Chapter 11 #3
Mercy smiled again, imagining Wilson's reaction if he ever heard someone speak so generously about him. He would undoubtedly insist he'd done nothing worthy of such praise.
Her eyes dropped to the next paragraph.
I would therefore be honored if you would accept it as my gift and into your keeping.
She stopped.
Then she read the sentence again.
Surely...
No.
She read it a third time, slower now.
There was no misunderstanding Kate's meaning.
Mercy's gaze drifted toward the annex, picturing it nestled safely in Wilson's mother's trunk where she'd left it.
Wilson.
If anyone had a claim on the locket now, surely it was Wilson.
He had found it. He had carried it home.
His mother had lovingly preserved it for more than a decade while they waited for someone to come searching.
If Kate wished to relinquish her stewardship, shouldn't that trust naturally pass to the Porter family?
Mercy's gaze returned to the letter.
Even knowing the full story, Kate hadn't asked her to give it to Wilson.
She had written to Mercy. Not by accident. Not in haste.
Deliberately.
Mercy had spent weeks reminding herself that she had no right to reshape another person's story simply because it better suited her own sense of what ought to have happened.
How, then, could she reshape Kate's clearly expressed wishes?
Slowly, almost reluctantly, she realized the truth of what this meant.
Kate wasn't giving her an heirloom. She was entrusting her with its care. How could she refuse such a charge?
Taking a steadying breath, Mercy lowered her eyes once more and continued reading.
There is only one request I would make. When the day comes that you believe it is time to entrust its care to another, I hope you will remain faithful to the charge Mrs. Washington left for those who would carry it after her.
That quiet charge has traveled farther than the locket itself, and I pray it will continue to do so for many years yet to come.
May the Lord richly bless you in the work you have undertaken to preserve the stories of those who came before us.
Sincerely,
Kate Fletcher
For several moments Mercy simply sat, the letter resting quietly in her hands.
At last she carefully folded the pages and slid them back into the envelope. Then she rose and crossed to the annex.
She lifted the trunk's lid and gently removed the black leather case that held the silver locket. Then she slipped the locket out, leaving the parchment tucked safely inside.
Resting in her palm, the locket looked no different than it had an hour ago.
Yet somehow it felt weightier.
Her gaze lingered on the silver a moment longer.
She had no doubt Wilson would be pleased to know the search had finally reached its end. He'd waited eleven years for someone to come forward and claim the locket.
But would he understand that the someone was her? And that she hadn't tried to influence that decision. At least not deliberately.
Kate had spoken so warmly of the care he and his mother had given the locket. Mercy could only hope he would hear that gratitude as clearly as she had.
She drew a quiet breath. She would tell him as soon as he arrived this morning.
She just wasn't sure how she'd find the right words.
Wilson paused outside the schoolhouse long enough to shift the scraps of wood he carried to his other hand before stepping inside. He had plans to build a stand this morning for a very large, flower-bedecked hat. He grinned--he'd have to ask Mercy the story that went with that one.
He wasn't surprised to find the schoolroom empty. Mercy often spent a little time in the annex before moving to the teacher's desk to work with her notebooks and documents.
He moved to the annex, expecting to find her bent over one of the display reports or arranging another family grouping.
Instead, he spotted Mercy standing beside his mother's trunk, the silver locket resting quietly in her palm.
He frowned. Something had changed.
He couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was. Her expression held the same quiet composure it always had. Yet there was a solemnness about her this morning that hadn't been there yesterday, as though whatever occupied her thoughts carried more weight than the little silver locket itself.
She looked up then and spotted him. "Good morning."
"Morning." He waited, sensing she had something on her mind.
For just a moment neither of them spoke. Then Mercy drew a slow breath. "I heard from Mrs. Fletcher this morning."
So that was it. The letter had finally come. His gaze dropped briefly to the locket before returning to her face.
A dozen possibilities crossed his mind, but they all settled into one. After eleven years, someone had finally laid claim to the locket.
A quiet satisfaction settled over him, accompanied by an unexpected tug somewhere deep inside. It would be strange not to have that stranger’s locket tucked into his mother's trunk. But it had never really belonged there among his family's things anyway.
