Holding on to Heaven (2 page)

Lauren hesitated before opening the letter and wondered how best to approach her father about a trunk she’d found in the attic that morning. She didn't have to wonder long.

Her father's eyes narrowed when he looked down at the hand buried in her skirt. "What are you hiding there? Whatever it is, it can't be serious enough to merit that crease in your brow." He stretched out his hand. "Is this what you wanted to discuss?"

Handing him the journal, she nodded.

He fingered the leather cover. "What's this?"

"Mother's diary."

He stared at the book and grew still.

"Do you remember what day this is? She expected him to shake his head.

"Yes, of course. Twelve years ago today, your mother, my beloved wife, died."

After all these years, her voice still cracked. "And baby Forbes."

"Lauren, please don't engage in tortuous thoughts. The sun always rises and life goes on."

Tears filled her eyes. "I don't dwell on bad memories, but today I felt a strong desire to touch her things, inhale her scent again." She paused. "I snooped around in the attic."

"See what being up to no good gets you?"

"Why was I never told?"

"I haven't read your mother's diary. Why don't you tell me what you discovered?"

Lauren walked to the window and focused on the sky. Clouds clung to the horizon like a winding river gray smoke. "I opened the walnut chest, the one your present wife . . . I mean, Wilma relegated to the attic."

"I know you don't approve of Wilma—"

She waved a hand in the air. "It doesn't matter whether I care for her or not. Your happiness as all I care about."

His eyes misted over. "I don’t know what I’d have done without you all these years."

A pang of guilt tore through her. She should've accepted his wife with open arms, but hadn’t and wouldn't, not after the prune-faced woman had her mother’s personal belongings removed from the manor.

"Finish what you were saying, dear. You found the trunk, opened it and . . . ?"

"I held her clothing¾the fine satins, woolen shawls and voile dresses, even her lace-trimmed handkerchiefs."

"Lauren, please—"

"Father, it's time we get everything out in the open."

His voice dragged, whether from disgust or fatigue, she couldn’t tell. "Very well."

"I discovered the black book embossed with her initials." She looked over her shoulder and her heart wrenched to find him brushing his fingers over the leather. "When I knew for sure Wilma or Daphne hadn’t followed me, I thumbed through the first several pages. Mother wrote about her first days at Grand Cove as a new bride."

"Ah, glorious times."

"I felt her presence and when I closed my eyes, heard her voice." She turned to him with a smile. "She spoke of her aches and pains while carrying the child, said she looked like one of your heifers."

"I beg to differ." He smiled. "I’d never seen her lovelier."

"The next entry she penned after my birth." She hesitated and chewed on her lower lip. "She described the pain and wrote about a midwife, a woman named Evrasina Denzer."

"Of German ancestry, a woman your mother insisted I hire. In hindsight, perhaps I should have dissuaded her."

Here was the opening she’d waited all morning for. "Why?"

"Why are you determined to dredge this up?"

"I want to know about the twin that died, my twin."

His eyebrows rose. "Your mother wrote about that?"

"Yes, and about the grief she felt for months."

"I never told you because your mother and I agreed not to." He expelled a long breath. "The subject drove your mother to tears."

"What about after Mother and Forbes died? You still didn’t think I should know?"

"Why would I? Years had passed, and like the items in the trunk, sometimes we need to pack away the memories and concentrate on the living. "

"Her tombstone is not in the family plot. I know you, Father, and you don’t allow minor details to slip by."

He closed his eyes. "There wasn't a body to bury."

"What!" She crossed the distance between him, heels clicking on the wooden floor. "Why not?"

"The truth?"

She nodded.

"Strange as it must sound, the midwife disappeared right after the birth. We have no idea where she buried the child." A mixture of sorrow and befuddlement furrowed his brow. "Because of your mother’s fragile state, I devoted all my energies to her." He paused. "I did, however, send Biddle to the midwife’s abode in the woods. He conducted a thorough search of the property, the house and returned with nothing. The woman had vanished."

"No sign of the infant or her grave?"

