THE MIRROR: PART 5, CHAPTER 15 (1944 – 1949)

Between the women working and the army sending James and Robert’s paychecks to them, the family was finally able to afford a small house.  Some of their friends came and moved me.  We moved in and the women started to turn it into a home.  Many things were scarce, so they had to scrounge and get creative.  All of their furniture was bought or received as a gift secondhand, but it was theirs.  And it was special.  The look on Barbara’s face that first night in her new bad was exhilarating.  I knew should couldn’t wait for James to come home.

They kept up their correspondence with James and Robert.  Then Barbara realized she hadn’t heard from James in a while.  She tried not to worry, but she would murmur about it as she brushed her hair.  Her eyes would stare into me but seeing nothing.  At least, nothing in the room with us.  Then correspondence from Robert stopped. 

I’d hear the women tell themselves that the men were busy fighting, but that they’d hear something soon.  This became a mantra Barbara would mutter as she’d brush her hair or apply her makeup: We’ll hear from them soon.  We’ll hear from them soon.

Then one day, a boy on a bike peddled up to the house.  I heard the squeak of the chain and the thrum of the tire on pavement turn to a crunch on the driveway gravel.  I heard the knock on the door a young voice call out, “Telegrams for Mrs. James Jones!”

Helen answered the door.  I heard her thank the boy and then shut the door firmly behind her.  Her footsteps slowly down the hall.  As if in a trance, she came and sat down on the stool in front of me.

There were two telegrams.  She set both on top of me.  For a long while, she just stared at the folded-up slips of paper.  Finally, she slowly reached out and opened one.

“Mother,” read the first (I admit I read it upside down since she left it sitting on the vanity table,) “Have heard the news.  So sorry.  Love, Robert.”

Helen’s heart must have soared with joy knowing that her boy was alive and well, because the smile that quickly appeared on her face was large and radiant.  Her eyes shone again like they hadn’t in years.  She bent down to read the message again.  She had to have been thinking what I was thinking: What news was he talking about?

Her eyes filled with worry and her hands shook as she opened the second telegram.  She closed her eyes for a moment, then read what it said.

“Deeply regret to inform you that Cpl. James Jones officially reported died of wounds June 26th 1944. Directors of Records.”

She picked up the telegram read it over and over, her brain seemingly unable to comprehend what it said. 

The girls arrived home from work one at a time.  Each came home to their see their mother staring at a wall, a small slip of paper clutched in her hands.  Each girl knew something was wrong and after asking and receiving silence for an answer, read the slip of paper.  Each girl then burst into tears and ran from the room.

Barbara walked around as if in a daze after that.  She eventually had to quit her job.  She began to stay in bed all day.  If Helen or Betty wasn’t home, she would forget to eat. 

Then one day, Helen came running into the house.  I heard the front door slam and I heard her call out, “They did it!  They dropped a bomb on Japan!” 

Barbara seemed to snap out of it for a moment.  She wrapped a bathrobe around her and she started to leave the room, but Helen came running in first.  I was grateful for this, because I wanted to hear the news, too.

“Japan has refused to surrender, so the army dropped a huge bomb on them.  It’s the biggest bomb that’s ever been made!” 

“Were any more American lives lost?”

“I don’t know,” Helen answered, “but Robert wasn’t stationed near Japan.  Last we knew he was in Germany, where the fighting is over.  This bomb should end the war for good, then he can come home!”

“I wish they would both be coming home.”  Barbara’s shoulders slumped back down, and she slipped under the covers in bed, bathrobe and all.

Helen, too, seemed to deflate.  Tears filled her eyes.  She stood looking at her mother for a while, before slipping out of the room without another word.

A second bomb was dropped on Japan just three days later.  It wasn’t long before Betty brought the news that the war was over.  Japan had surrendered. 

It took some time after that for Robert to return home.  Helen and Betty scurried around, making the house look as nice as they could, preparing for his favorite meals, and getting a bedroom ready for him.  They would often come into their mother’s bedroom to talk over plans with her and to try to get her involved. 

Then another telegram arrived.  Fortunately, Helen was home when it came because Barbara burst into tears and hid deeper in the covers.  I had never heard anyone weep so desperately.  I felt it in my core.

                Helen came running down the hall.  “Mother, it’s alright!” she shouted, throwing the door open.  “Robert will be home tomorrow!  He was just letting us know.  Tomorrow!  Tomorrow!”  She started dancing around the room.

Barbara calmed her tears to sobs and watched her daughter.  “Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow!  Tomorrow!”

Slowly, a small smile spread appeared on Barbara’s face.  She got out of bed and walked over to her daughter.  They embraced for a long time.  I could tell by Helen’s face that she was ready for the hug to be over long before it was, but she remained still.

Finally, Barbara pulled away.  “Well.  We have a lot to do, don’t we.  I know you and Betty have been busy, but I must double check everything.  Now, get out of my room so I can get dressed.”

Helen grinned and scampered out.

The squealing and laughter that took place the next day was good for my glass.  Was that condensation running down me?

Some life returned to Barbara.  I finally saw her cry over James’s death.  She found another job.

The children all found someone to love and were married within a few years of the war’s end.  Barbara brought Betty into her room.

