A Tale of Deception

  ALL THE MEALS were served in the morning room. Faye found it easier to maintain the little room for the few living on the estate.

  Carla would always excuse herself, when she was done eating, and leave the room.

  It seems to me, she should stay with Nessa more, Ann thought.

  One evening, after dinner, Marty asked, “Kin’ I go watch TV, Mom?”

  Ann looked at Nessa, who smiled and said, “Ann, don’t look at me… you live here too, and all the rooms off the great hall are yours to enjoy,” she said smiling.

  “It’s so hard to get used to sharing this wonderful place with you, Nessa. You’re so kind. Thank you.”

  Turning to Marty Ann said, “I thought you were going to read this summer?”

  “I am. But I want to watch ‘Jeopardy’ and ‘Wheel of Fortune’, please?” she entreated.

  “Sure,” Ann said smiling, as she gave her approval.

  Emma simply said, “I’ll go with her,” and left the room following her grandchild. Ann could sense sadness in her mother and it was beginning to worry her. Emma was keeping to herself and hardly speaking a word to anyone.

  This isn’t like her. I’ve got to talk to her and find out what’s wrong. I’ll do that tonight.

  Faye was clearing the table, and Ann could see Nessa was about to leave the table, herself. But, before she could rise, Ann asked, “Nessa, can I talk to you?”

  Nessa relaxed and said, “Of course.”

  Ann explained, “In cleaning up the study, I discovered a box among the books. When I opened it, there was a handwritten letter addressed to you, a photo, and five more letters addressed to both you and your husband. None of them have ever been opened. Do you know anything about it?”

  Nessa looked puzzled. “No. I don’t. Let’s go take a look.”

  “No. You stay here, and I’ll get the box,” Ann offered.

  “Thank you, Ann. Faye, would you bring me another cup of tea?” requested Nessa.

  “Sure Mrs. D - how about you Ann?” she asked.

  “I can use another cup of coffee, Faye, if you don’t mind getting it.”

  “Not at all,” Faye informed them, as she left the room.

  Ann left for the study, while Faye brought in cups of hot coffee and tea. After setting them on the table, she informed Nessa, “I’ll be in the kitchen cleaning up, if you need me,” and left the room.

  Ann returned, setting the box down in front of Nessa, watching her reaction.

  Surprise and sadness were expressed as she explained, “This is an old box Gavin and I used to keep our love letters in, way back before time, money, power and politics took him away from me.”

  Lifting the lid, her hands trembled slightly. Gasping, she reached in the box and picked up the letter addressed to her. “It’s Gavin’s handwriting.”

  Then she looked at the photo, and covered her face with her hands, the envelope crumpling in her hand as she wept softly. Ann had seen great pain in her eyes.

  After a few minutes Nessa looked up to see Ann’s uneasiness and apprehension.

  “Nessa, this is upsetting you. Do you want me to take it away?” Ann asked in distress.

  Nessa was still, as she closed her eyes again, the tears softly falling down her face. Then she looked at the crumpled letter.

  Instead of answering Ann’s question, she just stated, “I think you should know a little about my past, Ann. My life has not been a happy one, though by some standards it should have been, with all that we possess.”

  “Gavin and I had two sons, Neilan, our eldest and Ayden.”

  “Ayden was a beautiful child, but it was soon discovered he was a ‘blue baby’ and at the time he lived in this world, there was little that could be done to fix the hole in his heart. He was a very sick little boy and was at the hospital most of his life. He was a bright and loving child, so brave and good. His father adored him, and when God took him home at seven years old, his father’s heart seemed to break and grow cold.”

  “I think Gavin feared losing Neilan, as well. That’s why I think he was so hard on him. He wanted him to be successful, the way he was successful.”

  “But Neilan wasn’t interested in money, power, or politics. Ever since I can remember, he loved giving. He always aided the hurt animals and people coming into his life. As he grew, he wanted to become a doctor, but his father badgered him into working for Drummond International Oil, his company, and wanted Neilan to take on his outlook on life.”

  “When Neilan was fresh out of college and eager to see the world, Gavin wanted him to start working at the firm, instead. My husband was relentless in his drive to make Neilan into his own image, and Neilan did try it for almost three years.”

  “Then one day, without warning, I heard Gavin and Neilan in a terrible fight in the study. Passing by, I stood at the doors, listening.”

  “I heard Neilan tell his father he had resigned and joined the Peace Corps. That he was leaving for Jordon that very night.”

  “His father ranted and raved, vowing to disown him. As I opened the door quietly, I witnessed the death of my husband’s relationship with his only living son.”

