upcountry 2023
upcountry university of maine at presque isle spring 2023
Editor: Dr.DeborahHodgkins,ProfessorofEnglish
Student Editor: TriciaSalo
Upcountry readssubmissionsfromallcurrentUniversityof MaineatPresqueislestudentsfortheannualSpringIssue. Forspecificinformation,contactDr.Hodgkinsat deborah.hodgkins@maine.edu.
Upcountry isapublicationoftheUniversityofMaineat PresqueIsle’sEnglishProgram.Aliteraryjournaldedicatedto showcasingpoems,shortstories,andvisualartfromstudents. Theviewsexpressedin Upcountry arenotnecessarilythoseof theUniversityofMaineatPresqueisleoritsEnglishprogram.
TheUniversityofMaineatPresqueIsleisanEEO/AAemployer,anddoesnotdiscriminateonthegroundsofrace,color, religion,sex,sexualorientation,transgenderstatus,gender expression,nationalorigin,citizenshipstatus,age,disability, geneticinformationorveteran’sstatusinemployment,education,andallotherprogramsandactivities.Thefollowingpersonhasbeendesignatedtohandleinquiriesregardingnondiscriminationpolicies:DirectorofEqualOpportunity,101 NorthStevensHall,UniversityofMaine,Orono,ME044695754,207.581.1226,TTY711(MaineRelaySystem).
Cover Art
Lila McCrum
“Comfort”2023.PenandInk.
Belen Dougherty TheImposter...................................................................................4 Gloria Clavet Side-by/-side.................................................................................6 Seed,Seedling,Plant,&Produce..............................................8 TheCancunResort........................................................................9 InSecURiTieS.................................................................................10 Today’sTheDay!.........................................................................11 Parise Dionne OurLastGoodbye........................................................................14 SummerEpiphany......................................................................15 ChasingRainbows.......................................................................16 Daddy,PleaseDon’tGo.............................................................17 Samuel Thompson TheWar..........................................................................................18 PhilosophyClass..........................................................................19 Shirley Sergent TheHouse......................................................................................20 Tricia Salo HowArtistsFindInspiration..................................................36 InSilence........................................................................................37 ThingsthatChipOff...................................................................38 MemoriesoftheLilacTree......................................................39 Contributors................................................................................40
The Impostor
By Belen Dougherty
I see her. She sees me. I see us, or is it just me? I get ready for school. It’s early. It’s cold. The sun slowly comes up, as I hurry to catch the morning bus.
I see my breath as I exhale. Sometimes I pretend I am smoking and attempt to create “O’s” as I release my warm breath out into the world. It makes me feel cool, in control of something. I stand alone and wait for the yellow bus to arrive. It slows down and stops in front of me. The door opens, I see a man sitting on the driver’s side. I can’t tell who he is or if it’s the same driver. All bus drivers look the same. I find a seat in the sea of tired middle schoolers.
In school, I read, I write, I pay attention. I follow the rules. These rules seem easy. Nothing changes, only you. You choose to follow the rules or not. Your attitude changes. Teachers say “Change your attitude!” But the school rules remain the same. So, I stay in my lane. I get praised, “Great job!” They say… “You are mature and smart. I smile. I take it in. It feels good to be acknowledged and praised. To be seen as different, mature, and studious, from the right side of the tracks
Through the classroom windows I catch her slight reflection...staring back. Is it her? Or is it me? Who is it? What is it?
The workday is over, and I arrive home. I say workday because school is full of work; school work. It’s quiet. I turn on the TV for companionship. My stomach rumbles. I walk into the kitchen. My bare feet make contact with a cold sticky floor, the sound of
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my feet on the vinyl leads me to the cold rice and beans on the stove.
There’s no praise at home. You don’t get rewarded for living. The only real reward is breathing. Self-esteem instantly depleted. There in this house, the rules change. Today’s rule is laid out on that stove. “Feed yourself.” So, I do. The unspoken rules that are ever-changing keep me on my toes. I learned not to expect but to be expected. My biggest challenge is that reflection, the one that wants to break away. But I won’t let her. She will keep us stuck in the house with changing rules. She would not thrive in places where rules don’t change, and worst of all she will trap me in that mirror.
