“I am sure you do. That was quite a fall you had. Do you remember what happened?”
Sarah struggled to think back.
“I... no,” she said.
“That is all right, it may come back to you at some point. Do you remember your name?”
Sarah thought again, and was relieved to find the answer.
“It is Sarah Williams. Miss Sarah Williams.”
“Very good, Miss Williams. You were injured aboard the Capricious last week, when she hit a snag on her journey up the river. The ship went down, but not before most of the passengers and crew were rescued.”
Sarah tried to remember, but couldn’t. She did not remember being on a boat at all. She did not remember… much.
The doctor gave her a moment to speak if she wished to do so, then continued.
“Aside from the blow to the head that resulted in your prolonged unconsciousness, you were not much injured. I think that now you are awake, you shall make a rapid recovery.”
The doctor gave directions to the nurse and another smile to Sarah, then moved on to the next patient.
The nurse poured a glass of water for Sarah.
“You know Dr. Lawrence is the reason you’re here. He kept you from going overboard when you were injured, and brought you to this hospital. He saved your life in more ways than one, though you’d likely never hear it from him, he’s that modest.”
“I am in a hospital… how will I pay for this?” Sarah was suddenly distressed.
“Don’t you worry, now. I suppose you forgot that, as well. You’ve plenty enough for anything you’ll need for some time to come. You did a smart thing pinning your money inside your dress, the way you did. It would have been lost with everything else, otherwise.”
Sarah sipped the water the kindly nurse held out to her, and lay her head back on the pillow. There was so much she didn’t remember. For reasons she did not understand, she was glad. She felt at peace, she felt... free.
Dr. Lawrence looked back at Sarah wistfully as he turned to walk away. He would like to become better acquainted with the beautiful, sad eyed girl he remembered from the brief time he was aboard the steamboat. Maybe now, he would have the chance.
Chapter 19
Aunt Louise was our best chance at finding more information about great-great-great-Grandmother Sarah. Chip and I reached the estate with Second-Miles’ condition, and a call to Aunt Louise, on my mind.
Miles and Trixie met us at the door, and Miles took care of our mud-caked feet.
I took off my coat and hung it on the coat rack we found in the attic. There was no maid or butler to carry off one’s wraps, as there were in times past, so it was a useful addition to the entryway.
“How’s Polly and Second-Miles?” asked Miles.
“The same. Polly’s not ready to let go yet, but the doctors are encouraging her in that direction. There’s one test left which will determine whether he’s brain-dead or not, and she’s getting closer to letting them do it.”
“What test is this?” Miles asked, as we walked slowly up the stairs towards Mission Control.
“Remove the respirator. If he doesn’t breath on his own, they’ll know for sure. I’m convinced Polly knows if that respirator is removed, it will be all over. She just isn’t ready yet. She hasn’t said all of her goodbyes, I guess.”
“Understandable. She was put in a tough position, trying to raise a teenage boy at her age. Polly is a kind-hearted lady, but she wasn’t equipped for it, which is why she and Second-Miles decided attending the academy would be better for him than staying here. In many ways, it probably was. I’m sure she has regrets though, and wishes she stayed in touch, and kept better tabs on him. It’s Alfred’s fault he’s in that hospital bed, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she blames herself, too.”
“The whole thing is just so sad,” I agreed.
We reached the door of Mission Control, and I changed the subject.
“I should have thought of this before, but better late than never. I’m going to call my Aunt Louise and see if she can give me any new information about Sarah. And hi, by the way,” I said.
“Hi back,” he smiled.
Adjourning to the office, I pulled out my iPhone. Putting it on speaker, I dialed, hoping Aunt Louise would answer.
“Well hello, Anika!” she greeted me after a couple of rings. “I’ve got your picture and your name right next to your number in my phone, so I knew it was you right away!”
We exchanged a few additional pleasantries, then I got down to business.
