The room was silent, the only sound the soft ticking of the cuckoo clock over the fireplace. Adelia looked up with tears in her eyes. Inga finally spoke for them all. “Thank you, dear Emilee, for seeing what we did not see and hearing what we did not hear.”
“And feeling what we did not feel,” Edie added, wiping at her eyes.
Emilee nodded and took another deep breath. “Which leads me to my questions. I only have two. Though I expect that soon I will have many more. And I ask them of you because each of you is a woman that I have come to deeply admire and respect. You are women who inspire me to be a better mother, a better wife, a better person. You are women whom I love as my sisters. So. . . .” Again she took a deep breath. “And please, I beg of you, be fully honest with me. No matter what you say, I will not think any less of you. Okay?”
They nodded, but the silence stretched on for several seconds. Then Adelia gave Emilee this pleading look of pure pain. “Yes. Okay. Ask us. We’re dying of curiosity here.”
That broke the spell and they all laughed, including Emilee. “All right,” she said. “My first question is this. I realized something today as we watched that marvelous performance. Many people who say they are Christians believe that Jesus was a great teacher and religious leader. But if you ask them if they believe that He was literally the Son of God, they’re not so sure. It’s like the concept is so huge, so incomprehensible, that they shrink from it. I say that because today I realized that I have been one of those people. That I didn’t know for sure.” Her eyes glistened. “So here’s my question for you. In your minds, is Jesus literally the Son of God, who came to earth as the son of Mary, but whose literal Father was also His and our Heavenly Father?”
“Yes,” Adelia said without hesitation. “Without question.”
“Absolutely,” Paula said quietly.
“Amen!” Edie breathed.
Inga had tears in her eyes now too. “With every fiber of my being.”
Emilee nodded. “I thought that was what you would say. Next question. My church and Inga’s former church believe that God has no shape or form. They believe that is true of the other members of the Godhead as well, including Christ and the Holy Spirit. But in Luke’s account of the Passion Week, Jesus appeared to the Apostles after His death. And He told them that He was not a spirit. He invited them to touch His body and feel it for themselves. Do you believe that? Do you believe that Jesus literally came back and took up His body from the tomb, and that He continues to have that same body today?”
“Yes,” Adelia said, tears streaming down her face. “A resurrected, immortal body.”
Paula reached out and took Emilee’s hand, too choked up to speak. She could only nod.
“Amen and amen!” said Edie through her tears.
“With all my heart,” Inga confirmed.
Emilee let out a sigh and sat back. “Thank you.”
To everyone’s surprise, Inga got to her feet and went into the hallway. A moment or two later she returned with a book bound in black leather. As she sat down again, she held it up for Emilee and the others to see. On the cover were three words in gold lettering: Das Buch Mormon. Emilee did not seem surprised. “You showed me a copy before, remember? I think it was the first time I went to church with you.”
“Oh, yes. Well, in our Book of Mormon,” Inga went on, “there is an account of Jesus visiting the people who lived in America after His resurrection.”
“Oh?”
“There were about twenty-five hundred there that day, gathered in the courtyard of one of their temples. They saw Jesus descend out of heaven. He came down among them and taught them. He introduced the sacrament to them, just as He did at the Last Supper.” Inga had to stop for a moment. Suddenly what they had seen earlier that day hit her again with great force. “And He invited all present to come up one by one to meet Him and feel the wounds in His hands and feet and the place where the spear had pierced His side.”
Emilee’s eyes were wide as she stared at her mother-in-law. “And did they do it?”
“They did. Every one of them, including their children. They learned for themselves that Jesus was not dead, but that He lived. And that is what we believe.” Inga went on. “When Mitch and Jacob were here three years ago, I asked Jacob if he would send me two leather-bound copies of the German Book of Mormon. He did. One I kept for myself, because my own copy was getting pretty worn.” She opened the book to the inside cover and handed it to Emilee. “The second book was for you. Paula said you lost the other one we gave you a couple of years ago when you moved. So I’ve been waiting for the right time to give it to you, and this seems to be the time.”
