Chapter 14
Feeling that she was wasting too much time this morning, pressured by urgent matters, Cora struggled to put her thoughts in order. Bridey had allowed her to borrow the diary, and what she wanted to do more than anything else this morning was read it from cover to cover, but she had to make some decisions about Angel, and that was more urgent, much as she wanted to put it off.
For forty years, Cora had started her day at five in the morning, but since retiring she treated herself to relaxed mornings, waking at seven o'clock, eating a leisurely breakfast, chatting with Cisco, reading for a half hour to engage her brain. This morning she had abbreviated her routine, but she needed at least a little down time. Without it, she would jump aimlessly from one task to another, making little progress.
She entered her office and sorted her U-shaped desk to clear ample workspace. She gathered documents from the printer L on the left, pausing for a moment to look out the window to see if anything was happening on the street. She sat down and put incomplete items in holding bins labeled urgent and whenever on the L on the right, and filed completed paperwork on the shelf above her main workspace, leaving her desktop clear except for her laptop, note-making materials, and the tasks for the morning. This was her preparation phase.
Then came organization. She labeled two manila file folders: Sag Bridge, and Angel. She sorted scraps of paper, notes, and other materials in her task piles and placed them in the folders. Now she was ready, at last, for work.
Before retirement, Cora's life was divided into two categories: work, and everything else. Now there was historical society, library, chorus, book club, writer's club, and yes, still, everything else. There still weren't enough hours to squeeze in family, home, garden, travel, and other interests. Angel now threatened to take over everything.
Staring over her laptop at the cluttered tack board facing her, she let out a long slow breath and squared her shoulders. She had to quit procrastinating and start getting something done.
If she dealt with yesterday's interview quickly, she could devote the rest of the day to Angel. She opened the Sag Bridge folder, intending to get that out of the way.
Along with the diary, Bridey had loaned Cora some old photos of Sag Bridge. The pictures were of family members standing in front of farmhouses; none showed what the streets and buildings looked like in the town's heyday. She was looking for written and photographic evidence to help her visualize the town at its peak. She reviewed documents, starred items for further action, decided nothing needed immediate attention, and closed the file.
Smiling as she picked up the diary, Cora turned it over in her hands. It had been a delightful surprise. She would make a number of copies at LAHS, work from a copy so she could mark it as she read, and probably scan it to a flash drive as well. She was anxious to get a feel for the life of the young woman who was killed at Saint James. She wondered if the authorities at the time had known of the diary. If they had examined it, it must not have contained any clues or they would know who killed her and why. If not ...well, who knows, maybe Cora would find something overlooked, or that would be seen differently from today's perspective. Or it may just be an interesting bit of history. But there was no hurry-the mystery had been unsolved for over a hundred years, a few more days wouldn't make any difference. But she had to at least take a peek at it before she began concentrating on Angel.
The diary was ten inches tall and seven and a half inches wide. The binding and corners were red leather embossed with gold, over a multicolored marbled cloth cover, and the lined pages had no headings or columns. At the end were charts and tables, calendars for the years 1890 through 1900, train and electric line time tables, and random generic information such as interest tables, foreign coin values, dates for full moons and eclipses, wind direction and velocity signals, and other such statistics of interest back then. The pages were yellow, brittle, and fragile, and some were separated from the binding. The entries were closely written, in a tiny fancy script, surprisingly easy to read.
The first entry was dated December 25, 1889. The date embossed on the cover was 1890, so Cora deduced the book had been a Christmas present. The last entry was July 10, 1898. She made some calculations. If the writer was in her early twenties when she was killed, which would have been an approximate age for a young married woman, she would have been maybe twenty-two when she made her last entry, and subtract eight, that would make her about fourteen when she began the diary-give or take. Turning to the inside back cover of the book, Cora noted an inscription she missed, as she would expect an inscription at the beginning, not the end. "To my favorite niece, the one who will be a famous writer someday, I give you a journal to begin the journey." It was signed "Uncle Denny, Christmas, 1889".
Cora read the first entry:
December 25, 1889-Christmas Day, in the evening, but Christmas Day Eve, not Christmas Eve. Uncle Denny says I am his favorite niece, and that is good because he is my favorite uncle. Maybe that doesn't say a lot because no one knows where my only other uncle ran off to. I wonder what Sally would think about him saying that? I think Sally thinks she is his favorite. Well, I won't tell her, that will be between me and Uncle Denny.
Only Uncle Denny would know how much I would love this beutifull book. I will write in it faithfully but I will save it for important things and thoughts so it does not get used up to fast. Where will I hide it though? I must have a secret place, because I can't be totally honest about what I set down here unless I know for sure that no one else will ever, ever see it. I will have to think about that very carefully, because it is also important that it be easy to get at, or I will be defeeted in not being able to use it if it is not conveenint.
How charming. Cora smiled, delighted at the childish misspellings. Reluctantly, she put the book aside, after making a note to call Bridey to see if she knew where the diary was found. She was tempted to read the last entry before putting it away.
No! If I do that, I'll be lost.
If she spent any more time reading, she would want to keep digging away at the mystery, and she had procrastinated too much already-she had to start dealing with Angel. If she didn't get into that problem right now, she'd want lunch before she began, then she'd be groggy after lunch and not in the mood, and next convince herself it was okay to put it off until the next day. No, she had to get started. Father hadn't dropped off the books he promised yet, but she could write down what she knew and brainstorm some ideas.
She slipped the diary into a desk drawer and closed it, her hand lingering on the closed drawer front. She rolled her shoulders, stretched her arms over her head, rummaged through a cup of pens for a favorite, pulled a note pad in front of her, bent over it and stared at the blank page for a short time. She then began jotting handwritten notes in no particular order, as they occurred to her:
- List bizarre incidents that may have involved Angel-including "punishments". Relate them to what was going on in my life when they happened.
- Is Angel real, spirit, or delusion? Column list: things that point to real versus delusion.
- Why might Angel think she's my mother and what does my mother have to do with it?
- If Angel has been around for a long time, why is she escalating now?
- Why "Máime"? Why "Darlin' "? And where did this wolf come from?
- Prioritize. Which thing on this f-ing list do I do first?
Cora felt a sense of accomplishment, but struggled to decide what to do next. She decided to type the list into her computer and fill in ideas under each item. Thoughts might come to her as she did the mindless task of transferring the information from paper, and she would follow where they took her. If not, she'd start on an easy question, in hopes of jump-starting her thought process.
She opened her laptop, booted it up, and checked her emails first. Nothing important, just ads, spam, funnies from friends. She played a game of computer solitaire.
Just one, I promise. I deserve a break.
She lost the game.
She opened a new word document. As she placed her fingers on the keyboard, words started to appear in the blank document on her screen in a large bold font, although she was not pushing any keys:
Where did that come from Darlin'?
"Cisco!" Cora yelled. "Can you come up here? Right away?"