CHAPTER 18
I awoke early, eager to head downtown. I hadn’t heard from Tucker, and I was using the reprieve to do as much research as possible.
Because I had another hour before I had to pick up Helen, I reached for my grandmother’s scrapbook pages, impatient now to get through them.
I had a sense of urgency that had eluded me before, and I wasn’t sure why.
Maybe it was Lillian’s increasing frailness, or maybe it was the sense I’d had ever since pulling Sara from the pond that I still had the potential to be more than ordinary.
I’d left the scrapbook pages and my grandmother’s box out on the table, since I didn’t need to hide them anymore, and turned to the page where I’d last stopped.
I looked at the photo that had been stuck at the bottom that I’d barely glanced at before if only because I assumed I wouldn’t know anybody pictured in it.
But as I sat down to resume reading, something about it caught my eye again and I lifted the page closer to see it better.
The photo was of a small group of men. I recognized Freddie immediately as the tall, handsome man in the back row.
The rest of the men were black except for one white man, and all were dressed in three-piece suits and hats, a few of them sporting pocket watches.
I scanned the anonymous faces, and my gaze paused on the white man, wondering why he looked familiar to me.
He was very young, the shade of his hair in the black-and-white photo hidden by his dark fedora.
But then my gaze fanned down to his clothing and my eyes caught on his watch chain and the golden key fob that dangled from it.
I squinted my eyes to see it closer, trying to recall where I’d seen it before.
And then I remembered. On his last visit, I’d seen Mr. Morton pulling out his old watch, and had seen the key fob.
I smiled to myself, recalling what I’d read in my grandmother’s scrapbook, about how he’d been sweet on her.
I tapped my finger against the photograph, thinking.
He knew a lot more about my grandmother than he’d let on, and he fully expected me to figure it all out on my own.
Shaking my head, I leaned forward and began to read.
December 30, 1938
It’s been nearly two years since I last wrote in this book.
I haven’t had the heart to. So much has happened, and most of it nothing I wanted to record, so I left the book under my bed, hoping to forget about it.
Even Josie and Lily seem to have forgotten about it.
But I feel as if this last vestige of our youth must not disappear, and so I pulled it out this morning, and dusted it off so that I can continue with our story.
Father has never fully recovered from his bout with pneumonia.
His doctor thinks it might have settled in his heart and he is in a weakened state.
Any exertion exhausts him, although I help him practice walking around his room three times a day.
But it is obvious to all of us that he will not be able to work again.
We are all devastated. We’d never thought that he could be reduced to such circumstances.
He was always so strong, and such a presence that when he became ill, it never occurred to us that he might not fully recover.
I was at his side through much of his illness, when he passed through delirium and mumbled things that didn’t quite make sense.
But there was one feverish utterance that shook me, and for a moment I knew it had to be the high fever.
But he said it again, and squeezed my hand, as if to make sure I understood, and I was made to understand that he thought he was about to die and had to unburden himself to me.
I sat next to him for a long time after he collapsed into an exhausted sleep, pondering his words, knowing them to be true.
So much made sense suddenly—things I should have seen but hadn’t.
I’d been blissfully unaware of all of it, ignoring the clues that had been right under my nose for as long as I could remember.
I was angry at first, angry at his cowardice.
He’d only told me because he expected to die and wouldn’t have to live with the repercussions his confession would cause.
How unfair to me, and to everyone else, that we were not given a chance to come to terms with the new order of things, or to prepare ourselves for what must follow.Whatever that was to be.
The only thing that is certain is that Lillian will be pleased.
She has made assumptions that weren’t true—thankfully—and now she will know that she was wrong and I can be exonerated.When Lillian takes possession of this scrapbook and reads it, she will ask me what I’m referring to.
I might even tell her. And hopefully we can both laugh at our misunderstanding and resume being as close as we once were, before matters of our hearts took precedence in our lives. Or maybe I’ll make her wonder.
My father’s lawyer, Mr. Morton, has told me that the house is paid for and that my father had investments besides stocks, so I will have a little income to live on comfortably if I’m frugal.