“Aunt Louise, I’ve heard you telling Mom about your interest in our family’s genealogy. Well I was kind of interested in some of that myself. I’m managing an old estate for a friend,” I glanced at Miles, “and learned that my great-great-great-grandmother was at one time engaged to one of the gentlemen who lived here in the late 1800’s.”
“Oh what an exciting find!” bubbled Aunt Louise. “That’s what I love about tracing family history, you never know who is out there that you may be related to, or who may have been an ancestor.”
I could hear Aunt Louise as she bustled through the house, then began rifling through papers.
“What was your grandmother’s name, Anika?” Aunt Louise asked.
“Her name was Sarah Williams, and she married a Dr. Philip Lawrence in 1871.”
There was the sound of rustling papers, and a dropped phone. After an unpleasant clattering noise, Aunt Louise was back on the line.
“Let’s see, let’s see…” she said. “I remember finding this information. Yes, a particularly fascinating bit of history. She sailed on the steamboat Capricious, which sank in 1870. She was injured during the panic among the passengers when it hit a snag, and rescued by the man who treated her at the hospital, and then became her husband. She suffered permanent memory loss, from the injury she sustained.”
Miles and I made eye contact. Now we knew why Sarah never tried to contact the Bannermans, again. In the truest sense, she forgot.
I was blown away by the Fort Knox level of info Aunt Louise had amassed, and she wasn’t finished yet.
“You know Anika, you and your family should really visit the High Ridge Museum. You know the Capricious was salvaged in the early 1990’s. The items recovered have been restored, and are traveling on loan from museum to museum right now. The High Ridge exhibit opens the end of next week. I wish I lived nearby, I’d go with you. Here… I’m sending you the link right now. You really should go, you might see some of your great-great-great Grandmother Sarah’s things. It all went down with the ship, you know.”
Somehow I managed to thank Aunt Louise. I was stunned almost speechless by all that she’d been able to tell me about Sarah. Stuttering out my everlasting appreciation and gratitude to my absolutely amazing Aunt, I ended the call and turned to Miles.
“Did you hear that?” I asked.
“Yeah, it was on speaker phone,” he teased, as I lightly pretended to slap his arm.
I turned and woke up the computer, checking my email and clicking on the link Aunt Louise sent.
There it was. High Ridge Museum, Steamboat Capricious exhibit, opening in just a very few short days.
“Sarah didn’t have amnesia until the boat sank,” I said.
“Exactly what I was thinking,” said Miles.
Maybe, just maybe, Sarah left something behind for us to find.
The next day, I got the clock man started on the cleaning and oiling all of the many wind-up clocks in the house. Grandfather, wall, mantle, there were so many. I didn’t have him take them all at once, it would take all day just to collect them.
The clocks had to be taken to the shop where they would be dismantled, and each piece cleaned in an ultrasonic cleaner. Then the clocks would be re-built, then oiled, then tested to ensure they kept the right time, bushings replaced if necessary, then returned. It was quite a process.
Miles didn’t think his superpowers were a good fit for the clock cleaning business. Some
of them were over-oiled in the past. Dust then stuck to the oil, and it was just a mess. They needed the care of a professional, so that’s who I hired. Sam from Tick Tock Clock thanked me for my business, and drove away. Probably thinking he could afford to retire in style, once he finished cleaning all the clocks in the house!
I ran up the stairs, and met Miles in the hallway outside Mission Control. He was playing with the dogs, rolling a ball along the floor for them to chase. They had to sit patiently waiting for their turn, so it was good mental exercise for them. It was also loud. Now I knew why every few minutes, it sounded like a herd of elephants was running back and forth, overhead.
“Not being very subtle and low key, are you!” I said, and Miles grinned.
“Hey, if the clock man came this far, all he’d see would be two crazy dogs having fun with a ball.”
“With all that racket, he was afraid to come upstairs,” I laughed, thinking of how the poor man cringed and looked up, every time a dog thundered by.
