At the very bottom was her collection of pictures she had taken of her mother with an old Canon One Shot her dad had given her for her twelfth birthday. It had been spring break, and to cheer her mother up, Libby had taken her to Woodmont for Historic Garden Week.
She had almost forgotten about that last visit to Woodmont when she was thirteen. There were pictures of her mother in front of the main house, wearing dark slacks and a white shirt, her salt-and-pepper hair pinned up into a neat twist. She was wearing bright lipstick that Libby remembered had been a vibrant red.
The next series of pictures featured her mother in the very side garden where Libby had just had dinner this evening. She stood next to a vibrant bush of white roses, and there was a bright grin on her face.
Two weeks later, her mother had taken a handful of pills. Her father had come home from work and found her lying on her bed.
She smoothed her fingers over her mother’s face. Carefully closing the drawer, she held on to the image and carried it back into the house with her. She attached it to the side of the refrigerator with a magnet, knowing tomorrow she would find a frame. “It’s good to be home, Mom.”
She filled a glass with water from the tap and stood over the sink as she drank it. Catching her breath, Libby carefully set the glass down and tightly closed her eyes. “I miss you, Mom.”
She had said the words often during her years at boarding school. And as she had done then, she stood in complete silence, listening for a response that never came.
Tonight, it was just the hum of the air-conditioning. Just as she had as a kid, she felt alone and lost.
She walked upstairs and opened the door to her father’s office. Her mother may not have answers, but her father would.
“Okay, Daddy, let’s see what else you left behind for me.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
LIBBY
Sunday, June 14, 2020
Bluestone, Virginia
Libby sat at her father’s desk, smoothing her palms over the polished wood surface. The overhead fixture did not emit enough light to fully illuminate the room, so she switched on the floor lamp she had bought for her father a couple of years ago. The extra light boosted visibility and chased away the shadows.
She tapped her finger against the neat desktop. Finally, she opened the file drawer and saw only two files. She knew immediately they were there for a reason. The first file read Important Papers in her father’s customary Sharpie scrawl on the tab. The second folder was not marked.
She removed both and carried them into the kitchen, where she set a pot of coffee to brew. Already resigned to insomnia, she pried off the lid of the plastic tub containing the lemon cake. Fork in hand, she took several bites as she stared at the two folders. A wall clock ticked in the house in chorus with the sound of the coffeepot gurgling.
She poured herself a cup and opened the Important Papers file first. As advertised, it held a list of items that needed to happen after his death. Her father had given a duplicate to his attorney, and so far, his attorney had dutifully ticked off the items on the list. Taxes. Utilities paid. Stock sales. Lou Ann. Even lawn care was covered.
Dad had planned well, but this she already knew.
She took several more bites of cake and drank coffee as she went through the papers. There were her parents’ marriage certificate, unused passports, the deed to this house, and finally her birth certificate.
She inspected her birth certificate. It was not her original from New Jersey but one issued by the Commonwealth of Virginia that listed her adopted parents’ names. It was an amended birth certificate—a.k.a. an ABC to those in adoption circles. It did not tell her full story but was the official document that had gotten her registered for school and allowed her to apply for a driver’s license and passport. It was her official identity, but it really was not totally her.
She smoothed her fingertips over the official watermark and the state seal embossed on the ivory paper trimmed with a blue border design. She replaced the papers in the file folder, closed it, and shifted her attention to the second folder.
She centered it in front of her, held her breath, and opened it. Inside was a letter in an envelope. It was not postmarked, but inscribed in neat handwriting was My Dear Girl. Carefully, she opened the envelope and removed the single sheet of paper.
My Dear Girl,
You are but hours old, but already you’re proving to have a strong set of lungs and a bit of a temper. I like that about you. Better to come into this world knowing what you want than spend decades pretending that another’s dream is your own. As I stare at you in the nursery, I can already see that you will rise above the others of your generation and achieve great things. You’re a little marvel, and I still can’t believe you are a part of me.
In the years to come, you will learn that your mother could not keep you. Like you, she was not really grown up. She can barely take care of herself, and though I know she loves you, she doesn’t yet have the thoughtfulness a good mother lavishes on her child.
Like you, I believe she is destined to do great things. It is my prayer that you both will realize your dreams and that one day you will meet again and compare your wonderful lives.
I want you to know, neither she nor I made this decision lightly. Giving you away has broken my heart, and I will never forget you. Ever.
Always know, my perfect little angel, that your mother and I love you a great deal.
Yours always,
Olivia
Libby sat back, her head spinning. She did not know whether to faint or throw up. Tension rippled through her body until finally she reminded herself to breathe.
Olivia. As in Olivia Carter?
She was Elaine’s grandmother. Hers was the greenhouse that Elaine was restoring.
Jesus.
If Olivia had written this to her . . .
I still can’t believe you are a part of me.
From what Libby had pieced together about Olivia, she knew Olivia had had only one child. A boy. And that boy had had one daughter. Elaine.
Libby’s father would not have saved Olivia’s letter unless it was vitally important. He had created a sole file for the letter because he was worried it might get lost in the shuffle of the other documents.
