Chapters 7-10
Vicky was so excited that she didn�t notice the way her mother sank quickly into the chair or the way she pressed her hands together to keep them from trembling.
�It�s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wright,� Katherine said, relieved that her voice at least was steady.
The young man was blonde with fair skin that had probably seen too much sun through the cockpit cover. He was still in uniform, but he had that right for a period of time after his discharge. She noticed the captain�s bars on his collar.
�The pleasure is all mine, Mrs. Emerson. I�ve wanted to meet you for a long time. Now I can see where Vic gets her good looks.�
�Flattery will get you absolutely nowhere with this woman,� John said, offering his hand. �I�m John Emerson, Vicky�s brother, and this is my wife Rosalie. Our two terrors are upstairs�asleep, hopefully.�
�Have you had anything to eat?� Rosalie asked.
�I was lucky to get a place to stand,� Richard said.
�Then I�ll get you a sandwich and some coffee�oh, and a piece of birthday cake.�
John took Richard�s overcoat. �Army Air Force, huh?�
�That�s right. P-47�s.�
�I spent my war flying a desk in London. The weather was rotten, and the buzz bombs didn�t help.�
Richard shook his head sympathetically. �Vicky says you�re career Army.�
�I�m going to be a thirty-year-man, I hope, or a full colonel�whichever comes first.�
Rosalie returned with a tray for Richard. �Let�s go up and let Katherine have a chance to visit,� she said to her husband. �We�ll get better acquainted with Richard tomorrow.�
When they�d gone, Katherine realized that she�d have to make some sort of conversation. �Vicky tells me that you�re an architect.�
�I was�the firm promised to hold a place open for me, but we�ll see.�
�Architecture and flying P-47�s is an odd combination.�
�I probably chose both of them because my family didn�t want me to�but I don�t regret either one.�
Katherine took the opportunity that presented itself. �What does your father do, Richard?�
�I was raised by a half-brother. Banking, investing�Wall Street�the whole blooming family�s done it for four generations! I knew I wasn�t going to get involved in all that!�
Katherine wanted to ask why, but she said simply, �Well, architecture is an interesting career.�
�I may as well tell you, Mrs. Emerson, that Vic�s marrying into one crazy family�but I don�t intend for us to see more of them than necessary.�
�Oh?�
�They were Old New England�the whole blue-blooded bunch! My mother�now you�d have liked my mother�wasn�t into all that, but she died when I was fourteen. She was the one who encouraged me to make my own decisions about what I wanted to do with my life.�
Katherine couldn�t resist. �I seem to recall knowing some Wrights in New York. A Richard Wright, actually, but he was too old to be your father.�
�Probably not�my father was sixty-nine when I was born�Mother was his third wife and thirty years younger, and they didn�t expect me, I can tell you! I was eight when he died, so I was old enough to remember him. He was a cantankerous old coot, so if you�d met him, you�d remember him, too!�
Katherine did remember�remembered all too well. It was a story she�d never told anyone, not even Teddy. How ironic that after all these years it should come back to haunt her in her own home.
Richard finished his sandwich and started on the cake. �A belated happy birthday, Mrs. Emerson,� he said. �You almost got edged out with Christmas being so close and all.�
�Not quite. Mother and Papa always made a big fuss on my birthday.�
�You�ll have to get her to tell you about them, Richard.� Vicky perched on the arm of his chair. �They were unique.�
�I�d like to hear it,� he said.
Katherine rose. �Well, not tonight. I�m sure you two won�t mind if I leave you alone. It�s been a long day, and I�m tired�and I have to make rounds at the hospital in the morning before I�ve earned my Christmas vacation.�
She offered her hand to the young man. �John and Rosalie are staying in the larger guestroom, but the one at the end of the hall is adequate, and there�s a half-bath. I�ll be up early and out of the house by seven, but feel free to sleep as long as you like. I�m sure you�re tired from your trip.�
Then she kissed Vicky. �You may have to get Richard some extra blankets from the linen closet. Goodnight, darling, and thank you for the lovely party. I�ll see you at dinner tomorrow night.�
Katherine�s mind was whirling as she went up the stairs. She�d always wondered what she�d saved the old man for, and now she knew. If she�d known then, what would she have done? Do no harm. She�d always kept that oath scrupulously, even then. But she couldn�t know�not about John or Vicky and certainly not about young Richard Wright.
