Page 90 of My Heart Will Find You

“He was a megalomaniac who bullied his daughter mercilessly. But then if he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have...” She stopped.

“Wouldn’t have what?”

Married Max, she didn’t say. “Wouldn’t have found him so interesting,” she lied.

“Here’s the Cornelia you mentioned.” He looked at her. “She married a lawyer named Bertram Lloyd, and they moved to Kansas City.” He looked back at the brochure. “It says Cornelia designed several houses in KC. Wait a minute. Did they build Henry’s house?”

“Yes.” Etta was glad to have a reason for Henry’s interest. It sure beat saying “time travel.”

“Now I’m beginning to understand his latest obsession.”

Etta put the brochure in her pocket. “Henry wants photos.”

“Sure.” Zack pulled out his big camera.

Etta left him behind as she began to explore. It was great to be in a museum alone. She went to the kitchen and opened cabinets, picked up things and put them down. Everything was so sterile and clean, not like what she’d experienced at Max’s house. The absence of abundant water certainly did change hygiene.

Leading out of the kitchen was a steep, narrow staircase for the servants. She’d never met John Kecklin, but she’d formed an opinion of him. He wasn’t a man who’d want the help to be in his sight.

She went up the stairs to a long hallway. There were several closed doors. One of them was toward the front of the house. Kecklin would probably demand that his bedroom oversee what was going on in the town.

She opened the door, then gasped. On a mannequin was Cornelia’s riding outfit. The green wool had faded, but it was still beautiful. A little placard said that Cornelia Kecklin had worn it to a speech given by her father in 1874.

“She wouldn’t have worn her riding dress to a speech!” Etta muttered. “And where’s her mean little whip?”

Her voice echoed in the room. She wanted to rewrite the placard. By 1874, surely Cornelia and Bert had left town. But which town did she leave? Garrett or this one Etta had never heard of? She wondered what John Kecklin had taken from Garrett to build this town that was named after him.

And why had this town survived but Garrett hadn’t?After I left, what did Max and Alice do?she wondered. Alice probably went away with Pat and Nellie, so Max would have been left alone. Did he sell his empty house and move somewhere else?

She didn’t want to think about that. She wanted to believe that she’d added to people’s lives, not taken from them. And maybe she had. But not with Max. He was a quiet man, and his feelings ran deep. If Etta disappeared, never arrived on the train, he wouldn’t recover from that.

“Hey!” Zack said from the doorway. “You look like you’re in a trance.”

“Just thinking. Be sure to photograph this outfit. Have you seen a riding crop around here?”

“Actually, I did. It’s hanging on the wall of the little bedroom.”

“I’m going to go see.” She hurried out of the room. She opened three doors before she found the small bedroom at the end. It didn’t have a bed but was filled with old things. She knew that half of them wouldn’t have been used in 1871, but what did that matter? “They could put in a desktop telephone and kids today would think it was from the eighteenth century,” she said, then shook head. “Etta, you are gettingold.”

She slowly walked around the room, looking at the objects. By the door was a sign: Cornelia Kecklin Lloyd. Below it were things that had belonged to her. As Zack said, the riding crop was on the wall.

There was a glass case and in it was the beautiful parasol that Alice had made for Etta. It was opened to show that one of the panels had been cut and never repaired.

There was a card beside it: Property of Miss Cornelia Kecklin. Given to her by her illustrious father, John Kecklin. The cut is believed to have happened when Miss Cornelia fell at a town picnic put on by her father. A young lawyer, Bertram Lloyd, saved her from striking her head. This heroic act eventually led to their marriage.

Etta let out a snort of derision. “And novelists think they create fiction!” Part of her wanted to take the parasol. It belonged toher, not to Cornelia! She also wanted to put the riding crop with the green dress.

But Etta did neither. She was a guest and had no right to change anything. She found Zack and told him to photograph everything in the last bedroom. “Especially the parasol. Henry will want to see that.” She went down the wide front stairs and left the house. She couldn’t bear any more of the twisted glorification of John Kecklin.

Zack came out later. “I took photos of every inch of the place. I’ll do the outside if you don’t mind waiting.”

“Go ahead.” There were chairs on the porch, and she sat down in one. Only one car drove by, and she thought of the changes during this lockdown. But if she hadn’t been caught in it, she wouldn’t have met Henry. And she wouldn’t have met Max.

When Zack returned, they went to his car and got in. “Where to now?”

“I’d like to see the homestead, but I don’t know how to get there.”

“Except on a horse,” he said. “We know approximately where the house was, so close your eyes and describe how to go on a horse. I’ll follow you on a map and see what I can find.”

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