"None." An exasperated sigh parted his lips. "Lauren, I want you to forget about this nonsense. Twenty years have passed and it pains me to discuss it."

"But, Father¯"

"No more questions now; open the letter from your aunt and read it to me."

"Oh, very well."

She’d retreat for now, but how would she dispel her mother’s haunting words and the grief she suffered after losing her firstborn? Yet, her father had been her rock throughout her childhood, her only rock and she couldn’t, wouldn’t hurt him.

She broke the seal and read aloud.

Our Dearest Niece,

I would be remiss if I failed to mention Mason and I celebrate twenty-five years of wedded bliss today. Where have the years gone? Yesterday, your mother and I were chasing flutter bees through the vast gardens of Bradford Estate. When next I looked, I was a young bride of eighteen, married to a young cotton grower from South Carolina. You and I know him as Mason Morse, dear.

Since arriving in this magnificent territory, your Uncle has been a busy man. A fine judge of horseflesh, our barn overflows with the beasts. Should your father consent to a visit to Minnesota, you'll put those riding lessons to good use.

The massive oaks have shed their leaves, harvest has come and gone. Soon we'll be wading through drifts to reach the barn, sliding on icy patches and no doubt landing on our bums. Such is life in this rugged land.

How I wish you were here to share the magnificent view. I’m putting a bee in your bonnet, Lauren. Do you think my stuffy brother-in-law would surrender you for a time?"

Lauren emitted a giggle and her father huffed. "Stuffy, am I?"

I close with a tidbit of news I know you’ll enjoy. Bitty took on the duties of a surrogate mother when Jocko became an orphan. The dog is the size of a Mastiff now! Can you picture it in your mind, dear, a Mastiff with a cat for a mother? I declare, neither one seems to notice their differences.

We remain, your loving Aunt Estelle and Uncle Mason

Lauren didn't miss her father's frown when she looked up or his clipped words. "Out of the question."

"Can’t we at least discuss it?"

"You have no knowledge of their hardships, their harsh lives. Wild heathens roam about, and in the winter months, temperatures drop below zero."

Lauren tossed the letter onto a nearby table. "I'm a grown woman now. Soon, you’ll have to let go of me."

"Last month you were nineteen and innocent. Now at twenty, you’re a woman of the world, is that it?"

She tapped her foot against the floor. Aunt Estelle and Mother were married at eighteen."

"They were," he countered. "To southerners they'd known all their lives, and that brings me to another subject. You have to think about choosing a husband before too long, preferably one from Beaufort."

She wrinkled her nose. "None I’ve met are suitable."

"Come now, Lauren, keep an open mind." He walked to his desk and poured a glass of port. "Marry well and be happy, preferably
here
."

"Marriage is not in my immediate future."

"Oh, but traveling to heathen land is?"

At his crushed expression, she softened her voice. "Full Circle is not a thatched hut in a barren wasteland, but a sprawling ranch with the same amenities we have here."

"No, and there’s another matter we must discuss."

She retreated over the conversation about the child who’d died, but she wasn’t ready to relinquish this battle yet. "What is it?" she said with a dramatic sigh. "If you’re about to lecture me on the war again, I’m going to my room."

His handsome face took on a stern countenance. "War is a looming reality. Mississippi held a convention and seceded. South Carolina and Florida joined them the next day, and now Alabama and Georgia add to their ranks"

"Secession does not mean war. This debate has gone on for years. President Lincoln vowed to restore the Union, not abolish slavery."

"That's what politicians do best, make promises they don't intend to keep."

The discussion had taken a turn for the worse, and then an idea struck her. "Father, let's agree for argument’s sake you’re correct, war looms on the horizon."

His guarded gaze studied her face.

"Where will they fight this war?"

""Oh, no, this is entrapment."

"It’s the truth, and if you believe Beaufort will become a battleground, where would I be safer?"

Drink in hand, he paced the study and stopped now and then to look at her. "As much as I’d love to deny your words, I can’t."

"Will you give me your blessing then?"

He groaned. "I’ll think it over, but
if
I consent to this scheme between you and your aunt, Biddle and Nelly will accompany you."