She unfastened the pearls and laid them away in the velvet-lined box. Never lay pearls on your dressing table even overnight, Kate. Always put them away, and they�ll be as beautiful in fifty years as they were when they were new. She�d loved to watch Mother get ready to go out�and she especially liked it when she wore the pearls. These belonged to my mother, and someday they�ll be yours. Perhaps you�ll pass them on to your daughter.
Katherine remembered how she thought immediately of her sister. But shouldn�t Audra have them, Mother? She�s the oldest.
Mother had smiled, pleased at her thoughtfulness. I gave Audra a choice between the pearls and a diamond pendant and earrings that belonged to my grandmother. So the pearls will belong to you, Kate.
Katherine had worn them at her wedding to Teddy and on every special occasion thereafter. She would give them to Vicky soon, and perhaps someday Vicky would have a daughter.
If Vicky had a daughter�or a son�Richard Wright would be the father. Her grandchildren would bear the name of the family to whom the name Wardell was abhorrent. Justice, Kate precious, not revenge. It had become Papa�s mantra. What would he say about this? Was this her justice? Or had her well-meaning lie come back to exact its revenge?
Chapter 8
Richard�s pre-war position wasn�t available to him as promised, but he took that as a sign he was supposed to get out of New York for good, and he did. By April he was working for a small architectural firm in Nashville, and wedding plans were underway.
Vicky approached her mother about the possibility about staying on in the house after she got married. �Richard and I will pay our way�we�ve both got good jobs.�
�If you want to stay because you don�t want me to be alone, then the answer is no.�
�That�s not it at all, Mother.�
�Then what?�
�This is my home.�
�When you marry Richard, wherever he is will be your home.�
�My father moved in here with you.�
�That was different�it was just the two of us then, and it seemed foolish to sell this house and buy another one.�
�And you wanted to stay, didn�t you?�
Katherine sighed. �I�ll admit that I did, yes, but so did Teddy. He loved this house as much as I did.�
�Then you should understand that I love it, too.�
�What does Richard say about all this?�
�He says that whatever I decide will be all right with him.�
�I don�t know, Vicky. It doesn�t sound exactly right.�
But, in the end, the decision was made. Katherine did insist, however, on vacating the suite of rooms that had belonged to her parents and then to Teddy and her. �It will afford you more privacy, Vicky, and you need that. And frankly, I�d like to move back into my childhood room�it was always my favorite anyway.�
So Richard and Vicky had redecorated the bedroom and sitting room for themselves, and Katherine had recreated her room in blue. Richard turned out to be a regular handyman. �I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth all right,� he told Katherine one afternoon while he was hanging her new drapes, �but there�s not much I can�t do.� When he didn�t offer any further explanation, Katherine didn�t ask. She couldn�t afford give the slightest hint that she knew more than she did about his background.
Little by little, however, Richard filled in the details. �I told you that my mother was Father�s third wife. He had two sons by his first wife�my half-brothers, but I never really knew them because they were so much older. The second wife didn�t stay around much longer than it took to get an annulment.� He chuckled. �He was rich as Midas and mean as old Scrooge. Anyway, Mother was the daughter of a business acquaintance who died pretty much penniless and in debt. Father made her a proposition�he�d pay off her father�s debts, educate her sisters, and make sure that her mother was taken care of in her old age�if Mother would marry him. She was twenty-eight, and he was fifty-eight.�
Katherine decided to risk a question about the family history, but she phrased it carefully. �So you really don�t know much about the Wrights genealogy?�
He grinned. �I didn�t say that. Hey�I�m descended from one of the Mayflower passengers. The Wrights migrated to New York from Massachusetts later. There were Wrights in the American Revolution, the War of 1812, and the Civil War.�
�My grandfather and two of my uncles fought in the Civil War,� Vicky offered.
�But for the South, right?�
�My grandfather anyway.�
�Yes, well, I�ve heard of diehard Confederates, but the Wrights were diehard Unionists. I remember my half-brothers talking about it. All of our father�s brothers�there were four of them�graduated from West Point like your brother John.�
�My grandfather graduated from West Point, too,� Vicky said.
