Dreadful Sorry (32 page)

"Good morning," said Miss Wilkins, "or afternoon, now. I hope you don't mind that I took the liberty. It didn't seem right to wake you, but Abner and I were ravenous. Would you like some breakfast?"

Molly smiled at them and rubbed her eyes. "Yes, please." She watched Miss Wilkins bustle competently around the big room. Abner slumped over the table. He still looked dazed, and she wondered whether the little boy were still with them. She sat next to him. "Are you feeling all right this morning, Mr. Holloway?"

"I'll do," he said gruffly, lifting his cup. His hand shook and coffee sloshed onto the table.

"What about your heart medicine? Don't you need it?" She accepted a cup of Miss Wilkins's bitter brew.

"Don't see why they can't just give me a double dose later on, if they want." He looked up and his eyes were clouded. "Where's Janie? She's the one who makes the breakfasts."

Oh, no. He's still half in the past.

Then Molly heard the front door open, heard her father's exclamation: "Jared? Isn't that my bathrobe?"

She hurried into the front hall to greet Bill and Paulette. Her stepmother looked small and haggard. Molly hugged her gingerly. Paulette's body felt so frail in her arms, too frail to be carrying the baby who clung precariously to life inside her. "I'm so glad you're okay," she said into her stepmother's soft hair. "You and the baby both."

Paulette hugged her back, then stood back with wide eyes as she saw Grace Wilkins coming out of the kitchen wearing her nightgown. "Hey, no fair having a slumber party without inviting us!"

Molly opened her mouth to explain but caught sight of the dark square of wallpaper at the foot of the stairs, where a mirror in an ornate frame had once hung. Once—long ago? Or when? She turned away, biting her lip, trying to remember.
Who's still half in the past?

Miss Wilkins was trying to explain. Bill thanked the ambulance driver, who was standing out on the porch. After he left, Bill usheved Paulette into the study. "You need to lie down on the couch," he said. "And how nice that Molly has it already made up for you." He cocked an eyebrow at Molly as he pulled back the quilts and settled Paulette with the pillow beneath her head. "Now let's just move this slumber party in here."

A few minutes later they were assembled in the study, talking all at once, trying to relate all the events of the long night. Paulette settled on the couch, leaving room for Bill at her side. Abner sat in the armchair, sipping his coffee. Miss Wilkins and Jared and Molly all pulled chairs from the table over into a semicircle.

"So it was a busy night, was it?" asked Paulette brightly. "Here I thought I'd be the center of attention, carried off in a helicopter like that, but then I come home and find I haven't cornered the market on high drama after all!"

"Don't be jealous," said Jared, holding up his bandaged hands. "You can have it."

"Well, let's hope there's no more excitement for you," said Bill, reaching over and ruffling Paulette's hair. "The doctors say it's got to be just about total bed rest if you're going to carry that little baby to term."

"I'm surprised you're out of the hospital so soon," said Molly. "But I'm glad."

"The doctors agreed I can rest just as well here at home," Paulette explained. "If not better." She grinned. "And I'll have you and Billy to wait on me. Better than any nurses in the world!"

"In my day," Grace Wilkins informed them, "women stayed quiet when they were carrying. It doesn't do to exert yourself. I hope you'll keep that in mind."

In your day,
thought Molly,
women had too many babies and died young.
"Paulette will be a soap opera addict by Christmas," she predicted lightly.

"But I can't stand television," said Paulette. "The shows are ridiculous."

"We'll get a VCR and some good videos," promised Bill. "What about all the old musicals you like?"

"I'd rather have visions like Molly," said Paulette. "They seem to be a lot more interesting than anything I could watch on the tube."

Miss Wilkins spoke up. "I want to hear more about these visions. Jared revealed only the sketchiest details last night." She looked around at them all. "I think I'm the only one in the dark."

Jared put his bandaged hand on Molly's knee. "Your father and stepmother don't know all that's happened, either," he reminded her. "Go on. Tell them about Aunt Ethel. Tell about Hob and Clementine."

"Hob—my brother?" asked Miss Wilkins. "Now, how could he have anything to do with anything? He's been dead since 1912."

Molly didn't want to upset Abner further by telling her story. But his eyes were closed and he appeared to have drifted off into sleep, so she took a deep breath and began. She related how Aunt Ethel had died and how Clementine had run away with Hob. Jared chimed in with his memories of that night in the cove.

