PANTOMIME

1

She opened the door and there was the book. It stared at her from the top of the cherry wood desk. The desk’s mirror reflected a young woman with blue eyes swollen with tears. Her brown hair curled perfectly, and combed, a red bow perfectly tied in it. Her dress perfectly ironed, shoes perfectly shined. Perfect. Not everything was perfect. The sunlight illuminated the entire room. She felt like it was all a dream. No one home, the door unlocked, the book out in the open. She stood there in the door way holding the door frame. Her finger nails nervously chipping away at the light brown paint that had been there all her life. The book; its pages a light yellow like coffee stained paper sat there taunting her. Should she read it? Should she break open the Pandora’s Box she new was inside? One step, then another, then another before she knew it she was grasping on to the desk with both hands as if she were holding on for dear life. Her mind racing, her face looking directly at the leather bound cover with the initials “E.H.” carved in the center. No one home.

            There was a time the book didn’t exist. There was a time where she had never thought about going into that room and bracing herself. There was never a reason to brace herself. The summers there at that beach house were exquisite. Never too hot. Never too cold. The drive up the long dirt driveway up to the house was always her favorite part. The best of times. The best of days. The sounds of their putting car mixed with gravel popping back up were the signals that summer had come. Perfection.

            That sound came again. And this time, she was standing in an unlocked room about to open up a diary that could potentially change her world forever. The putting of a car and the swift sounds of flying gravel, that brought her so much happiness were coming from the open window. They were home. She hadn’t opened the book and now could not. There was no time.

            The car pulled around the circular drive way up to the front door. The dust clouded and came down all around. The passenger door opened and a tall woman’s long legs stretched out from the open door. As she stood up she fixed her lace dress and fanned the settling dust away from her porcelain face. The royal blue sash around her waste had become uncomfortably high from sitting too long in the car. She squinted as she looked up at the house. Hints of sun light burst from the top of the roof and into her eyes casting the beach house in silhouette. With a lace glove to her eye brows, she blocked the sun from her deep green eyes and examined her new home.

            “How many bedrooms did you say this had again?” she questioned.

            “About three.” Said the driver.

The driver was still sitting in the car getting his belongs that had spilled out from a bag which wasn’t securely placed in the back seat. As he meticulously repacked his bag he opened the black car’s door and stepped out. He was as tall as she was. His brown suite clean and pressed matching his bag that has spilled in the car. He too had deep green eyes. But his were much more beautiful. A hint of yellow specks swam around giving his eyes a magical feel. They were kind, sweet, gentle and most of all forgiving.

            He walked around the front of the car, one hand holding keys, the other holding his bag. The pair stood at the front steps. She fixed herself up for the introduction: primping her auburn hair into her folded white cap, adjusting her gloves carefully, flattening the front of her white lace dress and fixing the flirty royal blue sash at her waste one more time.
            “This is nerve wracking J.R. What if she hates me?” She said turning to him and grabbing that bag that was in actually hers.

            “Why would she? You’re wonderful. I love you. Why wouldn’t she?” J.R. said taking the bag back from her.

            “Well...” she said with a smirk “…you don’t know any better.”

They stepped up the front steps together. The old wood had lost most its paint all around the house. The front veranda stretched to both sides of the house with a small table to the right of the front door. Many card games had been played on that table. Many stories had been told at midnight around that table. But as of late, that table had been empty. The only thing on its wicker top was sand that had blown up from the dunes. No card games. No stories.

J.R. opened the screen door that kept the main door clean. His big hand wrapped around the cleverly carved door knob, he turned it and opened it.

“It’s adorable, J.R., I love it.” She said as he opened the door showing her the home she would now live in, the kitchen directly in front and to her left and right two bright parlors. “I’m glad you like it. I love it here. We’ve been so happy. Claire! Come down here. Claire?” J.R. said grabbing her hand and placing her bag at his feet. “She’s going to love you.” He said in a whisper and a wink.

The young girl who so perfectly stood in the unlocked room with the book turned the corner of the upstairs hall way and stood at the top of stair case. Her face frozen, void of any emotion. Blank and cold with her delicate hands behind her back.

“Claire, honey come down here and say hello. I’ve missed you, you know. Come down here!” J.R. said stretching his arms wide for a hug from his daughter.

She hesitated at first then released her hands from behind her back and ran down the stares clutching the banister. Her paten leather shoes clacked down the steps as her brown curly hair bounced on her shoulders. The last step came and she leaped in her father’s arms.

“That’s a girl! Where’s Maysa?”

“Not here.” Claire said in a faint voice.

“Well I can see that!” he laughed. “Where did she go? She was to watch you until I returned.”

“She had to go to Drummond’s. There weren’t any carrots.” Claire said as she replaced her locket that had jumped out of her dress.

Drummond’s was the local marker that had everything you could think of for a beach community outside of Savannah. Pig’s feet to imported wines from the finest vineyards of Europe could be found at the old store, and the housekeeper Maysa was a regular visitor. Maysa was the daughter of slaves who were unable to give their daughter a great education. They were long friends of the family and when Claire was born Maysa was there. And she’s been there. For everything.

“Aren’t you going to say hello?” J.R. said hinting at the snub to the woman.

Claire looked at her shoes, sniffled and said “hello.” In the softest of voices.

“Hello Claire, it’s so good to see you again. We’ve missed you. Would you like to see what we’ve brought you? I think you’d love it!” The woman said opening the bag that at J.R’s feet.

“It’s not my birthday.” The girl said.

“It’s a gift, for being away for so long.” The woman said carefully opening the bag.

“Dinah has really missed you. I have too.” J.R. said holding his daughters hand and leading her to the now open bag.

Inside the bag was a smaller bag. The woman, Dinah, opened the small bag and removed a small necklace with a new locket hanging from the golden string. Tears welled up in Claire’s eyes. A replacement locket? Nothing could replace her locket. The locket she wore was sacred and represented so much that happened to her before the book entered their lives. It was a memory, a symbol of what she lost. Her face dropped in shock and confusion as if someone was playing a joke on her. Just then the kitchen door opened and Maysa walked in.

