The Time Between (21 page)

“Or atoning for past sins,” Eve said as she took another sip of her water.

I looked down at my lap, unable to look at either one of them. “Or maybe you’ve seen too many movies.”

Ignoring me, Eve asked, “Was either of them ever married?”

“No. Maybe that’s why they were so close—because it was only the two of them for so long. My grandmother married and moved away to Charleston.” Finn thought for a moment and grimaced, although he didn’t say anything.

“What?” Eve prompted.

“I was just thinking about something Helena said to me at my wedding. Something about how she was happy I was marrying my true love even though she’d lost her chance. I’ve never really thought about it until now.”

I thought of the album cover, remembering how the Szarka sisters looked like models. “They were so beautiful. I can’t imagine it would have been that difficult to find husbands.”

“I think my grandparents tried by introducing them to friends and business associates as soon as they arrived in Charleston. But Helena and Bernadett were more interested in making a new home on Edisto and getting involved in their church and causes.”

“As if they were both atoning for past sins,” I said, mimicking Eve’s words but seeing Bernadett’s sparse room. And the locked door inside the armoire.

Finn took a sip of his coffee, the unusual color of his eyes shifting like that of the river at dusk. “I think she sees herself in you, too. Gigi told me about you playing Debussy.”

I closed my eyes, hoping she hadn’t replayed the entire scene blow by blow.

“Did you play ‘Clair de Lune’?” Eve asked. “You always made me cry when you played that.”

I looked up at her, surprised at her admission. “Yes. Debussy’s always been one of my favorite composers.”

“Next to Chopin,” she added, taking a sip of her water.

I stared hard at her. “How did you know that?”

It was her turn to look surprised. “Because you’re my sister.”

The relationship between sisters is a little piece of heaven and hell. But we share the same soul.
Helena’s words came back to me like a cold blast of wind, making me shift uncomfortably in my seat.

I realized that Finn was watching us with interest, and I quickly looked at my watch. “We need to be going. Where did you say Glen is picking you up?”

“Here.” She turned her head to look out the large front window. “Actually, I think that’s him at the curb.”

Finn took charge of Eve’s wheelchair while I cleared the table, then followed them out onto the sidewalk. Glen jumped out of the car, then ran around to the passenger side.

“I would have come inside, but I’m parked illegally.”

He approached Finn and the two men shook hands. Finn was taller, and while both were of a similar slim build, Finn’s shoulders were broader, his stance more powerful-looking despite Glen’s military bearing. I stopped myself, wondering why I was comparing the two.

Glen lifted Eve out of the chair and settled her in the car while Finn stored the chair in the trunk.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Glen said to Finn, his words sounding more aggressive than I think he wanted them to.

“It’s no problem. You needed to take care of your wife.”

Glen’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

Finn continued speaking as if he hadn’t noticed. “And the baby, of course. You must be really excited about becoming a father. It’s one of the best things in a man’s life. Just be prepared for your wife and child to occupy all your spare time and energy.”

“I’m prepared to deal with the demands of fatherhood,” Glen said stiffly. “I’m thinking it’ll all be good.”

Finn nodded. “Absolutely. We all think that. But I know some men who were knocked off their feet when the realization set in, that’s all. Me, too. But you’ll find that there’s nothing else in the world more important than your baby and wife—so much so that you really won’t miss the other stuff.”

Glen was actively frowning now. “I’m not sure I get your meaning, sir. But I’ll tell you now that I’m prepared to be a good father to my baby.”

Finn’s eyebrows rose.

“And a good husband to my wife,” Glen added, flushing.

Finn smiled, then waved at Eve. “It was good seeing you both. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

Finn stood next to me as their car pulled away from the curb and headed down the street. Before I could stop myself, I blurted out, “Why did you do that?”

He didn’t pretend not to know what I was talking about. “I just keep remembering how he came out to Luna Point to check on you on his day off, leaving his wife at home. I thought that he needed a little reminding of his priorities.”

“He doesn’t need you or anybody else to remind him. He’s got a lot on his plate—going to school while working full-time, a wife in a wheelchair, a baby on the way, and a complicated pregnancy—” I stopped, realizing I’d said too much.

I began walking quickly. “I’ve got to get to work. I’ve been gone too long as it is.”

He caught up to me in two quick strides, easily keeping up despite my almost-jogging pace. “What’s complicated about the pregnancy?”