"What an amazing story," breathed Paulette when they had finished. "You guys must be about ready to crawl in a hole and hide—all these tragedies and near tragedies in both times. It's like you're leading double lives."

Tell me about it,
thought Molly.

Paulette looked over at her. "I don't think I've even thanked you, Molly, for all your help last night. I was so scared—but you stayed calm as anything."

"It—it came over me sort of suddenly."

"You're quite the hero," said her father proudly. "All in one night—you helped Paulette, saved Abner's life, and Jared's, too."

"I haven't said thank you, either," said Jared. "You were fantastic, Molly. You were more than fantastic. What can I say?"

Molly shifted uncomfortably. "You know," she tried to explain, "in a way it wasn't me at all. I was just making up for what. Clementine did—or didn't do."

"And you don't call that being brave?" asked Paulette.

The old man's eyes flew open. He sat up in the armchair, frowning. "Oh no," he said. "Clementine was the brave one."

"Gone clear off his rocker," snapped Miss Wilkins. "Old fool, running out in the rain."

"You stay out of this, Grace. No one said you had to come along for the adventure."

"But of course I had to," she muttered.

"You came asking questions about Clementine," he said, looking over at Molly. "I knew she must have sent you, after all these years. I got upset—"

"You call it 'upset,' Abner?" asked Miss Wilkins. "What I call it is 'crazy.'"

"Now I said keep out of this, Grace!" He lifted the coffee cup in his trembling hand and took a sip. His bony legs shook visibly through the cotton running pants he wore.

"I knew I had to go to her. Took me hours, walking up that steep road. But I knew there was only one place I'd find her. It was her special place." He set down his coffee cup and rubbed his hands together as if to warm them. "I remembered just where the cave was. Felt like yesterday I was last there. I almost fell going down. Conked my head crawling into the cave, I guess. Hard knock. But when I opened my eyes again, I knew it had all been worth it because there she was. Clementine was there."

Molly and Jared exchanged a worried look.

"Seems I lay there for hours. She kept telling me to go on home, but I couldn't get up. Sometimes she was with me, sometimes she wasn't. Finally she said she would have to get help. I waited and waited. But she told you to come, and you came. I would have died if you hadn't followed her back to the cave." He tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

"Clementine's ghost," murmured Bill, looking around at them all. "What did I tell you?"

There was a long silence, then Abner let out a gentle snore.

"But why would her ghost appear to Molly?" asked Grace Wilkins. "A girl down in Ohio? Now what would be the point?"

Paulette spoke up eagerly. "That's why my reincarnation theory makes more sense. It isn't just about Abner. Clementine and Hob had unfinished business."

Jared reached over and touched Molly's arm. "Well, I'm hoping we'll finish it for them, big time."

"Reincarnation's as hard to swallow as ghosts, if you ask me." Grace Wilkins frowned.

"Who'd want to be the reincarnation of Clementine Horn?" Molly scowled. "Pretty bad karma, if you ask me."

Paulette looked over at Molly. "You keep thinking Clementine was the bad guy, don't you?"

"She was the most selfish person I've ever met. She was singleminded and cruel."

"I think you're really being hard on her. All she wanted was what all the girls I know today want for themselves—and expect they'll get."

When Molly looked at her with raised brows, Paulette nodded. "She wanted a good education, right? And work that paid a fair wage. That's not so much to ask for, is it? You want as much yourself."

"I see what you mean," said Bill thoughtfully. "She wanted an independent life."

"Like me," interjected Grace Wilkins. "Never married and never regretted it for a second." She glared fiercely over at Abner, whose eyes were still closed.

"That's right. But in Clementine's time those desires or needs or whatever were called unnatural. Her determination to get an education was called 'selfishness.' Sure, she stepped on people trying to get what she wanted. But how do we know we would be any different? We haven't been put to the test." Paulette's green eyes were serious. "When people are desperate, they do things they're not proud of. That's what I think happened with Clementine. Later she wished she had another chance."

"And saw that chance in me?" wondered Molly. "Or, you mean, I
am
her new chance?"

"Could be," answered Paulette.

"Damn," said Bill, picking up the empty coffeepot and heading for the kitchen. "I want a ghost for the inn!"