Emilee was trying to blink back tears and finally shook her head. She handed the book across to Adelia. “For some reason, I’m having trouble reading anything right now. Would you read what is written there for me?”
Tears were streaming down Adelia’s cheeks now too and she couldn’t speak either, so she handed the book to Edie without a word. Wiping at her eyes, Edie held it up and read: “To my beloved Emilee, whose heart has richly blessed our family, whose love has profoundly changed our son, and whose goodness inspires us all. With all my love, Mama Inga.” Edie closed the book and in a choked voice said, “Amen and amen!”
Emilee sniffed back the tears as she took the book back. “I’m not making any promises. I’m not sure yet if I want to be a Mormon. Or even if I could be a good Mormon. It will be very hard for my mother to understand why I would leave the Lutheran church.”
“Not to say anything of what your husband will think,” Inga added quietly.
“But I will read it,” Emilee said. “That much I can promise you.”
“That is enough,” Inga said.
For several moments all was quiet, each lost in her own thoughts. Finally, Edie got to her feet. “Today during the lunch break, we stopped at a confectionary in the village and bought some chocolate. I think this calls for a celebration. What say you, ladies? Shall I fetch it?”
Adelia leaped to her feet as well. “And Jacob and I bought a box of bonbons. I’ll get them too.”
Emilee was laughing in delight. “Hurry then, because my Hans can smell bonbons about three miles away. And he’ll eat every one of them. And this is girls’ night, right?”
July 28, 1922, 1:40 p.m.—Black Falcon Terminal, Port of Boston, Boston, Massachusetts
Mitch Westland watched as the porter tied the last of their luggage on the back of the delivery truck. He walked around, pulling on the ropes to make sure they were secure, and then took out his wallet and extracted three one-dollar bills. “Looks good. I called the hotel. They know that you’re coming. They will carry it up to our rooms.”
The driver, a ruddy-faced Irishman with a heavy brogue and hands like a couple of shovels, nodded. “Very good, sir. That’ll be two dollars.”
Mitch handed him all three bills. The man touched the bill of his cap and smiled. “Thank you, sir.” He hesitated and then spoke again. “If it not be too cheeky of me, sir, may I ask how long you and the missus have been traveling?”
Mitch laughed. “Judging from our luggage, about two years. But in actuality, it’s only been five weeks.”
“And did all go well for ya?”
“Aye,” Mitch said, suppressing a smile.
Edie had a thought and came forward. “Sir, I know our hotel is downtown, but could you tell us how far it is from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology?”
“Aye,” he said. “It’s across the Charles River from Boston Common, which is where your hotel be located. So it would be a wee bit of a walk, about two miles, I’d say.”
Edie reached into her purse, fished around for a moment, and found the telegram. “This came for us just before we embarked from Hamburg. It’s from our son.” She held it out for the driver to read. He stepped forward and read it aloud, without taking it f
rom her hand.
“DAD & MOM. ANXIOUS TO SEE YOU. SORRY. LAST-MINUTE ADDRESS CHANGE. NOW AT 449 HANCOCK STREET. CAMBRIDGE. FRANK.”
“Are you familiar with Hancock Street?” Edie asked.
“Aye. It’ll be about halfway between the Institute and Harvard. So more like three miles if ya were to walk it.” He turned and pointed. “But there be a taxi stand just outside the gate there. For only a bob or two, he’ll take ya right to your location.”
“Thank you. Thank you very much.”
“Ya be most welcome, ma’am.” He touched the bill of his cap again and went to his truck and climbed in. He waved as he drove past them. “And the luck o’ the Irish to ya.”
“All right, then,” Mitch said as the man drove away, “let’s go get us a taxi.”
Abby shot away. “I get the front seat,” she called back over her shoulder.
“Nuh-uh,” Benji cried. “You got it in Hamburg.”