“Forget I said anything. It has nothing to do with you.”

I kept walking, but his hand grabbed my elbow, making me stop. His face was very close to mine, his unusual gray eyes darkening, but I didn’t step back. It took him a moment to speak, as if he were discarding the first thoughts that came to mind. “Because you’re working two jobs for me, and Helena and Gigi have come to depend on you. I figure somebody needs to be looking out for you, too.”

I bit my lip, trying to stifle the sudden urge to cry. Not since my father’s death had anybody cared enough to look after me. “I’ve got to get back to work,” I said.

Neither one of us moved, but he didn’t look away. “Maybe Eve’s right. What are you trying to atone for?”

We continued staring at each other while passersby walked around us. Finally, I pulled away and began walking quickly again toward the office, hoping he wouldn’t follow me. And half hoping he would.

F
inn was still in his office when I turned off my computer and slipped away from my desk as inconspicuously as I could. I was about as eager to continue our earlier conversation as I was to run into him at his house while picking up Gigi. His last words had dogged me all afternoon like a persistent sand fly.
What are you trying to atone for?

The housekeeper, Mrs. McKenna, answered the front door at Finn’s house, followed by the clattering sound of Gigi running down the steps to greet me. After hugging me with her usual exuberance, she stepped back and I looked down at the source of all the clattering. Her small feet were encased in shiny black shoes with pink grosgrain ribbons tied in enormous bows.

Mrs. McKenna shook her head with a smile as she closed the door. “Her dance instructor told her that her old tap shoes were too small and she needed new ones.”

“I’ve grown a whole half size!” Gigi announced jubilantly.

I hugged her back, wondering how long it had taken her. “Congratulations!” I said, admiring the shoes. “But why are you wearing them in the house?”

“That’s the first thing I asked,” Mrs. McKenna replied good-naturedly. “Seeing as how I’m the one in charge of polishing the floors.”

Gigi grabbed my hand and began tugging me toward the stairs. “Daddy said I needed to pack, but I’ve already filled one suitcase and I’m wondering if I need another.”

My eyes met Mrs. McKenna’s. The older woman shrugged. “I offered to help, but she’s very independent.” We shared a smile before I turned back toward the stairs to run after Gigi, who’d already made it to the top.

A large suitcase lay open on her bedroom floor. From what I could see, there were a number of bathing suits, shoes, shorts, skirts, and sundresses—mostly pink—haphazardly thrown inside. Most of her dresser drawers, with a few exceptions, were pulled open, with various items of clothing hanging out of them. Her closet door was ajar, but I resisted the temptation to look inside, knowing I’d be compelled to clean it up.

I stood surveying the mess with my hands on my hips. “Your daddy did say three days, right? Not three weeks?”

“Silly!” she said, tossing a ball of pink socks at me. “I just like to make sure I have everything I need. If we go to the beach in the morning and then in the afternoon, I’ll need two different bathing suits because putting on a cold, wet one is gross, and then I’ll need clothes to wear in the afternoon, and if we go somewhere at night—like the movies or something—I might need something else, and every outfit has to have a pair of shoes. I’m pretty sure I need everything in there.”

I peered at the pile of shoes that lay next to the full suitcase. “Maybe I can help you start over from the beginning,” I said, calculating how much time I’d have before Finn got home.

She collapsed in a heap on the floor, making me wonder if she should be taking drama lessons on top of dance and piano. “All right,” she said with an exaggerated sigh.

I sat down on the carpet next to the suitcase and began taking everything out. “Let’s start with a nightgown and your underclothes for four days—I always like to add an extra day’s worth of clothes just in case.”

I lifted out what appeared to be a dance recital costume and held it up to Gigi. “Why did you pack this?”

“To show Aunt Helena. She missed my last recital.”

I looked down at the yellow and purple tutu with a sequined heart on the bodice, fluffy purple feathers on the shoulder straps. The seams were uneven, the sequins were missing in spots where they’d easily fallen off, and the hem at the leg holes was half pulled out.

“I’m sure your daddy has a photo of you wearing this. And if not, I’ll take one. It’s a lot easier packing a picture than a bulky costume.”

Gigi jumped up. “He’s got one on the table next to his bed. I’ll go get it now.”

“Not yet,” I said, holding her back. “Let’s focus on sorting through this now, and when we’re done you can go get it.”

