Catherine's Cross (21 page)

A nervous expression crossed Amanda's face, but Jenks looked at her ardently and said, “You're doing great.” She smiled at Amanda and nodded her head for her to continue.

Amanda looked closely at Jenks and then started the poem.

“Where Go the Boats?” by Robert Louis Stevenson

Dark brown is the river,
Golden is the sand. It flows along for ever,
With trees on either hand.

Green leaves a-floating,
Castles of the foam,
Boats of mine a-boating—
Where will all come home?

On goes the river
And out past the mill,
Away down the valley,
Away down the hill.

Away down the river,
A hundred miles or more,
Other little children
Shall bring my boats ashore.

When she completed the poem, she took a deep breath, and then sighed. An expression of satisfaction showed on her face.

“Amanda, that was lovely. You did well.”

She returned to her seat and then smiled broadly at Jenks.

The other children recited their poems and when the group completed their readings they went to the playground behind the library. Amanda followed Jenks to where she sat down and said, “Miss Jenkins, thank you for helping me.”

“Amanda, you read beautifully.”

“You just being nice.”

“No, I'm not, and I love to see you smile.”

She beamed when Jenks said this, and then ran to the swings.

Gigi's house was shown to a prospective buyer during the afternoon. Jenks knew only that a Marine Corps lieutenant and his wife were looking for a place to live. When Jenks arrived home, Agnes Manning's business card was on the dining room table. She picked it up and glanced at Agnes's photo. A shadow passed across the back of the dining room wall, and Jenks turned to the window to see who was at the front of the house. She went to the window, but did not see anyone. Walking to the front door, she glanced out the peephole and, not seeing anyone, opened the door. There was no one there.

The phone started to ring inside and she quickly closed and locked the door. When she answered the phone, Agnes Manning was on the line.

“Miss Ellington, this is Agnes.”

“How did your showing go today?”

“They were very complimentary of your sister's home. The wife was especially impressed. Her husband wants a house with a garage. It's a guy thing. I don't think they're going to make a quick decision.”

“Thank you for your efforts.”

“Miss Ellington, you're welcome.” Agnes paused for a moment and then said, “I'm sorry there haven't been more showings on your sister's house.”

“I understand that selling a home is a challenge right now.”

“Yes, it is.”

Then they said their good-byes. As Jenks hung up the receiver, she turned and faced the front window of the house.
Has someone been looking in at me?

Jenks was startled again when someone knocked at the door. She went to the peephole and looked out. Relief swept through her when she saw Crawford Forrest standing on the front porch. Jenks opened the door for her. Crawford was holding several binders.

With a smile, Jenks said, “How nice to see you. Please come inside.”

“Thank you, Jenks. I found my photo albums, and I was hoping that you might have some time to look at them with me.”

“Of course I do,” Jenks replied.

A look of happiness crossed Crawford's countenance as she was shown inside the house. Jenks poured glasses of iced tea for both of them, and they went to the living room coffee table. “Thank you for indulging me this afternoon,” Crawford said.

“Oh, before we look at the albums, I wanted to mention that I understand the house behind us has been rented to a young man. I was taking a walk, and I just got a glimpse of him as he entered the house. He was tall and physically fit, but I could not tell much more about him. He was wearing a baseball cap.”

“I didn't realize the home was for rent.”

“It was for sale for over a year, but the owner finally decided to rent it out.”

“I can understand that.” Jenks paused and looked down at Crawford's albums, which were sitting on the coffee table. “I'm thrilled to see your photos.”

Crawford opened the album on the top. “These photos are from my childhood.”

Jenks looked at the beautiful children in the pictures. There were names and dates written underneath the photos and Jenks pointed to one. “Please tell me about the young people in the snapshots.”

Crawford pointed to the first one and said, “This is the Forrest family, my three sisters, my brother, and me.”

Jenks was puzzled—she had thought Forrest was Crawford's married name.

Crawford turned the page, and there was a photo of a magnificent home with Corinthian columns across the front. A large group of people were sitting on the steps. Underneath the photo was a record of the event: “Thanksgiving, 1964.”

Jenks pointed to the photo and said, “You have a really large family.”

“My goodness, yes. These are my cousins and extended cousins. Thanksgiving was always a very special time. My parents loved to hold family celebrations at our ancestral home.”

“That is a magnificent house. Is it still in your family?”

“Yes, my sister Mary Margaret owns it. It's named Rosalynn after my ancestor, Rosalynn Forrest. She was the first lady to occupy the house after its construction in the 1820s.”

“Where is it located?”

“On the May River, near Bluffton.”

