Spirit of the Valley (5 page)

If
she wanted to? “I do! Oh yes. I do.”

Cessie pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh, you just know that Lionel is tickled pink right now. Up in Heaven, looking down, tickled pink.”

April May nodded in agreement. “And now that we've solved the world's problems, you should go get some rest. You look tired enough to drop in your tracks.”

Even though she suddenly felt wide-awake and full of excitement, Pauline stood. “I will.”

“And practice your new name,” April May added. “If you want a new life, Pauline has to be no more. You'll be Elizabeth Anne Greenway Carter.”

“Maybe we should have an informal baptism,” Cessie suggested playfully.

“You need to think about this,” April May said earnestly. “Really
think
. You do this and there's no turning back.”

Didn't they realize how much she wanted this? How much she needed it? “I don't want to turn back. Not ever. This is a godsend. You,” she said, looking from one sister to the other, “are a godsend.”

“Maybe you're one for us,” Cessie said tenderly.

“And Lionel's girl, at that,” April May said to her sister with a fond smile.

Cessie welled up again.

“Get some shut-eye,” April May urged. “We'll talk more in the morning.”

“Good night, then,” Pauline managed in a thick voice.

“'Night, Pauline,” April May said. “Hey, just think. That may be the last time anyone ever says that to you.”

Joy bubbled up inside Pauline, and it was only through great restraint that she didn't laugh out loud.

 

 

A half hour later, Pauline closed her eyes, hoping for sleep, but it eluded her as always. She was tired to the bone, but anxiety plagued her. Ethan was no longer present, leering, rearing his hand to strike a blow, but he
was
out there somewhere. He would search for them, and if he ever found them—

She turned onto her side and curled into a ball, wondering how he could find them when they had run blindly, ending up in a town he'd never heard of, in a state he'd have no reason to consider. But what if he searched every possible avenue she could have taken? What if he went to the depot and the stationmaster remembered seeing them?

“Stop it,” she whispered. It was bad enough that he'd made her life a living hell. Why was she continuing to torture herself? If he came after them, if he found them, she'd protect herself. She'd protect Jake and Rebecca. If he came for them, she would kill him. She inhaled and exhaled deeply and purposefully. “Safe,” she whispered. “You're safe.”

Her excitement over the cottage had faded, because she'd never had that sort of luck. Something would happen to stop the plan, but she had April May and Cessie on her side, and that was something. She didn't feel as alone as she had for many years. They would help. They would offer beneficial advice, but the major decisions would be hers, and the first decision was that part of her meager funds would go toward the purchase of a gun. Not only that, but she would practice with it and she would use it if necessary. She would, so help her. Tears spilled over the bridge of her nose and dampened the pillow beneath her head. “Safe,” she mouthed. “You're safe.”

Chapter Six

Pauline woke the next morning feeling sluggish and confused, almost drugged. She'd tried to wake several times, but kept falling back asleep. This time, Jake was poised on the side of her bed, waiting, his head resting on his hands. “Are you awake?” he whispered.

She smiled and murmured a drowsy affirmative.

He grinned. “Cessie said to let you sleep, but we said you never sleep late.”

“But then I did, didn't I?” she asked in a raspy voice.

He nodded, looking like he might laugh aloud. “You sound funny.”

“I don't feel very funny,” she replied as she struggled to sit up. She felt so strange and weighted and exhausted. She heard a strange, soft tapping and looked at the window. “It's raining?”

Jake nodded. “But it wasn't before. We fed the donkeys.”

She touched his face and brushed back his soft hair, feeling guilty. “Are you all right?”

He nodded again and he certainly looked all right. “We had flapjacks and the dogs like us.”

It was bolstering, how happy he seemed. “I'll get up now,” she said despite the fact she could have gone right back to sleep. At the sound of a piano, she glanced at the door with a puzzled expression.

“Cessie is teaching Rebecca to play,” he said. “And they play fiddle and banjo, too.”

“Oh my.”

“And spoons and the jaw harp,” he said doubtfully. “I'll tell them you're up.” He started for the door. “We're going swimming later if it stops raining.”

“Oh, you are?”

He turned back and nodded. “They have a pond and April May said she can teach us in nothin' flat.”

“Is she still calling you Ralph?”

He giggled as he shook his head.

“Good.” By the time she rubbed her eyes and swung her legs around, Jake had gone. It was remarkable the way the children had taken to April May and Cessie, especially Jake. Pauline rose, stretched, and she'd just finished washing up when Rebecca pushed the cracked door open a little wider. “Mama?”

“Yes, I'm up.”

