Leeway Cottage Read Online Free

know what it said. But little Annabee got the picture.
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    Old Annabelle died in Cleveland in the spring of 1925, of pneumonia. She was buried in Lakeview Cemetery. Annabee was impressed at the depth of her father’s sorrow, and with the fact that before they left for the funeral, he had fastened around her neck a locket that her grandmother used to wear, with “Annabelle” engraved upon it. He also showed her the beautiful triple rope of pearls with a diamond clasp that her grandmother wore in the evenings. He said he would put the necklace in a safe-deposit box for her until she was older. Her mother, Candace, had pearls, but these were bigger and there were a lot more of them.
    Annabee had known she was special to her grandmother, and was very sorry she was gone, but didn’t realize that meant gone forever. She could see she was gone from Cleveland; her bedroom was empty, all the medicines were thrown out, and the steam apparatus was put away. But she didn’t entirely understand that she would also be gone from The Elms next summer and from everywhere, for all the years to come. Also church had been long and she was glad to be outdoors in the warm sun, and her father was standing apart from her, accepting condolences at the graveside. She began to relieve her boredom by seeing what she could make of the writing on the big stones. She could see that the one at the top of the hole that Granabelle’s big fancy box had gone into said ANNABELLE BRANT APRIL 3, 1838—which she could read because it was her own name. The one beside it was just the same size with the same kind of writing. It said something with a juh, j, that she knew stood for “James,” and then some numbers and then big words. (In fact, it read, JOHN SYDNEY BRANT , OCT . 1, 1835– MAR . 28, 1878. TO EVERYTHING THERE IS A SEASON AND A TIME TO EVERY PURPOSE UNDER HEAVEN . Annabelle, knowing she would not remarry, had had her own stone cut at the same time she ordered her husband’s.)
    Annabee next went to work at a stone a step or two away, that had two big b’ s in the name. Brant was easy, her name again. She was working on the first name, sounding the letters quietly in sequence as her nurse had taught her, when her mother arrived beside her. Candace paused for a moment, then picked her daughter up, and kissed her on the cheek. Candace was pretty, with pillowy bosoms and hips, and she knew she made a touching tableau with sturdy small Annabee in her arms. Slowly, as if her feet were bound by sorrow, she stepped away from the watching mourners.
    â€œI was reading,” Annabee said. She kept her voice quiet, she knew they shouldn’t be talking.
    â€œI thought you were, lovey. My smart girl.”
    â€œI could read ‘Brant’ on that one…”
    â€œYes, they all say ‘Brant.’ It’s the family plot. There is Grandfather, and Granabelle, and Auntie Louisa, with the picture of an angel.” Candace pointed to each grave. Louisa had died of the influenza the year Annabee was born. Annabee looked at the one she hadn’t pointed at.
    â€œThe first name was a buh. B.”
    Candace gave it a minute. “Oh,” she said, as if it had just come to her, “that must be poor Berthe. She was married to your daddy for a little while, a long time ago.”
    Aha. So it was true! Annabee had tried this topic last summer and it had not gone well, but this time Mummy herself had brought it up.
    â€œI saw a picture of her, in Maine.”
    â€œShe was awfully pretty,” said Candace.
    â€œDid you know her?”
    â€œNo, not at all, she was much older than I am. She was very vain, poor thing, and she laced her corsets so tight when she was having a baby that she punctured something and died.”
    â€œWhat are corsets?”
    â€œSomething ladies wore in the olden days to make them curvy.”
    â€œDid you?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œBecause you’re