The Deserter by Jane Langton

Author:Jane Langton [Langton, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: C429, Extratorrents, Kat
Publisher: MysteriousPress.com/Open Road
Published: 2012-06-12T02:23:47+00:00

PART XIII

OUT OF THE DARK

FAMILY ALBUM

Home at last from their long triple journey to Gettysburg, Washington and Gettysburg again, Mary and Homer went straight to bed. But next morning, refreshed, they drove across town to see Gwen.

“Did you visit Ebenezer?” she said, as they walked in the door with their arms full of loot.

“Wait till you hear,” said Mary.

“The man’s a nutcase,” said Homer.

“Look what we’ve got.” Mary set everything down on the dining room table. “But most of this stuff comes from Gettysburg.”

Patiently Gwen listened and looked at all the expensive relics they had bought in Bart’s antiquarian bookshop, the coat and the other things from his “Otis Pike collection,” including the small leather case with the photograph of a sober-looking young woman in a white-ribboned cap.

“Oh, I remember her,” said Gwen. “But doesn’t she have a husband?”

“Here,” said Mary. “Ebenezer stole it, but we got it back.” She opened the other little case, the one that had been tipped off the table and smashed under Ebenezer’s soup cans.

Looking at the pictures beneath the cracked glass, Gwen recognized the husband and the wife. “Poor things,” she said, “but who are they? Flints or Morgans, I’ll bet, but which ones exacdy?”

Mary looked at her and said slowly, “Isn’t there a—”

“Family album!” cried Gwen. “Of course there’s a family album.”

“I’ll bet Ebenezer grabbed it,” said Homer.

“He did not. It wasn’t in the attic, it’s right here in this room. At least I hope it is.” Gwen went to the china cupboard. “I hope to God he didn’t find it.” She opened the glass door and peered past a teapot in the shape of a thatched cottage. “Oh, good, it’s still here.” She pulled the big book out carefully, rattling the teacups.

It was a heavy volume bound in stamped leather. The spine was cracked, but a pair of brass latches were still fastened over the thick pages.

Gently Gwen set it down on the table and undid the clasps.

“I’d forgotten all about it,” said Mary. “It’s in terrible shape.”

“I’m really ashamed,” said Gwen. “We should have taken better care of it.” She opened the front cover. The first page was headed with the words “Index to Portraits,” but it was not a list of portraits, it was a genealogical record.

“I didn’t know you people had a family tree,” said Homer.

“Oh, Gwen,” said Mary, “I’m ashamed too. We haven’t been keeping it up. Well, neither did Mother. She’s not in here, and neither is Father. Your marriage isn’t here, and neither is mine.”

As an outsider, Homer felt no Morgan family guilt. “Look,” he said, pointing to the family tree. “The woman in the pictures must be up here at the top somewhere.”

It took them an hour to determine who was who. Gwen and Mary pored over the faded names and figured out the lines of descent, and Homer copied them down.

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