Rebecca pushed the door open with her foot and came in carrying a highly polished teakwood tray. On it was a delicate pot of tea, a cup with a dash of milk or cream in it, a bowl of sugared mixed berries, and a slice of coffee cake.

“Oh my. Look at that.”

Rebecca smiled proudly. “Cessie said this would get you started, but to take all the time you wanted.”

Pauline started to take the tray, but Rebecca resisted. “I wanted to give it to you in bed.”

Pauline nearly laughed. “I've never had breakfast in bed in my whole life.”

“I know. That's why I want to. Please?”

Pauline shrugged and smilingly acquiesced. She propped up pillows against the headboard and got back into bed. She was still in her robe and she hadn't yet made the bed, but it still felt wrong.

“Now, you hold it for a second,” Rebecca said.

Pauline took the tray.

“See, the sides come down,” Rebecca said as she pulled legs from the sides of the tray. “And you can set it in front of you.”

“That's clever,” Pauline said as she set it in front of her. “I feel like a lady of leisure.”

“I told Cessie how you drank your tea and she made it that way.”

“It looks delicious.”

“I want to show you something,” Rebecca said. “Be right back.”

As she dashed out, Pauline felt conflicted by the happiness her children were exuding. This from a good night's sleep and a few hours with Cessie and April May Blue. She was thrilled to see it and yet it made her feel blameworthy. They were children; lightheartedness should have been a given, but that wasn't what their lives had been filled with.

She filled her teacup, mulling over what she'd said about becoming a lady of leisure. It was a ridiculous notion, and yet it was possible she'd been handed a second chance on a teakwood tray. It didn't matter what the Greenway cottage looked like. If they were given a chance to start over there, near these most caring, gracious women, what more could she even wish for? Her own parents had never taken such loving care of her. For one thing, they'd been highly religious and thought to
spoil
a child promoted weakness. Duty was all that truly mattered. That's what her father had believed, and, by extension, her mother. God rest her soul, her late mother had never had a single thought that wasn't put into her head by either her own father or her husband.

As a child, Pauline had secretly believed they weren't her real parents. Not only were they older than her friends' parents, but they'd also never doted on her as other parents did. And then there was the dream—a recurring snippet of a dream about a couple who were walking ahead of her. On a cloudy day, on a road she didn't know, they turned toward one another and looked back at her, urging her to catch up—although no words were spoken. They were a handsome, smiling couple with dark hair. They were obviously happy and in love, and they loved her, too. She felt it in the dream and always for a time after she woke.

The dream seemed so real, she'd often longed to reach out to take the hands they extended. If only she could connect with those hands. Because of the dream, she'd always suspected something had happened to her real parents, causing her to be adopted. Could the dream actually be memory, one precious memory of her real parents?

She sipped the tea and savored the moment. She was relaxed in bed with a soft rain falling outside. She was safe and her children were happy for the moment. She took a bite of berries and the flavor burst in her mouth. Was it possible they'd really been directed to this place by loving guardian angels? It was such a lovely thought.

By the time Rebecca came back in holding two photographs, Pauline had finished breakfast. The first picture, which Rebecca proudly handed over, was a grainy family portrait taken outside in front of the farmhouse. As Pauline took it in hand, Rebecca leaned close. “That's Mr. Blue,” she said, pointing to the obvious patriarch. “His name was Josiah, and that's Mrs. Blue, and her name was Olivia. But they called him Sy and her Livie.”

Pauline smiled, because the family was just what she would have expected. The Blue children ranged in age from nine or ten to the early twenties, and they were all attractive and vibrant looking.

“That one is Hunter,” Rebecca continued. “He got struck by lightning and died.”

Pauline looked at her, blinking in surprise, and Rebecca nodded.

“He was in the field when a summer storm blew up from out of nowhere.”

“How terrible!”

“I know,” Rebecca replied solemnly.

“You've learned a lot this morning.”

“I know. I already learned a song on the piano. Just with one finger.”

Pauline smiled. “That's how it starts.”

“This one,” she said, pointing at the second young man, who was probably sixteen in the picture, “was Sterling. He died in the war.”

“Oh,” Pauline breathed.

“They're all gone, except for April May and Cessie. This one is April May,” Rebecca said, pointing her out.

“I can see that,” Pauline said, smiling at the image of an animated young woman of twenty or so.

“She was the second oldest. Then there was Lita, that one. She just died last year. And that one is Scarlet. She died when she was having a baby and the baby died, too. Then that one is Cessie.”

Cessie, the youngest, was a beautiful girl with dark hair. She and Sterling were the most comely of the family.

“Then this is her when she was older,” Rebecca said, handing over the second picture.

