Chapter 9 #2
The realization brought a fresh challenge.
She looked back at Colonel Briggs. "Just so I understand, Colonel, are you donating this collection to the permanent archive, or loaning it for the centennial display?"
"The letters, newspapers, and everything else are yours." He rested his hand on the worn ledger. "This, though, I'd like back when you're through with it."
Mercy's gaze settled on the book. "You still use it?"
"Regular as ever." He smiled. "Each veteran's got a page or two. Whenever I hear from one of 'em—or hear news about one—I make another note. The back of the ledger's where I keep addresses and contacts beyond the Hawthorn veterans. Helps me remember who's where."
Wilson gave an approving nod. "Sounds like it'd be hard to replace."
"It would." Briggs chuckled. "Truth be told, I'd be lost without it."
"Then I'll record the ledger as a loan." Mercy smiled. "That way it'll still be available whenever you need it."
"And whenever you need it," Briggs replied. "If there's something in there that'll help the archive, all you've got to do is ask."
Mercy glanced from the ledger to the bundles spread across the table. A thought occurred to her.
"Does that mean you'll keep collecting?"
He looked almost surprised by the question.
"I expect I will. Never really thought about stopping."
"Good." She couldn't hide her smile. "Because history doesn't stop either."
The colonel's eyes twinkled.
"I suppose it doesn't."
He looked down at the collection before meeting her gaze again.
"Matter of fact, I reckon from here on, when another letter comes or I run across a newspaper clipping worth saving, I'll bring it here instead of adding it to another stack or tossing it in a drawer at home."
For just a moment, Mercy couldn't find words.
When she'd first accepted responsibility for the archive, she'd hoped the town might entrust its history to her care. Now it was beginning to happen.
"Thank you, Colonel." The words came quietly but carried every ounce of gratitude she felt. "I promise it'll be well cared for."
"I know it will." He glanced around the room, taking in the shelves Wilson had built and the collections waiting to be arranged. "That's why I brought it to you."
After the colonel departed, Mercy remained standing beside the table, her attention drifting once more across the collection of papers Colonel Briggs had delivered.
One problem had been solved. Another had presented itself. She already knew these stories belonged in the archive.
Now she simply had to discover the best way to tell them.
Wilson stepped into the schoolhouse and paused.
The classroom looked noticeably different than it had when he'd left the afternoon before.
Several tables that had been crowded with labeled boxes and carefully grouped family keepsakes now stood empty, their contents evidently returned to the annex.
A few stacks still remained awaiting their turn, but the room no longer resembled a warehouse nearly so much as a place in transition.
The faint scrape of wood against wood drifted from the adjoining room.
He crossed to the annex doorway and found Mercy studying one of the family displays she'd already shelved. A framed photograph rested in her hands while a handwritten family history lay beside a neatly arranged collection of smaller keepsakes.
She looked up and smiled. "Good morning."
"Morning. You started working on this early." He'd figured she would spend the morning organizing her notes until he arrived. He should have known better.
"I want to get the schoolroom cleared before the committee meeting on Monday." She set the photograph back in place, making a slight adjustment before seeming satisfied.
He noticed it wobbled a bit. He’d rig up a simple support for it a little later.
"By the way,” she continued, “I stopped by the post office on my way over this morning. The letter to the War Department is on its way."
Wilson nodded. He hadn't doubted for a minute that she would follow through. "So now we wait."
She placed a note card in front of the photograph before turning to face him. "In the meantime, I have plenty to keep us occupied."
He took the hint. "What needs doing today?"
"I've decided the larger family pieces belong along the opposite wall." She gestured across the room. "Not only will it look more symmetrical, I think the arrangement will make it easier for visitors to move through the Centennial exhibit."
Wilson followed the sweep of her hand, taking in the room with fresh eyes.
"Any particular order?"
"The only thing that truly matters is that each family's larger piece stays with the rest of that family's display." She smiled. "Beyond that, I trust your judgment."
The simple statement settled unexpectedly deep inside him.
He merely nodded. "All right."
Wilson returned to the schoolroom and gripped the sides of a small washstand waiting beside its family's labeled box.