“It has been family tradition that the oldest child gets this dresser when they got married,” Barbara told her daughter, “but I feel like this is one of the few things I have left from the good times with your father.  Before we lost everything.  I can’t part with it now, but please know this will be yours someday.”

Betty hugged her mother and said she completely understood. 

Life moved on, as I remained standing guard over Barbara. 

** Note from Caitlin: I am going to take another break from “The Mirror” over the next two weeks. I have a few other fun things for you. Starting mid-February, I will continue with “The Mirror” until it’s completion with chapter 20 near the end of March.

Thank you so much for reading!

THE MIRROR: PART 5, CHAPTER 14 (1941 – 1943)

James and Barbara moved the family into a friend’s basement.  It was cold and damp, but it was shelter, and warmer than it was outside.  I was one of the few pieces of furniture they moved.  Most of the family’s possessions fit inside my drawers, so between my utility and James’s pride at wanting to keep one nice heirloom for his wife, I was one of the lucky ones.

By this time, the children weren’t really children anymore, but they continued to live with James and Barbara because there was no where else to go.  Every day, Robert would leave the basement in search of work, and every day he came home discouraged.  James sometimes went with him, but the life had gone from his eyes.

Then one morning, everything changed.  And it all came from a radio broadcast from NBC News, reporting from Honolulu, Hawaii:

“We have witnessed this morning the distant view of a brief full battle of Pearl Harbor and a severe bombing of Pearl Harbor by enemy planes, undoubtedly Japanese.  The city of Honolulu has also been attacked and considerable damage done.   This battle has been going on for nearly three hours…  This is no joke.  This is a real war…  There has been serious fighting going on in the air and on the sea…  We cannot seem to estimate just how much damage has been done but it has been a very severe attack.”

The five of them sat in silence as they listened to the details of the destruction caused by the Japanese planes.  I immediately remembered William and the torment he suffered from a war.

“Is this from the war going on overseas?” Betty asked, her eyes wide.

“President Roosevelt promised we’d stay out of the war,” Robert said, looking to his dad for confirmation.

James sighed.  “It looks like the war has come to us.  Would you stand around and let your nation be attacked?”

The girls shuddered and scooted closer together.  I don’t think anyone else saw it, but something changed in Robert’s eyes that night.  I saw a steel appear in them I had never seen in him before.  I thought of the little boy I had watched drive sticks around the room like cars, and knew I would never see that little boy again.

The next day, Robert left, saying he was going to search for work like usual.  Something in me knew he wasn’t.  When he came home dressed in green fatigues, his mom started to cry, but his dad didn’t look surprised at all. 

Robert left a few days later.  Everyone cried, including James.  I thought of William again, and I wanted to cry, too.  Would we ever see Robert again?

The months rolled by.  The family received periodic letters from William.  He saw heavy fighting in the trenches.

“What is he doing in Germany?” James would mutter, “It was the Japanese who attacked us!”

The family began to listen to President Roosevelt’s “fireside chats,” (as the president called them) on the radio.  The president would give updates – the family wondered how true they were – on the war and assure the listeners that the war would end, and the Allies would win.  It took me a while to figure out who the Allies were, but I was finally able to determine that we and all the countries fighting with us were the Allies.

Even though the family listened to the fireside chats with some skepticism, they always seemed more at ease after they were over. 

One day, Helen left the basement, then came back with some exciting news: “I got a job!”

“What?” James fumed, “Women don’t need to work outside the home!”

Helen didn’t let his anger dampen her excitement.  “There was an office position open, and I applied and got it!  So many men are enlisting to fight in the war, that there are positions open for women now.  And I got one of them!”

Betty grinned.  “Maybe I should go look for work tomorrow!”     

“Absolutely not!” James said, “A woman’s place is at home, taking care of the family.”

“And when I have a family, I will stay at home with them,” Helen said, firmly.  “But since I don’t have a husband, kids, or a house, then I can help us by getting a job.”

“And it will help the economy,” Barbara said.  “Maybe we can pull out of this economic slump.”

“Whose side are you on?” James demanded. 

“I think this country is in a hard place,” Barbara answered, “and I think everyone – even women – can find a way to help.  I think I’ll go out and see what I can do, too.”

By the end of the week, Helen was working in the office, and Betty and Barbara were signed up to help the Red Cross.  James was furious, but did finally resume looking for work.  He came home discouraged.

At first, Barbara assumed it was because he still couldn’t find work. 

“Every employer that interviewed me asked why I wasn’t fighting,” James said.  “I’m getting old.  What kind of men are they wanting in the military these days?”

After a few weeks of stewing over the question, James enlisted.  The three women cried long after he had shipped out. 

Within a month, everything had changed.

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Listen to the broadcast from a KGU (Hawaiin radio station) reporter in Honolulu report from a rooftop on December 7, 1941 to NBC here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6muWK4VMbEI

THE MIRROR: PART 5, CHAPTER 13 (1926 – 1941)

All things considered, life was good for William and Josephine.  James got married, and I was once again packed up and given as a wedding gift.  It was my first time in a truck, and the noise and shaking were terrifying.  I didn’t see how this new technology was going to last.

