on these walks. She relished in the breeze that blew through each strand of hair. Somehow, she told herself, somehow the breeze would blow all her sorrow away.
She’d had to force herself to get out of the house weeks earlier. Her mood had been hollow and empty and though each day’s walk helped, she knew it wouldn’t erase the misery she stored inside.
Lizzy tried to convince herself that her days of mourning were over, yet deep inside she knew that she’d carry the memory of her dead daughter’s eyes staring back up at her until the day she died.
Mary Elizabeth’s autopsy results were inconclusive. Her cause of death was still a mystery to those who had conducted the long and strenuous procedure. Lizzy’s anger over the need for an autopsy was soon forgiven. She eventually understood why it was needed. To the officials, Mary Elizabeth’s age, her sudden death and no prior illness had been the reasoning for the need of an autopsy. To Lizzy, her daughter was gone. Once she accepted the need for an autopsy, she’d stepped aside, but soon she realized that knowing wouldn’t bring her back. Still, she’d often found herself mumbling the same questions over and over as she forced herself to take in her morning walks. How . . . ? Why . . . ? There was no sign. No reason. So young. So much promise.
On this day, as she had done on many of the others, Lizzy walked to her favorite spot across the basin so she could look at the monument she loved so much. For some odd reason, she felt a connection to it. The reflection of the monument was crystal clear, casting its magnificent heights across the surface of the giant watery basin.
As she positioned herself on her bench, she thought of her distant relatives who’d been close friends with the president whose monument she now marveled at. Her great-grandfather Jacob had spent an emotional afternoon in a cemetery crying with this very president. It doesn’t get any more intimate than that, she’d told herself. It was President Washington’s strong, yet comforting voice that had helped Jacob grieve the loss of his first wife and children. Wonder if he’d sit with me now and cry with me too?
On the evening just prior to Mary Elizabeth’s death, she’d received an invitation. One that she’d never honored and one which she didn’t know if she had the will to ever carry on again. She knew that she’d made a vow to Hannah long ago. Though it was through reading her diary, nonetheless, it was a vow. The vow for the daughters of the Monroe family to carry o
n and bring equality to the women of this great country. After that horrible night, Lizzy couldn’t fathom going on. There was one less “daughter of the Monroe family” and each day going forward only broke her heart that much more.
She didn’t know if it would’ve been easier to move on if she’d found out the cause of Mary Elizabeth’s death. Maybe if she would have heard that it was from a violent attack or a blow to the head or even a massive heart attack. Maybe, but it wasn’t and she’s gone. The whole scenario surrounding the death of Mary Elizabeth would always haunt Lizzy, just since no one had an answer to the reason why. How can a perfectly healthy twenty-four-year-old woman suddenly collapse and die and no one knows why?
Some had suspected poison. Some suspected an undetected heart problem. Some even speculated suicide, much to Lizzy’s resistance. After months of exploration and theories, Lizzy asked for the case to be closed. To her, Mary Elizabeth was gone and nothing would ever bring her back.
The breeze felt good as it came off the Potomac. She moved her eyes away from the monument and looked around. She saw a few couples walking hand in hand, which made her smile and think of Martin. She saw a group of children on the far side of the basin. From the distance, she guessed there were about six. Each child carried a small paper bag which she presumed was food for the basin’s ducks. Though she could barely see their faces, she smiled at the sound of their laughter. She thought of her four children when they were that age. Not too many ducks in Wheeling, but they did try to throw food to the fish. Or was it to the frogs? She laughed and it felt good.
She moved her sights farther to the left and then back to the right and marveled how wide open the area was. If she crooked her neck hard enough, she could see the Capitol to her far right and if she turned it to the far left and across the Potomac, she could see the large house that Robert E. Lee once lived in. So sad how they took it all from him. So odd and yet so sad.
Lizzy stared at the river that separated the land which she knew as D.C. and that of Virginia. She thought of her time during the war. The sacrifices that so many had made. Us too. She thought again of the great Confederate leader and spoke out softly to no one but the breeze. “A patriot in his own mind. A career soldier always wanting to protect the rights of the country that he loved. But the love of his own state and the land that he put his heart into would always take his allegiance.” Oh, how hard that decision must have been. That poor, poor man.