In school, I see other kids who look like my reflection. They don’t get praised, can’t follow directions. I see myself in them. It makes me feel so sad. I trapped her in that mirror. How come they couldn’t do the same? But I can’t dwell on this too much because I might let mine out too and then I will be the one in that mirror wishing I could break through.
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Side-by / -side (2022)
By Gloria Clavet
Side-by -side, brightly painted yellow of two, shoulders pressing on each other ; our/faces-lit-up with awe as we shine with daily blessings, a smooth ride front bumper is
PERFECTly spotless
while on the B)ack one reveal s
re-al-ity
of each stimulating ride, black tires begin bright and-unblemished, until ragged stones sometimes Rocks– lessen original neatness sparkling paint can be cleansed, each day starting A N E W laying fresh gleam in the loving passenger’s new eyes
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Windshield starts off firstly transparent, later Small clouds release unnerving rain droplets, but whirling wind and WOOSH! Darker puffs can threat-en? to spoil / the Ride...
clean ‘towels’ polish and minor dents be pulled free bringing the running motor back to apuRR, AlMOSt as though new drivers change seat
With a light food on the right pedal, then Ahhhhhhhh, the soft leather seats, warmer, more reliable down with tight strap pulled across 2-shoulders and drawn hips
ALmOsT as
First, but with experienced rides, through sunny & storms weather
Ready again to ad
-venture forever
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Seed, Seedling, Plant & Produce
By Gloria Clavet
Dark and hard, softened under liquid substance that breaks its shell, expels growing colorful life Initial soily, bumping growth, adding even shoots doubling higher, wider showing blooms transform into baby eye protectors, stringed inches containing half-inch seeds to replant, climbing crunchy pickle starters of the future, small trees of color varying green, yellow, orange and red palm fitting sizes, to make saucy chip toppers along with the nickel-sized, orange balls that sweetly pop abundant freshness in my watering mouth or join the salt and pepper between two toasted slices.
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Summer Epiphany
ByPariseDionne
Therewasnothinglikethatwarmsummernight
Sittingbythecampfire,watching
Thebrightorangeflamesrisehigherandhigher, Spewingsparksintotheblackenedsky.
Thesmellofmuskysmokeandevergreenpine
Filledtheair,asthesoundoflaughterandmusic
Filledoursouls.Youheldmyhandtightly, Neverlettinggo.Apermanentgrinmasked
Ourfacesasthoughwewerefrozenintime
Untilsuddenlytherewasonly
Silenceandredembersaglow.
Suddenlythewarmnighthadturnedbitterlycold.
Suddenlyyourhandreleasedmine
Weglancedateachotherwithasolemnlook,
Realizingthatnothinglastsforever.
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Chasing Rainbows
ByPariseDionne
WhenIwasachild,Ibelieved Therewasapotofgoldattheend Ofeveryrainbow.Ilivedforrainy Summerdays,sittinginthewindow
Watchingtheraindropsdancinginthestreet, Listeningtothepitter-patterwhilewaiting
Anxiouslyforthegoldensuntocomeoutand Arainbowtoappear.Assoonasthat Colorfularcharrived,Idartedoutside Andsetforthforthefields.Determined Toreachtheendoftherainbow.
Determinedtofindthatpotofgold.
Iranandranandranandran.
Butrainbowsfadeandsodoestime—
NowIsithereatmydeskwith Grayinghairandfinewrinkles,still Searchingfortheendofarainbow,wondering WillIevergetthatpotofgold?
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Daddy, Please Don’t Go
ByPariseDionne
I’vealwaysbeendaddy’slittlegirl. Irememberhimtuckingmein everynight.Mytinybody lyinglimplyonthebed,tiredandweak. Hisstrongarmsliftingtheheavyquilt upovermyneckwithonlymylittlehead peekingout.Hewouldkneeldownbesidemybed andteachmehowtosaymyprayersinFrench. Thenhewouldkissmegentlyontheforehead, leavingmeinthedarknesstodriftofftosleep
NowIwakeandsuddenlyhe’stheone lyinglimplyinbed,tiredandweak. Hisheadpeekingoutfromunderneaththe heavyquilt,unrecognizablewithgrayhair andwrinkles.Isitbesidehisbed recitingprayersinFrench.Igentlykiss hisforehead,ponderingthedarknessoftime, hopinghedoesn’tdriftofftosleep.
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The War
BySamuelThompson
Bayonetsgleameddullintheamberlight.