James and his wife Barbara were a sweet couple.  In many ways, they reminded me of Jedidiah and Dear Elizabeth.  Their tender love for one another, their quiet ways, and James’s eyebrows reminded me of my first owners.  It felt good to be in their house. 

They had three children in short order: Betty, Robert, and Helen.  It was the start of me never watching another birth, and of this I was glad.  Barbara went somewhere else to have all three children, so I didn’t hear her screaming or see… anything but the adorable baby she brought home.  The technology of the truck was questionable, but the invention of wherever Barbara went to have children was fantastic.

James was an appliance salesman, and he did well.  He had many repeat customers, who would buy one appliance for him, love it, and come back to him for something else.  He and his family lived in a nice house in a nice neighborhood.  James and Barbara often talked about how blessed they were, but they still made plans for the future. 

Something they talked about a lot was the stock market.  It was mostly James doing the talking, but Barbara often smiled and nodded her head, like she knew what she was talking about.  I wished she would have filled me in, because I had no idea what he was saying.

Then, one day, I heard James come home.  The kids shouted their normal greetings and I heard the patter of little feet, but I didn’t hear his normal laughter back.  Instead, I heard Barbara’s heels on the hardwood floor and she pulled him into the bedroom and almost slammed the door shut.

“Is it true?” she demanded.

James’s face looked haggard, and he ran a hand down it as if to wipe the truth away.

“It’s true,” he said with a sigh.  He went and sat in a chair, leaning forward with his head in his hands.  “We lost all of our investments.”

Barbara’s eyes widened and she held a hand over her mouth in shock.

“But it gets worse.”  James leaned against the back of his chair and slumped down like a man beaten. 

“I ran by the bank on the way home to pull out most of our cash.”  He closed it eyes and pressed his lips together tight.  “The bank was closed.  There was an angry mob in front of the doors, pounding on them, demanding to be let in.  The rumor is that that the bank was closed for good.  It ran out of money.”

“How could they run out of money?” Barbara asked, her face pale.  She, too, needed to sit down – and down she sat, right on the floor.  “They had our money.  We should be able to get our money.”

“I don’t know,” James said, his eyes closed again.  “I’ll go down again tomorrow after things calm down.  Maybe it was just a rumor and the bank closed to protect its employees from the mob.”

“Yes, that has to be it,” Barbara said, and brightened a bit.  “And you still have a good job, so we’ll be okay.  We’ve kept our spending down, and we can cut back if we need to.  It’s a shame about the investments, but we’ll be okay.”

James kept his lips together tight as he listened to his wife.  Then he forced a smile and took her hand.  “Yes, dear.  I will do whatever I can to take care of you and the kids.  And no matter what happens, I will always love you.”

The ‘no matter what’ started a few weeks later.  He was never been able to pull their cash from the bank, and James hadn’t sold a single appliance after the day they lost their investments.  Again, I heard him come home, heard the kids shout their greetings, but his footsteps came angrily down the hall.  He came in alone, and slammed the door shut.

Barbara came in quickly after.  “James, what is the matter?”

“I need to be alone right now, Barbara.”

“You can talk to me, James.”

“I need space.”

“You need to let these negative feelings out.  Let me help you.”

“You can’t help me!” James suddenly roared, “No one can help me because this entire country is in trouble!  We played our cards and we played them wrong.  Everything is gone, and now I can’t even earn a dollar.”

Barbara gasped in surprise.  “You were fired?”

James stomped around the room, picking something up to look at, then slamming it back down.  “Thank you for making me feel so much better about it.  Why don’t you shout it loud enough for the kids to hear?  The neighbors?  While we’re at it, let’s go to my parents’ and tell them that their son is a failure and got fired at the worst possible time and may not be able to provide for his family!”

Barbara tried to calm him down, but he was too emotional.  He finally yelled at her to leave the room, and she seemed relieved as she hurried out. 

As soon as the door shut behind her, James collapsed on the bed and cried.

Things changed quickly.  James tried desperately to find another job.  He’d walk the streets all day searching, putting in applications, talking to contacts.  No opportunities came.  He’d come home exhausted and collapse into bed.  I first noticed him losing weight, but then I began to notice Barbara losing weight too.

They began selling things.  They talked about selling me, but James stopped that quick.  He said it was the only family heirloom he had, and he might as well keep one nice thing for his wife.

Then Barbara got pregnant again.  They tried to be happy, and only happy, but I could see the fear in their eyes.  How would they feed another mouth?  Then one night, Barbara started bleeding.  Instead of calling for a doctor, they rushed somewhere and came home in tears.

Not long after the miscarriage, they received an eviction notice.  A lot of their possessions were simply left behind, but I was fortunate enough to be loaded into the truck.  I shuddered at the thought of another truck ride, but I was grateful to have not been left behind. 

They had seemingly just settled, when another eviction notice came.  For a while, they lived with friends, the five of them and their possessions in one room.  They found another house and moved in, just to have to move again a few months later. 

Somewhere in the moves, Barbara lost another baby.

Things were looking dark, and James and Barbara didn’t seem to know when a light would come.

