“I—I think so, only I don’t know for sure. She didn’t talk much about herself, and I left home when I was pretty young.”
Annie and Alice listened to Tara’s account of an unhappy childhood, of loneliness, and of her struggle to make ends meet on a meager income. Tara didn’t know anything about her father other than the name he’d given them. She told them she herself had once been married, but that the union had ended unhappily. “My mother and I were never close. I always wanted to be …” She broke off and caught her lower lip in her teeth. “I didn’t realize how sick she was. I’m afraid I wasn’t there for her when she—” Her chin trembled, and tears began to fall quietly down her cheeks.
Wordlessly, Annie pulled a tissue from her tote bag. Tara dabbed her eyes and blew her nose, and then played with the tissue in her lap before speaking again. “I really need to know about my mother. You see …” She looked out over the bay, suddenly earnest. “I wasn’t there for my mother. I think in some ways I felt she hadn’t been there for me, and I was angry. But there was someone who helped her—your grandmother, Mrs. Dawson.”
Annie nodded, then said softly, “Please, Tara, call me Annie.”
Tara pulled something from the pocket of her jacket. A packet of letters tied with a pink ribbon. She untied the ribbon, and pressing out the folds, handed a letter to Annie.
Annie read silently, her fingers tracing the pale blue stationary along the familiar handwriting. The letter was dated April 4, 2009. She read the flowing lines that conveyed Gram’s poetic expression. Gram wrote that she was glad to hear from Claire “after all this time.” Following was an artful description of Stony Point, the blossoming of spring, and the ocean view from Grey Gables. She ended by urging Claire to take care of herself and assuring her that she wasn’t forgotten.
Annie’s eyes blurred when she read her grandmother’s name at the end of the letter. It was so like Gram to reach out to people who were lonely or ill. It sounded as though Tara’s mother had been both. Claire Andrews, the mother of this fragile young woman, had once been right here at Grey Gables, perhaps on the very porch where they were sitting.
“How did your mother know Mrs. Holden?” Alice asked, leaning forward in her chair.
“I don’t know.” Tara frowned. She looked off toward the ocean and was quiet for a long moment. “I have another letter,” she said then and handed Annie a second sheet of the pale blue linen stationery. Annie scanned the letter and began to read out loud, hoping she could keep her voice steady:
Dear Claire:
I was sorry to read you have been ill… That grieves me very much. She skipped over more news about Stony Point, a description of summer roses, and an invitation to Grey Gables. Softly, she read the final lines: I pray for you every day and for Tara. … Write to me soon and tell me all your news.
This time the signature read “Love, Elizabeth Holden.” Annie folded the letter, and swallowing hard, gave it back to Tara.
“I found these letters after she died,” Tara said. “I was clearing out the apartment and …” She broke off, near tears once more, and then in a rush of words said, “You can see why I needed to come here. I really want to know about my mother, to talk to someone who knew her, to … . Oh, I know it won’t make up for the years. She’s gone, and I never told her …”
Annie poured tea into Alice’s cup and refilled her own. She saw that Tara’s had not been touched. She cleared her throat, feeling desperately sorry for the young woman and wanting to defuse her anguish. “It’s not unusual to feel guilty after someone dies, Tara. Perhaps your mother knew how you felt …”
“No, I don’t think she did, and that’s what really gets to me.” Tara sounded a bit stronger, or perhaps self-recrimination gave an edge to her voice. “But I want to know her, you know? I want to understand …” But once again she broke off.
“My grandmother knew a lot of people, Tara. She was especially kind to young people and tried to help where she could. She was just that kind of lady. But I didn’t know your mother. Perhaps she met Gram when she was very young herself; it could have been a long time ago. I’ve never come across any letters from your mother, though Gram never threw anything away. Still, there may be some folks in Stony Point you could talk to.”
“She could come to the Hook and Needle Club meeting next week!” Alice interrupted. “I bet someone in the group knew her mother.” She had directed her words to Annie but looked back and forth from one face to another. Obviously, Alice had changed her mind about harboring a liar and fearing for her best friend’s life. But clearly she hadn’t been thinking about Stony Point’s reluctance to welcome strangers in their midst. Still, they were a fair bunch, and they cared about people, even “outsiders.”