“Mista, Missus Haive? You here?” Maysa said placing the bags down on the kitchen counter.

Claire hearing a voice that calmed her ran to the kitchen. As Maysa made her way to meet the returning husband and wife in the foyer, Claire met her half way and buried her face in her leg.
            “Wha…what on earth happened? What’s wrong little one?” Maysa said puzzled.

Claire looked up and shook her head, wiped her face and ran back up the stares.

The necklace still dangled in Dinah’s hands, “She hates me, she absolutely hates me!” Dinah said.

“Now, now, this is tough for her. It’s going to be very tough for her.” Said the friendly house maid looking up to the second floor hall.

Claire ran to her room, but passed the open door that was so filled with light. She ran and completely stopped directly in front of the door and looked in. Still blurry from her tears about the locket Dinah tried to give her. She saw the book. She took a breath dashed into the room and grabbed the book and took it back to her room. She ran around her bed, her dress clinging to the bed spread as she knelt down again placing the locket back into her dress that had jumped out as she dashed up the stairs. She had the book now. It felt hot in her hands, like a fire ball directly from the sun. Inside she wanted to open it with every once of her but her hands just held the book marked “E.H”. It was tied with a leather strap; a page was marked by a single slice of pink ribbon. Quite tattered and old but still locked in place in the center of the book.

A breeze swam itself into the room pushing the sheer white curtains above her bed. She stood and placed the book at her bedside and stared out on the sea. She was confused and sad. She was bitter and angry. She couldn’t make sense of all the feelings that were going through her mind, all she wanted were answers, something easy that could take everything away. Nothing now at days was easy.

In the kitchen Maysa started to prepare an early dinner. She had always liked dinner before the sun went down. As she chopped her fresh carrots for the stew Dinah walked into the kitchen and sat down removing the folded hat and collapsing into one of the kitchen table’s white round chairs.

“Do you think she’ll ever come around?” Dinah asked.

“She’ll come ‘round. There’s no sense in pushing a horse if he isn’t going to budge an inch is there? Just keep talkin’ to her. Relax her. Make her feel comfortable with ya. She’ll come ‘round.” A consoling Maysa said never lifting her head from the bowl of chopped vegetables.

“I can’t imagine what might be going through her little head. She’s only twelve! I remember when I was twelve. Lord, to go through what she’s going through now when I was her age is beyond me. I would have turned into a puddle of nothing. Never strong enough to take anything. I’m mostly worried about J.R. He’s been through so much too.” Dinah said feeling the embroidered table cover with her delicate fingers.

J.R. walked down the main staircase and turned the corner into the kitchen. Dinah followed the sound of the creaking wood as he came down and entered the room.

“Settled in yet? Have you seen the sea? It’s amazing isn’t it?” He said clearly avoiding what had happened with Claire.

“I’m sure it is.” Dinah said standing up and hugging him. “Claire, how is she? She hated my gift. I didn’t mean to upset her.”

“She’s fine, I’m sure of it. She has to learn that there are things that are going to change, especially after what happened.” J.R. Explained.

“But she’s so young!”

“Mista Haive’s right Missus she’s growing up and things gonna change eventually.” Maysa said again lifting her head from her work.

The truth is, things were about to change. She may not have fully understood what was happening. Claire’s mother would have approved. At least J.R. chooses to think so.

2

Claire’s mother Elizabeth, or Libby as her family and close friends called her was a kind girl who came from fine southern stalk and married into one of Georgia’s most celebrated families. The Haive family. The Middle son, handsome Regan Michael Haive JR, easily known as J.R., met Libby at a cotillion when they were both 19 years old. The fell in love and courted for 3 years. On a blustery winter morning, their first child was born, a boy they called Ashton. Ashton was a happy baby but things started to go wrong in his first year of life. Libby grew frustrated with balancing her Southern women’s gatherings and fancy tea parties at the beach house and being a mother. She hated the idea of a nanny watching her child while she hosted, and spent time away from the baby but refused to give up her social side until Ashton was a bit older. She was in constant conflict.

One spring, three years before Claire’s birth the unimaginable happened. It was a rather unusual warm spring. Libby had brought together a few of her closest friends to the beach house. There beautiful women in bathing suites and dashing young men in strapped trunks all sun bathing by the sea. Red and white beach umbrellas lined the shore. The waves crashed and mixed with the sounds gossip from high society women of Savannah. Gladys Monihan-Gurthawin sat next to Libby on her blue beach towel, the sun reflecting in the ocean and bouncing on to her sun glasses.

“Libby darling, I know I’ve seen him some where, but it’s been a while.” Gladys said turning her head up and down the shore line.

Picking up a glass of Champaign to her perfectly sculpted lips Libby said “Seen who?”

“Ashton. Honey your son where is he?” said Gladys lowering her eye from behind her white sun glasses to reveal her almond shaped brown eyes.

It in fact had been hours since anyone had seen Ashton. He was in the sand earlier with some of the other children. His blonde hair flowing in the ocean air. But some how he stepped away from everyone. Possibly on an adventure, four year olds often float off on their own, at least that’s what Libby thought.

“Well how should I know? Wasn’t he with Dougie Miller’s sons or something playing in the sand?” Libby said looking around, Champagne glass in hand.

It was true, he had been with the Miller boys. But not for hours. Libby and the rest of the beach goers had some how lost track of little Ashton who had walked off on his own to the rocky part of the shore. Ashton was adventurous by nature. Curious and intrigued by everything that moved. Like seagulls for instance. He followed a seagull all the way to a rock formation and some how climbed up on one of its sharp sides trying to touch the seagulls he saw. Unnoticed and forgotten, Ashton slipped and fell, hit his little head on the side of the sharp rock and fell into the clearest blue water on the Savannah shore…and drowned.

            He was found at dusk when everyone was going home by Libby herself. She had stopped paying attention. She had stopped noticing her child. She had more important things to do, like gossip and share strawberries and Champagne with her girlfriends.

            After Ashton died, Libby was never the same. JR tried to console her by giving her gifts making her feel loved and wanted. But the depression and guilt consumed her. The Beach house changed from a busy hub for Savannah socialites to a home of dark drapes and shut windows. No one in, no one out.