THE MIRROR: PART 4, CHAPTER 12 (1918 – 1925)

** Thank you for excusing my break from “The Mirror.” As we get back into the perspective of the vanity, please remember this is not my normal genre. I use my blog to experiment and have fun – and I hope you have fun reading it! Enjoy!


William came back without an arm.  Fortunately, it was his less-preferred arm, but it was still a shock to everyone who saw him.  He had also lost a lot of weight, and his eyes were shrunk into his head. 

That first night he was back, he and Josephine snuggled together just like they had before, but I saw her discrete glances at where the other arm had been – the one that was supposed to help hold her close.  After he fell asleep, I saw the tears slowly fall from her eyes.  Whether she was scared of their future or sad for the pain he had been through, I never knew.

The first few nights passed uneventfully.  They seemed to be starting to get into a routine.  They were coming to terms with the loss of William’s arm, and seemed to be moving forward.  I heard them talking and William said he could try to find an office job, one that wouldn’t require heavy lifting.  They were going to work it out.

Then came the first nightmare.

“Get down, Joe!  Down!  Fire!  Fire!  The tower is falling!”

Josephine jumped out of bed and started to run out the door, then turned to look back – I assume to make sure William was following.  She saw him instead laying in bed, thrashing around, covered in sweat and still screaming.

“Fire!  The wall!”

Josephine looked around, uncertain.  “William?  There’s no fire.  William?”  She slowly walked back to the bed.  “William!”

“Joe!  Trapped under the wall!  Fire!”

“William!”  She began to shake his shoulder.  “Wake up, William!  It’s just a dream!”

Sandy and Evon came running in.  They’d heard the screaming and were scared.  Their hands were clasped together, and Sandy was crying.

“It’s okay girls,” Josephine said, still shaking William’s shoulder, “Your daddy’s having a bad dream.  He’ll be okay once he wakes up.  Go back to bed.”

Instead, they stared at their father in fear.  He was still thrashing around, often breaking out of Josephine’s grasp.  She’d grab on again and try to shake him harder.

Finally, his eyes flew open and he yelled.  He looked around in a panic.  “Where am I?” he demanded.

“You’re home,” Josephine said, trying and failing to keep the fear from her voice.  “It’s me, Josephine.  You’re home, and you’re safe.”

“Josephine,” William said, sinking back to the pillow with a thump.  His breath was coming in ragged gasps.  His eyes were wide.  “I saw Joe again.  I saw it all happen all over.”

Josephine held her finger of her husband’s lips.  “Hold on, dear.  Let me get our girls back to bed.  I’ll come back and you can tell me all about it.”

William glanced over at his girls, who were still huddled together, staring with wide eyes.  He forced a tight smile.  “Did I wake you girls?”  They nodded.  “I’m sorry.  Daddy saw some pretty sad and scary things during the war, and it came back in a dream.  I’m okay now, we’re okay.  You girls are perfectly safe here.”

After Josephine left, William buried his head in his hands and wept quietly.  When Josephine came back, she didn’t say a word, but climbed into bed and simply held her husband until he calmed down. 

“I can’t believe I am such a coward that I woke our girls up – scared our girls!  How can you be with such a man?  I’m not even a complete man anymore, look at the stump of an arm I now have to carry around.”

Josephine held William tighter.  “You are not a coward.  As you told the girls, you saw a bunch of horrifying things.  Will you tell me about Joe and the wall?  The fire?”

William shuddered.  “I don’t want to burden you, my dear.”

“I am your wife,” she answered firmly.  “I cannot carry your burden for you, but I can help make it lighter.  You just have to give me a little piece of it.”

They stared at each other for a few minutes – him with a question in his eyes, her not backing down.  Then William sighed. 

“Joe and I served together.  We were buddies and would play cards together.  We were near the German city of Cambrai.  Cambrai was a huge supply center for the Germans, and we wanted to cut them off.  We were assisting the British and had a great first day. 

“On the second day, things went wrong.  I don’t know what all happened, but the Germans counter-attacked.  They came on strong.  We were stationed near a wall, and German tanks blasted the wall behind us.  I don’t know what they hit, but it burst into flame.  I’m pretty sure I got hit by shrapnel in that first blast.  It took the wall down.  The blast knocked me out of the way, but Joe didn’t make it.  Others stumbled past me with blood flowing down their bodies.  Some were laying by me.  The fire was getting closer and closer to me.” 

“I screamed and screamed for help – for me, for Joe, for the others – but it took forever for someone to come.  I think.  I was unconscious when they came.  Joe was long gone.”

William broke down into tears again.  Josephine tried to hide her sobs, but her tears flowed freely. 

The nightmares came in spurts.  He’d be fine for a few days, then have nightmares again.  They were always terrifying and often woke up one or more of the children.  Josephine tried to remain strong, but I could see fatigue starting to build in her eyes. 

William was able to find good office work.  Late at night they’d talk about the surging economy, and how great things were.  Their bedroom started to fill with more things – Josephine bought a nice jewelry case and William started to fill it with jewelry.  The children started to wear a wider display of clothes.  

William was diagnosed with shell shock.  He was given a strict diet to follow (I saw him sneaking some chocolate in the privacy of his bedroom, so I don’t know how well he followed it,) massages, and once he and Josephine talked about hypnosis.  He later told Josephine that nothing was working.

