27

ON MONDAY, AUNT SADIE RETURNED from her library trip practically jumping up and down. Ella, accustomed to her aunt being more sedate, couldn’t help but get caught up in her excitement.

“I found her,” Sadie sang. “She’s living in a nursing home in Fairhope near New Martinsville. I called and the staff said she’s welcome to have visitors.” Sadie sank into a kitchen chair, a look of astonishment on her face. “She’s alive, and we can go see her.”

“Well then, let’s go,” Ella said, suddenly eager herself.

Sadie clutched at Ella’s hand. “This could be it, Ella. The information I’ve hardly even allowed myself to consider.”

“I know.” Ella sat and held Sadie’s hand. “Are you sure you want to know?”

Sadie pulled away, folding her hands in her lap and staring at them. “I . . . yes. Casewell Phillips is my father, but I cannot deny that I have a strong desire to know who is responsible for bringing me into this world. And in all honesty, concern over my long-term health is only a small part of why I want to find him.”

“Then we’ll go and see what we can learn.”

Sadie gave Ella a grateful look. “Can you come with me tomorrow? I’m due back at work on Thursday so we don’t have much time.”

“Then we’ll go tomorrow.”

They drove through spring showers all the way to Fairhope. Sadie drove while Ella drowsed to the rhythm of the windshield wipers. She woke as Sadie entered town, stopping at one of maybe three stoplights.

“It should be just ahead on the left.” Sadie drummed her fingers on the steering wheel.

Ella rubbed her eyes and sat up straighter. “Have you thought about what you’ll say?”

“Constantly. I think the best approach will be to simply ask her about that summer. If we get Imogene to reminisce, she may share details we wouldn’t think to ask about. Once we hear what she has to say, we can consider follow-up questions.”

Ella hid a smile. She wasn’t sure when this interview had changed to something they were both pursuing, but she decided not to mention Aunt Sadie’s excessive use of the word we.

“Sounds like a good plan,” she said as Sadie turned in at Shady Creek Home.

They parked and approached the building. Sadie tugged at the front door, but it wouldn’t budge. Ella pointed at a small sign indicating they should ring the bell, which they did. A woman who sounded entirely too perky responded via an intercom and buzzed them in.

Sadie swept up to the front desk. “We’re here to see Imogene Bennett. I’m her grandniece.”

“Oh, how lovely.” The petite woman with gray-blond hair clapped her hands. “She doesn’t get nearly enough visitors. You’ll find her in Room 228, down that hall on the left.” She pointed and beamed at them as though they’d won a prize.

“Very good.” Sadie turned and strode down the hall with Ella trailing after her.

When they came to Room 228, the door stood half open. Sadie hesitated, peering inside. Ella looked over her shoulder and saw a white-haired woman sitting in a wheelchair in a pool of sunlight. She had an afghan tucked over her legs and seemed to be looking intently at a picture on the wall in front of her.

Sadie knocked. “Hello? Imogene Bennett?”

The woman didn’t move. Sadie pushed the door all the way open and stepped inside. “Mrs. Bennett? We’re members of your family. We’ve come to visit.”

The woman spun slowly around and looked at them as if deciding whether they were friend or foe. “Family?”

Ella stepped around Aunt Sadie and knelt at Imogene’s feet. “Yes, ma’am. But you’ve never met us before.”

Imogene reached out a hand and touched Ella’s hair. She furrowed her brow and closed her eyes for a moment. Then they sprang open. “Perla Long. I’m surprised at you showing your face around here after what you done. Although I see you’ve colored your hair as a disguise.” Her features softened. “Still, it’s good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you, too,” Ella said. “How are those headaches?”

Imogene smiled and raised one hand, which she moved back and forth as she sang.

“In the sweet by and by,

we shall meet on that beautiful shore,

in the sweet by and by . . .”

Ella joined in, “‘We shall meet on that beautiful shore.’” She nodded her head. “Yes, the headaches will be gone for good when you get to heaven.”

Sadie, clearly losing patience, pushed forward and leaned over, bracing her hands on her knees so she could look Imogene in the eye. “Imogene, I’m your grandniece Sadie Phillips. I’ve come to ask you about the summer Mother spent with you in 1948.”

Imogene pulled her head back like a turtle. “I don’t know you.”

“No, we’ve never met. But you remember Perla Long—she’s my mother. I was hoping you could tell me about that summer when Uncle Chuck broke his leg.”

Sadie was talking too loud, but Ella didn’t know how to tell her she didn’t have to yell without upsetting her. She had a feeling Sadie hadn’t fully grasped the situation. For such a smart woman, she was being pretty dense at the moment.