Their marriage continued although it had become quite noticeable that Libby’s part in the marriage was forced. She was 8 months pregnant with Claire when she started her journal. In this journal she would pour out her heart about the loss of Ashton and how should couldn’t bare to have another child. She was unfit to care for a baby, she wrote: “This child I carry inside of me is one of the unluckiest creatures to ever be born. I cannot provide the care this baby needs. I failed the first time. I shall fail again.”

Claire was born and Libby didn’t even hold her. J.R., the proud father held her in the first moments of her life. That would connect them forever. He was a loving father and tried to connect Libby to Clair but failed time and time again. Libby’s depression was dark, like a storm. It floated around her and everyone, even people who didn’t know her, saw that the woman was troubled. It would follow her until the day she died.

3

It was now late evening, dinner was done. Everyone was now set to retire to rest for the next day. No one had noticed the book was gone. It had been laying out on top of the table. Claire had found it but couldn’t bare to read it. All she could do was stare at it. Even when her father came home and she ran up the stairs and grabbed the book she couldn’t bring herself to read the secrets her mother had left on its pages. It was in her position now. It was hers for the taking.

            Claire had no memories of her mother. She was very young when everything happened. She, of course, had known she had an older brother but he was hardly mentioned as she grew up. Claire often blamed herself for her mother’s death. J.R. reassured her that her mother’s death wasn’t her fault. Nothing was her fault. When he’d tuck her in at night, at her most vulnerable, at her most quiet moments she’d ask “Did mother hate me?” It was clear things were not the way they should be.

            Eight O’clock. Bed time. J.R. made his way to Claire’s room and knocked on the door softly. Maybe she was already asleep. She hadn’t spoken to anyone in hours.

            “Come in.” Claire said softly sitting on a chair staring into a mirror as she brushed her hair.

            “Feeling alright? You didn’t have much to eat.” J.R. said reaching over for the brush and brushing the back of Claire’s head.

            “Fine, I’m fine. I just didn’t like her gift. I mean I liked it, it was pretty, but, Daddy I can’t possibly replace this one!” Claire said grabbing her locket.

            “I know sugar, she knows that too. You don’t have to give up anything you don’t want…” J.R. saw the diary. “Claire, where did you get that?”
            “Daddy…I”

            “Where did you find that Claire? Where you looking through your mother’s things?” He said dropping the brush to the ground and reaching for Libby’s diary.

            “No, yes, well…I saw it once before, when you were reading it. And you never told me what it was. I had to find it. I saw her initials. I had to!” Claire said standing up off the chair and now facing her father.

            “What do you want from this? What could you possibly want? You had no right!” J.R. said pushing her aside on his way out the door.

            “I just wanted to see what she wrote about me, if anything. I don’t know what she thought about me.” Said Claire.

            “Why don’t you just ask me?” He said

            “You’d lie. You’ll tell me whatever I want to hear!”

Hearing the commotion Dinah stepped out of their bedroom and ran to Claire’s room.

            “What’s going on!?” she said looking over J.R.’s shoulder into the room

            “Nothing, go back to bed!” J.R. Said.

            “Well if it’s nothing, why are you yelling at Claire?” She said skeptically.

            “It’s nothing just…”

            As he spoke she turned him around to get a better look into the room and saw the diary. She stepped back.

            “What’s that?” Dinah asked.

            “It’s my mother’s diary. I stole it. I did. I wanted to see what she wrote about me before she died, or even how she died. My father won’t tell me anything about it.” Claire said as she began to cry.

            “That’s enough. Claire, go to bed. I’ll talk to you in the morning!” J.R. Said as he slammed the door.

            Claire was a mess, as the door slammed she sobbed and buried her face into her clean white pillow. The window was still open and the wind pushed her curtains above her bed like the wings of a giant dove spreading all around her. She cried and sobbed for hours until she fell asleep.

            Dinah was fuming at J.R. for never telling Claire what had happened to Libby. She followed him down the stairs into the parlor. Her night gown swooped around ever corner she turned.

            “You have to be out of your mind!” She said pushing him into the parlor.

            “What are you talking about? She stole from me, she can’t do that. I am her father!” He said sitting down on the light yellow sofa.

            “You never told me Claire had no idea of what happened to her mama. You never told me you never said anything. How could you have kept this from her? Can’t you imagine how much she questions everything in her life? It’s all a mystery, no wonder she can’t stand me. She doesn’t even know why I’m here!” She said slumping down in to the chair across the sofa from J.R.

            “Dinah, you don’t understand, she’s too young to understand what really happened to Libby. Damn it, I don’t even know what happened.” He said.

            “Someone has to tell her. That someone should be you. You’re her father, the one witness she knows to what happened to Libby. You have to tell her.” Dinah said reaching for his hand.

            “I gotta get a drink!” He said ignoring her hand and going over to the small bar.

He got up from his seat, and with the fury going on around him left the book on the sofa. Dinah stared at it. He grabbed his drink, a brandy no ice, and said goodnight and went up into the bedroom. The book stayed. Dinah, in all her honest to goodness ways had no choice; she too had to find out why he was keeping this book so secret. What was in it that he didn’t want Claire to know, and why hadn’t he destroyed the book if he wanted no one to see it? She stood up and looked around; she walked slowly over to the sofa picked up the book and walked slowly to the kitchen. She took her time and didn’t turn on a single light. In darkness she grabbed a candle that was on the kitchen table and some matches that lay next to it. She took it outside and sat on a beach chair. The secrets would come out. The waves crashed, the moon was high and the breeze was subsiding. She opened the book and read. Page by page the secrets Elizabeth Haive poured out from the thin paper in dark blue ink. The secrets that not even her husband could allow himself to destroy.

            The first few entries were all before Claire’s birth, even before Ashton’s death. There were light hearted and pleasant. She loved the beach house and could only write about the parties and friends and family members who all enjoyed their time there. Each entry leading up to Ashton’s death was completely normal and happy. Libby seemed to have embraced life. Although she hardly mentioned J.R. or Ashton in more then a few words. Picking up the book, a stranger might think J.R. and Ashton were just friends of hers from a party. However, darkness would soon come in the book. She stopped writing after a while and picked again after Ashton’s death. The candle blew out. And when Dina relit the candle she would have no idea of what she was about to read.