They learned to adapt.  Josephine would hold William as long as he needed.  They had to stay away from fire as much as possible.  Cars backfiring would send William to the floor in terror, and the children learned to not fear their father’s actions.  Josephine told them that their father had seen a lot of sad, scary things, and that he was still healing.

It was their new normal.    

Happy New Year

I saw a meme on Facebook the other day that said something like, “Has anyone realized that 2022 is pronounced ‘2020, too’?”

Yikes.

I don’t know about you, but I’d really rather not repeat the year 2020 (or it’s evil step-sister, 2021.) Global pandemic, economic crises, racial strife, political upheaval, food and material shortages… Sometimes I felt like I was living the worst of my history book at all once.

Though to give 2020 some credit, that was the year we welcomed our son into the world, and I have never felt the Lord’s strength and comfort so much as I did in some of those darkest days.

But the thought of repeating 2020? No, thanks!

As I was considering this meme, though, I remembered a verse of the Bible from Joel. The prophet had just forseen a great plague of locusts that would turn lands barren (Joel 2:3) and fly in swarms so vast that they would block out the sun (Joel 2:10.)

In these days, families depended on crops to survive – they couldn’t drive to the local Walmart to pick up their food. If locusts destroyed their crops, the family was in trouble. And this is what Joel saw was going to happen. The Israelites had continued to disobey God, so this was going to be both His punishment, and His way to bring His people back to him.

This is the verse that the meme made me think of, this is God’s promise to His people: “I will repay you for the years the locusts have eaten…” (Joel 2:25.)

2020, too.

This coming year doesn’t have to be a repeat of every horrible thing that has happened. If you are stuck in a negative life cycle, it doesn’t have to continue. If you are in a hard place, it doesn’t have to stay unbearable. If you don’t see a way out, God can show you a way.

This can be the year that we allow God to redeem the past. This can be the year that we allow Him to do all the good He wants to do for us. Maybe His time isn’t yet, but we need to be ready.

God will redeem this time. Happy New Year!
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(And stay tuned, because next week “The Mirror” continues!)

Merry Christmas

Christmastime

When I was a kid, it meant three things:

  1. My dad was using all of his vacation time at work so we could be together as a family,
  2. We had been practicing at school for weeks preparing for the Christmas Eve service, and
  3. We were going to eat a lot of food.

My brother and I believed in Santa, but Santa and the presents were never that big a deal to us. (Don’t be fooled, we did love the presents, they just weren’t our top priority.) We loved to watch Christmas movies like “Santa Clause is Coming to Town” and “Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer” in front of the popping fire, while cracking peanuts open and eating oranges. Sometimes there’d be popcorn and hot chocolate.

When my brother and I went to a private elementary school, we always participated in the Christmas Eve service. Until recently, I could still sing the first verse of “Silent Night” in German.

Now, Christmas looks different.

We tried to watch “Santa Clause is Coming to Town” as a family, but we had to turn it off because our daughter got scared. (We’ll try again next year.)

We can’t serve peanuts yet because our son would choke on them. (We do all love our oranges!)

We can’t have a fire in the fireplace because… well, long story. Let’s just say we’d probably be smoked out of our house.

And there is definitely no ‘silent night,’ or casual, slow start to the morning. With two young children (the older of which very much believes in and is very much excited for Santa,) it will be a fun, vibrant morning.

It’s different, but it’s fun. It’s my new life, and I love the adventure it brings. I love my family.

Last Christmas was very hard because of the pandemic. Gathering with family was difficult. (If you want to read about what we did or find creative ideas to connect with your own family when distance or sickness keeps your seperated, check out my book on Kindle, Creative in COVID here.)

This year, I am going to cherish every moment with my family even more. I encourage you to do the same. Hopefully next year, things will be even better.

Thank you for following my journey on here. I appreciate you so much!

And thank you for letting me take a pause from “The Mirror.” Don’t worry – it will be back after the holidays! (There will be no post next week.)

Have a very merry Christmas, and happy holidays!

~ Caitlin

THE MIRROR: PART 4, CHAPTER 11 (1900 – 1917)

Josephine and William had a quiet, happy life.  Judging by the furniture in their bedroom, they didn’t have much, but they had enough.  I loved watching them whisper together as they fell asleep at night, often giggling quietly. 

It felt right to be part of this house, even if Josephine didn’t stare into me as much as most of her ancestors had.  I didn’t feel unwanted, I felt needed.  I liked the peace and love that filled the house and settled in my wood.  I liked that Josephine didn’t glare into me, but instead used me to beautify herself to surprise William. 

One of those times she surprised William, she had a bigger surprise than just a nice dress and makeup.  Months later, baby James was born.  Then came the twins, Sandra and Evon.  And last came baby Marshall.  With each child, the love just grew and grew inside that little house. 

Yes, things were going well.

Then one night, there wasn’t the usual smiles and giggling under the covers.

“Darling,” William said, “I really think I should join.”

“No, dear William!” Josephine gasped, “You’re too old.  Think of me!  Think of the children!  What will we do without you here?  What would we do if you di… if you didn’t come back?”