  “Neilan just stood there, in front of his father, ashen and still. ‘If that’s the way you want it, father, then so be it. It’s not how I wanted it. But I’ll live my life, as I see fit. I’m not you, nor do I want to be like you.’ my son said in such a soft, serious voice.”

  “I’ll never forget the words my husband spoke. He told Neilan to get out, to get out now and to never come back. He didn’t want to see or hear from him ever again, telling him that he was done trying to make a man out of him, to go waste his life wherever he chose to. He would never be welcome in this house again.”

  Nessa sat there, the tears still falling… remembering.

  “Neilan turned and saw me in the doorway. I heard Gavin saying, ‘stay out of this Nessa!’… so strong and demanding. Neilan came up to me, hugged me hard, and said, “I’m sorry Mom, but I have to.”

  “I whispered in his ear, ‘I know son, I’ll always love you no matter what you do, or where you go.’”

  “Suddenly, he had walked past me and was gone. That was the last time I ever saw my son alive. He died a little over four years later, in a foreign country, so far from home and without the ones who loved him.”

  “His body was returned to us, but Gavin wouldn’t acknowledge it or the situation I found myself in. Faye helped me to arrange his burial in the family crypt. And there he remains, next to Ayden, for all these years - my sons, dead and gone from this world, and my life - leaving me alone with a bitter, hard man, with nothing but possessions to surround me, in my pain.”

  Nessa looked down into the box. Then she picked up the photo and said softly, lovingly. “This is Neilan.”

  Setting the photo on the table, she glanced again into the box. “Oh!” she said in shock. Picking up the first of five letters, she looked at it as if she had seen a ghost.

  “It’s from Neilan,” grief flowed renewed. Nessa looked at Ann, beseechingly.

  Ann couldn’t stand it anymore. Getting up she went to the old woman and kneeling, hugged her, with her own grief so fresh. Pulling up her chair, tears in her own eyes, Ann told Nessa all about Matthew, her wonderful little one, and the story of the fresh loss of her own child such a short time ago, came flowing out.

  Both women wept for a while, missing their boys and the life they could have had with them.

  Then, Nessa looked at the letter from her husband. “I’m afraid to read it. He was so hard and bitter. I couldn’t bear living through it again,” she said putting down the letter. “Neilan’s dead, what’s the use of bring it all up again?”

  Ann picked up the envelopes from Neilan and examined them.

  “Nessa, there’s four years of history here, according to the date stamps. Shouldn’t we at least find out what he was trying to say?” she asked.

  “I can’t, Ann. I just can’t,” Nessa said in grief.

&nbsp
; “What do you want me to do with them?” Ann inquired tenderly.

  Nessa sat for a while thinking, then she looked at Ann imploringly. “Will you read them for me? You won’t get hurt by unkind words or any suffering my son may have gone through. You can tell me what is good in them, can’t you?”

  Ann was surprised by the request.

  Why not? Maybe there’ll be something in the letters to give her peace and some happiness.

  “Well, all right, Nessa. What about Mr. Drummond’s letter?”

  “Do whatever you want with it, Ann. I’m just too tired to care.”

  Suddenly, Ann was frightened by Nessa’s appearance. Why hadn’t she noticed before how pale and ashen she’d become, and her hands were trembling terribly. “I’m going to bed,” Nessa said weakly, trying to stand, but her legs wouldn’t hold her.

  “Nessa!” Ann exclaimed, going to her aid. “I’m so sorry. This has been too much for you. I’ll get Carla.”

  Before long, Carla appeared with the wheel-chair, and gave a black look toward Ann, as she took Nessa’s pulse, gave her a pill and wheeled her from the room. Silently the nurse had entered, and just as wordlessly she had left.

  Carla’s not speaking to me, is far worse than her scolding. Why wasn’t I more vigilant? This was too hard on Nessa!

  Looking down at Mr. Drummond’s letter, Ann wondered whether she should throw it away.

  What if there’s something important in it? Yet, I’m not sure I want to read a personal letter from a husband to his wife. But then I’ll never know what it says, and if I want to help Nessa in any way, I need to read it.

  She sat arguing with herself for a few more seconds before she opened it.

  It read:

  My darling wife,

  If you’re reading this, then I am no longer living.

  I want you to know I have regretted my anger and pride over Neilan more than once, but I could never bring myself to mend the breach.

  When the letters first arrived, I tried to throw them way, but I didn’t possess the strength of character to do so. Instead, they ended up in the bottom drawer of my desk.

  Then, Neilan came home for the last time. Now it doesn’t matter what’s in those letters. It’s too late. What good would it do now, to read them?

  Still, I couldn’t throw them out. So, I place them in this box, with my favorite photo of our son, in the expectation you might read them someday, and receive some comfort from your son’s words.

