Page 46

"Yes, she's eating breakfast." Aunt Sara spotted

some-thing and entered the room. "She and Cary will be off to school soon. But that's all right." Aunt Sara went to the dresser and moved a picture of Laura back to the exact place it had been. She turned to me. "You and I will have a little time together and then we'll walk to school, stopping at Laura's grave in the cemetery. I visit her every morning." She returned to the doorway. "Come down as soon as you're ready." She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "It's going to be a glorious day. I can feel it."

She left and closed the door. I gazed at the picture on the dresser. I had obviously not put it back exactly where I had found it.

The room was brightening with the

strengthening morning light. More than ever I felt that I was invading a shrine. I felt guilty enjoying the things my cousin Laura should be enjoying--her bed, her clothes, her beautiful vanity table.

Nevertheless, after I showered, I put on the dress Aunt Sara had chosen for me to wear on my first day in a new school. I had seen how important it was to her that I do so and I didn't have the heart to refuse. I gazed at myself in the mirror. Were there any resemblances between me and my dead cousin? There were none I could see beyond the general things: both of us being about this height and weight when she was my age. Our hair color wasn't the same, nor our eyes, nor the shapes of our faces.

Cary and May were already gone by the time I went downstairs.

"I knew that dress would fit. I just knew it!" Aunt Sara flitted around the kitchen excitedly. She had prepared something she called flippers, fried dough that accompanied my eggs. It was good. She sat and sipped coffee, watching me eat, describing the town, the school, the places Laura enjoyed, the things Laura liked to do.

"She was always in the school plays. Were you eve

r in a school play?"

"No, but I was in the school's talent show, playing my fiddle."

"Oh. Laura wasn't musically inclined. She sang in the chorus, but she didn't play an instrument." She thought a moment and then smiled. "I imagine she could have though. Laura could do just about anything she put her mind to.

"I was so different," Aunt Sara continued. "I only went as far as high school. My father didn't believe a young girl needed much formal education. My mother wanted me to go to college, but I didn't know for what. I was never the best student. It was finally decided I would marry Jacob and be a homemaker."

"What do you mean it was decided?" I asked.

"Jacob's father and my father were close. They were matchmaking Jacob and me before we went to high school." She followed that with a light laugh that re-minded me of tinkling glasses.

"But weren't you in love with Uncle Jacob?"

"I liked him, and my mother always said love was something you grow into rather than something that explodes in your heart the way romance novels and movies portray it. Real, lasting love, that is." She nodded, her face firm. "It makes sense. That's why there are so many divorces nowadays. People claim to fall in love rather than grow into love. Growing into love takes time, commitment, dedication. It's as Jacob says, marriage and love are just other kinds of investment."

"Investment? Love?" I nearly laughed at the idea.

"Yes, dear. It's not as silly as you think it sounds."

"My father fell in love with my mother," I insisted. "He told me so many times."

"Yes, I know," she muttered sadly and looked away. "Isn't it true that everyone in the family was upset about it only because my mother was an orphan?"

"Who told you that?" A curious, tight smile appeared on Aunt Sara's face.

"My mommy."

"No one disliked your mother for being an orphan. That's silly. Everyone was always kind to her, especially Samuel and Olivia."

"I don't understand. Why else did this family stop talking to my daddy? Wasn't it just because he married her?" I continued.

Aunt Sara bit down on her lower lip and then rose and began clearing the dishes.

"Uncle Jacob told me my daddy didn't honor his father and mother. Wasn't that what he meant?" I pursued.

"I don't like to talk about Chester and Haille." Aunt Sara was near tears. "Jacob forbids it." She took a deep breath, as if the subject stole the air from her lungs.

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to upset you," I told her. She took another breath and nodded.

"It's over and done. As Jacob always says, we've got to go with the tide. You can't fight the tide. Now you're here and I would like you to be happy with us." She turned, smiling again. She could flip emotions like someone surfing television channels. "Okay, dear?"