Handsgrippedriflesfromwhichtheywouldneverpart.
Legsadornedwithredpipingforeverplantedtotheirnative soil,bracefortheloomingwave.
Artillerysilentlythundered,machine-gunsmotionlesslyfired, tanksblitzedalongthesmoothplainsofnoman’sland,and dicewererolled.
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Philosophy Class
BySamuelThompson
Thestudentfledfromhisdormitory,noteventheicy coldbiteofwintercoulddisparagehisfocusonthe ancients. AtonemomentSocrates,another,Plato.
Apology, then Republic his mind raced through all that he learned.
Heracedtowardsthehumanitiesbuilding.
Kantianethics,andKierkegaardianknighthood,he approachedthestairwaytohumanities,hisOlympus, hisSchoolofAthens.
Aristotleandcausalityheponderedasthestudent climbedthesnow-ladenstairwell.
FriedrichNietzscheandaffirmationcut-shortashe slippedfromthestairwell.
Ancientshewillneverponderagain.
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The House
ByShirleySargent
Therenovationwasdone.Thefurnishingswerebought. Elizabethdidwhatshesetouttodo.Soonthelastofthefurniturewillbedelivered,a200-year-oldmahoganylady’sdesk. Oncethedeskisplacedinthelibrary,shewillhavecompleted heryear-longefforttorestorethe1810FederalhouseinWaterford,Maine.Andthetimingcouldn’tbebetter.Shewillturn thehouseovertothehistoricalsocietyasagift,sayhergoodbyestoherparentsandfriends,andtoherfiftyyearsoflife.
AloudgruffvoiceechoedinthefoyerwhereElizabeth stoodwithherwalker.
“Youaretogooutside.”
“Thehouseisgivingmeordersnow?”askedElizabethas sheremovedthreepillbottlesfromtheconsoletabledrawer andlinedthemsidebyside.“AndwhatifIsaynotoyou, house?Whatthen?”Shewonderedifthehistoricalsociety wouldacceptahousethatwashaunted.
Thehouseflickeredthelightsonthewallabovetheconsoletable.
“Alightshow.Howinsignificant.”
Thehousebangedonitswalls.Itbangedonthefrontdoor creatingthedoortoexpandlikeaballoonfillingwithhelium. Itswelledsomuchsoitpoppedopenandbangedagainstthe wall.“Getout!Getout!”demandedthehouse.
Elizabethstoppedwhatshewasdoingtolookoutside.The sun’slightfloodedthefoyerspaceandmadehermauve stretchpull-onpantsandfloralcottontunicsparkletolife. Shewassurethesuncalledtoher.“Okay,maybeitwouldbe
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nicetositinthesunforthelasttime.”Aftersheplacedthe threebottlesbackinthedraweroftheconsoletable,sheshut thedrawer.Thenreachinginsidetheleatherpouchonthe handlebarofherwalker,sheremovedapairoffit-oversunglasses,afoldedsunhat,andatancardigansweater.Once dressedfortheoutdoors,shegrabbedthewalker’shandlebarswithbothhandsandwithshortstepsandleftfootdrop, hewalkedtothetemporaryrampanddescendedtothepaved walkway.Assoonassheadjustedthepositionofthewalker, shesatdownonthewalker’scushionedseat.Whenshe glancedupatthehouse,thefrontdoorslammedshut.
“Kickedoutbyahouse.Howcrazyisthat?”Shethoughta minutethenansweredher question.“It’swaycrazy.”The ideaofitbroughtmorethanasmiletoherface,it brought laughter.Itwasunexpectedandtheunexpectedness madeherlaughmore.Shethought,screw herMS.Letit chargeaheadlikeabullouttogoretodeaththebullfighter. Nothinginthis momentwouldmakehercry.Shewouldsave hertearsforlater.Nowshehadthesunbeaming downon bothherbodyandthehouse.
Thefederalhouselookeddownatherwithitssimplistic linesanditssophistication.Built atatimewhenindependencemeantthefreedomtohaveapoliticalparty,anewly written constitutionand,forMaine,abreakfromMassachusetts.It’sthatkindofindependencethat hasdrivenElizabeth fromanearlyage.Rulessetbyherparentsneverheldupfor long,notif shefoundfoughtinthem.Herparentssoon learnedthattheirdaughtercravedindependence andthe freedomtoobtainit.Theynurturedthatneeduntilitbecame herstrengthasan independentwoman.Theirdaughter
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taughtthemhowtoraiseher,howtopushthrough obstacles, howtomoveforwardandneverlookbackinregret,howto challengethe impossible.