“Children,” Edie shushed. “Your father is going to take the front seat so he can see where to go in case we decide to walk back.” She slipped her arm through Mitch’s and sighed as the children shot off anyway. “It’s going to feel awfully good to get home again.”
1:54 p.m.—449 Hancock Street, Cambridge
“Well,” Edie said as the taxi drove away, “I expected some kind of a dorm or apartment building.”
She eyed it up and down. What was in front of them was a small but pleasant two-story clapboard house with a roof of black tar paper shingles. It looked as if it had been recently painted, for the white was brilliant in the sunshine. There were robin-egg blue decorative shutters on both sides of all the windows. A small vestibule had been attached to the front of the house and created the front entrance. The house wasn’t large—she guessed that the main floor was probably no more than six hundred square feet. The upper floor was obviously for bedrooms. The yard was equally small, but the lawn had been recently cut and the hedges trimmed.
Mitch was sizing it up too. “With that second floor, it’s probably rented out to several students.”
“It is nice,” Edie finally said. Then she turned to the twins. “All right, you two. We’ve been gone for almost five weeks now, and you’ve been very well behaved. Your father and I appreciate that. But Frank may have some roommates, so it’s best behavior for a couple more days, okay? Then we’ll head for home and you can run and whoop and holler all you want.”
“Yay,” Benji said without enthusiasm.
Mitch walked onto the small porch and rapped on the door and then stepped back. A moment later they heard footsteps, and the door opened to reveal a young woman in her early twenties. She stood there for a moment, blinking at the bright sunlight and looking somewhat confused. “Yes?”
Edie saw several things at once. First, the woman was quite beautiful. She had dark brown hair that gleamed like oiled hardwood in the light. It was worn short in a pixie cut. Her eyes were a dark emerald green. Just a hint of eyeshadow, expertly applied, brought the color out beautifully. Her complexion was smooth and unblemished. She wore garish, bright red lipstick and matching red fingernail polish (all very definitely the latest fashion, though on the low end of Edie’s own tastes). Her skin was fair and flawless. Obviously this was a girl who had not spent a lot of time out in the sun.
The second thing Edie immediately took in was that here was pure elegance in dress and demeanor. She was slender and tall, probably five feet, seven inches. She wore a sleeveless light grey dress with vertical pleats that ran from neck to hem. There were no buttons or lace on the dress, only a matching sash fastened about six inches lower than her waist so it was around her hips. This too was one of the hot new “Roaring Twenties” fashion fads, which Edie did not care for. The sash looked as though it was in the act of falling off the young woman’s body. Her only adornment was a long string of pearls that was arranged so that there was one loop at the nape of her neck and another that reached to her waist. Finally, she was barefoot, which seemed a little incongruous considering the rest of her attire.
Three words popped into Edie’s mind at that moment. Money. Money. Money.
“Uh. . . .” Mitch stepped back enough to peer at the house numbers above the door. “Is this . . . uh . . . 449 Hancock Street?”
“Yes.” The young woman absently took the pearls in her hand as she stared at the family curiously, as if they had dropped out of the sky and landed on her porch by accident.
Mitch moved up again. “I’m sorry. We were told this was the residence of Frank Westland.”
A hint of surprise flashed in the girl’s eyes. “Yes, this is where—” She gasped and one hand flew to her mouth. “Mr. and Mrs. Westland? Oh, my!” She actually fell back a step as her hand began to twist the pearls nervously. “Oh, my!” she said again as she looked at the twins. “You must be Abigail and Benjamin.”
While the astonishment fully dawned on the girl, Edie looked past her into the house. To her surprise, the front hallway was stacked with boxes. There were two suitcases on the floor beside them. A bicycle was propped up against the far wall. A cardboard wardrobe with several women’s dresses in it was also visible.
“Oh, dear. I am so, so sorry. I. . . . Frank didn’t think you’d be here before four or five o’clock.”
“We cleared customs very quickly,” Mitch explained, still trying to take in what all of this meant.
Finally she extended her hand to Edie. “Mrs. Westland, I am very pleased to meet you. My name is Celeste Dickerson. I am Frank’s fiancée.”