Absently, Libby held the letter to her nose, inhaling the very faint perfumed scent of Olivia Carter. The woman had been dead twenty years, but if she closed her eyes, she could feel her presence in the room.
Her father had not had the guts to give her this when he was alive. He needed death to stand between them before he could reveal the truth.
Elaine was her birth mother.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SADIE
Friday, March 6, 1942
Bluestone, Virginia
“Sadie, you’re damn lucky,” the sheriff said as he sat at her kitchen table. Sadie’s mother sat beside her with her hands folded in a white ball. “Mrs. Carter has refused to press charges or lay any liability or property claim against you. She refuses to blame you for the accident.”
“It wasn’t my fault,” Sadie said. But she stopped short of saying that Miss Olivia had been driving or that she had been teaching her how to drive for months.
“Of course, Dr. Carter doesn’t want you to return to Woodmont or to drive his wife ever again,” the sheriff said with a slight smile. “And if he sees you on his land, he’ll swear out a warrant for your arrest.”
“It was no one’s fault. The road was slick,” Sadie argued.
Her mother laid her hand over Sadie’s. “We hear what you’re saying. Sadie won’t be a trouble to the Carters no more.”
The last few days, Olivia had spent her time digging in the cold soil, chopping through the fine layer of frost. Sadie tried to imagine the lush green vegetables that would spring from the earth by summer. It all looked so bleak now, but in time it would be lush and full again.
Sadie had hoped that time would ease the anger of Dr. Carter. She had hoped the wound
s would mend and bear fruit like the winter soil. Come summer, when the honeysuckles bloomed, she hoped all would be fine.
“And I don’t want to see you making any more mash,” the sheriff said. “I’ll be paying frequent visits here to make sure of that.”
“But you had an agreement with my brother,” she said. “Johnny said we could cook and sell as long as we gave you a cut.”
The sheriff cleared his throat. “There’ll be no more of that. The last thing I want to do is get on the wrong side of Dr. Carter.”
There still was no word from Danny, but Johnny was sending some money home from the army. Her mother had her piecework, but all of it together was not enough to settle the rent due at the end of the month.
“I got to make a living,” she said. “There’s no work for me here in Bluestone. Making the shine is all we have.”
“You two would be wise to pack up your belongings and leave Bluestone. What you did to poor Mrs. Carter was damn foolish, and you have made an enemy of her husband.”
“I didn’t mean any of it.”
“You never mean harm,” her mother said. “Never mean to hurt anyone.”
“But you did,” he said. “Troublemakers like you end up on the wrong side of the law and find themselves at the Lynchburg hospital. You don’t want that, do you?” His pointed look was intended to trigger Sadie’s memory of the girl who had begged for help as she had been hauled away into the gray, dark building filled with screams.
“No, sir,” she whispered.
The sheriff nodded. “Seeing as Sadie can’t stay out of trouble, it’s best you two leave town.”
“Where are we going to go?” Sadie demanded. “This is our home. Johnny and Danny won’t know where to find us if we leave.”
Her mother drew in a breath and rose. “Sheriff, I appreciate your words, but I’ll have to ask you to leave now. I won’t have my boys coming back to town with no home to welcome them. I’ll see to it that Sadie doesn’t get into trouble.”
Sadie curled her fingers into tight fists, digging her nails into her palms. She should never have taught Miss Olivia to drive. No matter how much she had begged, she should have just done as told by Dr. Carter.
The sheriff rose, lifting his wide-brimmed hat. “Sadie, don’t mess this up for your mother. It wouldn’t be right for you to get sent away and leave her here alone.”
“I’ll never leave my mama,” she said.
“That’s up to you.” He settled his hat on his head. “Mrs. Thompson, don’t make me come back here for Sadie.”
Sadie closed her bedroom door and put a chair in front of the handle before she slipped on the green dress that Miss Olivia had given her weeks ago. It was softer than anything Sadie had worn in her whole life. It reminded her a different life was possible. She did not know how she would make her way, but she would.
She carefully skimmed her calloused palms over the material, feeling a little like Vivien Leigh or Carole Lombard. Of course, they wore these kinds of clothes all the time. It was just another day for them. But for Sadie, it was the best thing she could remember in a long time.
She slid on her old coat over her dress and wrapped a scarf around her neck before she slipped out of her bedroom. Her mother was sitting by the radio in her rocker, holding one of Johnny’s socks while Jack Benny played on the radio. Her mother had slipped into a deep sleep.
“Mama, I’m going out for a bit.” She did not speak too loudly but was testing.
Her mother’s eyes remained closed as Jack Benny’s voice mingled with laughter.
She twisted open the front door and closed it softly behind her. She climbed in the truck, released the parking brake, and let the car roll down the hill to the road before she pulled out the choke and pressed the starter. The car engine sputtered to life. She shifted quickly into first gear and was gone.
Ruth had teased her about the party. She had made Sadie feel as if she was not good enough. Her taunts had festered for the last week, and maybe before the accident she would not have gone to the party, fearing what the Carters would say. But now with no job, Sadie did not see the harm in having a little fun.
