Page 71 of Cloaked in Beauty

“None of the funds to you?” Letty asked.

Mama shook her head, a wistful smile slowly brightening her face like a lamp whose key had just been twisted to expose more wick. “No. Your father ensured that I would have all I need. Not only a healthy income from the businesses he left in my care but a sense of purpose in the work. He knew me so well.” The mist of memory cleared from her blue eyes, and she focused her gaze on Letty. “How I wish he’d lived long enough to get to know you as a woman grown, as I am beginning to. I’m sure he’d be as proud of you as I am. He adored you so. From the first moment he held you in his arms and gazed into your face. Love at first sight. He wanted you to have the means to make your dreams come true. Dreams that would leave a mark on the world and make it a better place.” The light went out of Mama’s smile as she wagged her head. “He would be heartbroken if he could see how that money tore our family apart. How it has placed your life in danger.”

“Yet think how happy he would be to see our reunion.” Gratitude swelled in Letty’s chest. “I don’t have a lot of memories of Daddy, but one of the strongest is how he would find us in the parlor in the evenings after work. I was usually on your lap in the big red chair near the hearth. Do you remember it?”

Mama nodded, her smile slowly returning.

“You liked to read me stories while we waited for Daddy to come home. I remember you pointing out the letters and teaching me their sounds.” Letty got lost in the happy memory for a moment, then cranked the mental knob to advance the scene. “When Daddy came home, he’d come straight to the parlor even before taking off his overcoat. He’d sweep into the room and say, ‘Ah, nothing better than finding my two favorite people together in the same place!’”

“I remember.” Mama glanced into the air as if memories floated about in the room, beckoning her to choose one to invite into her mind. “He often told me that coming home to his girls made even the most difficult day end in joy. It was why I made a point to corral you into the parlor every evening and entertain you with books. Even if you were out of sorts, reading stories would restore your cheerful disposition and guarantee a pleasant reception.”

Mama looked back at Letty, her food all but forgotten. “I know you’re far too old for them now, of course, but I had a large bookshelf installed in your room upstairs. I filled it with all the novels I thought you might like, but I couldn’t resist filling the lower shelves with the stories we read together when you were young. It made me feel closer to you, I suppose. To sit in that room and read those stories, pretending you were curled up in my lap.” She glanced down. “I actually do nearly all of my reading there, imagining you reading the same books wherever you were, and guessing which parts would make you laugh or cry or growl in frustration.”

Touched at the tenderness evident in the picture her mother painted, Letty felt a little guilty that she’d allowed her memories of her mother to grow rather cold over the years.

“Grandmother would bring me books on occasion,” she said, “though we only had enough to fill the pair of small crates that served as our library. But no matter how old I got, I never grew tired of reading the storybook you sent with me that night, nor the message you inscribed inside the cover. Reading those words seemed to shrink the distance between us.”

They fell silent for a while, both returning their attention to the meal in front of them. Mother eventually steered the conversation back to Letty, asking dozens of questions about the years they’d missed, as if her thirst for knowledge of her daughter’s upbringing could never be quenched. How did she come to have a wolf for a pet? Did she miss having friends her own age? How did she fill her days? Did she still detest peas?

Letty attempted to delve into her mother’s life with similar enthusiasm, but she rarely received more than a cursory answer, as if her mother couldn’t bear to waste time talking about herself when there was more to learn about Letty. Yet Letty had so many questions. What was it like to run a company as a woman? Did others accept her, or did she feel like an outcast in a man’s world? Was she still involved in social reform? What changes in child labor practices had she seen over the course of the last fifteen years? What more still needed to be accomplished? Had she ever developed romantic feelings for another man after Daddy died? How did a woman know when she was in love? What did she think of Philip?

All right, so perhaps some of those burning questions had more to do with Letty’s own frame of mind than reclaiming lost years, but it still irked a bit that her mother brushed off her questions with such tame answers. Some of her frustration must have shown on her face, for Mama stopped asking questions and rose from the table.

“I have something for you.”

Letty swiveled in her chair, her gaze locked on her mother as she moved to the sideboard and opened one of the cupboard doors. She pulled out a large bandbox decorated in a pink floral wallpaper that reminded Letty of the pattern that had once adorned the walls of her nursery.

“I’m sure you have as many questions about me as I have about you, and I promise I’m not trying to dodge them.”

It seemed that time and distance couldn’t dim a mother’s ability to read her child’s thoughts.

Letty rose from her chair as well and moved to stand near her mother, the box between them practically glowing with promise as Letty tried to imagine what secrets it held.

Mama ran a hand over the lid as she cradled the octagonal box against her belly. “Do you remember the promise I made you in the carriage the night of the fire?”

Letty’s throat tightened. “To keep me close in your heart?”

Mama smiled. “Yes, I have done that, even when the pain tempted me to loosen my grip. I’ve prayed for you every day. Thought of you every day. I pored over the photographs Mother sent and nearly wore out your pictures and notes from my constant handling. But I made you another promise that day. One that became a blessing to me while you were gone, and one that I hope will be a blessing to you now that you’re back.”

She handed the decorated box into Letty’s hands. “I wrote to you. Every week. I chronicled my days, the ordinary and the remarkable. The difficult and the joyous. I began with the idea that these would help you get to know me once we were reunited, but somewhere along the way they became therapeutic. A way for me to feel connected to you.

“Sometimes I wrote about work and the people there. My struggles, failures, and triumphs in trying to run the oil mill and cotton compress in a way that would honor both your father and the God we both served. I wrote when my grief felt so oppressive I thought I might drown in it. I wrote about the children I met in the factories with flat eyes void of hope, and how I prayed that wherever you were, your eyes were dancing with adventure and delight. I shared thoughts on books I had read and sermons I had heard in church. Sometimes I would write out prayers or bits of Scripture as if bringing them from my heart onto a physical page would somehow manifest them into your life.

“Everything you might want to know about me, and likely a few things you’d rather not, are contained in this box.” Mama stroked Letty’s arm with a comforting touch. “Come. I’ll show you to your room. There’s enough reading material there to keep you busy for a month, but I hope you won’t get lost in it. As much as we both long to learn about what we’ve missed over the last fifteen years, it’s even more important to share time together in the present.”

Her throat too constricted to speak, Letty simply nodded as Mama led her up the stairs and into a beautiful room filled with delicate white furnishings and cheerful yellow accents that made Letty feel instantly welcome. A white rocking chair with a goldenrod cushion sat next to a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf that looked like it could have come directly from heaven itself.

“There are nightdresses in the bureau, and since I wasn’t sure what clothing you would prefer, I bought several different styles and colors for you to pick from. You’ll find them in the wardrobe. We can go shopping later, once it’s safe for you to be out, but I wanted you to have whatever you might need in the meantime.”

Letty could barely take it all in. She held tighter to the bandbox, knowing that the extravagant bounty before her wasn’t intended to overwhelm but to demonstrate a parent’s love for her child.

“Well, I’ll . . . leave you to get settled.”

She turned to leave, but Letty snatched her hand before she could take more than a step. “I love you, Mama.”

Her mother’s eyes filled with tears as she opened her arms and clutched Letty tightly to her chest, bandbox and all. “I love you, my sweet girl. And no matter what trouble tomorrow holds, we’ll face it together. Nothing will ever separate us again.”

Letty closed her eyes and savored the embrace, the girl she had been drinking in her mother’s promise and letting it soothe away old hurts and insecurities. Yet even as she exulted in the love that spawned the vow, she couldn’t help but worry how much hurt she’d likely inflict when Mama learned that Letty had no intention of making this city her home.