28

ELLA TUCKED THE LETTER into her bag and hurried after Aunt Sadie. The same woman who let them in buzzed them back out. There were signs on either side of the door warning them not to let any of the residents leave without the proper permissions. Ella looked back as they stepped into the fresh air and sunshine of the parking lot. At least Gran didn’t have to be in a place like this.

Sadie stopped and braced a hand against her car, hanging her head. “I suppose it was foolish of me to think we’d find anything. Maybe you’re right. Maybe we should go ahead and ask Mother.”

Ella’s hand hesitated over her bag. “Why don’t you want to ask her?”

“Because she tried to tell me once and I refused to listen. If I’m honest I guess it’s mostly pride that’s stood in my way. Asking her now is like admitting she was right to try to tell me. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I have a stubborn streak.”

Ella stifled a laugh.

Sadie unlocked the door, opening it to let out the heat building inside. “And I suppose I hoped I wouldn’t have to ask her.” She made eye contact with Ella across the roof of the car. “I wanted her to try harder to tell me.”

Ella opened her door and felt the whoosh of warm air. “Maybe you won’t have to ask her, and she won’t have to tell you.”

Sadie slid behind the steering wheel and started the car, fiddling with the air-conditioning. “You asking her for me isn’t much different. Even if you do understand her better than I do.”

Ella laughed. “Maybe understanding skips a generation. I don’t get Mom half the time, either. But what I’m talking about is this.” She held up the yellowed envelope.

“What’s that?”

“I had a notion Imogene was trying to tell us something with all that singing. When I hung back, she sort of led me to check her Bible. This letter was tucked in between the pages.”

Sadie reached for it, but her hand shook and she dropped it back to the steering wheel. “What does it say?”

“That’s the thing.” Ella ran a finger lightly over the address on the outside. “I haven’t read it yet, but it’s to Gran from someone named Arthur Morgan and the date is October 26, 1948. That would be when Gran was pregnant with you, wouldn’t it?”

Sadie looked stricken. “It would.” Her eyes darted to Ella’s. “Are you saying Arthur Morgan is my father?”

“I’m saying I don’t know, but Imogene failed to pass this letter on to Gran and has kept it for the past sixty years. I’m guessing it has something important to say, but I’m wondering if it’s right for us to read it before Gran.” She laid the envelope on the dashboard. “It’s addressed to her and I know I’d want to read it first if it were mine.”

Sadie clenched her jaw. Ella imagined she could hear the sound of teeth grinding.

“I hate to say so,” Sadie said, “but I’m afraid you are correct. I don’t suppose we could . . . no. You’re right.” She put the car in gear and backed out of the parking space. “Which means we ought to hightail it on home.”

Ella smiled. She never expected Aunt Sadie to use a word like hightail.

Perla was listening to one of those preachers on the radio when Sadie and Ella crept into her room as though trying to sneak up on her. As soon as they walked in, Perla could tell Sadie was in a dither about something. She looked a question at Ella.

Her granddaughter pulled a stool over to Perla’s chair and took her hand—her weak right hand—in her own. “We had a lovely visit with Imogene. She’s in good health, although it turns out she has dementia.”

Ah-ha. It sounded like they’d failed to learn anything. Perla felt like gloating. Her story was still hers to tell or not to tell. Sadie had tried to go around her and failed. As soon as the thought passed through her mind, she regretted it. She was sorry Imogene wasn’t well and she really did want Sadie to know about her father.

Sadie settled on the end of the bed, as far as she could get from everyone else in the room. Perla could tell something was afoot.

“Secrets?” That wasn’t the word she wanted, but Ella seemed to understand.

“Actually,” Sadie said, “we have a letter.”

Perla wrinkled her brow. A letter? She’d certainly never written anything about her situation. And she’d left the farm before Imogene knew. Her parents had been so determined to hide her condition, tucking her away at home and keeping everyone away. Could her mother have written a letter?

