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I have a car. Actually, I have two cars. But the larger one would be better for this trip. Rather than take the train from Washington, D.C., to go home as I usually did for the holidays, I drove the 1927 Nash. I could imagine my sisters’ excitement when they saw a Nash sister had a Nash car! There will be many things to settle with Momma’s estate, and the larger car will come in handy for all of us. Besides, I want to show it off to those busybodies that lived nearby. They needed to know that this Nash girl is doing just fine.
I pulled in the driveway at the home we lived in all of our young lives. Even though it looks different now, each time I come home, I visualize it the way I wish it would always be. Four little girls with a mom that made us feel any dream could come true. As I looked at the house, there we were again as children. Dianne and Ethel up on the front porch setting up house with their dolls. Me pushing Caroline in the swing in the front yard. I pushed her so hard her feet almost touch the sky. Those were such happy times.
It had taken six hours to come from Washington with a stop for a sandwich and coffee. Less time than I thought. I surprised Ethel and Dianne by bounding up to the house, throwing open the front door, and shouting, “Tootles! I am here!” as if nothing would begin until I was home. My sisters jumped to their feet and sprinted over. We all grabbed each other in a three-woman Nash hug.
“Well, look at you,” Dianne said. “That is one great looking fur coat!
“How was the drive? Was it cold in that drafty old car?” Ethel asked, reminding us that in one of the Nash Round-Robin Letters I complained about the Model T “horseless carriage” that I had been driving to work. I filled them in on the new car and said it was not cold at all. The heating system worked great in my 1927 Nash Ambassador! Of course, they both wanted to see it.
From the front porch they could see my green marvel. “Holy Moly, Annie!” Ethel said in disbelief. “How can you afford that thing?”
“Antonio, my new boyfriend, wanted to buy me a car, and I told him this one would do just fine.”
“Antonio? Not Jimmy you told us about in the last letter? Or that one you were seeing last Christmas? Oh, what was his name?” asked Ethel.
Dianne said, “His name was Woodrow. The pictures of him were hilarious with his wiry yellow hair and long nose.”
I chuckled and said, “Yeah, Woodrow. He reminded me of Sadie. Nope, Antonio is my newest beau. His parents came to D.C. from Italy. His father works for the Italian Embassy. Toni is sooo dreamy!”
I had much more to share about my life, but that could wait. I wanted to know about Caroline. My throat tightened and my eyes filled with tears. As we went back in the house, I said, “How is dear Caroline? I am so sorry she is still not well.”
Ethel tried to explain, “Caroline is breakable. I never really knew that before. In my mind she was always like a bull. Whenever she got upset, she would throw a fit, not in a fragile sort of way but in a pig-headed way.
Ethel told a story I had not heard. “One day a year or so ago Caroline and her friend Ellie got into a fight. Actually, Ellie did not fight, but Caroline did. Caroline had snitched on the Smith boy to his dad about skipping school. Ellie told Caroline that she needed to stop being so mean. Ellie said, ‘You know his dad is going to beat him senseless. It is not your place to get him in trouble.’ The way Ellie told it, Caroline got stiff and her face turned red. It was as if Caroline stopped breathing for a minute. Caroline then moved back from Ellie and burst out screaming and spitting curse words at her. Ellie just stood there staring at Caroline wondering who Caroline had turned into. Then Caroline picked up a rock and flung it at Ellie, hitting her just above her right eye. When the blood gushed out everywhere, Caroline ran away.”
Thinking about the situation with Ellie, I began to look back on the times Caroline could not control herself. She is a lot sicker than any of us thought. I was beginning to understand that Caroline being in Raleigh at Dix Hill hospital really was the safest place for her to be.
To comfort each other we did another Nash girls hug, but longer and softer this time. Dianne reminded us of our work together. “Okay, we can’t be crying about Caroline the whole time. We have work to do to take care of things for Momma. Annie, go get settled in your room. We will have supper ready very soon.”
After arranging my things in my old room, the one I used to share with Caroline, I walked to Ethel’s room to see Marie. She was fast asleep in Ethel’s bed. I could tell by the rumpled covers that Ethel had snuggled next to Marie. Marie was still the prettiest child I had ever seen. At age three, she had changed a lot. Looking less like a baby. She still had that jet black hair like Ethel, deep blue eyes like Frank, and the smoothest porcelain skin. My body felt like jelly standing there watching her sleep. I was filled with love and a pinch of jealousy. I ached for a baby—to be a momma.
I came downstairs to the kitchen where Ethel was cooking Momma’s chicken pastry. It smelled wonderful. I was still sad and a bit depressed about what we needed to do. “How are you two? Were you both here when Momma passed? I am glad you sent that telegram to come quickly. I wish I could have come sooner. Have you decided about the funeral and burial?”
“I was here,” Ethel said. “She passed in her sleep as peaceful as a butterfly resting on the window sill.”
Dianne pitched in, “Ethel sent me a telegram too. I was able to come right away. The only thing we have decided is that Momma will have her final resting place on the hill on the east side of the property. The morning sun will make her happy. And besides, remember that is where we buried Daddy’s few possessions from the War Department.”
The memory of dealing with my father’s death was faint. I was only three or four at the time. But that resting place was very important to this land. I said, “Of course.”
As we ate, we talked quietly about how our family had gone from six to five to four and one of the four of us was . . . not well enough to be home. We were not the same family that played, got into mischief, and kept secrets together. Even when I was very young, I understood how great it was to have sisters who shared advice about life with me. I was never afraid of what might come because they were there for me. Now it felt more like standing on a small island in the middle of a vast ocean rather than the ten acres of home that always kept me safe.
After we finished dinner, I cleared the table. Dianne, the organizer, said “I have made a list of what we need to talk about. Momma didn’t leave a Will nor any notes about what she wanted done with her things. We never talked about what should happen to the house and the farm. The urgent piece is the funeral service. Now that you are here, Annie, we can make some decisions.”
There was that ten acres of love and loyalty again, holding me steady.
Ethel went to the cabinet high above the stove and pulled out a bottle of wine. I was astonished. I didn’t know they drank. But I was also relieved because I needed a drink right about then.
We talked all evening, rarely sticking to the list but getting back to it eventually. Dianne divided up duties. Ethel would talk to a lawyer about what needed to be done with the estate. She knew someone she trusted. Mr. Wilkins helped her deal with the mess of keeping Frank and the Pollards away from Marie. Dianne would make sure all the bills had been paid and find out exactly how much money was left. And I, since I was the creative one, was to plan the funeral and burial. UGH!
“What about Caroline?” I asked.
“There’s not much she can do from the mental hospital. But we need to keep her informed,” Dianne said.
Then Ethel remembered my closeness to Caroline and said, “Annie, do you think you can write some notes for our discussion about Caroline? I hope what you have learned from your friend Jane will enlighten us.”
I agreed to write the notes. The ten acres was surrounded by a deep moat and truly inaccessible to Caroline, my dear sister. My friend Jane was going to help us build a bridge to Caroline.
Ethel, who was closest to the details of Caroline’s care, told us Momma had settled with the doctors. “Momma arranged for Caroline to live at Dix Hill through the next year. They say it will be at least that long before Caroline gets better.”