He carried both into the annex, positioned the washstand against the wall Mercy had indicated, then arranged the accompanying photograph, family Bible, and a handful of smaller keepsakes across its top.
That had been easy enough.
His next trip brought in a spinning wheel donated by the Stark family. After setting it in place, he retrieved the accompanying box of notes and keepsakes. Then he looked from the spinning wheel to the box. "Now that’s a problem."
Mercy glanced over from the display she was arranging. "Problem?"
"Not all these large items have flat tops."
Understanding dawned almost immediately. "Oh." A thoughtful crease appeared between her brows. "We certainly can't just put the other items on the floor, even if we leave them in the box."
Wilson nodded as his gaze wandered around the room. It settled on a stack of empty wooden crates she'd already unpacked. "Those ought to do."
Mercy's eyes followed his. "What are you thinking?"
Rather than answering, he set the Stark family's box on a nearby table and fetched three of the empty crates. He stacked them beside the spinning wheel, then began transferring the smaller keepsakes onto the makeshift stand.
Mercy's face brightened. "It's a table."
Wilson nodded. "A bit crude, but it'll serve. I can nail the crates together later so they won't shift."
"I think it's the perfect solution." She smiled. "And I'll see whether the Ladies Auxiliary might make simple covers for them."
He resisted the urge to grin. "They'll likely enjoy having a hand in it."
"I believe they will."
He'd finished arranging the Stark family's display by then, and he stepped back to study the result.
Mercy joined him and nodded approvingly. "I think visitors will naturally be drawn to this section first before making their way through the rest of the Centennial exhibit."
Wilson glanced around the room. Everywhere he looked he saw lives thoughtfully gathered together rather than just a collection of objects. He turned back to Mercy. "You're calling this a Centennial exhibit?"
She looked faintly surprised. "Of course. That's what it is."
He shook his head slowly, letting his gaze sweep the room once more. "Not exactly." His eyes came back to hers. "It's about the lives people have built here."
Mercy's gaze drifted slowly around the room before returning to him. A thoughtful smile touched her lips.
"I don't believe I'd ever have described it that way." She glanced toward the nearest family display. "But I think you're right. Somewhere along the way I stopped trying to tell Hawthorn's history and started trying to tell the stories of the people who made it."
Wilson nodded. That sounded like Mercy.
He turned back to the schoolroom and returned a few moments later carrying a weathered cradle.
While Mercy shifted another family's keepsakes to make room on one of the shelves, he settled the cradle beside the spinning wheel, stepped back to judge the spacing, then nudged it a few inches to the left.
As Wilson turned to retrieve the accompanying box, his attention caught on the neatly tied bundle Colonel Briggs had left yesterday. "That's quite a collection the colonel brought you yesterday."
Mercy's expression softened. "It is." She laid a folded sampler beside a pair of knitting needles and a pocket watch. "After what he said about the letters, though, I spent part of last evening reading through them."
It seemed Mercy was always working on some aspect of the archives, to the point of taking things home in the evenings.
She moved to a table crowded with keepsakes and heirlooms. "I wanted to understand what he'd entrusted to me before I decided what belonged in the exhibit.
" She was quiet a moment, her gaze unfocused.
"Some contain details I'd never find anywhere else—where a man settled, what work he took up, when he married, how his family fared.
But there are also things written because the author knew Colonel Briggs would be the one reading them.
" She looked up at Wilson. "Those weren't meant for everyone. "
Wilson understood that well enough. "If a fellow puts something in a letter expecting only one man to read it..." He shrugged. "Seems to me his intentions ought to be honored."
"I believe so too." She untied the ribbon and lifted the top few letters.
"The newspaper articles and reunion notices are different.
Those were already public. I can certainly display those.
" She looked down at the letters in her hands.
"At first I thought perhaps I could choose just a few letters.
The ones that spoke about everyday things, the ones that weren't intensely personal.
" She slowly shook her head. "But the more I read, the more I realized I wouldn't be choosing what to reveal.
I'd be deciding what confidences to betray. "
She carefully retied the ribbon and rested the bundle on the table. "So that decision, at least, has been made." She gave a small sigh. "The trouble now is everything else."
It was fascinating to watch the way her mind worked. "What do you mean?"