�And fought for the South?�
�So did Robert E. Lee,� Katherine said. �Loyalty to one�s family and place of birth superceded any other consideration in that conflict.�
�It did for the Wrights anyway. One of my half-brothers said that Father wouldn�t do business with any ex-Confederate as long as he lived. There was some deep dark family secret that was the reason why, but I don�t know what it was. I wasn�t ever interested enough to ask.�
Katherine knew the story, of course, but she saw no reason to share it�at least, not now. She thought of the afternoon her mother had told it to her. Catherine was the only daughter�she had four older brothers and one younger�and they all doted on her. When she married your Papa and followed him from one army outpost to the other, none of the family were happy about it. They felt she should stay with her family and be content with visits from her husband when ever he got leave. She didn�t see it that way, of course.
Richard was speaking again. �Mother didn�t know either, but she knew she�d sold her soul when she agreed to marry Father. She was younger than both my half-brothers, and they resented her even though they were already married and out on their own. I guess they didn�t like the idea of their inheritance being divided three ways. And then when I came along eleven years later�well, it was a shock to everyone.�
Vicky ran her hand through his hair. �So that�s what you are�a whoops.�
Katherine couldn�t help laughing. Vicky had been a whoops, too, but a welcomed one.
�I was a slap in the face to Nathan and Roland, that�s for sure. And, when Father died, Mother found out that the family home had been left to them, and they sold it out from under us.�
Vicky had heard the story before, but it still bothered her. �How mean,� she murmured.
�Oh, Mother had an income�Father saw to that�and there was a trust for my education. We lived pretty well, but then Mother died six years later, and Roland was appointed as my guardian. He wasn�t mean to me or anything�I just didn�t really exist for him. When it came time for me to go to college, he seemed to take it for granted that I�d get a degree in finance and join the family business�he only had daughters, and Nathan just had one son, so a young Wright was suddenly an asset.�
�But you went your own way,� Katherine said.
�Heck, yes, I did! I didn�t want their money�I could earn my own. And I�d seen enough of that kind of life. It wasn�t what I wanted�not any of it. Anyway, I haven�t seen either Nathan or Roland since I announced that I was getting a degree in architecture. My trust was administered by the law firm that handles all their legal affairs. I wrote to Roland when I enlisted after Pearl Harbor, but I never heard from him.�
�Does that bother you?� Katherine asked.
�Not really. The whole family�s crazy�oh, I don�t mean they�ve got anything wrong with them that I could pass on. I guess my genes are good. But money and position and power can mess people up.�
Katherine nodded. �Yes.� She hesitated. �My father put my inheritance into a trust for me to protect me from unscrupulous suitors. I�ve done the same for Vicky.�
�Mother!� Vicky sat bolt upright on the sofa beside Richard.
�You�ve known that for a long time, Vicky.�
�But you don�t have to make it sound like. . .�
Richard was laughing so hard he couldn�t speak for a minute. �Actually, I knew that, Mrs. Emerson. Vicky told me.� He began to laugh again.
�What�s so funny?� Vicky demanded.
�Your mother�no offense, Mrs. Emerson�protecting you from me. She doesn�t know how you already wear the pants in the family!�
Vicky smacked him with a sofa pillow. �That�s mean!�
He grabbed her. �That�s true.� He kissed her soundly, then whispered in her ear, �At least until I get those pants off of you�next week!�
Vicky�s face crimsoned, and she glanced guiltily at her mother, but Katherine hadn�t heard the words. There was something about Richard Wright that reminded her of Mac Neville�self-confident, unconventional, unpretentious�and something that reminded her of Nick, though she couldn�t put her finger on it at the moment. But he would take care of Vicky, and she would take care of him�just as it should be.
The wedding the following week could have been the social event of the Nashville season. The names Wardell and Emerson had figured prominently in the city for years. But although Vicky wore her grandmother Victoria�s wedding dress, and John wore his full dress uniform to walk her down the aisle, it was a quiet affair. Only family and close friends were present in the church to see the two promise to love, honor, and cherish for as long as they lived.
The California Barkleys, led by Trevor, were well-represented. Eric Trowbridge and his sister Tessa brought their mother. And Mac Neville flew in from Arizona. After a simple reception in the church hall, Vicky and Richard drove off to a carefully guarded location, and the rest of the guests dispersed to their homes in various parts of the United States.
Katherine saw Mac off at the airport. �She was a beautiful bride,� he told her. �But then, she�s a beautiful person�like her mother.�
�You never stop, do you Mac?�
�Nah, and I never will.� He drew her into his arms and noticed that she clung to him�but only in friendship. He could tell the difference. �Come on out to Arizona when you get tired of punching a clock,� he said. �You can punch cows instead.� He kissed her quickly and then crossed the tarmac to the waiting plane.