I pulled out another stack of clothes, this batch including a purple velvet dress, and set it on the floor next to the tutu. “Sit down, sweetheart. This might take a while.”

With another sigh, she sat down cross-legged next to me and began to sort through enough clothes to get her through until the end of the year.

She looked horrified as I packed the last pairs of shoes inside the suitcase. “Only three?”

“Actually four, if you count your tap shoes.”

“I was thinking of leaving them here. They’ll probably give Aunt Helena one of her headaches.”

I made a mental note to throw them in the suitcase when Gigi wasn’t looking—assuming I could pry them from her feet.

Her face became very serious. “What about Aunt Bernadett’s basket?”

“It’s still under your bed?”

She nodded.

“Can I see it?”

Pulling herself up to her knees, she shuffled over to her bed, then crawled halfway under before she started scooting backward. I moved toward the bed and tugged on her ankles to help her out.

“Thanks,” she said, blowing rug fuzz from her lips.

We both looked down at the sweetgrass basket on the floor by the bed. It was an escape hatch with a lid, the small knob at the top shaped like an acorn.
A secret keeper.
I lifted the basket onto the bed, surprised at how light it was.

“You didn’t peek inside even once?”

She shook her head. “No, ma’am. I’m afraid of ghosts.”

I looked at her sharply. “Ghosts?”

“If Aunt Bernadett was mad at me for looking into her basket, I didn’t want her to come back to let me know.”

I diplomatically didn’t point out that exploring Bernadett’s room would probably have been enough to arouse an angry spirit.

We sat on the bed with the basket between us. I rubbed my palms on my skirt. “Okay, then. We’re looking for sheet music because Helena asked us to. If that’s not what’s in here, we’ll put it all back under Bernadett’s bed like it never left. All right?”

She nodded vigorously, as somebody who’d just dumped a problem onto somebody else’s shoulders.

I leaned over and very slowly lifted the lid, using it to shield the contents just in case there was something Gigi shouldn’t see. I hesitated, feeling like Pandora opening her forbidden box and letting loose all the evil in the world. With a deep breath, I looked inside, then placed the lid on the bed beside me.

“Is it music?” she asked, her eyes wide.

I shook my head. “No, it’s not.” I picked up the lid from the bed, prepared to put it back on the basket, but her hand stopped me.

“Don’t you think we should at least see what’s there? Even if it’s not music, there might be something in there that Aunt Helena would like to have. Something that might remind her of Aunt Bernadett and make her happy again.”

I couldn’t imagine the old woman having ever been happy, but I understood Gigi’s point. Still, I wasn’t completely convinced. “Maybe we should give Helena the basket so she can go through it on her own.”

Gigi’s pale eyebrows knitted together. “But what if there’s something that might not be nice? Like a letter to their other sister saying that Bernadett didn’t like Helena or something like that that could hurt her feelings and make Aunt Helena feel even more sad? Wouldn’t it be better if we looked through the stuff first to make sure none of it hurts her feelings?”

I chewed on my lip, weighing what I thought were Gigi’s legitimate concerns with what could be considered an invasion of privacy. I wanted to think of Helena as strong enough to withstand anything, good or bad, but all I could think about was how Finn had found her after Bernadett’s death, unwilling to go on living. What if something in this basket would send her back to that dark place? Or what if something inside would bring her peace?

“All right,” I said. “We’ll look through it first. And if we don’t find anything objectionable, I want you to come straight with Aunt Helena and tell her how you came to find the basket.”

Her shoulders curled forward, making her appear even smaller than she was. “Yes, ma’am,” she said quietly.

Slowly, I moved aside the lid again and we both stared inside.

“What’s that?” she asked.

“I’m not sure,” I said, peering closely at the contents. The bottom of the basket was filled with what appeared to be old photographs and a single book. Nestled on top was a small silver box, so tarnished it was almost black. Four tiny legs protruded from the bottom, and a small clasp held the hinged lid closed. I lifted it out and held it in my open hands for us both to see.

“It looks like there’s writing on the top,” Gigi said, leaning close enough that I could smell her shampoo.

“Do you have a tissue?”

She jumped up, then quickly returned from the adjoining bathroom, a handful of tissues in her hand.

Folding them into a fat square, I began rubbing. When I was done, I sat back in disappointment, staring at the engraved words.

Az Isteni Megváltó Leányai

“What does it say?” Gigi asked.