“I’ll come back, Darling,” he said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her eyes.  “I promise I’ll come back.”

“You can’t make a promise like that!” Josephine whispered harshly, tears rolling down her cheeks.  “You have no idea what will happen on the front!”

“You don’t know I’ll be sent to the front.  Besides, we have far superior weapons to the Germans and the rest.  This war will be over in no time.  I feel like it’s my American duty to help it move along faster.”

“Curses to your duty,” Josephine spat, with more vehemence than I had ever heard from her before.  “You have a duty to your family, as well.  Please think about us!”

“Oh, Darling,” William said, with an expression of utter sadness, “that’s all I think about.  I want to protect you and keep you safe more than anything.  If we strike the Germans first, then they can’t come attack you.  Jo, listen.  My conscious will not be quiet on this.  I have to enlist.”

Josephine couldn’t respond.  She just clutched his shirt with two white-knuckled fists, buried her face into his chest, and wept bitterly.  He held her as long as she cried, gently rubbing her back.  He remained silent.  A few tears of his own slipped out.

Within the week, William had left.  From what I could gather, there was a ‘great war,’ and much of the modern world was fighting in it.  I began to hear Josephine mutter words like, “rations” and “duty” more often. 

Although she had rarely bought new clothes before William left, after he left, she quit buying new clothes altogether.  She still put on makeup, but just the minimum.  Her cheeks started to grow hollow. 

She put on a brave face for the children.  They obviously missed their father, but their upbeat spirits were probably the only thing keeping Josephine going on some days. 

The letters from William also kept her going.  Anytime she received a letter from any place that she thought was the army, she rushed into the bedroom and shut the door, terrified to receive the news she dreaded. 

The letters were almost always from William, with updates and forced cheerfulness.  He always told the truth, so she knew how hungry and cold he was.  His shoes were wearing out and often in the winter his feet were numb.  Some of his comrades had developed frostbite.  But always at the end of the letter, he would say, “Each day brings us closer to the end of this horrendous war, to victory!  Stay strong, my dear.  I will be home soon.  All my love, William.”

One day, the letter from William was short.  Josephine read it, gasped, and got a strange expression on her face.  She dropped the letter where I could read it and sat staring at me.  She sat starting, but not seeing. 

Since she wasn’t paying attention to me anyway, I read:

“Dearest Jo,

As you read this, keep in mind that I am writing you, so I am very much alive and able to think clearly.  Our troop was ambushed recently and I was injured in the battle.  When I am recovered enough to travel, they are sending me home.  I will look different, but I am still the same William that you know and love.

I miss you so much, dear one.  I am so excited to see you and the children again.  Warn them that I look different.

William.”

THE MIRROR: PART 4, CHAPTER 10 (1884 – 1990)

The baby girl was named Josephine.  Jacob had raged when one of the midwives finally gathered enough courage to go into the hall to tell him it was a girl.  He didn’t come in to see his daughter or wife.  As long as the baby was in the room, Jacob slept elsewhere.  Then one day, Jacob appeared.

“I’m going west,” he announced with no decorum.  “I’m going to start a gold mine.”

Carrie’s jaw dropped.  She tried to formulate words, but nothing seemed to come.

“I’ll send for you when I’ve made enough to get us a nice house.  We can start our family there.”

That got a response out of Carrie.  “We started our family here.  We have a daughter.  Her name is Josephine.  And you’re just going to leave us?”

Jacob shook his head.  “I’m leaving to take better care of you.  If you want to bring the girl, that’s fine, but it will take more time to save up enough for both of you.  The choice is yours.”

“The ‘girl’ is my daughter, so she is absolutely coming with me wherever I go.  And as your wife and daughter, we should go wherever you go.”

The argument was loud and fierce.  It was the most Carrie had ever stood up to Jacob, and I was both proud of her and terrified for her at the same time.  In the end, Jacob did slap her and left her huddled on the ground. 

I would not see Jacob again, though Carrie did get a few letters from him over the years.  If Josephine was not in the room, she would read out loud, probably to help her process what she was reading.  He never did strike it rich.  The last letter she received was not from him, but from someone who knew him, stating he had been killed in a mining accident. 

For Josephine’s part, she managed to grow into a graceful young lady.  As a child, she smiled and danced her way through the house.  She made it her job to try to pin a smile on her mother’s face.  Carrie’s smiles were quick and abundant for her daughter, but never lasting.

The lack of a father figure made Josephine shy and timid.  She rarely slept in her own room, but would snuggle under the warmth of her mother’s sheets.  Carrie often paced the floor while her daughter slept, wondering how to make ends meet, how to keep moving forward, but she fought valiantly, and her daughter never knew of the struggles to put food on the table.

Josephine was never clothed with the most beautiful garments – I only know because she sometimes lamented them to me as she stared into my glass while her mother was away – but she managed to keep a cheerful countenance and a beautiful smile.  From what I had seen over the generations, that mattered more than stylish clothes!

As Josephine neared adulthood, I began to detect a slight glean in her eye.  There was a sparkle I hadn’t seen since my dear Elizabeth.  She finally confided to her mother one night:

“Mother, I think I am in love.”

