Lisa Smith: The Struggle

The car slowed to a halt, and Bonnie slid into the back seat with Elena.

“She’s got a white drawstring purse,” she murmured into Elena’s ear as Aunt Judith pulled out again.

Tingling excitement swept over Elena, and she squeezed Bonnie’s hand. “Good,” she breathed. “Now we’ll see if she brings it into Mrs. Grimesby’s. If not, you tell Meredith it’s in the car.”

Bonnie nodded agreement and squeezed Elena’s hand back.

They arrived at Mrs. Grimesby’s just in time to see Caroline going inside with a white bag hanging from her arm. Bonnie and Elena exchanged a look. Now it was up to Elena to see where Caroline left it in the house.

“I’ll get out here too, Miss Gilbert,” said Bonnie as Elena jumped out of the car. She would wait outside with Meredith until Elena could tell them where the bag was. The important thing was not to let Caroline suspect anything unusual.

Mrs. Grimesby, who answered Elena’s knock, was the Fell’s Church librarian. Her house looked almost like a library itself; there were bookcases everywhere and books stacked on the floor. She was also the keeper of Fell’s Church’s historical artifacts, including clothing that had been preserved from the town’s earliest days.

Just now the house was ringing with young voices, and the bedrooms were full of students in various stages of undress. Mrs. Grimesby always supervised the costumes for the pageant. Elena was ready to ask to be put in the same room with Caroline, but it wasn’t necessary. Mrs. Grimesby was already ushering her in.

Caroline, stripped down to her fashionable underwear, gave Elena what was undoubtedly meant to be a nonchalant look, but Elena detected the vicious gloating beneath. She kept her own eyes on the bundle of clothing Mrs. Grimesby was picking up off the bed.

“Here you are, Elena. One of our most nicely preserved pieces—and all authentic, too, even the ribbons. We believe this dress belonged to Honoria Fell.”

“It’s beautiful,” said Elena, as Mrs. Grimesby shook out the folds of thin white material. “What’s it made of?”

“Moravian muslin and silk gauze. Since it’s quite cold today you can wear that velvet jacket over it.” The librarian indicated a dusty rose garment lying over a chair back.

Elena cast a surreptitious glance at Caroline as she began to change. Yes, there was the bag, at Caroline’s feet. She debated making a grab for it, but Mrs. Grimesby was still in the room.

The muslin dress was very simple, its flowing material belted high under the bosom with a pale rose ribbon. The slightly puffed elbow-length sleeves were tied with ribbon of the same color. Fashions had been loose enough in the early nineteenth century to fit a twentieth century girl—at least if she were slender. Elena smiled as Mrs. Grimesby led her to a mirror.

“Did it really belong to Honoria Fell?” she asked, thinking of the marble image of that lady lying on her tomb in the ruined church.

“That’s the story, anyway,” said Mrs. Grimesby. “She mentions a dress like it in her journal, so we’re pretty sure.”

“She kept a journal?” Elena was startled.

“Oh, yes. I have it in a case in the living room; I’ll show it to you on the way out. Now for the jacket—oh, what’s that?”

Something violet fluttered to the ground as Elena picked the jacket up.

She could feel her expression freeze. She caught up the note before Mrs. Grimesby could bend over, and glanced at it.

One line. She remembered writing it in her diary on September 4, the first day of school. Except that after she had written it she had crossed it out. These words were not crossed out; they were bold and clear.

Something awful is going to happen today.

Elena could barely restrain herself from rounding on Caroline and shaking the note in her face. But that would ruin everything. She forced herself to stay calm as she crumpled up the little slip of paper and threw it into a wastebasket.

“It’s just a piece of trash,” she said, and turned back to Mrs. Grimesby, her shoulders stiff. Caroline said nothing, but Elena could feel those triumphant green eyes on her.

Just you wait, she thought. Wait until I get that diary back. I’m going to burn it, and then you and I are going to have a talk.

To Mrs. Grimesby she said, “I’m ready.”

“So am I,” said Caroline in a demure voice. Elena put on a look of cool indifference as she eyed the other girl. Caroline’s pale green gown with long green and white sashes was not nearly as pretty as hers.

“Wonderful. You girls go ahead and wait for your rides. Oh, and Caroline, don’t forget your reticule.”

“I won’t,” Caroline said, smiling, and she reached for the drawstring bag at her feet.

It was fortunate that from that position she couldn’t see Elena’s face, for in that instant the cool indifference shattered completely. Elena stared, dumbfounded, as Caroline began to tie the bag at her waist.

Her astonishment didn’t escape Mrs. Grimesby. “That’s a reticule, the ancestor of our modern handbag,” the older woman explained kindly. “Ladies used to keep their gloves and fans in them. Caroline came by and got it earlier this week so she could repair some loose beadwork… very thoughtful of her.”

“I’m sure it was,” Elena managed in a strangled voice. She had to get out of here or something awful was going to happen right now. She was going to start screaming—or knock Caroline down—or explode. “I need some fresh air,” she said. She bolted from the room and from the house, bursting outside.

Bonnie and Meredith were waiting in Meredith’s car. Elena’s heart thumped strangely as she walked to it and leaned in the window.

“She’s outsmarted us,” she said quietly. “That bag is part of her costume, and she’s going to wear it all day.”

Bonnie and Meredith stared, first at her and then at each other.

“But… then, what are we going to do?” Bonnie asked.

“I don’t know.” With sick dismay this realization finally came home to Elena. “I don’t know!”

“We can still watch her. Maybe she’ll take the bag off at lunch or something…” But Meredith’s voice rang hollow. They all knew the truth, Elena thought, and the truth was that it was hopeless. They’d lost.

Bonnie glanced in the rearview mirror, then twisted in her seat. “It’s your ride.”

Elena looked. Two white horses were drawing a smartly renovated buggy down the street. Crepe paper was threaded through the buggy’s wheels, ferns decorated its seats, and a large banner on the side proclaimed, The Spirit of Fell’s Church .

Elena had time for only one desperate message. “Watch her,” she said. “And if there’s ever a moment when she’s alone…” Then she had to go.

But all through that long, terrible morning, there was never a moment when Caroline was alone. She was surrounded by a crowd of spectators.

For Elena, the parade was pure torture. She sat in the buggy beside the mayor and his wife, trying to smile, trying to look normal. But the sick dread was like a crushing weight on her chest.

Somewhere in front of her, among the marching bands and drill teams and open convertibles, was Caroline. Elena had forgotten to find out which float she was on. The first schoolhouse float, perhaps; a lot of the younger children in costume would be on that.

It didn’t matter. Wherever Caroline was, she was in full view of half the town.

The luncheon that followed the parade was held in the high school cafeteria. Elena was trapped at a table with Mayor Dawley and his wife. Caroline was at a nearby table; Elena could see the shining back of her auburn head. And sitting beside her, often leaning possessively over her, was Tyler Smallwood.