“It’s in Hungarian, I think.” Gingerly using my thumbnail, I flicked open the lid.

I felt Gigi’s warm breath on my cheek as she leaned over to see inside the box. “Is it a necklace?”

I lifted up the black onyx beads, a gold crucifix dangling from the end of the circle. “It’s a rosary. Have you never seen one before?”

“Not this one. But Aunt Bernadett used to walk around with a red one all the time saying prayers.”

“Was she Catholic?”

Gigi shrugged, reminding me that I was talking to a ten-year-old. “I don’t know. She and Aunt Helena would go to church with us when we were visiting, but I don’t think it was their church because they always went to another church for Christmas and Easter.”

I remembered the two women bringing Finn to the Edisto Presbyterian Church when we were children, although the Catholic mission church of St. Frederick and St. Stephen was just down the road. I could well imagine Finn’s father demanding his son be taken to the Presbyterian church, regardless of the aunts’ faith.

I carefully replaced the heavy beads in the silver box and latched the lid. The basket seemed laced with a sense of desolation, either projected from my own emotions or simply because of the fact that it had been forgotten under the bed of a dead woman.

Placing the box next to me, I reached inside the basket and pulled out a small, white, leather-bound book.

“It looks like a Bible,” Gigi said in a hushed voice, as if she, too, breathed in the sad air that rose from the basket like dust from an old tomb.

“It is,” I said, holding it up where we could both read the words
HOLY BIBLE
embossed on the front in gold. “At least it’s in English.”

I opened up the front cover and paused at the inscription inside, written in a beautiful slanted cursive.

To my sister Bernadett on the occasion of my wedding,

October 12, 1940

Magda Katherina Beaufain

“And so is the inscription,” I added, although mostly for my benefit, as Gigi had already started peering into the basket again. “I wonder if Bernadett was a bridesmaid. Maybe this is what she carried during the ceremony.”

I glanced up to see Gigi with both hands inside the basket. “Hang on,” I said, wanting her to wait so we didn’t miss anything. With a reluctant sigh, she sat back while I continued to examine the Bible. The spine was worn and creased, the gold that had once edged the pages long disintegrated, leaving only flecks. Two ribbon bookmarks, a red and a black one, were stuck inside a single page. I carefully tugged on them, then slid my finger inside the pages where they’d been and opened the Bible to the book of Matthew. In black ink, a single verse had been underlined.

In Rama was there a voice heard, lamentation, and weeping, and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children, and would not be comforted, because they are no more.

A cold chill enveloped me as I read the words. I thumbed through the Bible, noticing creased pages and other signs of wear, but nowhere else did I find a verse that had been marked.

“Can we see the rest now?” Gigi asked impatiently.

I’d almost forgotten she was there. The Bible verse rested heavily on my heart, its meaning unclear but its importance signified by the heavy black marks under each word.

“Sure,” I said, laying the Bible next to the silver box. Together we looked at the loose photographs in no apparent order or importance. But I could see they were old, as all were in black-and-white, many with the scalloped edges that can be found only on older photographs.

There were about thirty photographs, and Gigi and I carefully lifted them one by one from the basket and spread them over the top of the bed.

“This looks like the ladies in the picture Aunt Helena gave to Daddy for his birthday.”

I picked up the photo Gigi indicated. “I think you’re right. This might be Magda’s wedding—she was the oldest sister.”

“Older than Aunt Helena?” Her mouth formed a perfect O of astonishment.

“We were all young once, Gigi.”

We examined what appeared to be a wedding photo, considering the bouquets the women were holding and the small veil on the hat of the tall middle woman. “They’re all really pretty. I like their costumes,” Gigi said.

I smiled at her assessment. “They are very beautiful. But those aren’t costumes—that’s how women dressed in the 1930s and early forties.”

All of the women were dressed in suits—Magda’s the only one in white—with exaggerated shoulders and butterfly sleeves, and tight bodices that emphasized their tiny waists. The skirts came to below their knees, and their feet were covered in T-strapped heels. The men wore black tails with white waistcoats and striped trousers, a single white carnation blossoming on their lapels.

There were several pictures of the wedding, including photos of an older woman I assumed was the girls’ mother—a kinder, gentler version of Helena—as well as a tall, dignified gentleman that could only have been Finn’s grandfather. He was tall and broad shouldered, with fair hair and expressive eyes, and it was clear why Magda’s head had been so easily turned.

“Who’s this?”