She drove down into town and parked by the Elks club. There were dozens of cars parked out front, and the inside was lit up and filled with music and laughter. She felt her spirits rise as she climbed out of the truck. Shrugging off her jacket, she left it in the truck and smoothed the folds of her dress.
As Sadie walked toward the door, her nerves jangled with fear and excitement. As she passed a parked car, she could see there was a couple in the back seat. She couldn’t make out who was who, but she could see through the steamed glass that they were kissing.
The very thought of a man kissing her made her heart race a little faster. Maybe tonight she would find herself a boy and kiss him right on the lips. Just like in the magazines.
According to Ruth, the band playing tonight had come all the way from Charlottesville and was playing swing music.
She did not know what swing was exactly but dared not ask. Ruth would only roll her eyes as she liked to do and remind Sadie that she just did not know that much.
The girl in the back seat wiggled closer to the boy and slid her hand over his thigh like she had done it many times before. Sadie glanced at her own fingers, trying to imagine doing the same. Color warmed her cheeks, and she tore her gaze from the couple. She imagined it was the dress that was making her feel different. Tomorrow she would be back to her old self, dressed in overalls and a long-sleeve shirt. She imagined then all these crazy thoughts would leave her.
But the idea of going back to who she was made her depressed. She had only just slipped into this new role as Miss Olivia’s driver, which had allowed her to dream of a better future. Now that was gone, and all she had left was the magazine and this dress.
Laughing couples were walking inside to a festive interior, and she wished she was not alone. It would have been nice to have a friend.
Ruth and a boy Sadie did not recognize approached the party entrance. Both were laughing, and neither seemed to notice her.
“Hello, Ruth,” Sadie said.
Ruth turned and studied Sadie a beat, as if she did not recognize her. “Sadie. Look at you. You’re looking mighty spiffy tonight.”
Even the way she gave a compliment made Sadie feel lesser. “Thank you.”
“Who are you here with?” Ruth tucked her hand into the crook of her gentleman’s arm.
“I’m alone.” She tried to say it like it did not matter and was her choice.
“That’s very bold of you,” she said. “Do be careful in the party.”
“It’s just music and dancing. What’s there to be afraid of?”
Ruth shrugged, smiling like a barn cat that had cornered a mouse. “Nothing, I suppose.”
The couple hurried past her, and as Ruth shimmied her shoulders, she said, “Ooh, can you hear the music? It makes me crazy.”
Bright lights bathed the dance floor filled with couples moving in a quick style that was hard for Sadie to keep up with. This had to be the swing that everyone was talking about.
In the far corner, a four-piece band gave their all to the tune. There was a fella on banjo, another on trumpet, and two on guitar. She tapped her foot, anxious to figure out the dance.
A couple brushed past her, hand in hand, as they hurried to get started. She tapped her foot and lost herself in the music. “My word, this is just about the most thrilling time of my life,” she whispered.
“Can I get you some punch, Miss Sadie?”
Sadie turned at the sound of the deep masculine voice. She recognized him right away. It was Malcolm Carter. His dark hair was slicked back, and he wore a dark suit, a collared shirt, and a tie wound into a crisp knot. The tips of his shirt collar were held in place by a fancy gold pin.
“Mr. Carter, what are you doing here?” Sadie asked.
He extended his hand, smiling. “I came to visit my cousin and his wife, but both are not their reg
ular sort these days. Very understandable, but I needed some air.”
“How did you hear about this party?”
“The grocer’s daughter is very forthcoming.”
“Oh.”
His gaze flittered over the lines of Sadie’s body, and she could see the appreciation in his eyes. She felt a bit shy about the open stare, but there was also pride that she could make a man look at her twice. It must be the dress, she thought.
“How is Miss Olivia doing?”
“She’s up and about. Though steer clear of my cousin. He’s still angry about the accident.”
Sadie grew silent and suddenly questioned if she should be here. She had promised her mother she would be good but was not sure about this place.
“I can hear your thoughts even with the music,” Malcolm said with a grin.
“You can’t hear anything.”
“Don’t worry about Edward. He’ll cool off, and Olivia will give him a baby. The world will get back into its axis.”
Maybe for them it would, but Sadie did not have a clue how she was going to right her course.
“This is your first party, isn’t it?” He reached for a punch glass, filled it with lemonade, and handed it to her.
“How can you tell?” She took a sip, loving the sweet citrus flavor of the cool drink that somehow did little to cool off her flushed cheeks.
“It’s the excitement in your eyes,” he said. “I can always tell when a girl attends her first dance.”
“You go to a lot of these dances?” she asked.
“Almost every weekend in Richmond.”
“I can’t imagine doing this every week. It must be so much fun.” The music was chasing away her worries, and she was not feeling so out of place.
“It can be work,” he said, laughing. “But I always get a second wind when I meet a pretty girl like you, Sadie. It’s worth every bit of trouble it took to get out of that stuffy old house.” He fixed himself a cup of punch and stared at her over the rim of the glass like she was the only girl in the world.
Sadie sipped and looked past him to see Ruth and her beau moving in time to the tune. They were laughing, and when Ruth missed a step, she was not worried at all but just laughed all the harder.
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