He glanced back at Mercy, trying to gauge her mood. Was she saying goodbye to the locket? She'd only known of it for a few weeks yet she'd formed an attachment to it and its story.
As he watched, she slipped the locket back into its black leather case and placed it inside the trunk before meeting his gaze again.
"I... wasn't expecting what Mrs. Fletcher had to say."
He frowned at the uncertainty in her voice. "What did she have to say?"
"She..." Mercy's words faltered. She drew a small breath, then lifted her chin. "I think it would be best if you read it for yourself."
Before he could say anything more, she crossed into the schoolroom. Retrieving an envelope from the teacher's desk, she returned and held it out.
Wilson set the scraps of wood on a nearby chair before accepting the letter.
Wilson unfolded the letter.
The opening lines eased something inside him.
So, Kate Fletcher had never known what had become of the locket. For eleven years she'd believed it lost forever. He was glad Mercy's letter had finally given her that answer. And the friend she'd meant to receive it had gone on to build the happy life Kate had hoped for.
At least that part of the story had found the ending it deserved.
He continued reading, looking for whatever had unsettled Mercy.
A faint warmth crept into his face as Kate spoke of the care he and his mother had given the locket. He shifted his weight, uncomfortable with praise that seemed far greater than anything he'd done to deserve it.
They'd simply kept it safe.
His mother had tucked it carefully away because it wasn't theirs to claim. He'd done little more than honor her wishes and wait for the day someone came searching.
His gaze moved to the next paragraph, then he stopped and read it again.
Slowly.
Mrs. Fletcher wasn't asking Mercy to return the locket. She was giving it to her.
For a long moment he simply stared at the page. That certainly wasn't what he'd expected.
He glanced up.
Mercy hadn't moved. She stood quietly where he'd left her, her teeth worrying at her lower lip. She was watching him with an uncertainty he'd never seen in her before.
He looked back down at the page.
Whatever had unsettled her, he hadn't reached it yet.
He continued reading and his eyes slowed over the final paragraphs.
Mrs. Fletcher wasn't simply giving Mercy the locket. She was entrusting her with its care. And not only the locket. She was passing on the quiet charge Mrs. Washington had left for every woman who would one day carry it.
When the day comes that you believe it is time to entrust its care to another...
Wilson found himself reading the sentence twice. So that was the purpose all along. Not to possess the locket. To safeguard it for a season, then faithfully place it into another's keeping.
It was the very sentiment that had caused Mercy to struggle with whether to make it part of the exhibit or not.
His thoughts drifted briefly to his mother. In a way, she had done exactly that, never treating it as her own, only as something entrusted to her care until she could pass it on. Of course it wasn’t quite the same.
His gaze moved to the final lines.
May the Lord richly bless you in the work you have undertaken to preserve the stories of those who came before us.
He lowered the letter a fraction and looked toward Mercy.
She still hadn't moved. Whatever had troubled her still lingered in her expression.
Wilson glanced back at the page. The letter had answered his questions about the locket. It hadn't answered the question of what was troubling Mercy.
Wilson folded the letter then slipped it back into its envelope. For a moment neither of them spoke.
At last Mercy broke the silence. "I never imagined Mrs. Fletcher would do that.
" She clasped her hands together. "When I wrote to her, I only hoped to learn who the locket belonged to.
I certainly never expected..." She glanced toward the trunk before looking back at him.
"I never expected her to place it into my keeping. "
He hadn't thought otherwise. What was she leading up to?
"I want you to know I never asked for that." Her voice was quiet but steady. "And I never intentionally said anything in my letter to persuade her she should."
He realized, unbelievably, she was waiting for reassurances. "I know."
Mercy blinked, as if his response was unexpected.
He held up the envelope slightly. "It's clear Mrs. Fletcher made that decision herself."
Relief flickered across Mercy's face, though only for a moment.
She drew a slow breath. "Whether I expected it or not, I've decided to accept this stewardship." She gave him a small, almost reluctant, smile. "After all, one does not refuse so precious a gift."
Wilson knew she didn't mean precious in terms of monetary value.
Then she straightened and the uncertainty disappeared, replaced by a quiet resolve. "I don't know why the locket's path led to me," she said quietly. "But since it has, I intend to carry out that stewardship faithfully for as long as it remains in my care."