4

            “Aril 17^th 1934

                        Two days ago I returned from hospital. I gave birth to a little girl. J.R named her Claire. I hate that name. But she’s pretty. It might suite her. I somewhat feel lost when it comes to this new person in my life. Through out the pregnancy I prayed I’d feel for her what I did for Ashton, but it always comes up empty. After my son was lost everything inside me went with him. I feel numb. I feel nothing. Not even for her. Can I help it? I feel like she’s some sort of replacement and I didn’t want him replaced. How could I have been so careless? How could I have been so reckless with him? I was. I am. All I do is sit in dark rooms awaiting my fait. I deserve nothing more then to drown alone as my sweet little boy did.”

            The first sign of what Libby was going through chilled Dinah to the bone. She sat in her night gown and listened to the waves hit the wet banks of the beach. It as past ten thirty now. J.R. would be looking for her and possible remember he left Dinah and the book alone in the parlor. She got up and floated back into the beach house and placed the book in the now dark room on the sofa where J.R. had left it. She started to tip toe back to her bedroom with J.R. when from around the corner Maysa popped up.

            “Dear god girl you scared me!” Dinah said with her hand to her chest. “What are you doing up this late?”

            “It’s only a quarter to eleven Missus, I never go to bed this early. What were you doing outside so late?” Maysa said lighting a candle she was carrying.

            “Can keep a secret, can you do that for me?” Dinah asked
            “Child, this old head keeps more secrets then you will ever know, I’m sure I know what you gonna ask me about. And I’m also sure that I wont be able to tell you everything you want to hear. I keep these secrets, but I still can’t make sense of them.” She said eyeballing the diary on the sofa. “Lord have mercy, not that again. Is that Miss Libby’s journal?”

            “So you’ve seen it too!” Dinah said.

            “Seen it? Honey I’m the one that gave it to her. I haven’t seen it a long time though. She used to write in it all the time. Even after she got sick.”

            “Sick? Libby was ill? With what?” Dinah asked stepping aside making room for Maysa who was walking over to the diary.

            “After her baby boy left us, and when Miss Claire came into the world, Libby went into a dark place. She was hardly seen. You know that girl loved to celebrate, she loved to show off, she loved it to her core. People loved that about her too…but all that ended the day she found out she was pregnant with Claire.” Maysa explained.

            As Dinah tried to compare notes from what she read and what Maysa was explaining J.R. opened the door of the bed room. She heard him rustling up stairs: putting his slippers on and walked into the hall way.

            “Shhh! Forget what you told me. Don’t say anything to Claire or J.R. You hear?!” Dinah said blowing out Maysa’s candle.

            She walked up the stairs and met him right at the top. Smiled and said:
            “Honey I was just about to go to bed, what are you doing up?”

            “I was coming to find you, where have you been?” He asked looking down stairs.

            “Oh just having a late night snack with Maysa, come on, let’s go back to bed.” Dinah said looking over her shoulder to where Maysa had been standing and was no longer there. She locked arms with J.R and the two went back into the bedroom, Dinah still nervous that JR would possibly find out she read the diary.

“May 2^nd 1934

            She won’t stop crying. All that baby does is eat, and cry. I can’t take it anymore. J.R. says she just wants attention. I don’t want any attention from her, why should I give it. Ashton never cried. At least I can’t remember if he did. My god I’m losing my memory of him. He couldn’t have cried, he was such an angel. Everything about him is completely the opposite with Claire. I need to get away. Maybe just for a few days. These walls feel like they’re closing in on me, I’m finding it hard to breath. Would it be horrible, absolutely horrible, if I just left without telling anyone? I’d come home. But I just need some time to figure out why I’m upset all the time. Why does she make me so upset all the time!?”

            Dinah closed the book. It was morning. J.R. had gone in to Atlanta for a quick business meeting before he went back to work the following Monday. She sat back in her chair and stared at the wall in the kitchen. She couldn’t understand what had Libby in such a terrible state. A beautiful new baby, and she was angry and sad and horribly unhappy.

            Claire came shooting down the stairs. Strangely happy, a direct contrast to what she was the night before. She walked over to the front door and opened it.

            “Claire? Where are you off to?” Dinah asked peering around the corner and hiding the diary behind her back.

            “What?” Claire said stalling her answer to come up with a convincing story.

            “I asked where you were off to. It’s 10:00 am, you haven’t had breakfast.” Dinah said.

            “I’m not hungry.” She said shutting the door behind her.

            Claire wanted her mother, her true mother and not knowing what happened to her was a mystery she had to figure out before it over took her. Dinah sat back down in her chair and placed the diary on the table. Her curiosity was at her again. There was still so much she didn’t know. There was still so much she may not want to know. But she opened it any way.

5

            “May 15^th 1934

            I cannot figure out why this child hates me so much. Every time I’m near her she cries. I can’t control her. She won’t eat, she doesn’t need changing, and God knows I hold her. I can’t hold her any more! I’ve given up. J.R. has to take care of her at least for tonight. My mind is a mess. All I think about is why I’m so cursed with her. Or is she cursed with me? Maybe I should just run away from here and never come home… at least it would bring everyone peace of mind. I wouldn’t be around to worry about. I wouldn’t be here to nag to. It would be so much easier. So much better!”

* * * * *

            The pen was then lifted from the diary. Ink still wet. She stared up into a mirror that was sitting on top of her desk. Libby was crying. Her emotions were unexplained. The horrible thing that happened to Ashton could not be taken back, but she had another, new, child to care for. She couldn’t. She was constantly emotionally drained. And everyone pretended not to notice.

            The crying of baby Claire continued. It hurdled through the beach house’s halls and around each corner and into her bedroom that was almost sealed off from the outside world. She hadn’t been out of her room in hours, the baby continued to cry. She got up, the pen still in her hand and walked to the door.
            To herself she thought “Stop…just stop crying!” She couldn’t even bring herself to open then door and go to the baby’s room. She just slumped to the floor and sobbed along with the distant child alone in her nursery.

