Page 69 of Beyond Montana's Sky
With another chuckle, Mildred wiped her eyes. “I have no doubt.Sorrowis so heavy. It felt good to have a few lighter moments.”
“George would want that for you, Mama. So would Nathaniel. They both loved you very much.”
Mildred looked down and twisted her fingers together. “I had two daughters. They both died young, before Nathaniel was born.”
Edith gasped. “Did Nathaniel know?”
“Henry and I never speak of our daughters. The pain was too great.”
“Oh, no, no! Oh, Mama, I’m so sorry.” Edith bit her lip, hesitating. “Will you tell me of them?”
Mildred’s expression brightened. “I’ll fetch the photographs. I keep them in the drawer of my nightstand.” She made as if to get up, and then stopped, settling back on the sofa. “Nathaniel made anexcellentchoice in a wife. The son had more wisdom than his parents.” She let out a slow breath. “Will you forgive us, Edith? Forgive our judgment, our lack of welcome, of love?”
Tears welled in Edith’s eyes, and she fished out a handkerchief from the pocket in her skirt. “Only if you forgive me. I could have been more loving and tolerant. More patient.” She had a sense of Nathaniel watching and sending love and approval to his two favorite women. “Shall we wipe the slate clean? Chalk a new relationship?”
Mildred sniffed and nodded, dabbing her eyes.
Once again, Edith leaned to kiss Mildred’s cheek. “Why don’t we start by me fetching your photographs, so you don’t have to climb the stairs?”
* * *
Talking about her departed daughters did Mildred good. Her spirits lifted, she laughed at memories, and once even hugged Edith. Her mother-in-law held a lot of heartache inside. In her eagerness to share, she practically never paused for breath.
Hopefully, Anna Beth and Sarah Marie would no longer be a taboo topic between husband and wife, and Henry and Mildred could grieve together instead of alone. Either way, Mildred knew she could talk to Edith whenever she needed.
An hour later, drained as though she’d been wrung through an emotional mangle, Edith left the drawing room. Just climbing the stairs felt as if she’d walked five miles. Still, she couldn’t complain, for she was much closer to her mother-in-law and sensed Mildred felt the same.
Who would have thought talking about old sorrows would make such a difference to our relationship?
Mildred carried around old grief for many years, and, of course, still mourned her daughters. The death of a child, of several children, would haunt parents for the rest of their earthly lives.
“Please, God, may Ben enjoy a long and happy life,” she murmured a fervent prayer. “Including giving me grandchildren and great-grandchildren.”
Once in her bedroom, Edith closed her door to the world. Walking to the secretary, she let down the desktop, took a seat, and removed her leather journal, with her monogram stamped on top.The emotion of this day requires an outlet.
For a moment she sat, thinking. Feeling almost overwhelmed by her emotions, Edith knew she should write in her journal—something that usually soothed her and brought her clarity.
She flipped up the silver top of the crystal inkwell, dipped in the tip of her pen, and started to write the story of Anna Beth and Sarah Marie Grayson, so the two little girls would be remembered.
Sometimes, Edith had to stop to dash away tears or blow her nose. But she continued until the flow of words ceased, and she set down her pen in the crystal tray used for that purpose.
She blew on the last page to make sure the ink was dry and closed the journal. Glancing at the clock, Edith realized Ben and Henry would be home in about an hour. Enough time remained to write Elizabeth’s letter before changing for dinner.Good, something light.
She pulled out a piece of her monogramed stationery and began to write.
My dear Elizabeth,
Nonplused, Edith stopped and stared down at the salutation.When had Elizabeth Hamilton Sanders become my dear friend, as opposed to a polite Dear Elizabeth? Would Elizabeth be equally astonished to read the salutation?
She almost stopped and tore up the paper to start over—conventionally address the letter. But Elizabethhadoffered friendship and now belatedly the time had come for Edith to take her up on the promise of a closer relationship.
After dipping the pen into the ink, she continued writing.
I suppose I should address you as your sister-in-law does:
Dear Mrs. Nicholas Sanders….
Edith chuckled. Eugenia Hamilton probably did address her letters to Elizabeth in that way—at least on the envelope.