�Do you have any regrets, Mother?� John asked as they watched the plane taxi.
�None at all, John.�
�You always told me to be sure I made the decisions that wouldn�t leave me with regrets.�
�And you always did.�
�But I think Father would have wanted you to be happy�remarry if that�s what you wanted to do.�
�I am happy, John. I�ve always been happy. I was Papa�s princess and Teddy�s wife�and your and Vicky�s mother. What more could a woman ask for?�
He put his arm around her as they walked to the car. �You�re quite a woman.�
�My mother was quite a woman, so I consider that the highest compliment.�
They got into the car and drove away.
Chapter 9
The next year Katherine resigned from the hospital but continued her teaching position until she was seventy. By then, Vicky and Richard had two children�a son named John Richard and a daughter named for Richard�s mother Emily, whom he remembered with affection.
John and Rosalie had surprised everyone�including themselves�with Mary Katherine born in 1950. Jack, fourteen, and Teddy, twelve, were fascinated with her. Katherine foresaw a charmed life for her newest grandchild�she well remembered what it was like to have much-older brothers.
The living arrangements she had questioned had worked out better than anyone imagined. Richard and Vicky insisted on paying two-thirds of the costs of maintaining the house. Richard found the original plans for the house and saw to the necessary remodeling for safety and convenience while keeping the look and feel of the home in which Katherine had lived most of her life.
John retired in 1962�not as a colonel but as a brigadier general�and came home to Nashville to start a second career as a counselor for underprivileged boys. By then, Jack had followed his father to West Point and chosen a military career. Teddy had surprised everyone by following his grandmother�and the grandfather he had never known�into medicine. There would, it seemed, always be a Dr. Emerson at Vanderbilt.
Katherine made few trips to the ranch. It was so much changed, and she preferred to remember it the way it was. Trevor came to Nashville once a year until a broken hip ended his traveling. She visited Mac in Arizona, and he came to Nashville at Thanksgiving and stayed through Christmas. When Emily and Johnny began calling him Grandpa Mac, no one objected.
After Katherine�s retirement, Vicky had mentioned the old family stories again and how they needed to be written down for the new generation. When her mother seemed agreeable, she bought her a typewriter and arranged a desk in the library for her to work.
�I wish I�d written these down years ago,� Katherine said as the struggled to get started. �When I first heard them�when there was someone to ask for the details.�
�We�re not just interested in what you heard, Mother�we want to know about your life, too.�
�You know about my life.�
�Write it all down anyway,� Vicky insisted, and so Katherine did.
The words flowed more easily once she began to think of her childhood. Everyday she remembered something else to write down�something her mother had said, something Papa had told her. Papa had taught her to ride at a stable near Nashville. He�d even bought her a horse of her own to keep there, and Mother had insisted that she learn to care for it herself. Her brothers were always surprised at her skill with the horses at the ranch, but she knew what she was doing as well as they did.
She wrote about that and about her schooldays�how Papa had helped her with her lessons in the library every night after dinner while Mother had worked on her embroidery�how, when she hated mathematics at first, Mother had shown her the practicality of it by teaching her to keep the household accounts�something she�d done now for over sixty years.
It took her a year, working almost everyday, to put it all down. When Mac couldn�t travel anymore, he called her every week, and the first thing he always wanted to know about was her writing. �Gonna be the great American novel,� he always said.
�Hardly, Mac�it�s just a book of an old woman�s ramblings.�
�Be careful�you�re talking about the woman I love.�
�Mac, you�re incorrigible.�
�You gonna send me a copy when you get done?�
�Of course.�
�Autographed?�
�Of course.�
�Then this is what I want you to write in it: To Mac, in memory of those passionate nights. . .�
�Mac, there were no passionate nights,� she said patiently, trying not to laugh.
�Well, you know that, and I know that, but if anyone picks it up after we�re both gone, they won�t know that.�
�Mac, did I ever tell you that you�re a dirty old man?�
�No, but I wish I had been.�
This time she did laugh.
From the beginning, she�d known that there was one story she didn�t want to write�and yet, it was important. It was the reason for so much of her life�and Vicky�s. She hadn�t had difficulty writing about Annie. Annie was a part of her past that she�d come to terms with. But this�this was different. Justice, Kate precious, not revenge. Not revenge.
