Secrets of the Asylum

by Linda Hughes

  Meg crawled into her bed, curled into a ball, and slept like a baby.

  38

  Abby pulled up in front of the big house in Rosie — that was what she named her new burgundy Roadster — and hopped out. She had a lot to do.

  Sam waited for her on the porch and came hustling down the steps, tossing his cigarette into the dirt. “Abby, you’re doing a fine job of driving that motorcar,” he declared as he grabbed two baskets of flowers out of the backseat. Abby had the top down and the entire car looked like a giant flower basket, it was so full of lush arrangements.

  “I’m a good driver,” Abby contended, picking up two baskets of her own, “because I had the best teacher on earth.”

  Sam grinned from ear to ear. “May I add,” he said as they went up the steps, “that you look particularly fetching today?”

  “Why thank you, Sam.”

  They took the flowers inside and Sam insisted on bringing the rest in himself so she wouldn’t muss her dress.

  She did feel becoming for the first time in her adult life. When Meg had insisted that Abby join her, Hannah, and Jed’s sister Colleen to shop for dresses to wear to the wedding, Abby thought her young friend daft. When they’d talked her into trying on this elegant “tea gown,” as they called it, she thought herself daft. But when she put it on and looked in the mirror she’d been stunned. She knew she’d never looked so good.

  The dark rose color, she had to admit, accentuated her smooth, tan skin. The delicate pleats down the top of the dress, the sash across her hips, and the mid-calf length graced her form with ease.

  Those women even somehow managed to talk her into a pair of garters and silk stockings, which felt dreamy on her legs. But she said no to those horribly uncomfortable high-heeled shoes that felt like wedging her feet into a meat grinder and instead got a nice comfortable pair of pretty, flat ones. To finish her new look, she left her long hair unbraided and loose to cascade down her back.

  All four of the shoppers bought lovey tea gowns that day for this day, Hannah’s silver gray, Colleen’s lavender, and Meg’s the most beautiful ivory-colored lace dress Abby had ever laid eyes on. And Mr. Sullivan had insisted on paying for all of it.

  Sam brought in basket after basket of flowers and Abby put him to work helping her twine the long garlands around the length of the vestibule staircase banister, all the way up both sides.

  When they finished, they stood back and looked at their creation. The pastel iris, bluebell, and primrose blooms interspersed with green leaves looked fantastic. The fragrances they brought into the space were a bonus.

  “Abby, that’s beautiful. Miss Meg will be so pleased,” Sam said. “You could start a flower business.”

  Abby tucked that suggestion away for future consideration.

  “Well, I’d better get into town to pick up the O’Neills,” Sam said. “They need an extra car what with Jed’s parents and grandparents in from Detroit on the train yesterday.”

  They said their goodbyes and Abby went back to concentrating on her task, setting baskets around the room. Chairs had been set up in a few rows of semi-circles facing the center of the room with an aisle down the middle. Meg would walk down the stairs; the priest and Jed would be standing at the end of the aisle, with Colleen and her husband standing as witnesses.

  Abby thought the large vestibule with its grand staircase and two-story ceiling was a perfect setting for the occasion. The piano had been rolled in from the parlor so Hannah could play.

  Abby picked up a table centerpiece and opened the door to the dining room. The aroma of Cook’s scrumptious wedding feast made her nostrils flare in delight. The long dining table had been set with the Sullivan’s best china, crystal, and silver. A three-tiered wedding cake sat on the buffet side table. Going back and forth until all three centerpieces were in just the right places on the table, Abby finally felt satisfied that her work was done.

  She left the dining room and reclosed the door, just as Hannah appeared at the railing above. “Abby! Oh my! This looks wonderful! It couldn’t possibly be any better than this. Come! Come!” She held a hand out over the railing. “Come join us.”

  Abby hesitated. She’d never been deep into the belly of this elegant house. Or any elegant house.

  “Come on,” Hannah insisted, waving her on.

  Abby picked up the bridal bouquet and went to the stairs, cautiously taking each step as if she might hurt it if her footfall struck too hard. When she reached the top, she followed Hannah into what turned out to be Meg’s room.

  What she saw before her took her breath away. Meg turned away from a full-length mirror and faced Abby. “What do you think?” she asked.

  There she stood in her ivory lace tea gown with a sheer veil edged in lace, attached to a pearl headpiece on top of her head, flowing to the floor at her back. She wore the earrings, one pearl in each ear, that Abby knew Jed had given her as a wedding gift.

