Page 2 of Sensing Selma
“Perhaps you’d like to try and read the next chapter.”
The woman instantly blushed. “Oh, no. No. I couldn’t.”
“You’re new here, aren’t you?”Abbie said, extending her hand. “I’m Abbie Moore.”
“Yes.” She shook her hand. “I do believe I saw you here at church last Sunday...with Pastor Tillsbury.”
“My husband. Yes. I’m here every Sunday.”
“I’m Susan Selma.”
“Selma? Of Selma Sanctuary?”
“Hello,” I said, butting into their conversation. “I’m Keely Lee, president of this little book club.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“And I assume that the young woman coming our way is your sister, right?”
She smiled as the younger sibling joined us. “Yes. This is Holly, my beautiful, little sister.”
I looked at them. While there was clearly a family resemblance and they were both very attractive girls, the younger sibling did have something special about her. Though both had beautiful blue eyes, Susan’s hair was dark and pulled back in a thoughtless ponytail while Holly’s hair was slightly lighter with pale highlights. The appealing curls cascaded down past her shoulders.
“You’re Keely,” Holly said. “Keely Lee, right?”
I shot her a curious glance. “That’s right. How did you know?”
“I’ve heard a lot about the work you’ve done. All the Jane Austen stuff.”
“They’re from Selma Sanctuary,” Abbie told me, bringing the conversation back to where she and Susan had been when I’d so rudely interrupted.
“Well,” Holly said, clearly bitter. “Wewerefrom Selma Sanctuary. Now, we’re from nowhere. Absolutely nowhere.”
“Holly,” Susan said with hushed reproach. “Don’t bore these nice people with our tale of woe. It serves no purpose.”
The two sisters looked at one another, clearly in disagreement on how to deal with whatever situation they were going through.
“Not to pry,” Abbie said, “but I do have a good ear and if your situation leaves you in need of help of any kind, my husband’s church is always ready to assist parishioners anyway we can.”
“Our father recently died and left us penniless,” Holly blurted out without hesitation. “And for some ungodly reason he has left the title to our family estate to some stranger...a complete stranger! A man named Jeremy Baker. Not only have we never heard of the man, but our mother, poor invalid woman that she now is, has no idea who he is either. And this morning we found out that we must move out of Selma Sanctuary, our childhood home, within the next two weeks.”
Susan’s face went red as she reluctantly nodded at her sister’s portrayal of their circumstance.
“Two weeks to find a suitable place to live,” Holly went on. “Two weeks to empty everything we own out of the enormous house. Two weeks to find a means to pay for this new residence, should we be so fortunate to find it. Two weeks before we find ourselves out on the street sitting on a pile of our treasured belongings.”
“That’s enough, Holly,” Susan said. “We don’t want to turn this into a pity party.”
“And we wouldn’t be in such a pitiful state if you hadn’t lost your job,” Holly shot back.
Susan gasped in shock or anger, or both. She seemed prepared to say something in response to her sister but held her tongue.
“I very much empathize with your troubles,” Abbie said. “I’ll talk about it with my husband and see how we could help you.”
“Please,” Susan said. “We really don’t want to impose our troubles on you. I’m sure we’ll find a suitable place to live and everything will work out.”
A tense silence settled over us. It was heartbreaking to hear the young women’s story, and I wished we could do something to help.
As I looked around the church, watched the club members enjoying their lunch, I noticed Penny heading our way, her face glum.
