The Four Seasons. Mary Monroe Alice
it be delivered intact to Spring, should you find her. I assume you know its contents.”
Birdie shook her head, accepting the small box with reverence. “No. At least not all of it. You see, we gave it to Merry as a gift when she came home from the hospital after the accident.” She paused as a million memories of her childhood flooded her thoughts. “My, I can’t believe it’s still here. It was so long ago, I’d forgotten all about it.”
Rose stepped closer, wrapping an arm around Birdie’s waist. “It was supposed to be very private so we each gave our gift to Mom to put into the time capsule. It was a very big deal, rather ceremonial. She’s the one who put everything in the box and sealed it with all the tape.”
“You’ve never opened it?” Birdie asked Rose.
“Of course not,” she replied. “It didn’t belong to me. It belonged to Merry.”
Birdie wondered if she would have been so noble. She suspected curiosity would have gotten the better of her over the years.
“This time capsule is a piece of our childhood,” Birdie said, holding it with a trace of wonder in her voice. “And now it belongs to Spring.”
6
AFTER MR. COLLINS LEFT, Dennis walked lethargically down the stairs. He’d removed his jacket and tie and in his hand he carried a pile of papers.
“Is the coast clear?” he asked.
Seeing him obviously so self-engrossed in his own world did nothing to improve Birdie’s mood. She was tired and emotionally drained and she blamed him for not being there for her.
“Where were you?” Birdie asked sharply.
Dennis halted on the stairs and slapped the papers against his thigh. His face could look very cold when he tried. “Where do you think? I was upstairs grading term papers. I told you a hundred times that I had work to do.”
Rose grabbed her coat from the front closet. “I’m going for a walk,” she said, making a hasty exit.
“You always have work to do,” Birdie countered.
“What do you mean?” he asked defensively. “You make that sound like a criticism, like I’m having a ball upstairs drinking beer and watching a football game. I was upstairs working. Where should I have been?”
“Maybe with me, in the dining room, during the reading of the will.” She knew she sounded bitter but couldn’t help it. Why did he even have to ask? Turning on her heel, she marched through the living room, picking up dishes en route to the kitchen.
Dennis followed her, tucking his hands in his back pocket. “That was Season family business,” he said after the kitchen door closed. “Between the sisters.”
“You’re family,” she said through tight lips, tying on an apron.
“If you wanted me there, all you had to do was ask,” he said, reaching to pick up empty bottles from the kitchen table and carrying them to the sink.
“Why do I always have to ask?” She turned on the water faucets with brisk turns. “Can’t you see for yourself when I need you? And you ducked out of the luncheon pretty quick, too.”
“You know how I hate those affairs.”
“Oh, and funerals are happy affairs for the rest of us?” She turned off the water and dried her hands. Behind her, he moved around the kitchen, putting the bottles and cans into a plastic bag for recycling. The clink of glass against glass sounded in the silence.
“Mr. Collins and Rose hit us with a bomb today,” she said in a softer voice, “and it would have been nice to have had a little support.”
Dennis nodded, acknowledging her change of tone as much as her words. He lowered his own tone. “What did they say?”
“You won’t believe it.” She turned to face him. “Merry wrote this letter to all of us, and made a video.”
“A video? That’s rather macabre.”
“It was. But then in it, she tells us this…this last request. She wants us to search for—Are you ready for this? For Jilly’s baby.”
Dennis spun his head around to face her, shock registering on his face. “You’re kidding?”
“I am not.” She flattened her hands on the counter and leaned forward, pleased to see his reaction.
Dennis went to the fridge to pull out a beer. He was lost in his own thoughts. “What did Jilly say about all this?”
“It came as a shock. At first she just sat there with this stunned expression, like a bullet had zipped through her brain.”
“Yeah, I’m not surprised.”
“Then Rose went on and on about how Merry knew about the baby all along and had been wondering about it. I never knew that. It’s hard to imagine her remembering, much less caring about it enough to make it a dying wish. Jilly never knew any of us even knew about it.”
“God, what a shock.” He looked away and said in a distant voice, “I’m sure she considered that part of her life closed.”
“I’m sure, too. We all did. Except deep down, I know Rose was right. It was never really settled because we never openly talked about it. Jilly just sat there and listened. When she finally did speak she was furious. Not yelling or such, but controlled—and maybe scared. In any case, she won’t have us conducting a search for the child she put up for adoption.” Birdie paused and put her hand to her cheek. “Listen to what I just said. The child Jilly put up for adoption. Do you have any idea how many years those words were whispered? And then only behind closed doors?”
Dennis tilted his head and squinted his eyes in thought. “She shouldn’t search. She has her life and the child has hers. She shouldn’t shake things up.”
“I don’t think that’s a big issue these days. Oh,” she exclaimed, “but that’s not all. Apparently, Merry wanted us to give this Spring her money, too.”
“The whole estate?”
“No, Rose seems to think she meant the twenty thousand she had left in her trust fund. Jilly was ticked off about that, too. I can’t figure it out. She’s got oodles of dough, so why is she so uptight? The one you’d think would care about money is Rose. She hasn’t got a dime, but she’s the one who wants to give the money away. There’s no need to be greedy. We’ll all have more than enough after the house is sold.”
“How much do you think the house will fetch?”
“I don’t know. Over five hundred. Maybe more.”
He considered this as he took a long swallow from the bottle. “We could take that trip we’ve always talked about,” he said, leaning back against the counter.
“To Italy?”
His eyes warmed. “Yeah. Just you and me. No agenda, no phone calls to make or chores to get done. The biggest decision we’ll have to make is what to eat for dinner. In fact, we’ll starve ourselves for weeks before we leave, then eat our way through the country.” He moved closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. “We never got a honeymoon. We need time, Birdie. Just for us.”
She nodded her head and leaned into him. “I know.”
He hugged her and she thought she really did know. Especially at moments like this, that harkened back to a time when they were close and intimate. When they touched a lot and each touch set off a fire between them that had them having sex like rabbits. Back to when they’d thought of each other all day long and missed each other every moment they were apart. That all seemed so long ago. For years they’d promised themselves a trip. It was a dream that served as a lifeline during the rough years of juggling her medical residency and Hannah’s early childhood. Then came the start of her medical practice and his