“Aunt Sadie, I think—”

Ella was cut off by Imogene, who broke into song again.

“Precious father, loving mother,

fly across the lonely years.

And old home scenes of my childhood,

in fond memory appear.”

Imogene waved her hands at them as though she wanted them to join in. Ella complied on the chorus.

“Precious memories, how they linger,

how they ever flood my soul.

In the stillness of the midnight,

precious sacred scenes unfold.”

Imogene smiled and cupped Ella’s cheek in her hand. Ella smiled back, finding herself liking her great-great-aunt Imogene.

“What is she doing?” Sadie’s whisper was loud enough for the nurses in the hall to hear.

“Aunt Sadie, let’s step outside a moment.” Ella squeezed Imogene’s hand. “We’ll be right back.”

Imogene just smiled and hummed.

In the hallway Ella was tempted to laugh, but decided Aunt Sadie might not see the humor. “I’m guessing Imogene has dementia or Alzheimer’s or something like that.”

Sadie’s mouth gaped open. “What? You think? You mean she’s not lucid?”

A nurse, or maybe she was an orderly, stepped over. “Are you visiting Miss Imogene?”

“We are.” Sadie drew herself up ramrod straight.

“Oh, I’m so glad. She doesn’t seem to have much family, and even if she doesn’t recognize you, it’s good for her to have stimulation.” She smiled, showing deep dimples. “Of course, she’ll put up with anyone who’ll sing with her.”

Sadie cleared her throat. “Can you give us her, well, her status?”

“You mean health-wise? I guess she’s healthy as a horse. It’s just her . . . you know.” The woman tapped the side of her head. “But she’s sweet as can be. Not mean like some of them get. And she surely does love to sing.”

The woman smiled and headed down the hall.

Sadie’s shoulders slumped. “Do you mean to tell me we’ve come all this way and she’s not even able to communicate?”

Ella shrugged. “She was communicating with us—just not in the usual way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think she chooses songs based on what she wants to say. Of course, we’ve only heard two, but that’s how it felt to me.”

Sadie rubbed her eyes with both hands. “This is not what I expected.”

Ella laughed as she turned back to Room 228. “What ever is?”

They stayed in Imogene’s room singing old-time hymns for more than an hour. Ella thought it was kind of fun, dredging up all those songs she didn’t realize she knew. But she had a feeling Aunt Sadie wasn’t having as good a time.

Sadie finally stood and tugged the hem of her shirt over her hips. “Well. It’s time for us to go.”

Imogene gave her a blank look.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Aunt Imogene. I’m only sorry you weren’t able to tell us about the summer Mother spent with you.” She let her normally perfect posture slump. “I was so certain you’d be able to tell us if she had a beau or someone special, but I suppose that was foolish of me.”

Imogene perked up. “Mother?”

“Yes, my mother. Perla Long Phillips. She stayed with you the summer of 1948 when she became pregnant with me.”

Imogene nodded and tapped her fingers on the arms of her wheelchair. She hummed and then sang,

“Blessed Book, precious Book,

on thy dear old tear stained leaves I love to look;

thou art sweeter day by day, as I walk the narrow way,

that leads at last to that bright home above.”

Sadie blew out a gust of air. “Yes, well, thank you. Ella, shall we go?”

“You go ahead, Aunt Sadie. I’ll catch up in a sec.”

Sadie rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Don’t be long.”

Ella waited for her aunt to disappear, then leaned over to look into Imogene’s eyes. “Where’s the Bible?”

Imogene grinned and darted a look at the bureau to her right. Ella stood and opened the top drawer. There were photographs, a box of costume jewelry, some scarves, and a Bible.

“Ah-ha. May I?”

“He’ll understand and say well done . . .”

Ella giggled and flipped through the Bible. There were several postcards, some pressed flowers, a ribbon, and near the back, in Revelation of all places, a letter. Ella pulled it out and slipped a crackly sheet of paper from the yellowed envelope.

Dear Perla, it began. She flipped it over and saw the words Love always, Arthur.

Ella looked at Imogene. “Can I ask someone to make a copy of this?”

Imogene blinked rapidly, and her eyes widened. “Take it,” she said. She took a deep breath and sang,

“Are you weary? Are you heavy hearted?

Tell it to Jesus, tell it to Jesus.”

Her voice faded away. She stared at the letter in Ella’s hand. A tear welled and spilled down her cheek. “Tell it to Jesus.”

Ella hugged the old woman. “He already knows,” she whispered.