Papa had reason to want revenge if anyone did. Mother said that his quest for it consumed five years of his life. It was hard to imagine her gentle Papa hating anyone�much less hating enough to want to kill. After Mother told her the story, she�d loved and admired Papa even more.
Did you want to kill the men who shot Tom Barkley, Mother? She remembered how her Mother�s eyes had seemed to be seeing beyond the room where they were snuggled together in front of the fire.
Her mother hadn�t spoken for a long moment. I hated them. Maybe, if they�d been standing in front of me, and I�d had a gun, I could have pulled the trigger. I don�t know, Kate, and I�m glad that I never found out.
It would have been justified, Mother.
Would it? Would killing the men who raped and murdered Catherine have been justified?
I think so.
If either of us had done something like that, your Papa or I, something would have died inside us, I think. How could we have then deserved our miracle�deserved you, Kate? Life has its losses, but if we lose ourselves�if we lose ourselves, my darling, then there is no life�only existence.
Katherine slipped a piece of paper into the typewriter.
The Journey Home: January, 1908
Her fingers paused slightly above the typewriter keys. Was she about to lose herself? Was this justice�or revenge?
Chapter 10
When I left Stockton that January morning, I thought I�d done everything I came to do. First, of course, I�d buried Papa with the dignity he deserved. Then, I�d found as much of the truth about my origins as still existed. I questioned what had happened in Orland, but I couldn�t change it. Perhaps, as Dr. Fuller had said, it was God�s mercy, however undeserved, for that pitiful old man.
My thoughts were mostly on Teddy that morning. Finally, we could be married. Not many men would have been as patient, so willing to wait, as Teddy had been, and I loved him even more for that.
The train seemed to move at a snail�s pace, and I grew impatient to get home. Just before we reached St. Louis, I was eating lunch in the dining car when an older man sitting several tables away began to choke. I rushed to him immediately and discovered that he had a fish bone lodged in his throat so that it was blocking his airway�and would die if it wasn�t removed.
His wife, a much younger woman, stood there as if she didn�t understand what was happening. I send a waiter to find the conductor to get my medical bag from my compartment. It seemed an eternity before it arrived, and the man was hardly breathing. He was a big man, and it was taking all my strength to hold him at an angle where he could get even a small amount of air. None of the other passengers seemed to be able to do anything but stand there and gape.
Using a pair of long forceps, I managed to move the bone slightly. It was a large one�why he hadn�t detected it in his mouth and spit it out, I don�t know, but he�d swallowed it�or tried to. No matter how hard I worked, however, I couldn�t bring it out�and there was always the possibility of puncturing an artery and having him bleed to death.
Finally I realized I had two choices�hope the man would live long enough to get to the hospital in St. Louis, still two hours away�or open his airway surgically. I�d never done a tracheotomy before, but I�d watched it done several times and felt confident that I could perform it successfully.
Using a medicine dropper from a bottle in my bag, I made an airway that was adequate to sustain life, at least temporarily. The man had lost consciousness before I inserted the scalpel in his throat�and as soon as I did, his wife fainted dead away. I remember telling someone to get her out of my way.
There was a telegrapher on the train who wired ahead for an ambulance to be standing by. I went with the man and his wife�now recovered and seemingly calm�to the hospital and explained to the doctors there what I had done and why. Then I checked into a hotel so that I could follow the man�s progress overnight.
When I arrived at the hospital the next morning, one of the doctors I�d spoken with the day before told me that the man was resting comfortably and would recover completely. �You performed a perfect procedure,� he said. �We were all most impressed.�
I knew that I�d done it right�but there was also that tiny nagging doubt, normal for any conscientious physician determined to �do no harm��so I was quite relieved. �The man and his wife would like to meet you,� the doctor continued. �He can�t speak yet�we�ve replaced the tube with a more conventional appliance until we�re sure that the site won�t become infected.�
He led me to a room at the end of the hall�and as my eyes fell on the slot for the patient�s name, I realized that I had saved the life of Richard Wright�Catherine�s younger brother�the man whose family had taken most of Papa�s tangible memories of his wife and had broken his heart further with their blind hatred and blame.
Then, despite the passing years, they had refused to let go of their unreasonable prejudices so that an aged man could die in peace. And because of that, I felt they had given me no choice but to forge the letter that brought Papa such release. Yet, in creating a lie, I�d gone against everything he had taught me, everything he stood for. Only then did I really understand what Mother meant when she talked about something dying inside.