  I also do this in the hopes you will have the kindness to forgive a proud, vain old man, whose heart stopped feeling with the loss of Ayden, and died with the loss of my Neilan.

  Your loving husband,

  Gavin.

  Ann looked out the window, at the starry night, the moon shining over the lawn and gardens onto the lake.

  There aren’t any words of condemnation here. This shouldn’t hurt her to read it. I’ll talk it over with her when she’s feeling better. It might even help her to forgive him, a little.

  Ann noticed it was getting late, and decided to find Marty and go upstairs.

  Placing everything back in the box, she returned to the study, locking the box in the bottom drawer of the desk.

  Across the hall, she found Emma and Marty curled up in chairs, reading.

  “It’s time to go upstairs, little one,” Ann explained to Marty. “Everyone’s gone to bed down here.”

  “K… ” Marty simply said.

  Emma put a bookmarker in her book, closed it quietly, placing it on the table beside her chair, and followed Marty and Ann out of the room.

  Upstairs, back in their sitting room, Ann was struck again with the wonder of these cozy rooms, now hers to enjoy.

  It feels so much like a real home, yet how ironic they aren’t mine.

  As Marty went to get her pajama’s on and brush her teeth, Ann noticed her mother quietly going to her room.

  That reminds me. It’s time we have a talk.

  Going to her mother’s door, Ann knocked gently.

  “Yes?” answered Emma.

  Ann peered through the door asking “Mom would you like a cup of cocoa?”

  “No thank you dear,” she said quietly.

  “Mom… you and I have to talk. I’d like to do it over a cup of cocoa,” Ann stated kindly.

  Sighing Emma turned and followed Ann into the little kitchen.

  Emma sat down at the small table, while Ann started the cocoa.

  “Mom, I can see something’s wrong. You’re not yourself. Let’s talk about it - and please don’t tell me it’s nothing,” Ann looked sternly at her mother, with a sympathetic smile, setting the drinks on the table, as she joined her mother.

  Emma looked surprised, “Really, Ann… everything’s fine.”

  “Mom… ” Ann said firmly, not believing a word.

  After a few seconds of thinking, Emma took a deep breath and stated, “It’s just that I feel so lost here. There’s nothing to do. I was needed at the apartment. I loved taking care of you and Marty, but here I don’t know what to do.”

  “Mom, your taking care of Marty is a great help to me,” Ann explained.

  Emma remained silent.

  Thinking, Ann suddenly had a great idea, “Mom, what about going back to school? How many times have you told me you wanted to finish school someday? Why not now? It would get you out of here, you’d be meeting new people, and you’d finally acquire that high school degree you’ve always wanted.”

  Emma looked stunned. “Go back to school… now?” As she sat there thinking, Marty came in to say goodnight.

  “Are you going to school, grandma?” Marty asked astonished.

  “Maybe,” Emma said, smiling.

  “Come on, sweetheart, time for bed,” Ann reminded her with a smile. As Marty hugged her mother, Ann kissed her on the forehead, “Night, love. Sleep well.”

  “Night Grandma,” Marty stated, turning to give her grandmother her nightly hug.

  As Marty left, the women sat silent, thinking.

  Finally, Emma said, “How would we pay for it? We don’t have very much money yet. And how could I get there?”

  “Let’s tackle those problems tomorrow. As long as I know you want to go, I’ll work it out,” Ann told her.

  Emma beamed. “You know, I think I will. It’d be great learning things again, and having something to do, to accomplish,” Emma smiled a real smile for the first time since she’d come to the estate.

  “Good. I’m glad you’ve decided to go. It’ll be great for you,” Ann said with satisfaction.

  Finishing her cocoa, Emma thanked Ann for talking with her.

  Ann put her cup in the sink, happy to have helped. “I’m going to bed, Mom. See you in the morning. We’ll get started soon.”

  “Night dear,” Emma said happily, as she turned on the hot water, and started washing the dishes.

  The next morning, Nessa kept to her rooms, with Carla at her side. Ann felt remorse for causing such pain and anguish in the kind and gentle soul, who had allowed them to live in her home.

  After breakfast, Emma and Marty went off to explore the island, a favorite pastime when not reading. Ann settled into the study, pulling out more documents to research and catalog.

  The following day, Nessa was up and about. Neither Nessa nor Ann talked about the box and it sat in the desk drawer, unattended for weeks.

  Then one afternoon, after her nap, Nessa walked into the study.

  “How’s it going Ann?” she asked.

  “Just fine, Nessa. I’m just about ready to contact Peter Lawrence for the status on these accounts. Would you mind helping me compose a letter of introduction to him and my intent of verifying your assets?” Ann requested.