            Maysa was just returning from a visit to her mother’s house in Augusta. She stepped on the front steps and of course heard the baby crying constantly; from the open windows.

            “Mrs. Haive? Mrs. Haive!!” She said startled at the seeming empty house.

She dropped her bags and opened the screen door, then the front door. Unlocked. She darted directly to the baby’s room.

            “Look at you!” She said to the teary eyed baby. “red as a fresh summer tomato, it’s ok, now don’t cry…Mrs. Haive?! Mrs. Haive?!” Maysa said walking back into the hall.

            “Maysa? Oh thank god! I can’t…Maysa I have to get out here! I can’t take this anymore!” Libby said finally coming out of her room.

            “What is it? You look like you’ve seen a ghost girl, what’s that matter!?”

            “I’m not right; I don’t know what’s wrong with me. The more Claire cries the more I cry, the more I think about Ashton crying for me when ….oh god, please just take care of her!” Libby said grasping to the wall.

            “Ma’am you look like you haven’t slept in days, where’s Mr. Haive. Wait for him will you? Please just wait, look little Claire is quiet now, she just wanted to be held!” Said the unconvincing house keeper.

            “What? Are you trying to say that you’re arms are what she wanted! Who do you think you are!?” Libby said.

            “Mrs. Haive, I don’t know what you’re talking about!? I was just saying—“
            “You were just saying you could be a better mother, right!? Get out? Give me my baby!” Libby said snatching at Maysa’s arms.

            “Mrs. Haive you’re not well! Please stop, you’ll drop her!” Maysa said struggling.

            “You’ll drop her! How dare you!”

            Clearly Libby was confused; the lack of sleep, the deep depression the confusion was starting to get at her. The two women struggled for a brief moment, Claire, a small baby at the time, began to cry. The sound pierced through Libby’s ears she immediately stopped and fell to the floor of the hall way covering her ears. A petrified Maysa, placed the baby back in her nursery and came back to help Libby up.

            “Mrs. Haive you’re not well, please let me take you to your bed, you need some sleep.” Maysa said lifting what was a healthy woman only a few moths ago and now turned herself into a helpless child herself. Maysa placed Libby in bed and closed the door behind her and waited for JR to return from work.

            Libby had fallen asleep, and thankfully the chaos had made the baby girl tired as well, Maysa sat at the kitchen table awaiting J.R’s return with a cup of tea. She never sat at the family table. She stirred and stirred but never sipped, her mind was spinning of thoughts of the fight in the hall. She had never seen a woman react like that. She waited and waited, sometimes getting up to check on the baby. She was still fast asleep just like her mother. Then she heard that familiar sound of the car coming up the dirt road to the beach house.

            The car turned around in the circle driveway and parked as it usually did in front of the house. J.R, got out as he usually did, slow and relaxed after a long day at work. He walked up to his front door, just as he normally would, but found something he normally never found. Maysa’s suitcase was still at the front door.

            “What the hell?” he whispered to himself. He walked in and called out for his wife but was interrupted by Maysa from the kitchen.

            “Shhh sir, they’re all asleep.” She whispered.

            “All asleep? It’s only 7:30. Is Libby ill?” He asked.

            “Mr. Haive, something has happened. I don’t know how-“

            “What’s happened? Where’s Claire? Maysa!?”
            “It’s Libby sir, something just aint right she… sir she was locked up in her room all day while the baby cried she didn’t even get up. Then she tried to take her from me. She needs a doctor Mr. Haive.”

            JR leaned his had back up against the wall in the foyer where he stood closed his eyes and took a breath.

            “She hasn’t been the same since Ashton died. When he died she seemed to have given up.” He explained.

            The conversation suddenly ended there when Claire started crying again. But her cry seemed to be coming from outside her door. Her voice was clear, not muffled as if through walls it was sharp like a banshee.

            “What the….Libby? Libby honey is that you? Do you have the baby?” J.R. said going toward the stairs.  

            He walked up as fast as he could and only saw the back of Libby’s gown flowing around the corner of their bedroom. Maysa followed. He opened the door to the room, Libby and the baby weren’t there. Maysa stood at the door, frightened to step in. He scavenged the room: under the bed, in the bed, in the closet screaming their names. Opening drawers to see if, god forbid, Libby stashed the baby in haste to hide. Over his loud calls he never heard Claire cry. By Maysa did.

            “MR HAIVE!” She shouted.

            He immediately stopped, looked at his trusted housekeeper still at the door of the bedroom.

            She pointed to the opened bedroom window and said with great fear in her voice.

            “Sir, the window.”

6

            The open window was gaping. The crashing waves from outside seemed deafening to J.R’s ears. There was no baby crying. There was no sound at all. He leaped over to the opened window and stuck his head out and called. He didn’t even finish her name when she saw Libby standing on the ledge to his left.

            “Good God girl, what are you doing? Come back in here!” He said extending his hand.

            The ledge wasn’t too large; in fact it was more like a small little area that was built so that the home owners could possibly put flower boxes on either side of the window. It was large enough to stand on, but not made for standing. And yet she stood, standing there holding her second born child innocent and silent.

            “This noise has to stop. I can’t keep doing this! I don’t deserve this baby, or life. I’m sorry.” Libby said as she stepped forward.

            “No! Libby no, don’t. Please honey, we can fix this, whatever it is you’re feeling we can fix it. Maybe it’s me, no it is me, and it’s my fault. Just come back in here and I’ll get a doctor over and we can see what’s going on and we can fix it. I swear we can. Honey I love you, please come back in here.” J.R said still holding out his hand.

            Baby Claire, who had been crying all day and all night had fallen asleep. She was exhausted. She was held by her mother in the cold night air almost dangling on this ledge not knowing how close she was to death.

            “This is how it’s supposed to end. I killed Ashton, I don’t deser….”

            As she spoke, J.R., with his massive arms climbed out and grabbed her. The ledge was way too small; especially for a six foot tall large framed man, his wife and their baby and it started to crack.