My first impulse was to turn away, but somehow I found myself inside the room. The man sat propped up in his bed, his wife hovering at his side. �We want to thank you for what you did,� she said immediately. Her words were sincere enough, though she seemed nervous. �Dr. Samuelson tells us that he couldn�t have done a better job himself. It was so fortunate that you were there, doctor.� She paused, and I realized that she didn�t know my name.
�Dr. Wardell,� I said. On hearing the name, recognition flickered in the man�s steely blue eyes. �Dr. Katherine Barkley Wardell of Nashville.� The man�s jaw tightened, and there was a look of near-hatred in his eyes�hatred like I�d seen in Luther Jimson�s eyes�and yet there was fear there, too.
�You saved his life, Dr. Wardell, and of course, we want to compensate you,� the wife said.
I almost laughed. The expression on the man�s face was compensation enough, but in that moment I resolved to exact the last measure from him. I stepped closer to the bed.
�I asked you for a favor once,� I said, looking directly into those cold blue eyes. �It was such a small thing to do for such a good, decent man as my Papa was. But you refused. I wonder what Catherine�what your sister would think of that, Mr. Wright? I wonder how she would feel about the lifetime of hatred that you and your brothers expended on the man she loved �the man whose life was so important to her that she put her own at risk.�
I could tell that he was becoming agitated, but I pressed on. �He wasn�t responsible for her death, you know, and yet you made him grieve all alone without the comfort of others who�d loved her, too. You wouldn�t even return the pitifully few things they�d managed to accumulate in their years together�Christmas decorations, the small, inexpensive gifts he�d managed to buy for her, even the locket with their pictures that she cherished. You gave him her wedding ring because, you said, it was what killed her�and you wanted him to remember that for the rest of his life.
�Did you know that he spent five years of his life hunting down the men who brutalized her? Oh, yes, he found them, but he had to stand by silently and see two of them hang and the others sentenced to life in prison for other crimes�not for what they did to his beloved Catherine. Then for years after that, he struggled with the feeling that he�d failed her yet again.�
Everyone in the room seemed frozen into silence, but my words echoed like an unleashed torrent of floodwater. �He had to deal with his grief and bitterness all alone, but he conquered both of them and went on with his life. He felt my mother was a gift, and he knew he could love her because he�d loved Catherine. When they adopted me only a few months after they married, they wanted my name to reflect the best of both their lives�so I�m name for her�for Catherine�Barkley came from my mother�s first marriage.
�I know all about her�how beautiful she was�how gracious, how well-educated. And I know about you, also. You were just a boy when she died�born after she married Papa. He told me how much she loved you�how you were almost like her own child�a child, I think, that would have broken her gentle heart with your hatred.
�Oh, no, Mr. Wright, he never forgot her, just as my mother never forgot Tom Barkley. But while your family continued to live with past hatreds, my parents lived with present joys. There was so much love in our home! Mother and Papa were devoted to each other and to me as well.�
His eyes were blazing with rage now, and an evil satisfaction stirred inside of me.
� Well, Mr. Wright, you refused to grant me a favor, but I�ve done you the greatest favor one human being can do for another�I�ve saved your life. I just buried my Papa, but you�re going to live�perhaps for a long time yet. And I want you to remember�every single day that you live, I want you to remember that Royce Wardell�s daughter gave you that day.�
Then I turned and walked out of the room.
Before I arrived in Nashville, shame had replaced satisfaction in my heart, and I determined never to tell anyone what had happened, not even Teddy. Somehow I�d begun to feel that I hadn�t lived up to Papa�s example�in my heart I suspected that I�d gotten revenge instead of justice. I could have accepted the woman�s thanks and simply walked away, but I didn�t.
It is the surpreme irony that the man lived to father a son who would one day marry my daughter. I�ve asked myself many times if� had I known who he was� would I have worked so hard to save him? Then I look at Vicky and Richard and their beautiful children, and I know that something more than skill guided my hand that day in the dining car. Fate? I don�t believe in it. Providence? Possibly that.
But I still hear Papa�s words��Justice, Kate precious, not revenge. One is life-giving�the other rots the soul.� So which did I pursue? I suppose I�ll never know for sure.
Kate rolled the last page from the carriage and slipped it beneath the others.