Jenks continued to look through the family photos. There were many happy faces. “Look at this one—who is this hanging upside down on a tree limb?”

“That's my twin brother.”

“I didn't realize you had a twin.”

“Oh yes, we did everything together as children. He was my protector—my hero. We were the youngest children in the family having three older sisters.” She looked intently at Jenks before continuing. “I did not realize that Gigi had an identical twin sister until she passed away. I confess I am something of a recluse. I should have gotten to know your sister better. It's my fault.”

“Oh, no, we all get busy,” Jenks responded.

Crawford shook her head and then brought out the next photo album. There were photos of her from her teenage years and early twenties: debutante pictures and cheerleading photographs from her days at the University of South Carolina.

“These are so beautiful of you.”

“Thank you, honey.”

At the rear portion of the album, there was a series of pictures with Crawford and a young man with blond wavy hair and sparkling blue eyes.

“Who is this with you?”

Crawford smiled and ran her fingers across the photo. “That was Robert Carlisle. My fiancé.”

Jenks was afraid of prying, and she turned to the next page—more photos of Crawford with her young man. Crawford pointed to one and said, “That's us together at the Myrtle Beach Pavilion.” After she said these words a sudden look of sadness gripped her countenance. She looked intently into Jenks's eyes and said, “That was two weeks before he died.”

Jenks was stunned by her admission, and she set the album down on the coffee table. “I'm so sorry.”

“He was helping his father in an old storage building on their farm. Robert was wearing his college ring from The Citadel and his hand came into contact with some electrical wires—they were hot. Robert died from electrocution.” Tears welled in her eyes and then fell down her cheeks.

Jenks went to the bathroom in the hallway for tissues and returned, handing several to her.

“Thank you, dear. I shouldn't upset you by telling you these things.”

“No, I'm glad to listen.”

“You see, I've kept many of these painful memories to myself for so long. I hope you don't mind that I'm discussing them with you.”

“Of course not.”

Crawford wiped the tears from her face and then opened the third album. The photos were of the Forrests as they matured. The people at family gatherings became fewer in number and the happy faces of individuals in earlier albums became less common.

“Here's a photo of all five of us siblings together. This was the last time we were all together.” She paused, and with a somber expression said, “My sisters Martha and Olivia were killed in an automobile accident that year.”

“Oh no—I'm so sorry.”

“That left my oldest sister, Mary Margaret, my brother, Marvin, and me.”

Jenks was now thoroughly confused, and because Crawford was being so open about her past she said, “I thought that Marvin was your husband.”

“Goodness, no. Marvin is my twin brother.”

“Your twin?”

“Yes, ma'am. He had such a brilliant mind; he was a child prodigy. I can still hear him play the violin. Unfortunately, as he aged, he could not control his excesses. He spent two years away at college, but didn't finish. Every job he attempted ended in failure, and Marvin became immersed in alcohol. I've been taking care of him for the last twenty years. Each passing day brings him closer to what will be a long-term suicide.”

“Why don't you live with your sister at your family home near Bluffton?”

“We did live there together for several years, but Marvin was carrying off our ancestral belongings and selling them to pawn shops or bootleggers to keep himself supplied with liquor.” A wry smile crossed her face. “Miss Hannah Grace Jones. That old lady bootlegger just loved to see my brother coming. He even sold the violin that our grandparents gave him for his twelfth birthday. I tried to get it back, but it had already been sold to a collector in Savannah. It was quite valuable.” She sighed and then said, “Mary Margaret told him that he'd have to leave.”

She thumbed through the next few pages. “Marvin was my protector and best friend when we were children, and I am his keeper now. I thought you'd understand, having had a twin sibling. I have one failure—I have not been able to get him off alcohol, but you can only control one person—and that is yourself.”

That evening as Jenks lay in bed, she thought of Crawford Forrest and her unhappy life.
What made her reveal her deeply held secrets and private tragedies?
Before she closed her eyes, Jenks thought of the day she had seen Crawford weeding her garden wearing a large straw hat and capri pants. When she rose from the earth that she tilled, her posture was strong and straight. Jenks drifted off to sleep thinking of Crawford's loyalty to her brother.

In the middle of the night, she was awakened by what she thought sounded like footsteps on the hardwood floors. Fear surged through her limbs, and she took a deep breath as she rose from her bed. She slipped on her robe and took a flashlight from the nightstand.

Leaving the beam off, she went into the living room, but there was only silence. She turned on the outside floodlights and looked around the perimeter of the home. Not seeing anything unusual, she sat down on the couch and waited and listened. The eight-day clock on the mantle chimed three bells. Jenks decided that she must have dreamed the footsteps and returned to her bed.