            “Libby please just give me the baby, please, come back inside!” J.R. said starting to grab little Claire, who woke up from her sleep in his hands.

            Libby was confused and tired and frail. She let go of Claire and stared at the ground. The ledge cracked.

            “Maysa, take Claire, come here!” J.R. said calling to the window where Maysa reached out.

            J.R. turned around and stepped back into the bedroom. He looked out the window and reached out for Libby.

            “Lib, please come back in before you…….

* * * * * *

            The diary slammed closed. Dinah sat at the kitchen table. There directly in front of her was J.R.

            “Why are you reading that?” J.R. asked.

            “J.R., please don’t be angry, I couldn’t resist. Everything about Libby has been a mystery. You told me general things about her. But you never told me about the things I just read about.” Dinah said standing up.      

            “It’s a dark part of my history. Something I don’t want to relive by telling you. And for Claire, I can’t have Claire knowing what really happened.” He explained. “How far did you read?”

            J.R. seemed defeated. He couldn’t stop Dinah from reading Libby’s diary. He couldn’t bring himself to destroy it either. There was something about her actual hand writing, her words, her actual words, the last thing she might have touched, that he couldn’t leg go of.

            “The window, I got to the window.” Dinah said looking down at her feet. 

            “Oh. You know Claire has no idea about any of that. I can’t imagine having her know what her mother tried to do. She has this image of Libby, like a Saint.” He said grabbing Dinah’s hands. “She can’t know. I can’t be responsible for destroying that perfect image of her mother.”

            “What does she know?” Dinah asked.

            “Well along time ago, she did ask where her mother went. I told her. I told her, her mother was taken.” He said releasing her hands and walking over for some coffee.

            “But she wasn’t. Where is Libby?” Dinah asked looking back at the book on the kitchen table.

            J.R. walked over to the table and picked up Libby’s diary. He looked at it as if he were looking at Libby herself. “I told Claire she was taken. I told her she was taken by angles. To Claire, Libby is dead. If you really want to know where she is, why don’t you let Libby tell you?” And he handed the book back to Dinah.

            Dinah opened the book.

7

           

J.R. decided on staying home the rest of the afternoon and not returning to Atlanta for work. Things at home were much too chaotic. As Dinah continued to read Libby’s diary J.R. walked up stairs to find Maysa cleaning up Claire’s little room. 

“Where did she run off to?” He asked Maysa picking up a framed baby picture of Claire.

“To visit little Gretchen Moyer, she’ll be back before supper.” Maysa said unfolding Claire’s delicate dresses.

“You know, Dinah is reading the diary.”

“Yes sir, I saw her reading it last night and again this morning.” Maysa said hanging up the dresses.

“How long do you think it’ll take her before she realizes the truth?” J.R. asked.
            “She may never realize it and maybe that’s for the better.” Maysa said.

* * * * * *

           

            “Give me your hand Libby! Come in here!” J.R. said reaching for his wife as she stood on the weakening ledge.

            She turned to him, the moonlight reflecting from her tears. She lifted one foot off the ledge and said “I cannot go on”.

            Libby didn’t wait for the ledge to give way. She jumped. Her body tumbled on to floor from the second story bedroom window. She lay there unconscious, her hair covering her face. The horrific scene caused J.R. to freeze and stair at her body from the window. His eyes glazed over with tears, his skin pale. He could not move. Maysa who had put the baby in her crib was already coming out the front door to help Libby.

            “Mr. Haive! She’s alive! Come down here! Hurry!” She screamed.  

           

            Libby was taken to the same hospital in Atlanta where her children were born. She had not woken, she was in a deep coma and her left arm and both her legs were broken. She lay there quiet and resting. Her mother and father came to visit every day and every night. She was their world. They talked to her even though she may or may not have heard them. They brought the baby over to her so that she could still remember her mother’s face and hoping that at any moment Libby would awake and everything would be better. Months past, her legs healed. Her arm healed, but Libby never woke. She remained in this state until the following summer.

            Her mother and her best friend were there that July day as they usually were. It was a Sunday after church. The two had come together to visit. The unimaginable happened.

            “Look she’s starting to move!” Libby’s mother said standing up out of her seat.

            “Honey, honey, it’s me, Gladys, your best friend!” Gladys said touching Libby’s hands.

Libby’s eyes opened and she looked around “get the doctor”, her mother said. “Honey, say something for me, say something. Anything?!” Continued her mother.

            She could only mumble. She hadn’t spoken for over a year. Just mumbles. She tried to move but her mother restrained her.

            “Keep your strength. Don’t move.” Her mother said.

            “He’s here.” Gladys said as the doctor entered.

            The doctor was J.R. He came in with his white coat, and examined his wife. Checked her up and down to make sure everything was ok. They kept asking her questions and they kept trying to help her speak. But nothing came of it. She tried and tried and after a few hours of broken works, she finally uttered something more terrifying to them then the jump itself.

            “Who……are …..you ..people?” Libby said.

            They were all in shock. They stood there for minutes that felt like hours.

            “Well I’m your mother honey. Mama!” her mother said, with tears in her eyes.

            She still looked confused. The women in the bed was not the Libby they once knew. She was growing confused and frightened that she couldn’t remember. She started to panic. J.R. called in one of his nurses to sedate her. As they injected her with something to help her rest the situation began to change.

            “What are we going to do?” Her mother asked.

            “I don’t know, but to remind her of all the things that happened could do more damage. We can’t just tell her everything!” J.R. said.

            “We can’t lie to her J.R! Her whole life? I mean what are we supposed to do?” Gladys asked.
            “I don’t want Claire around her like this, it could frighten her.” J.R. said looking out of the window.

            “So what should we do?” Her mother asked.

            “When she wakes up, I’ll handle it. Just please, trust me. For Claire?” J.R. said looking at his mother in law.

            “J.R., I need to know what you’re gonna tell her. This is my daughter we’re talking about. I can’t just let you make a decision that affects us all.” Her mother said coming over J.R’s side.

            He looked down and took a breath. His idea was uncommon, something that most people would never even thinks of. He went into the drawer in the bureau that was next to Libby’s bed. He opened the drawer and pulled out the diary.

