2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Margaret Nicholson cracked open her sister Evie’s bedroom door, and to her surprise, Evie was snuggled under their bed covers in her nightdress.
It wasn’t yet seven in the evening on a Sunday.
Evie had a reserved nature, but it was hardly present in the family unit.
This indeed was strange. Evie had retired since the family returned from their family picnic.
“Evie dear, what is the matter? Why are you dressed for bed? It’s not yet dark outside.” Margaret sat beside Evie and placed her hand on her forehead. Her temperature was neither hot nor cold.
“I just . . . wanted to be alone for a while.”
Margaret looked down at the book in Evie’s hands. “Elizabeth Blackwell. How exciting! The first female doctor.”
Evie pressed the open pages against her chest. “She is quite marvelous.”
“You know,” Margaret started, relaxing against the bed frame. “She is still an inspiration today, inspiring young girls to follow in her footsteps. The world needs women to study medicine, too.”
Evie slumped against her pillows. Poor Evie, so timid.
Margaret had heard many times in her life that the eldest daughter traditionally takes after the father, but in their family’s case, it was Evie.
Then again, nothing about her family had been traditional.
Defying the upper-class traditions, settling down, running a settlement house, and being independent was something unheard of.
“Are you still considering becoming a nurse?” Margaret asked.
Evie sighed, tightening the book against her.
“I think about it all the time, being there when Daddy was sick and observing the nurses save people. I want that, but . . .” Evie shut her eyes.
“I’m frightened. What if I fail? Every time a stranger speaks to me, I freeze.
It’s like my brain stops working, and what if that happens when someone’s life is at stake? ”
Margaret pulled her sister into a tight embrace and rubbed the back of her head. “That will never happen, Evie. I know you.”
Evie opened her mouth to speak again but was interrupted by the door opening. Both sisters pulled back from each other to observe Mama and Marjorie entering the room.
“Is everything all right, Mama?” Margaret asked.
Mama pulled her arm around Marjorie, bringing her by her side.
Marjorie was still wearing the dress she had on earlier, and her wrists gleamed with shiny bracelets.
The red lipstick she wore made her lips appear bright and plump.
It was no secret how different Margaret and Marjorie were.
They were like night to day and salt to sugar.
Growing up with Grandmother Martin as a role model, Marjorie knew everything about fashion.
She spent the days by her grandmother’s side, attending parties, charity events, and going shopping.
Margaret had respect for her grandmother, who had passed on five years earlier; although, they were from different worlds.
She and Evie remembered their time in different apartments in Richmond whereas Marjorie only remembered her time in Charlottesville.
After moving from place to place in their early years, they never knew stability. Being close to a grandmother they believed they would soon leave created distance. Yet they never left. Ivy Hill became their home—and always would be.
“Nothing to be worried about, girls,” Mama said. “But there’s something I need to say with all of you here.”
Mama and Marjorie settled at the end of the bed.
Mama’s ivory complexion grew lighter while she fiddled with her fingernails, looking away from them.
Margaret had seen her mother in this stance once—when their father had been injured.
The frightening thought caused Margaret to shudder.
Her ears thumped like a bass drum, her pulse quickened with anxiety at what she might hear.
“Do you recall the stories about how your father and I started the settlement home?”
All three of the girls nodded.
Mama cleared her throat to continue. “Well, we have heard . . . some news that your father and I needed to speak to you about.” She paused again, looking up at Margaret and her sisters. “Your grandfather is dying.”
Margaret’s lips parted. An uncomfortable silence fell over the room.
Grandfather Nicholson? However, that meant nothing to her.
Her grandfather was dying. Why did she feel nothing?
She didn’t know how to react to the tragic news.
But was it tragic news? Margaret knew nothing about her grandparents in Richmond, only horror stories when Marjorie would press for answers about why they couldn’t return to the city.
Margaret could never turn away from her family. The very thought sickened her. If her father could leave them and forbid contact, then there had to be a reason, one more horrid than a forced arranged marriage.
“I know he doesn’t mean much to you because you don’t know him.” Mama’s words gave Margaret a small ounce of relief. She didn’t know the man, so why should she feel remorse?
“But,” Mama continued, “he sent your father a letter, asking for forgiveness. He wants to reconcile with us and meet you three.”
Margaret’s heartbeat moved to her throat as her nerves gradually ascended. Surely Mama wasn’t insisting—
“Are we going to Richmond?” Marjorie asked with wide eyes, a slight tone of hope in her voice.
Mama shook her head. “I don’t know. Your father wanted to know what you three think before we decide.”
“I think it will be a grand adventure!” Marjorie exclaimed. “Oh, Mama, can we go?”
Mama’s lips curled into a slight smile. “We’ll see.”
“Do I have to go?” Evie asked timidly, her pillow pressed against her chest.