The photograph of Cessie when she was a young woman made Pauline's skin ripple with gooseflesh. In it, Cessie's girlhood beauty had blossomed into its full promise. The hand-painted photograph showcased a young woman with soft pink cheeks and lips and deep blue, almost violet-colored eyes who was astonishingly beautiful, but that wasn't the shocking thing. The shocking thing was that she was the mother figure in Pauline's childhood dreams.

“Wasn't she pretty?” Rebecca said wistfully.

Pauline could do nothing but nod. Her throat was too tight.

Rebecca went around and sat on the bed facing her mother. “Cessie had a sweetheart named John, but he died when he was only eighteen.”

“Oh, honey, I hope you didn't intrude on—”

“I didn't, Mama. She wanted to tell me. She said she hadn't talked about him in a long time, although she thinks about him every day. I saw his picture, too. She keeps it in her room on her dresser. And there's another one, too.”

“Another what?”

“Picture. Of her and a man named Lionel. He was her second love.”

Pauline thought back on comments made the night before. They suddenly took on new meaning.

Rebecca rose and took the pictures back in hand. “We may go swimming later, if it stops raining or even if it doesn't.”

Pauline smiled. “I may go with you.”

Rebecca beamed. “Really?”

“Absolutely.”

“Can you swim?”

Pauline shrugged. “I wouldn't mind getting better. You think I'm too old to learn?”

“No,” Rebecca replied enthusiastically before turning pensive. “Why didn't we ever go swimming before?”

Tears pricked the backs of Pauline's eyes. “We will now. That's what matters, isn't it?”

Rebecca nodded and started from the room.

“I wonder if I could see the picture of John,” Pauline said.

Rebecca turned back with a smile and then dashed off, but when she returned, the photograph she carried was not familiar. Pauline had never seen or imagined the young man in the photograph. He was a fine-looking young man with sandy-colored hair and a cleft in his chin. She could well imagine how a young Cessie had fallen in love with him—but he was not the father figure in her dreams. Her dream father had wavy dark hair and dark eyes. He'd had squarish shoulders and a certain profile; she'd seen it when he'd turned to her. Now that she'd remembered the dream, it was impossible to shake the image.

Chapter Seven

The Greenway cottage, built of wood and stone, had an elaborately carved front porch, although a tangle of vines had tried to lay claim to it. Weeds in the yard were tall and saplings and undergrowth had grown wild, but there was a charm to the place that the elements could not eradicate. It seemed impossible her luck could have so changed, but Pauline wanted to believe it. “I love it.”

“It will take some work,” April May commented as she attempted to open the front door. It took some shoulder action because the wood floor had buckled. “But we can do it, and it will be worth it. Believe me.”

“I do. I feel it, too.” Pauline looked toward the top of a towering oak. Glorious green leaves waved as a breeze blew, a pair of squirrels engaged in a mad game of tag, and birdsong filled the air. The place seemed positively enchanted.

“We should go into town soon,” April May said as she stepped inside. “See T. Emmett Rice about the deed. He's a lawyer, but a good man despite it. Fact is, he was one of the few who befriended Lionel.”

“Oh?”

“There were a few good men. They played cards and drank too much. Lionel enjoyed those get-togethers.”

Pauline followed April May, stepping inside an almost empty parlor that smelled of mildew. Dust hung thick in the air, some partially illuminated from rays of light that filtered through grimy windows.

“Part of the floor's got to be torn up,” April May commented. “Moisture's ruined it. I'll tell you what else, there used to be a lot of furniture that's not here anymore. Which aggravates the life out of me.”

Pauline was oblivious to the flaws. This was her new start, and a far better one than she'd dared imagine. It didn't matter if every stick of furniture had been stolen; it was a house with a roof and four walls. They'd fill it with furniture in time. April May went one way while Pauline turned down a hall and walked into a small bedroom with a bed and a chest of drawers.

“There's a little stone winery out back with a cellar underneath, and there's a bathhouse, too,” April May said from the other room.

“What's a bathhouse?”

“It's made of cedar and tile and it's got a big ol' tub and a separate place where a shower of water comes down on you, because you're supposed to clean yourself
before
you go into the bath, if that don't beat all. Lionel swore that long, hot baths were good for you. It's got a pump hooked up to a wood-burning thingymajobber, and so the bathwater is hot going in. The shower, too. Lionel liked his conveniences. That's what he always said—good wine, good books, good friends, and modern conveniences are what makes life worth living.”