  “Not at all,” she said sitting down next to her. She had become very fond of Ann. The night they had grieved over the loss of their sons, had transformed their relationship into a kinship of motherhood that could only be shared by those who had gone through the fire of loss.

  Afte
r the letter was done, Nessa sat back thinking.

  “Are you okay? Was this too much for you?” Ann asked apprehensively.

  “No, I’m fine, just resting,” Nessa replied.

  Then she asked softly, “Ann, did you read any of the letters?”

  Ann was startled by the question, then replied, “Yes, I read your husband’s letter.”

  “Oh,” she simply said.

  “There’s nothing in it that would cause you grief. It might even help, a little.”

  Nessa looked at Ann with sad, understanding eyes.

  “Here, let me get it for you,” Ann suggested as she made up her mind, unlocking the drawer and pulling out the box.

  Handing the letter to Nessa, Ann pulled out the first letter from Neilan. “While you’re reading, I’ll take a look at Neilan’s first letter. Okay?”

  Nessa nodded affirmation.

  The two women sat reading their letters.

  Suddenly, Ann exclaimed. “Nessa! Neilan states here he’s getting married!”

  “What? How? To whom? What does it say?” Nessa asked in astonishment.

  Ann handed over the letter to Neilan’s mother.

  Trying to read it, she looked back at Ann and said, “I’m too excited, Ann. Read it to me please,” she requested softly.

  “Are you going to be alright? You know what happened the last time we tried doing this,” Ann stated with concern.

  Nessa took a deep breath, tried to relax and said, “I’ll try to remain calm, but I have to know now what’s in his letters.”

  Ann read Neilan’s letter to Nessa, then the next until all the letters had been read.

  It seems Neilan had fallen in love with a Jordanian girl while working in the Peace Corps there. Her name was Bayan Haddad. She’d come from a wealthy family living in Amman, the capital of Jordan.

  Sheikh Abdul Basir Haddad had allowed his daughter the privilege of attending school, and then college. The Sheikh believed in education for his children, for it brought prosperity to the whole clan. After her schooling, she was allowed to work as an interpreter and worker for the Peace Corps, in the villages of her country. That’s how the two met.

  According to Neilan’s letter, Bayan’s father wasn’t about to allow his daughter to marry outside her clan, let alone to an infidel. Yet, she believed in the new Jordan, emerging into a world power, and growing more westernized every day.

  So, contrary to her father’s wishes, Bayan consented to marry Neilan. In a small ceremony, at a Jordanian Christian church, they wed. But the government of Jordan doesn’t recognize any other religion or law other than Muslim. Her father had total control over her life and her death. In their eyes she was a harlot, not a wife.

  Though he threatened to have her stoned, it never occurred. A little over a year later, a child was born. The small family lived in poor housing wherever they could find it and traveled from village to village, trying to do good.

  Nessa’s heart skipped a beat, when she realized she might be a grandmother, if the child was alive.

  Neilan’s last letter told of their love for each other and the hardships his little family was enduring, yet he didn’t want anything from his father, but his understanding and forgiveness. Neilan wished for both his parents to know his sweet grandchild, with raven black hair and crystal green eyes. They had named her Jamila Whitney Drummond, after Bayan’s mother and Nessa’s.

  “Let me see the envelope from his last letter,” requested Nessa, looking at the date. “Four month after this letter was sent, he contracted typhoid and died.”

  Setting the letter down on the desk, she turned and looked at Ann in bewilderment.

  “Never was there any mention of a wife or child from the Peace Corps, or anyone else. I’d no idea they even existed, until now. I’ve no idea if Bayan or Jamila are even alive. They may have died in the epidemic with Neilan. What am I to do?”

  Stillness hung in the study.

  Abruptly she vowed, “If there’s the slightest chance they’re alive, I want to find them, help them, know them,” she said tearfully. “They’re a part of this family, of Neilan, and myself.”

  Ann sat there, letting Nessa think it through, understanding the need she must be feeling - because, if she could connect with Matthew again, somehow, she would, at any cost.

  “I wonder how old she is. She must be a teenager by now,” Nessa spoke the question.

  “From the date stamp on the first letter, she’d be about sixteen,” Ann informed the new grandmother.

  “Ann, first thing in the morning I want to talk with David Tillman, my lawyer. He’s a good friend and he’ll know of a good detective agency that can look into this for me,” she said softly.

  Despite her efforts, Ann could see Nessa was about spent.

  “I’ll call Carla,” Ann stated, resigned to being on the nurse’s bad side again.

  “No. Give me a second,” Nessa offered, closing her eyes, trying to rest. Then she said very softly, “What a day this has become. What a blessing to know I have a grandchild. My hope is that she’s alive and I’ll find her. I’ll find her, before it’s too late.”

 

  Beginnings