  “You’re the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.” Abby felt herself tearing up, she felt so happy. She handed Meg the bouquet.

  Meg beamed. “Oh, thank you! The flowers are perfect. And look at this veil! I love it so much. It’s handmade Irish lace. Jed’s grandmother gave it to me last night. She wore it at her wedding, and so did his mother. It’s one of the few things his grandmother was able to bring when they came here from Ireland.” She gave Abby a quick hug.

  A knock on the door pulled them apart and Hannah opened the door to Herbert.

  “Father, you look so handsome,” Meg said. “I love that new black suit.”

  “And you… you…” he said, “are the most gorgeous young woman alive!”

  “Oh, Father, you’re prejudiced. It’s your job to think I’m gorgeous, remember?”

  “But with you it’s true. And I have one more thing to add to your ensemble.” He handed her an old, tattered, blue bandana.

  Meg took it, turning it over. “Is this what I think it is?”

  “Yes, it belonged to your grandfather. I know you never knew him, but I think he’d love for you to have his ‘something blue’ on your wedding day. It’s from his days as a shanty boy.”

  “Oh, my goodness. This is such a treasure.” She pressed it to her chest. “I’ll tie it around my leg.” She pointed to just above her knee. “Thank you so much. It’s a perfect wedding gift.”

  “I’ve been thinking of him on this day,” her father said, “because neither he nor I chose well when we married. You are the Sullivan who is breaking that spell. I think he’s smiling on you from above. And I’m smiling on you from right here.”

  Father and daughter embraced for a long, quiet moment as Abby and Hannah slipped out of the room.

  39

  Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March,” played by Hannah at the piano, filtered up the stairs, letting Meg know it was time. Taking her father’s arm, they left her room and walked down the open hallway. Below in the vestibule, all heads tilted back to see the bride at the top of the stairs.

  How it warmed Meg’s heart to see Cook, Sam, and the maids; all dressed in their Sunday best; here to be part of this momentous day. Judge sat with Jed’s two nephews, doing his best to keep the rambunctious boys quiet. Jed’s parents and grandparents looked radiantly happy. The women, of course, wore jaunty hats. Abby sat next to the chair where Meg’s father would be seated when finished with his duties. The priest stood at the ready, with the witnesses, Colleen and her husband, on either side of him.

  When Meg and her father reached the landing, she glanced up at Angela, her angel in the stained-glass window. Angela’s raised hand surely offered a blessing as a beam of sunlight shone through to make the angel’s hand glow.

  The bride and her father turned to walk down the rest of the stairs, and it was then that Meg’s gaze landed on Jed, “the handsome man.” With wide eyes and a dropped jaw, he stared at her. When they made eye contact, he regained enough presence of mind to close his mouth, which quickly morphed into a huge grin.

  The ce
remony was lovely, with alternating tears, laughter, and a big kiss at the end. When it was over, Hannah played a few bars of the “Cannon in D Major” by Pachelbel that Meg and she had agreed upon, but quickly broke into “For Me and My Gal,” the lively popular tune Meg and Jed had danced to in the parlor. Delighted, the newlyweds danced down the center aisle as everyone clapped.

  Meg had never been so happy in her life.

  The priest escorted them to a side table to sign the marriage certificate. Jed took his spectacles out of his pocket to sign and when the witnesses had to sign, his sister did the same thing. When finished, they both stuck their eyeglasses back in their pockets.

  In that moment of looking at the license, an idea sprouted in Meg’s mind.

  “Father,” she said to the priest, “why don’t you marry my father and Hannah, too?”

  “Now?” he asked, flabbergasted.

  “Yes, now.” Everyone had heard what she said and turned to look at Herbert and Hannah. Meg had never seen them look so flummoxed.

  Her father said, “Dear, this is your day, not ours.”

  “But it could be all of ours!” Jed chimed in.

  The priest said, “I don’t have a marriage license for them.”

  “Oh, Father, I’m sure you can take care of that tomorrow. I’d bet my last dollar that’s been done before.”

  The priest cleared his throat. “Well, it’s possible….”

  “Oh, yes! Mr. Sullivan and Miss Hannah, ya need to get married so ya won’t be livin’ in sin anymore,” Peggy offered.

  Meg saw Jed’s grandparents titter behind their hands. Everyone looked on in anticipation. Meg handed her bouquet to Hannah.