            “She was writing this diary up until the day after Ashton was buried. If we continue to write it for her…” he was interrupted by her mother.

            “…then we can easily explain what happened to her!”

            “No. We’re recreating something. Libby’s life before was painful and dark. I don’t know where she was. I couldn’t in good conscience put her back into that world. We’re going to write her diary. And we’re going to finish it. And if she ever finds it she’ll know what happened to her.” J.R. Explained.

            “I don’t understand! What are you talking about?” Gladys asked.

            “From this day forward, she is no longer Elizabeth Haive, I am now a widower and she is my new wife. We’ll give her a new name! I just want her to have a fresh start. I can’t bare to have her go back to where she was before.” He said handing the book over to her mother. The two women, her mother, her best friend looked at each other and then over to the sleeping women who’s life was about to be rewritten.

8

            In the years the followed little Claire grew up without her mother by her side. Libby missed out on Claire’s first words, her first steps and her first day of school. She missed out on Claire’s first piano recital and when she skinned her knees. But for J.R., it was all worth it. The plan he had to reinvent Libby into someone else so that maybe when she was fully rehabilitated she could be reintroduced into their lives and quite possible live happier then they ever were before. It was a major feat. Just about everyone they ever came in contact with had to be notified, history was going to be remade and everyone had to play along. For Claire’s sake, for Libby’s sake! Letters were written to family and friends near and far. Everyone was in agreement.

            Libby’s mother took the dairy and started over. She rewrote the parts that Libby had already written and then filled in the gaps. It was going to take a lot of work, but they were all ready for the challenge. But then the day came, when finally Claire, needed to know where her mother was and what had become of her. Claire grew up in a world without pictures of her mother, with some stories, of course told to her by Maysa, but everything was kept in general scripted terms: Claire was only told her mother had passed away when she was very little, that’s all. And so it was, Libby, in name and spirit alone, died the day she jumped off the ledge of her bedroom window, and intern, with years of crafting and practice and attention to every detail, Dinah was born. Naturally, confused by amnesia, Dinah had to be told who she was, where she came from and that she was married to a widower, who happened to be her doctor, J.R. She easily fell in love again, probably just as she did when she was Libby with the dashing and handsome doctor who took care of her every need. Eventually the day came when Dinah had to finally go back home. It had been many years inside of a rehabilitation hospital. She could finally do the things she wanted to do, just like she did years before. It was all apart of the plan. Keep here away for as long as they could, so the story, the plot, her new life history could take fold into itself.

            Dinah stood in the mirror awaiting J.R. She was primping herself to be reunited with her step daughter Claire, someone who off and on would visit the hospital but never gave her any warm regard. Gently putting on her earrings, she turned to the hospital door being opened. J.R. and her mother walked in. They smiled with so much joy.

            “Darling, you look lovely, are you exited to finally go home?” her mother asked looking into the mirror’s reflection.

            “I am, I’m just worried about how Claire will react. It’s been so long since I’ve been home. I just hope that everyone adjusts.” She said with a laugh.

            “Everything is going to be just fine, trust me. Claire’s been having some trouble with a lot lately. She became use to you here all her life. But as soon as you’re home, I’m sure she’s going to embrace you has her mother, I promise.” J.R. said picking up her bags. “Are you ready?”

            “Just a minute, I have to say goodbye to Lana, she was the best nurse. Give me a minute?” she asked as she walked out the door.

            As she left the room, Libby’s mother’s nerves started to get the best of her. She started question everything they had done. Could it work? Would it work? Would she really be this new person they hopped for, free of all the pain she felt as her old self.

            “This has to work J.R., if something triggers her to remember anything as Libby, I don’t know what will happen. I can’t imagine what will happen.” Her mother said.

            “Everything is going to be fine Ann. Where did you leave the diary?” He asked in a whisper.

            “On top of your bureau. She’ll find it there.” Ann said.

            Dinah walked back in glowing and ready to get home. To get to her new life, to start everything she left behind all over again. She had no idea.

* * * * *

            “December 20^th 1934

 Going away is the best thing for me. Everything is set for me to go. Claire will be fine, J.R. can watch her. My mother will be here. I cannot stay…”

Her tea was done, and she had read through 5 months of entries from Libby’s diary. Pain, suffering and confusion everything, it was all there. She finally had to leave.

Dinah walked out side where J.R. was cleaning up around the gardens. His trousers and boots covered and dirt. The sun was hot, the ocean beaconed.

“I’ve finished, where did she go?. Please tell me.” Dinah asked.

“I don’t know. She left without saying goodbye. All the better. It led me to you. And everything that was unstable with her is gone now.” He said picking a flower from a bush and handing it to Dinah.

“But she’s never tried to contact anyone here? Not even Claire?”

JR looked deep into Dinah’s eyes, the same eyes he knew to be Libby’s and with all sincerity said “Whatever she felt inside, that truly made her do what she did is over now. We’re here, and that’s what matters.”

Gretchen Moyer was Claire’s best friend. When things got strange and hard at the beach house, Claire would take a short walk over to Gretchen’s house where she found some sanctuary in the Moyer’s beach front home. It was quite larger then Claire’s. There were more children in that family, Gretchen had two older sisters and a younger brother. Almost everyone in the Moyer family knew the secret except for Gretchen and her younger brother. It was kept secret for Claire’s own sake, at least that’s what JR told everyone.

That after noon, as Dinah finished what she thought was Libby’s diary, and JR did some gardening the two best friends, Claire and Gretchen, played dress up inside the attic where Gretchen had trunks of lovely play dresses her mother would buy in boutiques in Atlanta.

“This dress once belonged to a princess!” Gretchen said floating around the dusty attic. “My mama said so.” She added.

“Its an ugly color! What kind of princess would ware an ugly color like that?” Claire laughed as she slipped on her similarly colored dress.

“Looks like the princess who wore your dress has just as bad taste huh Claire!” Teased her best friend.

The two girls laughed and played and dug up old toys long past their prime. There were boxes and boxes of toys. Mixed in was another box. A box marked “SUMMER 1931”.

            “What’s in that one?” Claire asked.

