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Authors: Ruth Ryan Langan
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Annalisa’s trim figure with a professional eye, noting the cut of her clothes, the proud lift of her head. The glance flicked over her tangled curls, then lingered on the amber eyes. Something, some slight flicker of recognition altered the woman’s face.
"You didn’t come here looking for a job." A statement; not a question. The voice was rich, resonant, like a preacher.
"No. I came to see my mother. My name is Annalisa Montgomery."
"My sweet Lord."
It wasn’t the reaction Annalisa had expected. "Does my mother live here?"
The woman looked beyond her to the trunk in the carriage. Beside her, the orange-haired woman was studying Annalisa as if seeing a ghost. "Glory be. Our little Annalisa."
"Go along upstairs, Corinna." The black woman’s tone was commanding.
The blowzy woman gave Annalisa a smile and wink before turning away.
"Your letter arrived. We’ve been expecting you." Taking in a deep breath, the black woman called to the driver, "Bring her things. I’ll show you where to put them." Moving aside, she added quietly, "Come inside, child. I’ll take you to your mother."
Annalisa let out a sigh of relief. For a moment, she had thought this woman would refuse to admit her. In fact, she had the distinct feeling that her presence here was unsettling.
"I don’t remember your name," Annalisa said. "But I do seem to remember you. Did I know you when I was very young?"
"You did." The woman paused to allow the driver to enter. Speaking to a girl in an apron, she directed her to show him where to put the trunk. She waited in silence until he had deposited it and left. When they were alone she said softly, "My name is Hattie Lee."
"Hattie Lee." Annalisa tried out the name, hoping it would fill in the gaps. "Yes. You used to sing to me. And we used to laugh."
"That we did. You filled this house with laughter and childish shouts. You were a bright, inquisitive child." The honeyed voice lowered on a sigh. "So you’ve come home."
For the first time, Annalisa smiled. Home. What a lovely word. She nodded. "Yes, Hattie Lee, I’ve come home. And I’m eager to see my mother."
As she glanced around the beautifully appointed foyer, Hattie Lee touched her arm. "Before we go in to see your mama, there are a few things I want to tell you." Indicating the parlor, she said, "In here."
Following her, Annalisa gave a smile of approval. The hardwood floor was covered with an ornate Oriental rug. The furniture was plush, and obviously expensive. In the sunlight, crystal and silver gleamed behind the glass doors of hand- carved cabinets. A marble fireplace had been cleaned of winter ashes and filled with flowers and trailing ivy. Their fragrance wafted on the slight breeze coming in from the curtained windows.
"Sit, child."
Annalisa chose a Victorian chair of red velvet. Hattie Lee stood with her back to the fireplace. Crossing her arms over her ample bosom, she said, "What do you know of your former life here?"
"Nothing, I’m afraid. The sisters had no information to give me. But they assured me that my mother was a widow of means who wanted me to be educated."
"And what do you remember?"
"Very little." Annalisa smiled. "I remember you. And my mother. And a lot of cousins and aunts." Inhaling the heady scent of French perfume that lingered in the room, she sighed. "It’s so familiar, and yet vague. This wonderful fragrance." Her smile grew. "This room. I wasn’t allowed in here except in the late mornings, while it was being cleaned. Other than that," she shrugged, "not very much. But it will all come back in time."
The older woman took a deep breath. "When your mama received your letter, she took to her bed. Her health has always been delicate."
"But she is in no danger?"
Hattie Lee stared at a spot on the wall above Annalisa’s head. "The doctor is with her now. He’s concerned, child. Your mama is a fragile woman."
Agitated, Annalisa stood. "I want to see her."
"In a minute. We’ll wait until the doctor
"You didn’t come here looking for a job." A statement; not a question. The voice was rich, resonant, like a preacher.
"No. I came to see my mother. My name is Annalisa Montgomery."
"My sweet Lord."
It wasn’t the reaction Annalisa had expected. "Does my mother live here?"
The woman looked beyond her to the trunk in the carriage. Beside her, the orange-haired woman was studying Annalisa as if seeing a ghost. "Glory be. Our little Annalisa."
"Go along upstairs, Corinna." The black woman’s tone was commanding.
The blowzy woman gave Annalisa a smile and wink before turning away.
"Your letter arrived. We’ve been expecting you." Taking in a deep breath, the black woman called to the driver, "Bring her things. I’ll show you where to put them." Moving aside, she added quietly, "Come inside, child. I’ll take you to your mother."
Annalisa let out a sigh of relief. For a moment, she had thought this woman would refuse to admit her. In fact, she had the distinct feeling that her presence here was unsettling.
"I don’t remember your name," Annalisa said. "But I do seem to remember you. Did I know you when I was very young?"
"You did." The woman paused to allow the driver to enter. Speaking to a girl in an apron, she directed her to show him where to put the trunk. She waited in silence until he had deposited it and left. When they were alone she said softly, "My name is Hattie Lee."
"Hattie Lee." Annalisa tried out the name, hoping it would fill in the gaps. "Yes. You used to sing to me. And we used to laugh."
"That we did. You filled this house with laughter and childish shouts. You were a bright, inquisitive child." The honeyed voice lowered on a sigh. "So you’ve come home."
For the first time, Annalisa smiled. Home. What a lovely word. She nodded. "Yes, Hattie Lee, I’ve come home. And I’m eager to see my mother."
As she glanced around the beautifully appointed foyer, Hattie Lee touched her arm. "Before we go in to see your mama, there are a few things I want to tell you." Indicating the parlor, she said, "In here."
Following her, Annalisa gave a smile of approval. The hardwood floor was covered with an ornate Oriental rug. The furniture was plush, and obviously expensive. In the sunlight, crystal and silver gleamed behind the glass doors of hand- carved cabinets. A marble fireplace had been cleaned of winter ashes and filled with flowers and trailing ivy. Their fragrance wafted on the slight breeze coming in from the curtained windows.
"Sit, child."
Annalisa chose a Victorian chair of red velvet. Hattie Lee stood with her back to the fireplace. Crossing her arms over her ample bosom, she said, "What do you know of your former life here?"
"Nothing, I’m afraid. The sisters had no information to give me. But they assured me that my mother was a widow of means who wanted me to be educated."
"And what do you remember?"
"Very little." Annalisa smiled. "I remember you. And my mother. And a lot of cousins and aunts." Inhaling the heady scent of French perfume that lingered in the room, she sighed. "It’s so familiar, and yet vague. This wonderful fragrance." Her smile grew. "This room. I wasn’t allowed in here except in the late mornings, while it was being cleaned. Other than that," she shrugged, "not very much. But it will all come back in time."
The older woman took a deep breath. "When your mama received your letter, she took to her bed. Her health has always been delicate."
"But she is in no danger?"
Hattie Lee stared at a spot on the wall above Annalisa’s head. "The doctor is with her now. He’s concerned, child. Your mama is a fragile woman."
Agitated, Annalisa stood. "I want to see her."
"In a minute. We’ll wait until the doctor
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