  Herbert took Hannah’s hand and said, “Hannah, will you marry me?”

  She paused. Necks all over the room stretched forward like ostriches to catch her response. “Yes,” she said, “I believe I will.”

  The priest married them right then and there.

  The joy in the room, already at a fever pitch, heightened and continued as Cook diverted everyone’s attention by announcing that dinner would be served in fifteen minutes. Once she opened the dining room door and the smells of her feast wafted into the room, everyone’s thoughts turned to food.

  Meg grabbed Jed’s hand and pulled him out the door. “Come with me,” she insisted.

  Galloping down the front porch steps, she dashed toward the path that led to the gazebo, her long veil billowing out behind her like angel’s wings in the warm breeze. Jed took off after her.

  Once at the gazebo they fell into each other’s arms and kissed.

  “Oh, Jed,” she said when they came up for air, “I’m the happiest woman on earth.”

  “And I’m the happiest man.

  “Meg, you know I’ll probably never be able to give you everything your father can. But I promise to do my upmost to take care of you and our family in every way possible. I may never be rich as a small-town lawyer, but I can honor your family’s legacy by serving this community well. I promise to make you proud.”

  “I am proud of you, Jed. I don’t care about the money. What I want doesn’t call for a fortune. All I want is to be your wife and the mother of our children. No, that isn’t all I want. It’s everything to me.”

  He offered one of his irresistible grins. “I think we should start on the family right away. What do you think?”

  “I think we already have.”

  “Oh, well, yes, that vow of chastity of yours only lasted forty-eight hours.” He chuckled.

  “And we both know,” she added, “it would have been twenty-four hours if you hadn’t needed to go to Detroit for a day.”

  “So, let’s keep working at it.”

  “Jed, when I said, ‘we already have,’ that’s why I pulled you out here. I’m late.”

  “Late for wha…? Oh! Ohhh! La-a-ate!”

  “Ah huh. A week. I’m never late.”

  “You mean…. Hail Mary! Already? Oh lordy, do you need to sit down or something?”

  She chortled. “No! I’m fine. I just wanted you to know. Our secret for now until another month has gone by and we know for sure.”

  Meg glanced in the direction where her mother’s cottage had stood. Once the ashes from the fire had cooled, her father had workers shovel the debris into the cave to close it up. The blackened foundation that remained had been covered with sand from the dunes. Not one sign lingered to suggest anything had ever been there. Turning her gaze to the bay shimmering in the sunshine, Meg knew that the insanity her mother, Elizabeth Antoinette Wolcott Sullivan, had brought to this family had died with her in the asylum.

  “Jed, if it’s a boy, may we call our baby Harry?” She looked at her husband, knowing he would understand.

  “Of course, sweetheart. And if it’s a girl, let’s call her Harriet.”

  “Oh, yes!” She flung her arms around his neck and squeezed.

  When they parted, she nodded toward the big house. “Can you imagine how much love this child is going to feel with all of those people in that house?”

  “That’s the way it should be,” Jed said. “That’s the way it will be for all our children.”

  “‘All our children.’ I like the sound of that.”

  The newlyweds held hands as they strolled back to the big house. They knew that no matter what came their way in the years ahead, they would be surrounded by people who would be there for them and their family.

  THE END… AND A BEGINNING…

  Acknowledgements

  Thank you to my sister Karene Hughes for a great editing job; my friend since seventh grade Cheryl Reed for teaching me about farming, flowers, and the geology of the northwest region of Michigan’s lower peninsula; my many Michigan Facebook friends who offered advice on blossoming fruit trees; my cousins John Shoemaker and Michael Bodus for their hospitality, especially the boat rides, every time I visit Traverse City; and Sue O’Connor, the best yoga instructor ever, whose savasanas gave my mind the space to conjure up this story. Also, thanks to Bob, Jan, and Mark Babcock of Deeds Publishing for their continued support, talent, and good cheer; and my husband Joe Martin for listening to my stories for thirty years.

  And, finally, to my readers. Without you, I would go insane myself!

  About the Author

  When award-winning author Linda Hughes toured the former Traverse City State Hospital, once known as the Northern Michigan Asylum for the Insane and today known as The Village at Grand Traverse Commons, she couldn’t help but be enthralled by the notion that so many secrets must be hidden within its grand facade. This story is the result of her musings and research about those possibilities. Visit Linda’s website at www.lindahughes.com