Pauline smiled, knowing that she would have liked the man. She walked farther down the hall and turned in to what must have been Lionel's room. It had a wide bed and more furniture than the parlor. There was even a book on the bedside table. She rubbed her arms as she experienced a shiver. The bed was beautiful, with a tall, hand-carved walnut headboard. It was a wonder no one had carted it off.

She walked over and picked up the book,
Desperate Remedies
by Thomas Hardy.
I know a thing or two about desperate remedies,
she thought as she set the book back down.

“Tell you what,” April May said loudly. “When a place has sat empty as long as this one has, there's sure to be a surprise or two. Nests of rats, hornets, snakes, spiders. We'll need to be mighty careful.”

There were two other rooms down the hall, another small bedroom and a study with a bookshelf full of musty-smelling books. They were in disarray, as if they had been rifled through. April May walked in behind her and clucked her tongue in disapproval. “Yep, and there was a fancy desk in here and a nice chair to go with it. Damned thieving people. Wish I knew who snatched it.”

“But it's so much more and better than I could have dreamed of,” Pauline said, turning to the older woman. “I'm
so
glad Papa left it for me.”

April May grinned. “He always knew you'd come back sometime.”

April May walked on as Pauline made her way to a bay window flanked by heavy, plum-colored drapes. She peered out on the badly overgrown backyard, covered walkways, and outbuildings. It had been a lovely place and it would be again if she had her way. “Promise,” she whispered to Lionel.

She had
thought
the name Elizabeth Anne Greenway Carter dozens of times since she'd heard it, but, as of this second, she was going to
be
Elizabeth Anne Greenway Carter. It was the chance, the
gift
of a lifetime. “Lizzie,” she mouthed. She would dream up a whole new life story. She would keep the best of her former life, of Pauline's life—Rebecca and Jake—and recreate everything else. This would be a loving home and they would be happy here. Happy and safe. She didn't want or need anything else.

“Hey, hey,” April May called from the other room. “I just found a picture of Lionel.”

Pauline started from the room with a light step. She felt much freer as Lizzie Greenway Carter.

“I bet Cessie doesn't know this is here,” April May said as she handed it over. “It's an old one, but that's him, a young him, with that same ol' devilish smile.”

The image was of Lionel as a young man, standing against a rock ledge with a pickax in his hand. Although it was faded, its edges frayed and slightly torn, Lizzie recognized the face.
This
was the father from her dreams. Her breath caught as she stared at it.

“He was originally from South Carolina,” April May said as she looked at the photograph over Lizzie's shoulder. “Then, as a young man, he went to California after gold. Found a little, lost a lot of time is what he said.”

“I want to know all about him.”

“He traveled a lot of places in the world, a lot more than most. Did a stint as a merchant marine, was in the war, went to the Orient, saw Paris. Cessie loved his stories. The two of them were special friends, so she got a lot more of them than I did. She'd be happy to share them if you want to hear.”

“Oh, I do!”

April May took a few steps away before turning back. “He was a good man and I'm glad I knew him. You know, maybe, in the end, that's all any of us can hope to have said about us.”

Pauline nodded slowly.

“Tell you what else, this place is not in as bad a shape as I feared. It's going to take a lot of work but—”

“It's going to be wonderful,” Lizzie declared. “It's going to be a new life for us. I thought it wouldn't be real. That it couldn't be, but . . . I feel it, now that I'm here. That it's meant to be somehow.” Her moisture-filled eyes glistened.

April May cocked her head and looked at Lizzie curiously.

“What?” Lizzie laughingly asked.

“I don't know. Maybe it's just the light in here—”

“What is it?”

“You look different. No fooling. You look a little bit different.”

“Really? I'm not. I'm the same ol' Lizzie I always was.”

April May guffawed and slapped her thigh. “That's the spirit!”

 

 

The two of them made their way back home along a path through the woods and it occurred to Lizzie how much more alive everything seemed here. The greens were so varied and intense in color, the chirping of birds louder. The air was hot and humid, but even that felt good. When the sun hit the tree trunks and limbs just right, the bark glowed golden and the green of the leaves was almost blinding. “Cessie mentioned John yesterday,” Lizzie said. “To Rebecca. I hope my daughter wasn't prying.”

“Cessie isn't going to talk about anything she doesn't want to.”

“She also said Lionel was her second love.”

“And so he was. I was so grateful to that man.” It was a strange enough statement that Lizzie didn't know how to respond. April May glanced at her and must have seen the question in her expression because she stopped and turned to face her. “I don't know what all was said, so I'll just tell you if you want to know.”

Lizzie nodded, wanting very much to know.