“What’s on the agenda today?” asked Miles.
“Well, I’m thinking, why wait in suspense for the Museum exhibit to open. Let’s just call, and see if they can tell us if any of Sarah’s things have been identified, and are included in the exhibit,” I said.
Miles considered that.
“If her items aren’t marked and identified in some way, we’ll have a hard time figuring out whether something belonged to her or not.”
“Fingers crossed then,” I said, as I dialed.
After several agonizing minutes on hold, listening to the world’s least easy listening music, I had the museum curator on the line.
“Hi, this is Anika Riley. I’m thrilled to see that the Steamboat Capricious display is opening soon at the museum. You see, my great-great-great Grandmother Sarah Williams was a passenger on the Capricious, when it hit the snag on its journey up the Mississippi and sank. I’m looking forward to seeing the exhibit when it opens, and wondered if you could tell me whether or not any of my grandmother’s belongings will be among those on display.”
I waited, as the curator mulled that over.
“You do realize, according to the laws of salvage...”
“Of course, I completely understand! I’m not laying claim to any of the salvaged items, but I would love to be able to see a piece of my family history, if any of Sarah Williams’ belongings will be included in the display.”
The curator mulled that over some more, then shuffled some papers and had a muffled conversation off the phone. Finally, he returned.
“Yes and no, Miss Riley. It looks as though there is a hatbox and satchel belonging to a Sarah Williams, which was salvaged and restored. Those, however, are not part of the museum collection.”
I was puzzled.
“Do you know where they are, then?”
“The salvage company is auctioning off some of the items recovered from the Capricious, and those are among them. I can give you the number of the salvage company, if you would like.”
“Thank you, yes.”
I wrote down the number and immediately called.
Miles and I both crossed our fingers as we waited for someone to answer.
“Western Salvage,” said a deep voice. “Rich speaking.”
“Hi Rich, my name is Anika Riley. I just spoke with the curator at the High Ridge Museum, where artifacts from the Capricious will be on display soon. I was told you also have items that will be up for auction, and I’m interested in hearing more about that.”
I could hear the sound of papers shuffling.
“Looks like that auction is in two weeks, in Allendale.”
“Rich, let me ask you this. Is it possible to buy a piece outright, rather than wait for the auction? My great-great-great grandmother was onboard the Capricious when she hit that snag, and sank. There is sentimental value concerning a satchel and hatbox Sarah Williams had with her on the boat. They were lost with the ship. It would mean a great deal to our family to have an opportunity to secure these pieces of our family heritage.”
There was silence for a moment.
“Waaaaall… I reckon. I’m the boss, so I can do pretty much whatever I like. Bring documentation to prove your claim, and we’ll work something out.”
Rich scheduled to have Sarah Williams’ items unloaded and removed from storage. It would take a week and a half to accomplish. We made an appointment to meet, after that time.
Miles and I looked at each other soberly. I knew this was it. I think we both did. So many mixed feelings.
The cheerful, joking atmosphere in the room was decidedly dampened.
“I won’t have to leave again until my appointment with Rich at Western Salvage,” I said, remembering with dread that we only had a week and a half, until then.
“We’ll make the most of the time we have,” said Miles.
“We will,” I said, knowing that time had a limit, that was fast approaching.
I made the trip to and from the grocery store in record time. I didn’t use much discernment in my shopping though, it was difficult to stay focused.
I arrived back at the guest house, and Miles helped me unload the vehicle.
“Quite an odd assortment you have here,” he commented.
I looked to see what he was referring to.
“Yeah… well, chocolate may be my only comfort, a week and a half from now. I think my subconscious mind took over when I went down that particular aisle.”
Miles smiled softly, but his eyes were sad.
“I’m not looking forward to this either… but we never know how much time we’ll have. It would be a shame to waste the time we do have, grieving a loss that hasn’t happened yet.”