“I know how you feel about this, Evie,” Mama said in a soothing, calm voice. “But we must think about your father. It’s his parent. When my father fell ill, I arrived just in time to say goodbye and forgive him. Your father needs this.”
Again, Margaret didn’t know how to respond. She was starting to feel like Evie, except Evie had already spoken her piece. Margaret bit her lip and closed her eyes. Come on, Margaret, say something! Quit being selfish and think about your father! Feel something!
She tried again. Nothing. No remorse. No sorrow. How could Margaret be unsure of her own feelings? Did she want to go? Did she want to stay home?
Margaret had grown comfortable at Ivy Hill, and she never wanted to leave such a peaceful place. Mostly because the last time she left, it completely changed her life, but she didn’t like to talk about it, let alone think.
“Margaret, you are quiet. Is everything all right?” Mama asked, her forehead etched in concern.
Margaret exited her thoughts and pulled a loose hair behind her ear.
She pressed her lips together, trying to relieve the pain after biting her bottom lip so hard.
It wasn’t the first time she had bitten her lip.
She succumbed to the habit five years ago, nearly biting until it bled.
It would leave a mark tomorrow and peel.
Just what she needed—another mark—before possibly leaving for the city.
“I’m fine . . . This just took me by surprise.”
Mama sighed and rubbed Margaret’s tensed shoulder. “I know this is a lot, especially since . . . you know, but you must try.”
Margaret closed her eyes and reminded herself not to bite her lip again.
She imagined her happy place—the meadow—to block out the darkness that had consumed her years ago, but it was too late: the glass breaking, the smoke, and the smell of iron from the blood.
Reliving that moment brought back her failures—the price she paid for leaving the nest too soon and making terrible decisions.
Mama squeezed Margaret’s hand, bringing Margaret back into reality. “Please.”
Margaret looked up, taking deep breaths. “I’ll try,” Margaret said in a faint whisper. However, she wasn’t quite certain she could promise so.
“Your father hopes to leave before the end of the week,” Mama announced. “That is if he doesn’t change his mind.” Mama stood and brushed her khaki skirt. “Now, you three get some rest. I’m going to see your father. We still need to discuss the arrangements.”
When the door closed, Marjorie let out a squeal that filled the spacious room. “How marvelous! We’re going to the city at last!”
Evie pulled her knees closer to her chest. “I don’t know if I’d call it that.”
Marjorie stuck out her tongue. “Oh, phooey, Evie. Can you just get over yourself for a minute? Look what an opportunity this is. We get to go to a large house, live among the wealthy, go to clubs, eat fine food, and . . . we get to go shopping!”
Margaret giggled at Marjorie’s aspiration, distracting herself from her moment minutes ago.
Marjorie had always been the lively one of the family.
One thing for certain: Marjorie’s spirit never faltered through any tragedy, even after Grandmother’s death.
After the war, many women bobbed their hair, and Marjorie had been filled with astonishment.
She begged Mama and Daddy to take her to the nearest beauty parlor to have hers done, but Mama admired Marjorie’s black wavy hair, so long and full of body.
Yet Marjorie wasn’t deterred by Mama’s attachment to her long hair.
She snuck into the bathroom and cut off fifteen inches.
Despite how most people felt about bobs, the look fit Marjorie.
It brought out the curves in her face, although she lacked the proper cutting skills.
The bob had been uneven and Mama was forced to take her to the nearest salon.
There, they shaped her hair just below the ears and cut bangs across her forehead.
A new look, but most fashionable. It fit Marjorie’s taste perfectly.
“We are granddaughters of socialites, and now we can finally be them!” Marjorie exclaimed with a huge smile displayed across her face. “I must go and pack. This is going to be so grand!”
Before Evie or Margaret could say anything else, Marjorie was out the door.
“She is definitely excited,” Evie said.
Margaret sighed and leaned back against the headboard. “This is the day she’s looked forward to her entire life. She was born for Richmond’s lifestyle.”
Evie intertwined her fingers with Margaret’s. “You’re the only one who understands me. I wish we didn’t have to go. I’m comfortable here.”
Margaret squeezed her sister’s hand. “We will get through this, Evangeline. Don’t you worry.”
“Are you sure about that? It’s been nearly five years since you’ve gone anywhere outside of Charlottesville, except DC, and when Daddy was in the hospital. You had a nervous breakdown on that train, remember?”
How could she forget? Margaret swallowed her panic.
Push it away, Margaret. Be strong for Evie.
Evie needed to be confident, and having Margaret there to encourage her would help her overcome the world.
Perhaps it could be an experience for Margaret, too.
Her stomach dropped. For Evie. Just for Evie.
“I am confident we will have the time of our lives,” Margaret forced herself to say.