ElizabethgraduatedfromhighschoolatsixteenandbecameanObstetrician-Gynecologist(OB/GYN)bytheageof twenty-eight.Dr.ElizabethHopkins.Shedevotedthenext twentyyearstothespecialneedsofwomen,frommedicaland surgicalcaretocomplexfamilyplanning.Shedeliveredbabies and,ifnecessary,sheperformedabortions.Hertimedevoted toherpracticegavelittletimeforasociallife.Sheignoredthe partofherthatwantedahusbandandchildren.Beingajugglerrankedlowonherskillschart.Shedidbettertofocuson onearea,oneball.Ifgivenanopportunitytogobackintime, shewoulddoitthesameway.ButnowthatthesecondaryprogressiveMShadforcedhertosellhermedicalpractice, andnowthattheyearofrenovationhadcometoanend,she wouldhavethefinalsaymovingforward. Herparentswereagainstherdecisiontoendherlife.They wouldhavehermoveinwiththemandbehercaregivers.Dr. JamesEarlHopkins,andMargaretHuntleyHopkinshavebeen thebestpeopletohaveasparents.Theywoulddoanythingto makeherlifeascomfortableaspossible.Theythinkbecause theytalkedherintorenovatingandfurnishingtheFederal house,theycouldkeepherbusywithsomethingelse,butthe MSwasstampedingaheadnow.Elizabethfeltifshecontinued tolive,shewouldloseallbodilyfunctionsandthatwasunacceptable.Shelovedherindependencetoomuch.Shehad hopedtheywouldunderstand.Shestillhopedthat.
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AgentlebreezepassedoverElizabeth’sbodyandbrought withitthesweetperfumescentofthedeep-purplelilacbushesthatlinedthedriveway.Itwasherfavoriteflowerinthe spring;shelovedcuttinglargebouquetsoflilacsandplacing theminvasesatdifferentlocationsinthehouse.Sheloved thewayitmadethehousesmell.Asshethoughtaboutthe smell,sherealizeditsoothedher.Shelookedatthehouse withanewfoundsenseofcompletion;ajoyfeltaccomplishment.
ThefinaldecisionsfortherenovationbothinsideandoutsidewenttoElizabeth.Ofcourse,sheusedGeorgeChamberlain,oneoftheleadinghistoricrestorationcontractorsin Maine.Hisadvicealwaysenlightenedherlikeprofessorsdid whenshewasinmedicalschool.Theywouldpresentdifferentscenarioswithpatients,andshewouldmakethefinaldecision.Georgewouldpresentdifferentapproachestotherenovation,andshewouldconsidereachoneandthendecide. Forinstance,shedecidedtoaddaPalladianwindowonthe secondstoryjustaboveasemicircularfanlightsituated abovethefrontdoor,withitsflankingsidelights.Shewas suretheseadditionswouldturnherhouseintoashowpiece, andtheydid.
WhenElizabethheardacarpullingintothedriveway,followedbyacarhorn,sheknewitwashermother.Insteadof turningaroundtosee,sheheldupherrightarmandwaved. Thecarcametoastopandthecardooropenedandclosed. Shelistenedtohermother’sfootsteps.Margaretwasaconfident,self-containedwomanwhocouldhavedonesomuch
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moreifshewasn’tthewifeofaprominentsurgeon.Ofcourse, Margaretwoulddisagree.
“It’snicetoseeyououtsideforachange.”Margaretleaned downandkissedElizabethonthecheek.Sheworeblackyoga pantsandtop,andgraysneakersandsportjacket,whichcomplementedhersilverhair.
“Thehousekickedmeout.”
“Aboutthat.Ifoundanarticlethatshouldinterestyou.”
“I’mnotinterested.”
“It’sworththeread.”
“I’mnothallucinating,andthere’snolinkbetweenMSand hallucinations.”Elizabethmaneuveredherselffortheprocess ofstanding.Hermothersteppedclosertohelp.“Mother,I needtodothismyself.Margaretsteppedback.
“I’mhereifyouneedme.”