“It’s a letter to you, Gran.” Ella gripped her hand more tightly. “It’s from someone named Arthur Morgan.”

Perla felt her world slip sideways. It wasn’t unlike the moment when she’d had the second stroke and she was frightened it might be happening again. But Ella’s touch proved to be the anchor she needed. Slowly the world righted itself again.

“Sonny.” She hadn’t meant to speak the name aloud and was surprised at how clear it came out.

Ella wrinkled her brow. “No, Arthur. At any rate, we thought you should read it first.” Ella stroked Perla’s wrist. “Although we’re awfully curious, as you can imagine.”

Perla hung her head and held on to Ella for dear life. He’d found her. Six decades gone and here he was, a presence in this room where three generations of women sat holding their collective breath.

“Read,” she said.

Sadie sighed and passed Ella a yellowed envelope. Ella laid it in Perla’s lap.

“Even I understand you this time, Mother.” Sadie crossed her arms over her chest. “You want to read it. Well, go ahead.”

“N-n-no. Read.” Perla struggled to find the word she wanted. “Aloud.”

Sadie’s mouth flew open and she started to speak, but Ella held up a hand. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll read it to us all.”

Dear Perla,

How can I ever express this unbelievable combination of joy and sorrow? I’ve come home and claimed my Hannah, my wife. Over the protest of both our families, as you can guess, but we’re determined. I stood up to my own father first and then to Hannah’s. It was quite a week, I can tell you! But we are together and will make a go of marriage no matter what anyone says about it.

My only regret is you. I’ve decided never to tell Hannah our secret, although I think it might relieve me to expose the guilt I feel. Still, it’s my cross to bear. I only hope you don’t feel the same pain and regret. I never should have taken what you offered. I was afraid I had taken it against your will, but your reassurances left me to think you only meant to offer me what love and comfort you could. And I was greedy enough to take it.

I will treasure our time together forever and pray daily that God will forgive our indiscretion. I fear he may not forgive me, as I was more to blame, but I will keep asking for as long as I feel I should. I also pray that you suffer no lasting damage. Men, I think, recover more easily from these sorts of things. I only hope you will find the kind of happiness Hannah and I have now. It is my dearest wish for you.

Tell Imogene I said hello and tell Chuck I said he’s probably wishing he could break the other leg to get some good help again. Ha, ha.

Your friend, Arthur

Ella let the paper flutter to her lap and looked around the room. Silent tears streaked Gran’s face. Sadie was leaning forward in order to hear better, to catch each word as it fell from Ella’s lips.

“Arthur Morgan is my father. And he was married to someone else when he . . .” Sadie leapt to her feet as though a spring had been released. “Who is he? Who was he?”

Ella stood too. “Aunt Sadie, I think we’re all a little overwhelmed by this.” She glanced down. “Especially Gran. Maybe we should let her rest awhile before we start asking questions.”

Sadie inhaled deeply and looked at the ceiling. “Yes. Yes, you’re right. I’ll go for a walk and think it over. May I see the letter?”

Ella handed it over. Sadie walked out into the hall to a window and stood there reading and rereading. Ella guessed that was as far as her walk would take her.

“Gran, I’m betting you’d like to lie down right about now.”

Gran nodded. She had yet to make a move to dry her tears. Ella helped her into bed, propped pillows behind her back, and tucked an afghan over her legs. “We’ll talk later. Oh, Imogene let me take this, too.” Ella pulled a small black-and-white photograph out of her pocket. “It says ‘Arthur, June 1948’ on the back, so I guessed . . .”

Gran held out a shaking hand. Ella gave her the photo of a lanky young man, a shock of hair falling in his eyes. He was sitting on the wooden steps of a porch, arms propped on his knees, looking into the camera like he might be mad about something. Fierce, Ella thought. He looked fierce. Maybe because he was trying to get home to his Hannah. If that was it, she hoped a man might look like that about her one day. Although, looking into Gran’s eyes, she also wished he would have felt just as fierce about protecting her.