Carrie froze on the spot, staring at her daughter.  “In love?  With whom?”

Josephine smiled.  “William Densmore.”

“William Densmore?  Why, he’s nothing more than a factory worker!”

Josephine’s smile wavered.  “He makes an honest living, Mother.  And he’s getting by better than we are.”

“Doesn’t he still live with his parents?”

“Yes, to save money.  But he’s able to move out and sustain himself – and a family – at any moment.”

“A family?  Is there something you’re not telling me?”

Josephine’s jaw dropped and her eyes got hard.  “Mother!  No!  I love William, and he loves me, but we are respectable people and will live by the Commandment of our Lord!”

I doubt Josephine saw it – surely she would not have understood it even if she did – but I saw Carrie’s eyes cloud for a moment.  Only a mother’s strength could have removed the cloud so quickly.

“Of course, dear, I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything, I have just heard so many stories of other girls.  You’re still so young and impressionable, I was just concerned for a moment.  But of course, I trust you.

“However,” Carrie continued, “if something unorthodox were to happen, please know that I will always love you, no matter what.”

Josephine softened and smiled again.  “Thank you, Mother.  And I love you!”

The two women – one more of a girl, at the tender age of sixteen – embraced.

Before Josephine turned seventeen, she was married to William.  I watched Carrie write a note to the county clerk to give her consent for Josephine to marry so early.  I watched the tears fall as she wrote that her father had passed away and was unable to give his consent.  I imagined she was thinking about how little he would have cared anyway – or how angry he would have been for his daughter to be marrying a ‘common’ factory worker. 

I couldn’t hear the wedding ceremony, which took place in the large room below me.  I did, however, hear the party that happened afterward.  What joy shook through the house that had been full of gloom and despair for all these years!  What warmth Josephine had tried to infuse into the walls with her childish whims was now fully alive with William at her side.

After the celebration, Carrie pulled Josephine into their bedroom one last time.

“I want you to have this mirror,” Carrie said, pointing at me.  “I know how much you love it.  It’s one of the nicest things I have left that I haven’t had to sell, and I want you to have it.”

“Oh, thank you, Mother!”

They hugged again, and Josephine left to rejoin her bridegroom. 

Josephine and William came back for me a few days later, and I was once again in a house of laughter and joy.  They did not have much money, and they didn’t try to look like they had any, but their smiles and love were abundant. 

I felt at home again.

THE MIRROR: PART 3, CHAPTER 9: 1884

I watched Carrie change in the weeks after her affair.  She became quieter and more reserved, even to me.  She used to confide in me, but she got to the point where she would just stare into my glass with an empty sadness.

She also tried to flirt with her husband more, but he had grown colder and more aloof.  He hadn’t wanted to be with her in several months.

Then one day, she walked into the room and set a leather-bound book on my vanity.  She walked back out of the room, but quickly came back with an ink well and pen.  She sat down in front of me and slowly opened the book.  To my surprise, it was blank!  What new kind of human weirdness was this?  Had they learned to read without words?

Carrie took a deep breath, dipped her pen into the ink well, then methodically wrote the words: “I’m pregnant.”

I did the mental math for myself and came to a horrible realization.

I watched as she continued to write:

“I’m pregnant and there’s no way the baby’s Jacob’s.  I’m terrified that he will find out – even as I write these words, I’m terrified he will find them.  He can be so angry, so violent, when someone goes against his ways, and this is far worse than disagreeing on opinion.  I knew this was wrong, and I did it anyway.

“Jacob will not lay with me,” she continued, “so I am unsure of how to make him think the baby is his.  I do not want to start a life of lies to cover my transgression, but I fear I must do something to protect the baby inside of me.

“Oh how I wish I had never gone to see Abraham!  I did not even know him as well as I thought.  And now I must carry the guilt of my actions, and continue to transgress into lies and deceit to try to hide them. 

“I now understand David’s lament in Psalm 51: ‘Have mercy upon me, O God, according to thy lovingkindness: according unto the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my transgressions.’

“My heart does cry out to the Lord!  Forgive me!  Protect me and the child I am bearing in sin!”

Carrie’s head jerked up quickly.  She looked toward the closed door, then opened a drawer and slid the book without words inside.  There was a sheet of paper on the vanity, and she began to write: “Dearest Mother…”

Jacob came into the bedroom.  “What are you doing in here?”

“I am composing a letter to Mother,” Carrie said, looking up at him.

Jacob peered over her shoulder.  “It has taken you some time to write, ‘Dearest Mother.’”

Carried sighed.  I could not tell if it was a guilty sigh or performed as an act.  “Yes, I have spent much time trying to figure out what to say. Not much has changed with us.  It is time to plow, but they know that.  I feel like it is my daughterly duty to write, but I am unsure of what to say!”

“Hm.”  Jacob looked rather dubious.  “Well, one of the servants had a question about dinner for you.  Go and assist her, then maybe you can find some intelligence to write a decent letter to your mother.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, quickly standing and walking out of the room. 

Jacob looked at the top of the vanity.  He seemed to be thinking.  I wondered if he was going to start looking through the drawers, but instead he turned and followed his wife out of the room.