Elizabethplacedherhandsonthesidebarsofthelocked walkerandpushedherwabblingselftoastandingposition. Thentogainsteadiness,sheremainedinthatpositionfora fullminute.“Ihavenointerestinreadingthearticle.”
“Youmightseeaconnection.”
“Thehouseisalive.”
“Thenwhydoesn’titcomealiveforme?
“Idon’tknow.”Withonehandholdingthehandlebar,she pivotedaroundand,beforemoving,unlockedthebrake.Then, inthesamewayasbefore,shewalkeduptherampandstood infrontofthecloseddoor.Withherrighthand,shegrabbed thedoorhandleandopenedthedoorinward.Shepushedthe walkerintothehouse.
“Ihavethedoor,”saidMargaret.Asshereachedtoclose thedoor,thedoorcloseditselfwithaloudbang.Shestepped
backinsurprise.
“Andyousayit’shallucinations.”saidElizabeth.“Idon’t thinkso.”
Therehastobeanexplanation.”
EachtimethatElizabethwouldstepintothefoyer,she wouldbeovertakenwithacalmingeffectwhichshecontributedtothemutedpale-yellowwallpaperthathadalightfloral designnexttoaslightlydarkerstripe.Shewassurethepatternproducedacalmnessasdidthedarkstainedpinefloorboardsandwhitebalusterswithdarkwoodhandrailsofthe stairsthat wenttothesecondfloor.Thecalmingeffect changedtoimmediateangerwhensheopenedthedrawerof theconsoletable.
“Okay,wherearethey?”
“Issomethingmissing?”askedMargaretasshewalkedto Elizabeth.
“Yes,andIwantthemback.”
“What?”
“House!”Elizabethshouted.“Youtookthem,andIwant themback.Now!”
“Darling,calmyourself.Whateveritis,we’llfindit.”
Loudbangingonthewallsechoedthroughoutthefoyer.
Startled,MargaretlookedatElizabeth.“What’sthat?”
“Thehousethinksitcanscareme.Butitcan’t.Elizabeth raisedherheadandtalkedtotheceiling.“WhenIcomebythis wayagain,Iwantthembackinthedrawer.Orelse!”
“Orelse!Orelse!Orelse!”thehousefolloweditswords withaloudlaughter.
“What’sthat?”
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“It’sthehallucinationyousayI’mhaving.”AfterElizabeth closedthedrawertotheconsole,shewalkedtothedoorway ofthelibrary.“Areyoucoming,Mother?”
“DoIdare?”
Thehouseisaprankster,nothingmore.”AsElizabethenteredthelibrary,itsoverheadlightstartedflickeringonand off.“IneedtomakesureIcreatedenoughspaceforthedesk beforeGeorgearrives.”
“George,ofcourse.”Margaretwalkedlikesomeonewalking inaminefield.Whensheenteredthelibraryandsawthe lightsflickeringonandoff,shesteppedbackintothehallway. “MaybeweshouldwaitoutsideforGeorge.”
“Thehouseisanannoyance.Itwon’thurtyou.”Assoonas Elizabethplacedherhandonthelightswitch,thelights stoppedflickeringandremainedon.“See.It’ssafenow.”
Thefarwallofthelibraryhadaceiling-to-floorbookshelf paintedforestgreen.Theotherwallswerepaintedalighter greenwithdarkgreentrim.TwolargeEighteenthCentury portraitshungonoppositewalls,oneofamanwearingasuit andoneofawomanwearingahighwaistlinedress.Thewood floorhadalargeingraincarpetwithgeometricandfloralpatternsinamutedmixtureofyellowsandoranges.Nexttothe fireplacewasanorangefederalstylebarrelbackloungearmchairwithamahoganyoctagonaltilttablenexttoit.Onthe othersideoftheroomwasalight-yellowclassicalswansofa withamahoganyone-drawcoffeetable.ThiswasElizabeth’s favoriteroom.
“Thedeskwillgonexttothebookcase.”
Margaretwalkedtothespotthatwasmarkedbytapeon
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thefloor.Shelookedaround,thensteppedbacktogetawider view.
“Ithastowork.”Elizabethwassureaboutonething.The housewantedthedeskmorethantheotherfurniture.There wassomethingspecialaboutthedesk.Shewasn’tsurewhat thatwas,justthatthehousenotonlywantedit,butalsowanteditplacedinacertainspotinthelibrary,whereshehadthe tape.