5:30 p.m.—Minuteman Hotel, Boston
“Mom, I am so sorry! When you said your ship didn’t dock until twelve-forty-five, I called the shipping line. They told me it would take you four or five hours to unload the luggage and get through customs. So when my astrophysics professor saw me on campus and asked me to come see him, I thought I had plenty of time.” He rushed on. “And Celeste wanted me to apologize for her not inviting you in. As you could see, we’re just moving our stuff into the house and there wasn’t any place to sit.”
Mitch was shaking his head before he finished. “I don’t think your mother is upset about you not being there when we arrived, Frank.”
“Or about not being invited into the house,” Edie added.
“Then what?” he cried. “And don’t tell me you’re not upset. I can tell, you know.”
“Oh, really?” Edie said quietly. “Then why don’t you take a wild guess at why I might be a little put out with you right now?”
Frank was staring at his hands, bent over so he didn’t have to look at his parents. He didn’t look up. “Because you didn’t know about the engagement.”
“Excellent. And I know that’s my fault. I mean after those dozens of letters you wrote to me about her, I don’t know how I missed it.”
“There’s no need for sarcasm, Mom. That doesn’t become you.”
Edie’s head came up slowly and her eyes narrowed. “Be grateful that it’s only sarcasm you’re getting. What I really want to do right now is pick you up and put you over my knee.”
Frank looked up and forced a crooked grin. “I think we’re past that point, don’t you?” Then he raced on before she could answer. “I had no way to contact you. You’ve been gone for over a month. And we just got engaged two weeks ago.”
“Ah,” she said slowly, “and when did you first start dating Celeste?”
He blew out a long, slow breath. “Last September,” he said grudgingly.
“Oh, is that all? Something more I missed in your copious correspondence, I guess.”
He sighed, letting it be known that his burden was a great one. “I am really busy here, Mom, believe it or not. I’m carrying sixteen or seventeen hours of credit each term, and if I can keep that up, I’ll graduate a year early. Then I can get on with my doctorate.”
“Of course. And I do understand how much ti
me it would take to write something like, ‘Hi. Dating a girl. Looks like this could be the one. Will keep you posted. Love, Frank.’”
He shook his head as he continued to stare at the floor. Just then the door to the bedroom suite opened and Benji stuck his head in. “I gotta go to the bathroom, Mama.”
Mitch turned. “Go through the connecting door, Benji. Now don’t open the door again.”
The door slammed shut. Edie got to her feet and began to pace. “So when were you going to tell us?”
Frank reached down to where he had put his book bag, fumbled in it for a moment, and drew out a white envelope with some kind of coat of arms embossed on the flap. He handed it to her. Moving over to Mitch, Edie handed it to him. He already had his pocketknife out and slit it open. He removed the card inside it and handed it back to Edie. She sat down beside him and they read it together. Frank saw his mother’s eyes widen, and he tensed for what was coming next.
Edie and Mitch exchanged a long glance, and then Edie turned to her son. “October sixth?” She exhaled slowly. “You know that’s fall roundup time,” she murmured. “There’s no way your father can leave then.”
“I know. But, Mom, that’s the only time the Dickersons can do it. Celeste’s mother is from France, though she’s an American citizen now. Her whole extended family is coming over for the wedding, and if we wait any longer than that, the weather in the North Atlantic can get pretty rough. Her grandparents are both in their seventies. They had to think of them.”
“And Grandma Westland is seventy-eight now,” Edie noted. “But then I guess we can hope and pray that there are no blizzards between Utah and Boston in October. Being in a train for three days might turn out to be a little rough too, I suppose.”
“Celeste and I wanted to wait for Christmas, so we could do our honeymoon when we’re both out of school.”
Edie’s head came up. “Celeste’s in school?”
“Yes, she attends what’s known as the Radcliffe Annex, though most people just call it Radcliffe.”
“Is that here in Boston?” The name sounded familiar to Edie, but she wasn’t sure why.