 

"Tell us about the hatbox," Molly begged Abner when the old man woke up. Bill returned with a new pot of coffee and refilled their cups.

"I'm keeping it to give back to her," said Abner in a querulous tone. "Found it a week after she vanished, washed up on the rocks down by the wharf. Knew it was a sign. She'll be back for her treasures."

Molly could scarcely breathe. "And her treasures—are they still inside?"

"Sure are." He looked at her suspiciously. "But Clementine only lets
me
see them. Not the others."

"She let me see them," Molly told him gently. "Or at least," she amended, "I know what was in the box the night Clementine ran away." His eyes challenged her, and she continued, "There was a gold locket with a snippet of baby hair inside."

Abner coughed sharply. "
Eh?
Speak up, girl!" He fastened his eyes on Molly's face.

"The locket belonged to Clementine's mother, who was your own mother's sister. She died in a mine explosion in Pennsylvania with Clementine's father. There was a little doll in the box, too, with a rag body and a china head and yarn hair. It wore a blue dress. Clementine's Molly dolly. Molly—just like me." Abner's face crumpled into a frown. She lowered her voice. "And there's a scrap of red leather."

"
Eh?
What's that?" His arms and legs jerked.

"A scrap of red leather!"

Abner Holloway grew very still. After a long moment he spoke. "You are exactly right, my girl. To the very last detail."

"Oh, Mr. Holloway," breathed Molly. "May I please see the hatbox now?"

He nodded. "It's under the bed in the big bedroom."

Jared jumped up. "I'll bring it down."

Molly felt she was holding her breath. Abner Holloway sat rubbing his hands together. Paulette was smiling again. Bill's eyes were fixed on Molly, his expression unfathomable. Miss Wilkins was frowning, perplexed. Molly closed her eyes. The waiting seemed to take forever.

But then they all heard Jared's feet on the stairs, and Molly's heart hammered hard as he came into the room with the round box.

Abner held it on his bony knees. He looked up and met Molly's eyes with a grin of childish glee. "Ready?"

She nodded, leaning closer to see.

Abner removed the lid slowly.

It was like opening a grave. But a wide smile broke like sunlight across Molly's face when she saw the stained blue fabric of Mollydolly's dress. The painted china face was so faded the features were nearly gone. Most of the glue that held the yarn hair on had dissolved in the seawater, so the little doll was nearly bald. Molly reached out a hand, then drew back.

"No, go ahead." Abner Holloway placed the little doll in her arms. "And the locket, too." He fumbled with the clasp, then handed it over to her. She flicked it open. "Hair included," Abner added.

Molly stared down at the little curls of Clementine's baby hair. She shivered. Jared reached for the locket and she placed it in his palm After examining it, he passed it on to Bill and Paulette.

Finally, Abner handed over the scrap of red leather. "The only treasure missing is Clementine's favorite book. It was her father's. When I used to beg, she'd show me the maps. Wonderful maps and pictures of far-off places. She'd tell me stories about them. Said she was going to go there someday, in a big ship or even in a plane. I made her promise to take me." His mouth quivered. "She said she would take me with her."

Just as Molly was afraid he would start crying, his eyes grew cunning and he reached over and placed the scrap of red leather on her knee. "Now that's a puzzle for you, girl. Since you know so much, can you tell me how that book washed out to sea, when everything else stayed inside?"

Molly rubbed the old leather between her fingers. "The book didn't fall out. It was burnt."

"What's that?"

"She said
burnt!
" Miss Wilkins told him.

Molly described how Uncle Wallace had thrown Clementine's book into the fire and how Clementine had, later, rescued only that single piece of red leather "Look at the edges." She handed him the scrap. "See how blackened they are?"

"My father was a scoundrel!" Abner Holloway exclaimed, peering closely at the remnant. "A scoundrel, I say!" He looked alarmingly weak. "Oh, Clementine—my darlin'." He closed his eyes for a second, then opened them. "We used to sing that," he said. "Just to tease."

"Yes," said Molly. "I remember."

The doorbell rang. It was a nurse from The Breakers come to accompany Abner back to Benson. "And it's time for your medicine, Mr. Holloway," said the nurse, opening a brown bottle of pills. "When we get home, the doctor wants to see you. After such an adventure!"