“Lizzy,Ithinkitwillfitjustfine.”Thedoorbellrang.“That mustbeGeorge.”
“Canyoulethimin?”
“Doesheknowaboutthehouse?”
“Ifhedoes,he’snotsaying.”
“Wisechoice.”
AssoonasMargaretleftthelibrary,Elizabethwheeledthe walkersoitwouldn’tbeintheway.Shethenlockedthe wheelsandsatdown.Georgehadtoldherthathewasalso bringingoverafederalchairthatwouldlookgoodwiththe desk.Shewonderedaboutthedeskandwhyitwassoimportanttothehouse.Ithadsignificance,otherwisewhywould therebesomuchinterest.Thehousetoldherwheretolook forthedeskbymakingalotofnoisewhenanestatesalein Waterfordwasmentioned.
“Buythelady’sdesk,”itsaid.“Buythelady’sdesk.”
Thosewordscamefromthehouse,andElizabethfeltcompelledtobuythedeskthatwasattheestate.Hepplewhitewas thebuilderoftheAmericanmahoganyladieswritingdesk.It hadbirds-eyemaplefittedinteriorandapulloutleatherwritingsurface.Therewasatotalofsevendrawers,threeover
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twoexteriordrawersandtwolargeronesbelowthewriting surface.Shecouldn’thelpbutwonderaboutasecretcompartment.Manydesksweremadewithamysterydrawer,asecret placeforhidingsomethingspecial.
Elizabethputawayherthoughtswhensheheardfootsteps comingdownthehallway.Hermotherwasthefirsttoenter thelibrary.Shewentandstoodnexttoherdaughter.George followed.
“Goodafternoon,George.”
“Afternoon,”respondedGeorgeashewalkedtothearea withthetape.“Isthiswhereyouwantthedesk?
“Yes.Placeitwherethetapeindicates.”
“Men!”Georgemovedasideforthetwomencarryingthe desk.“Lineitupwiththetape.”Themensetdownthedesk onceitwaslinedwiththetape.Oneofmenlefttheroomand returnedwiththechair.
“Ihopethechairistoyoursatisfaction.”
“It’sperfect,George.”
Assoonasthemensetdownthechairinfrontofthedesk, theylefttheroom.
“I’llberightthere,”saidGeorge.
Elizabethreachedinsidethepouchofthewalkerfora whiteenvelope.“George,here’sthefinalpaymentplusahefty bonus.”
Georgetooktheenvelope.“Thankyou.”
“No.Thankyou.”
“There’smoreworkifyouwantit,”saidMargaretasshe handedGeorgeacard.“Theyjustboughtafederalhouseon thenextblock.”
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“ThanksMrs.Hopkins.”
ElizabethandMargaretwatchedGeorgeexitthelibrary thenturnedtolookatthedesk.
“Thedesklookslikeitbelongs,”saidElizabeth. Margaretwalkedovertothedeskandpushedoutthechair andsatdown.Sheopenedthewritingareaandranherhand overtheleather.Fromaperipheralview,Elizabethsawa shadowofafigurepassbythelibraryentrance–ablurofpale blue.Shewatchedforittoreturnsoshecouldseemoreclearly,butitneverreturned.
“Lizzy,areyougoingtojoinmeforthedeskadventure?”
“Ofcourse.”Elizabethstoodupandusingthewalker movedherselftothedesknexttoMargaret.Assoonasshe wassituated,shesatdown.
“I’mimpressedwiththeconditionoftheleatherwriting pad.”
“IfIhadtoguess,Iwouldsayit’stheonethingthatwould needreplacing,”saidElizabethassheranherhandoverit. “Probablymorethanonceoveritstwohundredyears.”
“Ithinkweshouldcheckthedrawersforasecretcompartment.”
“Adrawerwithinadrawer.”
MargarethandedoneofthetopdrawerstoElizabethand then,beforetakingoutanother,shelookedinsideatthespace thatthedrawerfilled.Whenshesawnothing,shemovedto thesecondandthirdtopdrawers.
“Sofarnosecretcompartment.”
“Westillhavefourmoredrawers,”saidMargaretasshe tookonedraweratatimefromElizabethandcarefullyplaced
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themwheretheyweretaken.“Areyouexpectingsomeone?”
“Whydoyousaythat?”
“Youkeeplookingbackattheentrance.”