“John Yardley was Cessie's sweetheart from the time they weren't but knee-high to grasshoppers,” April May said. “There was no doubt in anyone's mind that they'd marry and have a long, happy life together. Probably have five or six little ones. Except for he took ill and died. We never did know what killed him.”

Pauline sighed. “I'm sorry.”

April May exhaled deeply. “We all were. It like to have killed our Princess. She didn't want to eat. She stopped going to school. She just wanted to sleep, and we couldn't keep her up. She stopped talking. You see her. You see her spark. She always had that, except for the year after John passed.” April May paused and looked far away as she remembered. “We used to get her up, two of us, and walk her between us. She wouldn't have gone, except she was too weak to stop us. We talked at her, talked at her, showered her with love, but nothing could break through that damned melancholy. It just about killed her.”

Lizzie felt tears prick the backs of her eyes.

“One day, it was summer, and the girls and I got her up and took her to the pond. ‘We're going for a swim,' I said. Lita was nervous about it. So was Scarlet. Hell, so was I. Cessie's state of mind? She might have just let herself drown. But the truth is, we were losing her anyway. The most beautiful girl in the world, I mean inside and out, was wasting away before our eyes. It was killin' my mama. So I said, ‘We're going for a swim,' and in we went. Her and I. Didn't even bother with taking our clothes off. I remember Lita panicking. ‘Wait,' she called. But I didn't wait. I waded in and dragged Cessie with me.”

Lizzie frowned and crossed her arms, utterly caught up in the story.

“I'd taken them by surprise, so there's Scarlet and Lita watching, not knowing what the blazes to do. But it had to be done. I still remember; I turned over and floated and took Cessie with me. So we're floating and lookin' at the sky and I told her I loved her . . . more than life itself, but she had to make a choice. Live or die. Live . . . or . . . die. We wanted her to live, but the only decidin' person was her. The grieving had to end. John wouldn't have wanted it. He didn't want it.” She paused and swallowed. “And then I let her go and I swam on and I swam hard. If she'd drowned herself, I think I would have had to do the same. Luckily, when I came up for air, I looked back and saw that she was making for the shore.”

Tears filled April May's eyes and she laughed and blinked them free, then wiped her face. “The girls went in after her, knowing she was too weak to swim for long. When I made it back, there were the four of us, soaking wet, crying our eyes out, hugging one another. But the grief broke that day. Like a fever breaks. Cessie started getting better, although she never considered another man. And it wasn't like men didn't try. She was a real, true beauty and sweet as the day is long.”

It grew silent and April May looked around. “She's one who should have married and had a whole passel of little ones.”

“And then Lionel moved here,” Lizzie said quietly.

“Yes, he did. Thank God. They struck up a special friendship, but she wouldn't marry him. Said they were both too set in their ways. But they'd be together for days at a time. We're not far from town, but we're out here on our own, which was a good thing. They had eight years together. Eight good years. More together than apart.”

Lizzie smiled at the thought, and the two of them started to walk again.

“Years ago,” April May said quietly, “maybe . . . ten or twelve years ago, a young woman drowned. Like Cessie, she was a beauty and a sweet girl. Drowned accidentally was what they said, but that girl was terrified of the water. We have a Fourth of July shindig every year and there's an hour reserved for the ladies to swim. No men allowed, although you can't really stop a boy determined to peek no matter how far around he has to go to do it. Jenny never would go in.”

Lizzie looked at her, curious about what she was driving at.

“Learning about Jenny hurt my heart and gave me the shivers. I thought, that could have been Cessie all those years ago. It could have been, too. She was in enough pain. She could have breathed in a lungful of water and there would have been nothing any of us could do.” She paused. “If anyone ever thought it was an easy decision to haul my baby sister out to the middle of the pond and leave her, it wasn't.”

Lizzie wished she knew what to say. “You did it to save her,” she said softly.

April May nodded. “But what if she hadn't chosen life? I don't know how I would have bared it. I don't know how any of us would. Nothing would have ever been the same. Not for any of us. That's for shore.”

 

 

“I'm going to take a swim tonight,” Cessie said as she and Lizzie cleaned the kitchen after supper.

“Do you mind if I go along?” Lizzie asked.

“Mind? I'd love it. There's just nothing like a moonlight swim.”

The sound of laughter came from the other room. The low-pitched laughter of April May in harmony with the higher-pitched laughter of the children. It was such a good sound.

Cessie only had a bowl left to wash, and Lizzie had kept up with the drying, so it was time to broach the subject. “I have something strange to tell you.”

Cessie looked at her. “What?”

Lizzie concentrated on the platter she was drying. “I had older parents. I was an only child, and they weren't the most loving people.”