            “I don’t know, the box is so small. I don’t think there are any dolls in that one.” Gretchen said reaching for the small box.

            The two girls opened it and were delighted to see photographs. Photos of Gretchen’s family with friends enjoying a day on the shore.

            “Looks isn’t this your dad and my dad? And your dad and….a baby boy?”

            “Oh! These are picture of my brother! Maybe there is a picture of my mother in here, I’d love to have just one picture.” Claire said scattering the pictures all over the attic floor.

            The pictures were going all over, but the faces in them were all known, The Capwells and Gretchen’s mother, Mrs. Jennings and Gretchen’s parents, more friends more family. It looked like a lovely day.

            “Look Claire, here’s one of my mother, my older sister Joan, and …Dinah?” Gretchen said handing the picture to Claire.

            “Dinah? How can Dinah be in this picture? She wasn’t around until after I was born, and these were taken when Ashton was still alive.” Claire said turning the picture over.

            On the back, in simple handwriting done by Gretchen’s mother, the words “Me, Libby & Joanie, Summer in Savannah 1931”

9

            She ran! She ran out of the attic and out of Gretchen’s house still dressed in the costume the picture of her mother in her hand. She may only have been 12 years old but she knew Dinah and Libby were the same person she just didn’t understand why everyone was lying. She kept running, the sand from the beach flying behind her. One hand holding up the skirt just high enough so the hem wouldn’t get caught under her shoes and the other grasping on to the picture of her mother. She could see in the distance the beach house, where everything had happened. She grew closer and closer.

            J.R. was still out side in the gardens, he had made his way close to the front of the house near the entrance of the drive way where some daisy bushes needed to be cut back. They were growing just a little too high over the fence. As he carefully snipped away he looked out to the beach and saw Claire running home. He watched her run the whole way; he knew something must have leaked. The secret was out.

            “How could you! How could you lie to me daddy?” Claire screamed from the other side of the fence.

            “Claire, keep your voice down, what happened?” He said.

            “I don’t want any more stories or any thing else. Nothing has ever made sense, and now I know why.” Claire said wiping the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her dress. She held up the picture right in JR’s face. “I found this at Gretchen’s house in a box. Why is Dinah in this picture with Gretchen’s mother and her older sister as a baby?”

            J.R. dropped the sheers and leapt over the fence and knelt down next to his daughter, both hands on her shoulders.

            “Listen to me, you can’t tell Dinah the truth!” he said.         

            “Is she mama?” Claire sobbed.

            “Please, Claire, when I tell you this, you have to promise me you’ll keep this secret. Claire do you promise?” J.R. said shaking his daughter.

            Claire whipped her nose and nodded that she understood.

            JR grabbed his daughter pulled her in close and embraced her and whispered into her ear “Claire, Dinah is your mother. She’s alive.”

            Claire, in shock fell to the ground and dropped the photo. The shock silenced her crying. It was almost too much for her. She sat there, and when she finally could muster up the words she said “where has she been all this time?”

            He came down to her level and sat with her. He grabbed her hands in placed them in his. He looked into her eyes and finally noticed just how much she looked like Libby the guilt could have killed him right then and there. How could he have kept the mother of his child away for so long in secret, and worst of all lie about her death and disappearance?

            “Honey, she was ill for a very long time, and when you were just a little baby, she got very sick. We had to keep her safe in a hospital. She’s better now, and for some reason she doesn’t remember anything from before. She doesn’t even remember when she was herself. I thought it would be better if we…if I, allowed her to forget so she could start over. I thought it would be better for all of us. Maybe I was wrong? Can you ever forgive me?” He explained.   

            Claire’s mind was racing but her body was still. She couldn’t believe her mother was there this whole time and she never knew. She had longed to know her, to know her touch and how her voice sounded and if she looked like her. And suddenly she realized this was her chance. Even if her mother went by another name, she could still get that chance and look into her face and listen to her. She was there.

            “And she doesn’t know anything?” Claire asked picking up the picture again.

            “No, she doesn’t.” J.R. said picking her up off the floor.

            “Ok, I wont tell. This is it right? No more secrets?” She assured him.

            “Claire, I promise there are no more secrets.” Her father said.

10

Dinah sat in her room and watched the whole thing. She may not have been able to hear. But she saw it. She heard Claire shouting about something when she initially came running from Gretchen’s house. Whatever it was they were talking about wasn’t meant for her to hear, at least that’s how she thought of it.

It was starting to get darker, the sun was falling and Claire was setting the table

with Maysa for dinner, J.R. was in the parlor reading the evening paper sipping on brandy. Things were nice. Everything seemed quiet, and Claire was now wearing both lockets, the one Dina had given her and the one she was given by Libby. The secret was safe.

            Dinah was up stairs in her bedroom. She walked over to the desk and sat down. She pulled a pen from the top of the desk that was inside a glass. There she opened up a blank book that she had found inside of Libby’s old things. She began to write:

“June 14^th 1946

            It’s amazing what the power of love can do to a person. It can take you to the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. It can bring unprecedented happiness or unfathomable pain. Sometimes we love so much that love clouds all judgment causing us to do things we would never ever think of doing. Love can teach you, but you cannot teach love. Sometimes love can protect your secrets, and sometimes love exposes them. The things we will do for love and to be loved!!

 I have lived two lives. I have loved by two names. Years ago my memory was damaged, perhaps with good reason. I came back from that and awoke with a new life. My loved one’s loved me so much that they would have rather changed my history and given me this second change then to have me go back to a world so dark and so painful that I may not have ever recovered. I have known…I have seen their faces. Not all pictures are kept out of sight. He still keeps a picture of me in his wallet with our first born son. That one picture, which I found in his wallet one night when he stayed with me in the hospital unlocked my mind. And yet, I allowed them, I allowed them to recreate my life. What I know wont hurt them, what they don’t know wont hurt them either.”

She closed up her first entry as Dinah Haive. And went down stairs and sat at the table. She loved her family so much that she didn’t reveal that she knew she wasn’t really Dinah, and they loved her so much that couldn’t bring upon them to tell her she wasn’t really Dinah. She played along. The beach house was finally quiet.