“IthoughtIsawsomething.
“What?”
“Idon’tknow.Itwasablueblur.”
“Maybeitwasthehousechangingthecolorinthehallway.”
“AreyousayingI’mnothallucinating?”
“Iguessthat’swhatI’msaying.”
“Okay.Handmeanotherdrawer.”
Margaretpulledoutoneofthemiddledrawersandhanded ittoElizabeth.Shethenlookedinsideattheemptyspaceand, inashortwhile,reachedforsomething
“Mother,whatisit?”
“Ithinkit’sapieceofveryoldpaper.”
“Don’ttearit.”
Margaretremovedacrinkledpaperandplaceditonthe leatherpad.“ShouldItrytoopenit?”
“Yes!Itcouldbeimportant.”
Withonehand,Margarethelddownonecornerofthepaperwhileherotherhandslowlyopenedtheotherside.Itwas slowgoingbecausethepaperwasdryandbrittle.
“Whatdoyousee?”
“Ithinkit’sasalesinvoice.”Margaretflattenedthepaper. “It’sdatedJanuary14,1820,andit’saHepplewhitestylelady’swritingdeskthatcamefromBoston’sJohnandThomas SeymourCabinetMakers.”
“Who’sitto?”
“It’smadeouttoaMr.FinleyCarmichael…”
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“And…”
“Youwon’tbelievethis,”saidMargaret.”
“What?”Elizabethgrewimpatient.“Tellme.”
“Theaddress.It’sthisaddress–77PlummerHillRoad,Waterford,Maine.”Elizabethusedthearmsofthewalkerto standsoshecouldseethebillofsaleforherself.“Finley boughtthedeskforhiswifeRachel,forhertwenty-firstbirthday.”
“RachelCarmichael,”saidMargaret.“I’msittingatthedesk thatFinleygavehiswife.”
“Notonlythat.FinleyandRachelwerethefirstownersof thishouse,andevenmore,thedeskwasinthisroom,inthe exactspot.I’msureofthatnow.Ahundredpercentsure.”
“Nowwehaveagreaterreasontofindthesecretcompartment.”
“Yes,”saidElizabethasshesatdownonthewalker’spaddedseat.“Givemethenextdrawertohold.”
Aftergoingthroughtheseconddrawerinthemiddlesection,Margaretclosedthewritingpadpartofthedesksoshe couldremovethebottomtwodrawers.Asshehandedthemto herdaughter,oneatatime,andthenlookedinsidetheempty drawerspaces,Elizabethliftedoneofthedrawersupand down.ShediditenoughtimesforMargarettonotice.
“Arethedrawerstooheavy?”
“No,justone.”
“Justone.Butthey’rethesamesizesotheyshouldweigh thesame.”
“Openthewritingpad,”saidElizabeth.
“Whatareyouthinking?”
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“Thatwemighthavefoundthesecretcompartment.”
“Ilooked.Thereisn’tone.”
“Takethedrawersandsetthemonthewritingpad.”
Takingonedraweratatime,Margaretplacedthemsideby sideonthewritingpad.Thensheliftedeachone.“Theoneon theleftisheavier.”
“That’swhatIthought.”Elizabethstoodagainandsupportingherselfbygrippingthesideofthedesk,shemovedher freehandovertheinsideofthatdraweruntilthebackside moved,flippingthefrontsideup.“Thesecretcompartmentis literallyadrawerwithinadrawer.”Shethenmovedherhand sohermothercouldmaneuverthelidupandoutandreveal whatwasunderneath.
“Writingtablets,”saidMargaretassheremovedthree.
Reachinginthedrawer,Elizabethpulledoutthefourth book,largerandthickerthantheotherthree.“It’saleather diary.”
“Ohmy.”
Elizabethaskedhermothertograbapillowfromthesofa soshecouldsitinthechair.Onceseated,sheheldthefour writingbookssothathermothercouldclosethewritingpad andcarefullyplacethetwodrawersbackintheirassigned slots.Whenthatwasdone,Margaretopenedthewritingpad sothatElizabethcouldsetdownthebooks.Assoonassheset themdown,sheopenedthediary.
“ThediarybelongstoRachel.”
“Whatdoesshewriteabout?”
Aftercarefullyturningafewpages,Elizabethstoppedand lookedoverathermother.
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“Whatisit,Lizzy?”
