If Catfish Had Nine Lives(32)

            “Of course, you know about the secession of our home state of Georgia and other states from the union  . This is not something I would have ever thought might happen when we moved to Broken Rope. I left Missouri a year and a half ago to fulfill my dreams in California, but the complications that have arisen through such a drastic action by our home state have filled me with concern as well as infused a surprise dose of patriotism into my soul. Though I must confess, dear sister, I’m having a hard time understanding which side I should fight for, which side to devote that patriotism to; that is, if a fight actually becomes reality. I am a Georgian at heart, but my travels have made me question many things, including the issue that will be the cause of what might turn into a fierce battle within our own country.

            “I must say that now I wish I would have listened to you. I wish I would have stayed with you and our dear parents in Broken Rope, and of course had the opportunity to meet my new niece, but I chose another path and I simply cannot ignore the inner turmoil and conflict my experiences in the world are causing me.

            “Congratulations to you and Frederick on your newest daughter. Though my good wishes are delinquent, you must know that I am happy to my soul’s greatest depths for our family. May your life and family continue to be so blessed. I must tell you, dear sister, that I have no plans to return to Broken Rope right away. I will either stay in California or go straight to Georgia. I’m sure everything will be solved quickly and hopefully without the need for bloodshed. I look forward to the day we meet again and peace is restored to our country. I hope to be a part of making that a reality. With deepest regards, your loving brother, Isaac.”

            I folded the letter and looked at Gram and Joe.

            “I’m not sure how significant this is in the big historical picture, but I feel like I just stepped back in time. That was amazing,” I said.

            “I know,” Gram said. “All the letters have been interesting.”

            “So now what? What do we do?”

            “Well, we—you—have to try to find someone from the family and let them know what it says,” Gram said.

            So the we was going to be me. Gram hadn’t lost her impatience; she was just being delicate. My ability to see and talk to the ghosts had allowed Gram the luxury of tiring of them. She’d known them all her life and had mostly come to want to ignore them and their frustrating, sometimes poorly timed appearances and Swiss cheese memories. She enjoyed passing them and their burdens off to me.

            “That presents a number of challenges. How do I find them? How do I tell them about a letter that they can’t see? Why would they believe me?”

            Gram nodded slowly. “I’ve handled everything differently; every time a different lie. I’ve even forged my own versions of the letters sometimes. I’ve said that my mother once told me about the letter, or that I heard a story. No one has ever questioned me. Everyone is so happy to hear what I have to share that they’re just grateful for the news and don’t ponder the validity—they want to believe. As for how to begin, you have a resource that I have never been able to use—Jake. I can’t imagine a better connection for finding living descendants of those from the past.”

            “What kinds of letters have you delivered?” I asked.

            Gram shrugged. “All kinds. One or two, I think, needed money. One had money included. Jake would have loved to be able to see that one. One was particularly sad; a girl had run away from home because she was pregnant and unmarried, which, of course, was worse than death back then. She wrote her parents to let them know she was fine but ashamed and would never return home, in order to save her family from that same shame. Turned out to be a happy story though. I tracked down her people around here and they did some research and found that missing part of their family. The girl and her baby ended up living good lives, and the family, though many generations after the letter was written, was able to reconnect. And, of course, there are extraordinarily sad ones, too.” Gram paused. “Betts, I know I’ve told you that there’s nothing to be done for these ghosts. They’re dead; that’s never going to change, and you simply cannot alter what happened in their lives. It’s impossible. And, though we don’t know what will happen to Joe when the letters are delivered, we know he won’t come back to life. But for the living, perhaps there’s time to make things better, or, if not better, at least give them some answers they might enjoy having. It’s tricky. I’ve thought about this for many years. I’ve debated the importance of delivering these letters. I’ve debated whether it’s ethically wrong to deliver something that perhaps wasn’t—for whatever reason—supposed to be delivered. I guess that what it ultimately comes down to is this: Even answers that come late are answers, and I believe that I’d personally want to know, even if there was absolutely nothing I could do to change a situation.”