I’ve never been a spendthrift, never desiring to dress in the latest fashion, so this shouldn’t be a problem.
My only thoughts now are for my father’s patients, and who will treat them now.
Mr. Morton’s son, Paul, is a courier in his father’s law office and has become a good friend to me despite the fact that he is five years younger than I am.
He thinks that I should go to medical school.
He, too, is a friend of Freddie’s and has become quite committed to our cause.
I’m not completely sure, however, if his commitment is more for the cause or for what Freddie refers to as Paul’s “unrequited” love for me.
I tell Freddie he’s being foolish. I think I will be a confirmed spinster and bluestocking if I cannot marry for love.
There’s been no more talk of Freddie returning to England to complete his education and I now know why.
And without my father’s income from his medical practice, I cannot pay Justine as much, but she insists that she does not want to leave my employ despite the fact that this means she can no longer afford Josie’s voice lessons.
I feel strongly that Josie needs to continue.
Unfortunately, this means I will have to sell my beloved horse, Lola Grace, whom I have been stabling at Asphodel.
I won’t be able to get a high price for her, but I cannot afford to feed and stable her, and I have little time to ride anymore. I will miss that the most I think.
I told Paul—to whom I’ve confessed everything—that I will apply to medical school as soon as Josie is settled in her new career and Lily is married.They are like frayed ends of a rope, and I’m the knot that will tie us all together.
That’s why I chose the sailor’s knot as my charm for Lola. Ties stronger than friendship bind us together now, and I doubt they can ever be broken.
The sound of tires crunching on gravel brought my head up, and I spotted Tucker’s Jeep outside.
Peering out the window, I saw Tucker in the driver’s seat with Helen riding shotgun.
I jumped out of my chair and opened the door just as Tucker was reaching up to knock.
We stood still, facing each other, neither one of us stepping back.
His hair was wet, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower, but his eyes were bloodshot and there was the faint scent of alcohol on him. “Rough night,Tucker?”
He rubbed his hand over a clean-shaven jaw. “I’ve had rougher.” He dropped his hand and we remained staring at each other.
“Have you come to ask me to leave?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest so he couldn’t see them shake as I waited for his answer.
He looked as if he wasn’t really sure of the answer. “No, I’m not.”
“Why?” I wanted to take back the words. I’d never known how to stop when I was ahead. It had always created a nice point spread between me and the number-two spot, but it just didn’t seem to translate as well in social interactions.
“Because you saved Sara’s life.”
I hadn’t expected that answer and I struggled not to drop my gaze.
He closed his eyes for a moment and I saw his exhaustion and the lines of grief around his mouth, which seemed to have lessened since I’d first come to Asphodel.
“Because I feel as if we’re all stuck in the same place—me, Sara, and Lucy—but that—how did you put it?
—the world seems to be snapping outside our walls.
” His smile was sad. “Malily doesn’t believe in regret.
Maybe if I find out what happened to Susan, I’ll discover that maybe I don’t really have anything to regret. ”
I wanted to touch his face, but I kept my hands tightly wrapped around my arms. “So you’re not still angry with me?”
“No, I’m still pretty furious. But I have to get over that because Lucy and Sara would never forgive me if I was the reason you went away.” Shoving his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, he indicated the Jeep. “I’d like to see the hidden room. And the rest of it. I might be able to help.”
“I’m assuming Helen’s on board with this?”
“Yeah. She suggested it, actually. Helped me see that this could be what I need right now. What we all need.” His eyes met mine. “If that’s all right with you.”
I nodded, and managed a small smile. “That’s fine. I could use the help.”
“Great.” He motioned toward the Jeep again. “Come on, Helen hates to be kept waiting.”
“So, does this mean we have a truce?”
He held the door open for me, his brow furrowed. “For now. Just don’t lie to me again, okay?”
I nodded. “Hang on a second—I have to get something for Helen.” I ran back to the table and picked up the pages I’d just read.
As we began walking toward the car, he said softly, “I was home by midnight, by the way. You can ask Emily, who let Lucy wait up for me. I was there to tuck Lucy into bed.”