A Northern Light(52)

There is no Carl Grahm, only a Chester, a "Dear Chester." He lived in Cortland, not Albany, because the letters are addressed to him there. And Grace lived there, too, at some point, even though the return address on her letters says South Otselic, because she mentions she left the place, and says she will come back if he doesn't come for her.





...I am awfully blue ... I was telling Mamma yesterday how you wrote and I never got it and she said "Why Billy, if he wrote you would have received it." She didn't mean anything but I was mad and said, "Mamma, Chester never lies to me and I know he wrote." If you were only here dear, how glad I would be ... they are calling me to dinner and I will stop. Please write me or I shall be crazy...





"Frannie says someone struck her," Ada whispers, making me jump. "She went to look at her after supper. She said there was a huge bloody cut on her face. And bruises."

"Frannie embroiders. You know that. Why are you up again?"

"Can't stay asleep. You saw her, Matt. What did she look like?"

"Like someone who drowned."

"Cook says the undersheriff's on his way. And the coroner. And the strict attorney."

"The district attorney."

"And the men from the Utica paper. Do you think they'll put us in the paper?"

"Go to sleep, Ada. You heard Cook. We'll be busier than ever tomorrow."

"Are those letters from Royal?"

"Urn ... yes. Yes, they are."

"There are so many. It'll take you all night to read them. You must love him."

I don't say anything in reply.

Ada rolls over and I open another letter. It has no greeting.





S. Otselic

Sunday Night



I was glad to hear from you and surprised as well. I thought you would rather have my letters affectionate, but yours was so businesslike that I have come to the conclusion that you wish mine to be that way ... I think—pardon me—that I understand my position and that it is rather unnecessary for you to be so frightfully frank in making me see it. I can see my position as keenly as any one I think ... You tell me not to worry and think less about how I feel and have a good time. Don't you think if you were me you would worry?...I understand how you feel about the affair. You consider it as something troublesome that you are bothered with. You think if it wasn't for me you could do as you liked all summer and not be obliged to give up your position there. I know how you feel, but once in a while you make me see these things a great deal more plainly than ever. I don't suppose you have ever considered how it puts me out of all the good times for the summer and how I had to give up my position there...





Was Grace sick? I wonder. Is that why she had to give up her position? Did they work at the same place? Maybe at that place Mr. Sperry was talking about—the skirt factory that the well-heeled Cortland Gillettes owned. But why would they both have to give up their positions? It didn't make any sense.





...Chester, I don't suppose you will ever know how I regret being all this trouble to you. I know you hate me and I can't blame you one bit. My whole life is ruined and in a measure yours is, too. Of course it's worse for me than for you, but the world and you, too, may think lam the one to blame, but somehow leant—just simply can't think I am, Chester. I said no so many times, dear. Of course the world will not know that but it's true all the same. My little sister came up just a minute ago with her hands full of daisies and asked me if I didn't want my fortune told. I told her I guessed it was pretty well told...





My eyes latch on to one line again: "I said no so many times, dear"...and then I gasp out loud, because I have said no a few times myself, dear, and I finally understand why Grace was so upset: She was carrying a baby—Chester Gillette's baby. That's why she had to give up her position and go home. That's why she was so desperate for him to come and take her away. Before her belly got big and the whole world found out.

And then I think of something else ... that I am the only person, the only person in the entire world, who knows this.

I fold the letter, slide it back into its envelope, and look out the window. It's so dark outside and there is no sign of the dawn.

Break a promise to the dead and they'll haunt you, Ada says.

Keep the promise and they'll haunt you just the same.





mal ? e ? dic ? tion


It was a Saturday, my very favorite day of the week, for on Saturdays I got to work in Miss Wilcox's library. I had just trotted up the back steps to her house and was standing on the porch, about to knock on her door, when I heard voices inside. Loud, angry voices.

"And what about your father? And Charlotte? And Iverson Junior? The shame of it all! They can't even go out in public! Have you never once thought of them, Emily?" That was a man's voice.

"They're not children. They'll manage. Annabelle does." That was Miss Wilcox.

I raised my hand to knock, then lowered it again. Miss Wilcox was expecting me and I had plenty of work to do, but this was surely a private discussion and I thought maybe she'd prefer for me to come back later. I didn't know what to do, so I stood there dithering.