Page 49 of The Lost Hours
Earlene jerked herself up to a standing position, blocking the sun that filtered through the pine trees on Helen’s face. “You were snooping?”
“Only a little. They were left out in plain view. But apparently I’m not the only one with a little secret, Earlene. And that’s not your real name, is it?”
Earlene let out a puff of air that could have been a laugh or just relief. “Actually, it is. But I’ve always gone by my nickname, Piper. But my last name is Mills.”
“It suits you better. And I recognize the name, of course. You’re pretty famous in equestrian circles.”
“Yes, well, not anymore.” There was a short pause. “As good as it feels to have finally confessed to someone, I know how stupid I must appear to you right now. My only defense is that I needed to talk to your grandmother to find out about mine. And when I sent letters here, your brother answered that she was too ill and didn’t remember my grandmother at all. And I knew that wasn’t true.”
Helen tried to find the personal affront and anger she probably should be feeling at being deceived. Instead she had the oddest compulsion to clap Piper on the back for her creativity, and felt vindication that she’d known all along that there was more to Earlene Smith than family trees and dusty libraries. “So you decided to come here under false pretenses to find out what you could.”
“That sounds awful, I know, but I didn’t do it to deceive. I did it because I didn’t stop long enough to think of another way.”
Mardi brought the stick back but Helen patted him on the head, letting him know the game was over. She remembered how she’d felt sitting in her grandmother’s room while Malily read from her scrapbook—of the way her heart ached at the bridge of words that connected her grandmother’s life with her own. “Why is digging up your grandmother’s past so important to you now?”
Piper’s voice was muffled, and Helen pictured her with her hands over her face, like a person bent in prayer. “My grandmother and I never had a close relationship. She seemed content to hide in her garden while I seemed hell-bent on seeing how close I could come to killing myself on the back of a horse. It was different when I was small, when I first went to live with my grandparents. She taught me about her garden, how to make things grow. But then I discovered horses and I couldn’t reconcile myself to the fact that my grandmother was content to remain in the background, never once tempted to risk the heat to touch the sun, as my trainer used to tell me. It seemed her life was pointless and I wanted nothing to do with her.”
Helen could hear the wedge in Piper’s throat, the dam that was holding back the tears long enough so she could make her case. Gently, Helen asked, “So what changed?”
“After both of my grandparents died, I discovered a box my grandfather had asked me to help him bury years ago when my grandmother was put in a nursing home for Alzheimer’s. It contained portions of a scrapbook, a necklace with a lot of charms dangling from it and . . . and a newspaper clipping. About the discovery of a black infant boy in the Savannah River.”
A sticky breeze stirred the leaves on the ground, sending a chill down Helen’s spine. “Any idea who the child was, or why the article would be with your grandmother’s things?”
“None. And there’s more. I discovered a secret room in the attic of my grandparents’ Savannah house. In it was a baby’s bassinet with a blue hand-knit blanket.”
Again, Helen felt a chill, the kind that Malily used to tell her meant somebody was walking over her grave. “And all of that proved to you that your grandmother had a life before you met her—maybe even a bigger life than your own. And that you wasted all of those hours while she was in your life.”
“Yes. It made me angry—at myself. Since my accident, I’d been living exactly as I thought my grandmother had—wandering around that big house, waiting for something to happen to me. I think that’s why I chose such a drastic plan. It was almost refreshing to discover that the competitive rider in me hadn’t completely disappeared. The risk taker was still there and I was so relieved I didn’t stop to think how stupid the idea was. Or of the long-range implications.”
“Like what would happen when we found out you’d lied to us—as you undoubtedly were aware would happen.” When Piper didn’t respond, Helen continued. “So how did you end up here?”
“After my grandfather died, his lawyer brought me unopened letters that my grandmother had written to Lillian. They were all returned, unopened. In it, she asked for Lillian’s forgiveness for something she’d done”
Helen rubbed her hands over her arms, feeling cold despite the afternoon heat. “And you have no idea what.”
“No. And I’m not completely convinced that I want to know. I think that’s why I haven’t finished going through her scrapbook. I’m not sure I’m not going to wish I’d never found it. Like I’m about to open Pandora’s box.”
Helen stiffened.Pandora’s box. “That’s what my mother said when she caught Tucker and me digging up graves. Strange, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
Helen felt Piper watching her, measuring her words like sifting flour for a cake. “What are you going to do now? Are you going to tell your grandmother? And Tucker?”
Helen stood, her hand resting on the obelisk. “It’s not for me to tell them. If you’re going to salvage any of this, and solicit Malily’s help, you’re going to need to tell her—and soon. She’s very bright and it wouldn’t surprise me if she’s close to figuring it out on her own. As for Tucker.” Helen shook her head. “He’s going to be pretty pissed. But I think he’ll come around—as soon as he realizes who he’s got teaching his daughters how to ride.
“But I would like to see your grandmother’s scrapbook. And that newspaper article. But not before you’ve resolved everything and managed to talk Malily into letting you stay. Then we can compare notes.”
She felt Piper’s hand on her arm. “Thank you. You’ve been a lot more understanding than I deserve. I’ll tell them—just as soon as I can figure out the best way to do it.”
“Don’t wait too long. That’ll only make it worse.”
“I won’t. Promise.” Piper squeezed Helen’s hand gently. “I’ve got the girls’ riding lesson now. Can I walk you back to the house?”
“No, but thanks. I’m almost done here and Tucker’s waiting for me to call him so he can come get me.”
“Great. Then I’ll see you at supper again. Your grandmother invited me.”
Helen raised an eyebrow. “Again? It’s surprising. She usually doesn’t take to strangers. Unless you don’t feel like a stranger to her.”