* * * * * * * *
�Mother! Mother, where are you?�
Katherine closed her eyes in resignation. �I�m in the library, Victoria. Where else would I be? You know I always write in the mornings when I�m fresh.�
Vicky appeared in the door. �Mother, you�ll never guess what�s happened!�
Katherine waited.
�Richard just spoke with a printer about your book�he designed the building for the company, you see,�and they said they�d love to work with you on a cover�and even adding pictures! You have lots of pictures, don�t you, Mother? Aren�t the albums in that cabinet. . .� She began to rummage behind the glass doors.
�Vicky�this book is for the family�that�s all. Why would we need to go to the expense of printing pictures when the albums are available?�
Vicky chewed her lip. �But that�s not all, Mother. Richard spoke with a publisher, too�I didn�t want to mention it until it was certain�you see, I took your first five chapters to him. . .�
�Without my permission?�
�He loved them, Mother! He says that people are buying nostalgia these days, and. . .�
�The book is for the family, Vicky. You asked me to write what I remembered for my grandchildren and eventually my great-grandchildren. Our family isn�t the business of the public.�
�But, Mother. . .�
�No.�
�Will you at least talk to the publisher�s representative? He�s�he�s coming for dinner tonight.�
Katherine shook her head. �Oh, Vicky!�
�Please, Mother?�
�I suppose I can�t very well be rude to someone in my own home.�
Vicky dropped a kiss on her mother�s hair�finally completely gray but not the beautiful silver that Katherine had hoped to have like her mother�s hair. �You�re wonderful, Mother!� She glanced at the stack of pages beside the typewriter. �Did you write the last chapter like you said you were going to do?�
�Yes.�
�May I read it?� Vicky reached for the pages as if permission was a given.
Katherine swatted her hands. �Leave those alone. I need to re-read them.�
Vicky laughed. �All right, Mrs. Hemingway�I�m going to leave you alone. But isn�t it exciting�you�ll be a published author! People all over the country will know what a fascinating family we are!�
Katherine watched her daughter go. She hadn�t counted on this. She wasn�t a bad writer. Perhaps she�d come by it naturally�hadn�t Caroline Fuller said that Annie wrote the best essays in the whole school? Still, she hadn�t intended on having her little tales go beyond the family. And then there was the question of this last one. Should it have been written at all? Oh, it wouldn�t affect Richard�he had a realistic picture of the family whose name he bore. But more to the point, was this something he�or Vicky�or anyone�really needed to know? By telling it, was she perpetuating the anger and division for yet another generation?
She picked up the pages and gazed at them thoughtfully. Was it the story she didn�t want told�or was it her own part in it that she wanted to keep secret because she was ashamed? She�d always known that the words she�d spoken in that hospital room had been unworthy of her upbringing. Was that the legacy she wanted to leave to her children and grandchildren and to generations to come?
Justice, Kate precious, not revenge. Not revenge.
Papa�s face rose up before her�so kind, so full love whenever he looked at her or at Mother. They�d been so happy, the three of them. From her parents� griefs and experiences had come her own security. It really was a miracle that she�d been rescued from that line shack�but even more miraculous that Royce and Victoria Wardell had taken her to their hearts and made her their daughter. All her life she�d striven to please them, to make them proud. In the twilight of her life, could she do less?
Katherine turned the pages over in her hands. It was out at last, this secret that she�d kept for over half a century. And because it was her secret, she�d felt no need to share it with anyone. Anyway, Mother always said that a lady kept her own counsel.
She leaned across the desk and gazed at the picture in the gold filigree frame�Mother�s and Papa�s wedding picture. The love shining out of their eyes seemed to brighten the room. They had been happy�and they had brought her up with the expectation that she would be happy, too. Sad things will come to you in life, Kate, Mother said, holding her close and stroking her hair as she sobbed over the loss of one of her dogs. But sadness is part of life. If we were never sad, then we�d never know when we were truly happy.
She touched the glass�wishing she could reach through it, reach back over the years to feel their arms around her. Then, though the glass was cold, a sudden warmth began in her fingertips and spread through her hand to her arm. She sat very still, smiling back at the faces in the frame. �Thank you,� she whispered. �You�re always there�thank you!�
Then, with confidence, Katherine began slowly and deliberately to tear the pages in half�then in half again�and again�and again�and one by one, she dropped the ragged pieces into the wastebasket beside her desk.
THE END