Biddle, her father's manservant, had been a part of her life since the day she entered the world. A stooped, old man with dark brown skin and white bushy hair, Lauren loved him dearly.

Nelly had lived her entire life in the manor with her mother, Daphne. She and Lauren had been close throughout their childhoods. Tall, lean and wiry-boned, black ringlets framed her tawny face. Three years older than Lauren, Nelly had watched out for her longer than she could remember.

Lauren clasped her moist palms. "Agreed, and I won't be gone forever, several short months."

"I believe I’ve just been hoodwinked." He downed the port and reached for the bottle in the cabinet. "Here’s another stipulation. When you return, I expect you to think about settling down, raising a family. I’d love to hear the patter of little feet again at Grand Cove."

She kissed his cheek. "Thank you, Father. I think you’ll be a wonderful grandfather." Before he changed his mind, she rushed from the library, eager to pen a letter to Aunt Estelle.

* * * *

In the following weeks, Lauren prepared for the journey by pulling several dusty atlases and geography books from the shelf in her father’s library. A ship would transport them to New York before they traveled overland by covered wagon to Wisconsin. On the last leg of their journey, a steamer would carry them to Eau Claire and finally the town of Red Wing where her aunt and uncle would meet them.

She suffered moments of doubt over leaving her childhood home and Father, but then thought about the thrilling adventure awaiting her in a distant land. The last days of winter took their leave and spring arrived in a profusion of lush green and blossoms in every color imaginable.

The morning they departed Beaufort, Father drove them to the harbor, his black-lacquered coach groaning beneath the weight of heavy trunks and satchels.

After lengthy instructions to Biddle and Nelly, he drew her into his arms with tear-filled eyes. "Write as soon as you arrive and remember your manners."

Conflicting emotions warred when she rose up and kissed his cheek. "Don’t worry, I’ll make you proud." Placing a hand on his forearm, she added, "See that Mother’s flower beds aren’t neglected."

"I'll think of you every night when I take my stroll in the gardens."

With Biddle and Nelly on her heels, Lauren boarded the vessel and clutched the railing until the last vestiges of Beaufort faded in the distance. She deemed the sudden spurt of ocean waves the culprit of her damp cheeks.

* * * *

The town of Red Wing rested in a valley of towering adobe cliffs. When Lauren stepped from the steamer, scents of spring—wildflowers, the damp earth and the heady aroma of fresh rain—assailed her. Scanning the sea of faces waiting for passengers to disembark, she spied her aunt and uncle rushing toward her.

Estelle drew her into an embrace and then arched her neck back for a close perusal. "As the day is long, you’re the image of your mother."

A giggle found Lauren. "That's what Mother's friends in Beaufort claim."

Mason fussed over her traveling companions. "This can't be Nelly?" He turned to Biddle, clapped him on the back and smiled. "Whatever was Drew thinking sending you halfway across the country at your age?"

Biddle looked toward the ground, his dark eyes wide. "Lawdy, is my feet on solid ground again?"

Estelle, in her gracious way, persuaded two sailors from the ship to carry their heavy luggage to the waiting wagon. While Mason navigated the muddy ruts through town, Lauren studied her aunt and uncle. Estelle had changed little in ten years. Strands of gray streaked her brown hair now, but her porcelain skin boasted few wrinkles. Her eyes were similar to her mother’s from what Lauren remembered, round, brown and bright.

Uncle Mason still looked similar to the decade-old picture sitting on the mantle at Grand Cove. Short and thick through the middle, his once brown hair and matching beard had turned silver, but the soft blue eyes and cheery smile still graced his handsome face. Despite the distance separating them, she’d remained close to her mother’s family through frequent letters. Now that she’d arrived, the close bond they formed years ago would be renewed.

Several miles from town, the landscape changed. The distance between one barn roof and the next lengthened, but the red cliffs still stretched for miles. "The picture books don’t do the scenery justice."

Her uncle clucked to the team and followed her gaze. "Years ago, the local natives christened the jagged rock formations
mountain of water.
"

"Breathtaking," Lauren said.