Page 3 of The Lost Hours
My grandmother had used it to keep her knitting projects, including the sweaters and scarves she’d made for me that never quite fit or suited me and which I’d never worn. I had never been curious about the trunk’s contents before, but something made me pause before it, a fleeting memory of my grandmother kneeling before it with creaking knees to place something inside.
Slipping the charm into my pocket, I knelt on the floor and lifted the lid. The overpowering stench of mothballs made my eyes sting as I averted my face for a moment to allow the contents to air out. I began rummaging through the trunk quickly, pushing aside old knitting projects and half-used balls of brightly colored yarn that even at the time when my grandmother was knitting, had seemed so out-of-character for her. She always wore drab browns and grays yet all of her projects for me were created out of bright pinks and yellows, pale blues and the amber hues of the marsh at sunset.
My fingers sifted through the soft wool until they scraped the bottom of the trunk and my fingernail flicked something small and hard. I tugged on it and found myself lifting out a very small pale blue sweater. My finger had found one of the mother-of-pearl buttons that closed the sweater in front in a tiny, neat row. I looked at the sweater for a long time, wondering who it could have belonged to.
My reverie was broken by the sound of the phone ringing. I picked up the old black princess model on the desk. “Hello?”
“Hello, Piper. It’s Mr. Morton. Matilda and I are heading for the airport shortly but I wanted to give you a call before we left just to make sure you’re all right.”
“That’s very kind of you, Mr. Morton. Thank you,” I said, meaning it, my annoyance at the phone’s intrusion into my solitude forgotten.
“I know you haven’t had a lot of time to think about our conversation yesterday, so I won’t ask about your plans just yet. Just wanted to know if you had any last-minute questions before I leave the country.”
I was about to say no when I had a sudden thought. I dug the small charm out of my pocket. “Actually, I do. Being a lawyer, you probably know a bit of Latin, right?”
There was a long pause, and then Mr. Morton said, “I don’t really follow baseball, Piper, so I don’t know how the Marlins are doing.”
I bit my lip, but before I could repeat my question, Mr. Morton let out a low chuckle.
“I’m pulling your leg, Piper. I heard you the first time. Matilda makes me wear my hearing aid while I’m traveling with her because otherwise I drive her crazy. What she doesn’t know is that I can turn the thing off and leave it in my ear and she won’t have any idea.”
I smiled into the phone. “I promise it’ll be our secret, Mr. Morton.”
“So, what did you want translated?”
I brought the charm up to my eye, squinting as I read out loud,“Perfer et obdura; dolor hic tibi proderit olim.”
He cleared his throat. “That’s Ovid. It means ‘Be patient and strong; someday this pain will be useful to you.’ ” He paused for a moment. “Where did you hear that?”
“It was on the charm from my grandmother that you gave me.”
I heard him take a deep breath. “It sounds like something she’d say.”
“Funny,” I said, leaning back against the desk,“I was thinking just the opposite. I mean, Grandmother wasn’t really the type to be profound or even sentimental enough to have a favorite verse put on a charm.”
He was silent for a moment. “And that’s where you would be wrong, Piper. Very wrong.”
“Pardon me for disagreeing with you, Mr. Morton, but I just don’t see it that way.”
“No, I guess you wouldn’t. You never really knew your grandmother.”
I swallowed my irritation. “Mr. Morton, I lived with her for six years and have been visiting her almost daily since I was twelve. I think that qualifies me as knowing her.”
“Studying the cover of a book doesn’t qualify you to discuss its contents, you know.”
I felt my anger rise as my stomach grumbled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten. I didn’t reply.
“Is there anything else, Piper? Matilda has grabbed her umbrella, which means she’s ready to go.”
I wanted to tell him where he could stick that umbrella but I held back. I remembered the sweater and reluctantly spoke again. “I found something else in my grandmother’s trunk. A small knitted blue sweater. As far as I know, both my mother and I were only children with no brothers. I was just wondering if you had any idea who it might have belonged to.”
There was a long pause but this time I knew that it wasn’t because he couldn’t hear me and I felt a tingle of anticipation dance down my spine, raising the hair on the back of my neck.
“Mr. Morton?”
“Our taxi is here and I really have to go now, Piper.”
“Mr. Morton, do you know something about this sweater?”
