The Letter. Elizabeth Blackwell
who was it from?” Nell asked.
“I don’t know. Someone with the initials F.B.”
Cassie waited in silence for a moment.
“Doesn’t mean anything to me,” Nell said. “Do you know when it was written?”
“No, there’s no date. Could it be someone in Knox Junction, someone she knew when she was younger?”
“As far as I know, she didn’t date anyone else before marrying Henry,” Nell said. “And I don’t see…” Her voice trailed off.
“What?”
“Well, from everything I’ve seen and heard, Henry is the love of my sister’s life. I don’t use that term lightly. Believe me, I thought I was in love many, many times, and most every time it ended in disaster. I’m sure Lydia’s taken great pleasure in telling you about all my mistakes!” Nell laughed, but Cassie heard the hurt lurking behind it, the dig at an older sister who would never stop judging her.
“But Lydia and Henry—they were the golden couple,” Nell continued. “The ones you knew would get married and live happily ever after. I never suspected there was anyone else.”
“I know,” Cassie said. “That’s why I’m so confused. I’m not sure why—this letter really shook me up.”
“Have you asked Lydia about it?”
“Well, I tried to. Sort of. I think she guessed I found it, and then she acted all distant and changed the subject. You know how she gets.”
“Not much for sharing her feelings?” said Nell. “I remember dragging her to a consciousness-raising retreat sometime in ’71, ’72. A complete disaster—but I’ll tell you about that another time.”
“This F.B.,” Cassie told her, “whoever he was, said something about Lydia creating a new life for herself and moving on. So I took that to be a reference to her maybe getting married.”
“Unless she was a truly gifted actress, I don’t see how she could’ve juggled Henry and someone else,” said Nell. “They started dating when she was sixteen or so and as far as I could see, they were made for each other. But I suppose you already know the whole story.”
“The basics,” Cassie said. The way Lydia told it, it was as if she’d met Henry, connected instantly and decided to get married—case closed. Was the truth more complicated?
“They started dating in high school, right?” Cassie asked.
“I don’t know exactly when,” Nell said. “I was three years younger, so Lydia never confided in me. From what I understand, they were friends first. Lydia didn’t know too many people, you see. She always kept to herself. When we first moved to Knox Junction, I think she was very unhappy. All of us were. But being younger, I suppose I adjusted faster. I made friends far more easily than Lydia.”
“Why did your father move there?” Cassie asked. “It seems like a strange transition, to go from an upscale suburb like Winnetka to a small farm town.”
“It had to do with my father’s job.” Nell paused. “Something had gone wrong in Winnetka, although I couldn’t tell you what. Mother was furious at Father, that was obvious, but she’d never discuss it with us. She’d very set ideas about what was proper. It’s no wonder I rebelled!”
“So,” Cassie went on, “you were saying Grandma kept to herself after the move.”
“Yes. She was such a loner, always reading or drawing or painting. She lived in her head, and there weren’t many people like that in Knox Junction. One was expected to be hearty and love the land and come from good farmer stock. The children at school thought she was strange, the way she’d spend recess with her nose in a book.
“But for some reason, Henry found Lydia intriguing. Maybe because she was so different from everyone else. By Lydia’s sophomore or junior year he’d started coming ’round the house. Lydia never invited guests over—her only friend, as far as I can recall, was a girl named Melanie. Sweet but fairly stupid, if I may be brutally honest. So for her to bring a boy over—I can’t even explain how shocking that was. Boys and girls just weren’t friends the way they are now, you see. If a girl brought a boy home, it meant something.”
“Could she have dated someone else, too?” Cassie asked.
“I can’t imagine there was any other boy in that school who would’ve appreciated her, let alone fallen madly in love with her,” Nell said. “And then, with my parents or me always chaperoning, I don’t see how she would have found the opportunity.”
“You spent a lot of time with them?”
“Oh, yes,” said Nell. “It was understood that Lydia and Henry should never be in the house alone. I’d sit with them at the dining table after school, and we’d all do homework together. Or they’d sit on the front porch while I helped Mother in the front garden. They were often together, but it was never what you’d call romantic. Not in the stereotypical sense.”
“No holding hands on the porch swing?”
“Definitely not,” Nell said with a laugh. “Although now that you mention it—Hmm, I’m remembering something I haven’t thought of in years. There was this one afternoon…must’ve been spring, because Mother’s flowers were all blooming and Lydia was painting them. We spent the summers up in Lake Geneva with Mother’s family, so it couldn’t have been much later than early June. The weather was lovely, and Lydia had set up her easel on the front porch. She was sitting on a wicker love seat and Henry sat next to her, watching her work. I was sprawled out on the steps, reading Nancy Drew—I remember being obsessed with those books at that age, twelve or thirteen.
“It was peaceful, the three of us there. What struck me was the way Henry sat with Lydia. He didn’t talk, or interrupt her work, or try to make conversation to cover up the silence. So many boys in that town—well, they were loud. Loved to draw attention to themselves. But Henry was content to sit and watch Lydia for hours. At the time, I wondered how he could stand doing something so boring. It was only years later that I realized I’d witnessed real love—he was content to share whatever made her happy. I think I’ve been searching for that most of my life.”
Cassie had always told herself the bond she had with Cooper was based on their shared passion for the law and hard work. But now she saw the difference—she and Cooper liked to do the same things but rarely did them together. Their work kept them in separate orbits. She couldn’t remember the last time she and Cooper had sat together for hours, sharing silent moments of companionship. Had they ever?
“It was all very small-town America,” Nell said. “Henry would pick up Lydia for a school dance. Bring her flowers or a corsage. They always went with friends, of course—Mother would never have let Lydia drive around with Henry alone.”
“Sounds like your parents were very strict.”
“No more so than any other parents in town,” Nell said. “It just wasn’t done for a girl to spend time alone with a boy, dating or not. Perhaps especially if they were dating. And then, because it was Henry, they were even more careful.”
“Why?” Cassie asked. Surely most parents would see a nice boy like Henry as a dream companion for their daughter.
“Oh, they couldn’t stand him!”
“Really? Grandma never told me that.”
“Maybe she’s glossed it over in her mind. But I remember it all well enough. Father—well, he might not have cared so much. But Mother would mutter under her breath in the kitchen, ‘I see our friend is back.’ Lydia would only refer to Henry as her ‘friend,’ you see, never boyfriend. But Mother knew. She could see the look in his eyes when he was around Lydia. I liked him—he was always kind to me. And then, I always felt rather sorry for him, with what his family went through.”
“You