Carrie returned about half an hour later and finished writing both the letter to her mother and in the blank book.  The letter she placed in an envelope, the book she placed back in the drawer.

Carrie began to write in the book regularly.  She never let Jacob see it, and he never had reason to look for it.

To Carrie’s strained relief, Jacob did lie with her a few weeks later, and she did not begin to show for a several more months.  To the outside world, everything seemed normal.  Inside Carrie’s mind and journal, however, there was a strong tempest that raged with guilt, fear, and sadness. 

Dark emotions flowed out of Carrie through both her tears and her pen.  Jacob blamed it on the pregnancy.  How little did he knew how both very right and very wrong he was!

During her pregnancy, Jacob treated his wife with much more love and tenderness than he had ever showed her before.  I had hope for them, and even Carrie began to let her guard down and smile around him again.  It was so good to see her smile.

At night, Jacob would talk about all the things he would do with his son.  The things he would teach him.  The plantation and legacy he would leave.  The wealth he hoped to leave.  Their son would have everything.

Carrie asked what he would do if the baby was a girl.

“It will be a boy,” Jacob said, with a smile and a certain arrogance.

Then in late summer, the baby was born.  Everyone thought the baby was coming too early, and pretended to be concerned. She and I both knew better.

The room was full of hustle and bustle, women running in and out, carrying hot water for the pregnancy, cold water for the mother’s head.  There was the usual screaming that accompanied the birth of a child – mostly from the mother and then, the baby.

The room grew hushed.  Carrie began to cry.  The women assisting her continued to tend to her and the baby, but concerned looks were passed between themselves as they went.  I was afraid something was wrong with the baby, but everything I could see and hear seemed the same as previous pregnancies I had seen.

Then a blanket slipped and I saw the reason for the concern.

It was a girl.

THE MIRROR: PART 3, CHAPTER 8 (1881 – 1883)

Carrie was wed and I was once again loaded into a wagon and hauled away.  I didn’t get to see the wedding, or even the bride beforehand.  And I had never laid eyes (or rather, glass) on the groom.

I was loaded into the wagon even more roughly than before, but the drive wasn’t as long as the last one.  Since they didn’t even take the care to cover me with a blanket to prevent scratches, I was able to see the trees, fields, and streams as we drove by.  It really was beautiful scenery, which gave me something peaceful to focus on as I was scarred from other furniture. 

There were so many men helping load the wagon, I couldn’t tell who Carrie’s groom was until we arrived at their home.  He was tall and had an angular face, but his stony expression made me think more of a chunk of rock than a human.  His eyes were dark and his mouth formed a tight line.

Men came and helped unload the wagon.  Compared to Carrie’s new husband, they were walking skeletons.  And where the husband’s eyes were sharp, their eyes seemed empty.  A few seemed to have anger simmering under the surface.  Since they had darker skin, I assumed they had been former slaves, but if that was the case, why weren’t they better fed now, like their employer?  I assumed that if he was well fed, those working under him would be, too.   

The first night with Carrie in her new room was not a pleasant one.  She started talking sweet to her new husband, and he forced herself on her.  Oh how I wish I had eyes to close!  She wasn’t hurt physically, but judging from the tears that fell in torrents from her eyes after he left the room, she had still felt pain. 

Future nights were better, but there was still no romance in the room.  Nor was there fighting, like with Zechariah and Sarah.  There was just a quiet, empty sort of being.  They performed the duty of husband and wife like machines. 

Carrie’s tears became less frequent over time until they dried altogether.  She started spending her husband’s money – his name I finally learned was Jacob – on fancy clothes and fashions.

One day, she sat in front of me after having put on a new silk dress with a sash across the front.  She brushed her hair, staring, but not seeing, anything in my glass.

“He said he loves me.  That we can see each other without Jacob knowing.  I know it’s wrong, but isn’t it also wrong to live in a loveless marriage? Isn’t the way Jacob treats me, so cold and uncaring, wrong?”

She paused, then continued.  “He never claimed to love me.  He said we would look well together, but I truly through I could make him love me.  Or at least treat me like he loved me.  I thought he would at least care.  I thought we would have fun times.

“I guess I’m glad he thinks I’m beautiful.  He wanted me to hang on his arm like a golden thread.  Only I can complete his look, to help him rise among other plantation owners.  It’s my job and duty to make Jacob look good.”

Carrie lapsed into silence and began to braid her hair.

Then she continued: “But how could I get away to Abraham?”  (At this I wondered who Abraham was.)  “Jacob can be so controlling, so demanding.  He needs to be in order to keep the plantation running with the insubordinate staff” – she said the word ‘staff’ with a bit of distain, like she didn’t see them as people to assist her but as underlings to serve her – “but I still wish he could show me a little tenderness.”

Carried tied off the braid, then began to twist it around her head.

“I could tell him that I’m going to visit my parents for a few days.  Surely he wouldn’t say no to that.”

I didn’t hear the discussion between Carrie and Jacob, but the next morning, Carrie was throwing clothes into a suitcase with urgent, jerky motions.  The clothes packed were not packed neatly, but quickly and haphazardly.  They were also not clothes appropriate for a visit to see family.

Only I knew where Carrie was really going, and I couldn’t do a thing to stop her.