I nodded, my eyes brimming with tears. “I know, you’re right.”
“Let’s use the time we have to make good memories,” he said softly.
“You’re right,” I said again. “We’ll do that.”
I blotted my eyes with my sleeve, and managed a smile.
I cancelled the castle’s regularly scheduled cleaning appointments for the next week and a half. I felt very protective of the time Miles and I had left, and didn’t want to spend any of it on anyone or anything else.
We spent every possible minute together and used every second for all it was worth, to try and make up for all of the years we wouldn’t have. Thoughts of a lonely future did intrude, especially when I was alone in the guest house at night, resenting the need for sleep that wouldn’t come. When Miles and I were together though, we pushed those thoughts of the future aside.
We talked about everything under the sun, watched our favorite movies, played video games, and Miles played the piano while I recorded it with my iPhone. We crammed a lifetime’s worth of memories into that week and a half. But in spite of trying to hold on to every moment and make it last, our reprieve ended, and it was time to visit Western Salvage.
I was thankful Polly gave me permission to use one of the family vehicles. I could get used to driving around in this sporty SUV. Did it ever handle the curves! It accelerated quickly too, there was a lot of power behind it. Living here year-round as the Bannermans used to do, I’m sure they appreciated having a four wheel drive vehicle capable of handling the snow and ice. It was so much better than Mom’s car, which was more equipped for the city, where they now lived.
Most of the snow was melted, and there were unmistakable signs that spring was coming. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was the last of the snow until next winter. Soon it would be time for Nate and his crew to tend the estate grounds once again.
I pulled into the parking lot of Western Salvage, and walked across the pitted and pothole laden parking lot to the double front doors. The windows were guarded by security bars, as were the glass doors, and Security Maxx Inc. stickers were heavily applied, warning anyone who got the not-so-bright idea to try and break in.
I walked through the doors and across the cracked vinyl flooring to the front desk.
“Hi, I’m An
ika Riley,” I said to the receptionist. “I’m here to see Rich.”
The receptionist picked up a phone, and punched some numbers into the keypad. I wondered how she could hear through her abundant, tightly permed blond hair.
I looked around at the peeling paint on the wall, and the stained ceiling tiles. I was surprised by how run down the place was.
“Hi Rich, Anika is here,” she said.
Within seconds, the whir of what must be a state of the art lock sounded, and the heavy metal door behind her desk opened. Rich stepped through, and motioned for me to follow. They may not care much about how the building looks, but their security could rival a bank.
Rich was a tall, gray-haired man with a large handlebar mustache, and deep smile lines. He used them all, when he saw the information I printed from the genealogy site.
“You’ve done your homework, Miss Riley. I’m real glad to see that. Now while I don’t deny the salvage business pays the rent, I got into the salvage business for this very thing. To connect people with pieces of their heritage. Follow me.”
Rich swiped an electronic key card on another vault like door, and I followed him into a warehouse. We walked past row after row of crates stacked from floor to ceiling, each labeled with a combination of letters and numbers. I followed Rich through a maze of these, until we reached another door. A large window in the wall beside it, revealed a climate controlled room filled with storage units. On display inside the glass units, was a huge assortment of salvaged items. Tray after tray of buttons, leather boots and silk dresses, satchels and trunks, china and cookware. There were bottles of wine and perfume, and jars of pickles, and jam.
Rich swiped his key card again and opened the door, ushering me inside, then led the way once more. He paused in front of one of the cases, and unlocked it.
“This is it, the satchel and hatbox that once belonged to Sarah Williams.”
“That’s amazing. How did you figure out these were my great-great-great grandmother’s? Is her name on the items?”
“They were found in her stateroom. That’s how we know they belonged to her,” Rich said.
I stared at this piece of my history, this connection to Sarah. The trunk was Miles’ ticket out of his semi-transparent state. I’d never been so sure of anything. Except how much I was going to miss him.
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