“Rachelwasamidwife.Herwritingisabouthermidwifery experience.”
“Shehasthatincommonwithyou.”
“Had.Pasttense.”
“Pasttenseforbothofyou,”saidMargaretassherubbed Elizabeth’sback.“Lizzy,doyoustillhavethecrabmeatI bought?”
“Yes.”
“Androlls?”
“Yes.”
“Good.ThenI’mgoingtomakeuscrabrollsforlunch.” Margaretexitstothekitchen.
AfterElizabethreadafewpagesofRachel’sdiary,she stopped.Shewantedtomakenotes,soshereachedinsidethe seatofherwalkerandpulledoutanotepadandpencil.Once situated,shejotteddowndatesandfamilynameswhereRachelwenttohelpwithdeliveringtheirbabies.Shewassure hermotherwouldknowsomeofthesefamiliesthroughWaterfordHistoricalSociety.Itwasworththeeffort.Asshewas writingdownnames,shefeltapresencestandingnexttoher.
WhenElizabethturnedtolook,shesawayoungwoman wearingahighwaistlinelonglight-bluedressthatlooked identicaltothedresseswornbyElizabethBennet,JaneAusten’sprotagonistinPrideandPrejudice.Evenherhair,which wasamediumbrown,waslongandpulledupinringlets.She reacheddownandtouchedtheopenpageofherdiary.
“YoumustbeRachel,”saidElizabeth.“Wouldyouliketosit downatyourdesk?”Shepulledbackthechairand,withef-
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fort,stood.Shethengrabbedthehandlebarsofthewalker andmovingitalittle,sheturnedandsatdown.“Please,sit.” Rachelsmiledather,thenwentovertothedeskandstoodin frontofitforalongtime.Whenshesatdownandmovedthe chaircloser,sheflippedthroughthepagesofherdiarytoan unwrittenpage.Shelookedinthetwosmallerdrawerswhich wereempty.
“Ihaveapen.”Elizabethreachedinthepouchattachedto thehandlebar.Shepusheddownonthetopoftheballpoint, sothetipwasshowingthensetitonthedesk.“It’saballpoint whichisdifferentfromafountainpen.”
Rachelpickedupthepen,touchedthetip,thenpressingit againstblankdiarypage,startedtowrite.JustthenMargaret enteredthelibrarywithatraycarryingtwocrabrollsandtwo iceteas.Shesetthemonthecoffeetable.Whenshelookedup andsawnotonlyElizabeth,butalsoRachel.
“Lizzy,amIhallucinatingoristhat…”
“Mother,meetRachelCarmichael.”
“Thatcan’tbe.”
“She’srealandshe’sherewithus.”
“Ohmy.”
Rachelfinishedwritingandafterclosingthediary,she turnedtofaceElizabeth.
“Youcanstayifyoulike.Thisisyourdesk.Thisisyour house,”saidElizabethassheturnedtohermother.“It’sher house.”
“Yes,”saidMargaret.“It’sRachel’shouse.”
Rachelhandedherthepen,then,afterstandingup,she reachedinherdresspocketandpulledoutthesamethreepill
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bottlesthatwereintheconsoletable.Shehandedthemto Elizabethwhotookthem.Beforeshelefttheroom,she acknowledgedMargaretwithasmile.
“Ifyouwait,Icanmakeanothercrabroll.”
AfterRachellefttheroom,MargaretwenttoElizabeth’s side.
“She’sreal,right?”
“Yes,mother.I’dsayso.”
“Youngtoo.”
“Andbeautiful,”saidElizabethasshehandedMargaretthe pillbottles.“Iwon’tbeneedingtheseanymore.”
Margaretreadthebottlesaloud. “OxyContin,Xanax,and Fentanyl.Lizzy…”
“...Destroythem,”saidElizabethasshewatchedhermother wipeawayhertears.“Now,comeandsitatthedesk.Iwant youtoreadwhatRachelwroteinherdiary.”
AfterMargaretsetthepillbottlesonthecoffeetable,she satatthedeskandopenedthediarytothelastentry.
Dear Elizabeth, Thank you for finding my desk. I have sat here every day writing about the babies I delivered. Like you, it became my occupation. I hope we can learn about each other and become friends. I think we have a lot in common.
As always,
Rachel Carmichael
“Lizzy,doyouthinkshe’llbeback?”
“Yes.”
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