The Last Great American Dynasty - A Folklore Novella

Epiphany

Chapter Eight

Epiphany

One Saturday morning, Betty's Mom announced that it was time to go through and sort out Marjorie's belongings and that she needed Betty's help. Betty didn't see what the hurry was to get rid of her grandma's belongings and complained. She had homework and had to write music and wanted to practice guitar, but her mother said that it was time and that she was counting on Betty to help her out.

They decided that Betty would start trying to sort out Marjorie's belongings into a "keep pile" and "donate pile", and Betty's mom would tackle Marjorie's finances. Betty didn't know where to start. There were boxes of photos and letters. There was jewelry and little knick-knacks from Marjorie's travels all over the world with John. There were a ton of baby pictures of Betty's mom with Marjorie. Marjorie had lived such an adventurous and eventful life, and it saddened Betty that it was all now just summarized into little piles of things in her old bedroom.

Betty decided to tackle Marjorie's closet. Her headphones blaring, Betty felt like a stereotypical teenager, angsty and brooding, as she sorted through the piles and boxes.

She got easily distracted by old photos from Marjorie's boxes. They were scattered throughout a couple of boxes labeled "keepsakes." Papers and photos, random books, bookmarks, pamphlets, and more travel books. Betty got stuck staring at an old picture of Marjorie wearing a little party hat. She looked to be in her early twenties in the photograph. Marjorie had a big grin on her face with her eyes closed. Even though the picture was black and white, Betty could tell that Marjorie had been wearing dark red lipstick that night. She wondered where and when the picture was taken.

Betty found and pulled out a stack of sheet music out of a box. She went through it: some of it was old music from Marjorie's Opera, some was piano music. One music sheet stood out to her though. It was titled "Epiphany" - composed by Rebekah Harkness. Betty knew that name from some of the stories she had eavesdropped on her mom talking about once, about a woman named Rebekah Harkness, but her Grandma Marjorie had never really spoken about Rebekah to Betty.

She hummed out the music notes and quickly realized it was the same song she had always remembered Marjorie humming to her at night when Betty couldn't sleep. The tune was beautiful and comforting. It felt like a lullaby about true love.

Betty pulled out a stack of papers. All were old letters encircled in a piece of tiny rope. Marjorie and John had kept the letters they wrote to each other during the war. A few of the envelopes addressed to Marjorie had an address in Rhode Island on it. That fascinated Betty. She looked up the address online and stared at the mansion on her phone screen. Betty envisioned Marjorie's summer at the Holiday House as she read the letters. They were sprinkled throughout the box and she gathered up the loving words Marjorie and John had once written to each other in the summer of 1944. Her grandfather had died when Betty was just three years old, so she didn't really remember him. She knew that Marjorie and John had really loved each other. He had been a quiet man, and Betty's mom told Betty it was because of the awful things he had seen during the war. Betty had never really understood what she meant, until now while reading his letters to Marjorie:

Dear John,

I have somehow been lucky enough to find myself staying with a woman named Rebekah at her holiday house out on Rhode Island for the summer. She is sweet and kind, erratic, and irritable. She is quite frightening, in an intriguing way, I think you would enjoy her quite a bit. I am going to do a little singing and performing of my opera here! She is also a musician, and a composer. She has an impressive resume. I think I will be just like her "when I grow up." I don't know why, but she seems to have taken a big liking to me. It's been really nice to have a friend. She lost her husband two years ago, and is left with so much money she doesn't know what to do with... She is intelligent and wise. I feel I will learn a lot from her. She strolls the beaches late every night, in search of sleep she says, but I know she is grieving. I am happy to be here to keep her company. I will stay here for 3 months while you are gone.

I miss and love you. Please be safe.

Yours,

Marjorie

Dear Marjorie,

Receiving your letter was the highlight of my week. Thank you for telling me all about Rebekah.

Our station was surprised with an attack and I'm lucky to be alive. My hearing has been gone since however because of the explosions. My good friend and colleague died in the attack.. Every day there is another emergency and chaos. I never sleep. Even when I try I close my eyes to see the bodies and the wounded soldiers screaming. Some of them beg me to save them and I can only look them in the eyes and lie to them, " You will be OK" I say. But they usually never are. We have to bury them in a mass grave, there are too many bodies. I am writing this to you now, because I know I will not be able to speak about it when I come home. I dream of you every night. Please take care of yourself. Don't worry about me.

Love, John

Dear John,

What a fool I am to write about summer here when you are in the depths of hell. Please forgive me. I love you.

Love Marjorie

Dear Marjorie,

It has not been a momentous week worth writing. I fear the worst and am trying to stay positive here. It is like nothing I have ever seen before. I can't bear to write you the details. I miss you so much my heart feels as though it's bleeding maroon. Please tell me more about your summer and this Rebekah lady, I want to hear all about it.

Please know I love you if anything happens.

Love,

John

Dear John,

I have so much to tell you. I'm singing more than I ever have. My voice is tired at the end of the day. Rebekah's reputation is not what it once seemed. It is unfair the way she has been treated by the newspapers and the people in her town and even the city. People don't know the real truth about her.

I hope you're OK. I can't wait until you come home and I can bask in your arms again. I love and miss you so much.

Love Marjorie.

Betty sat on Marjorie's bed in awe with the letters clutched in her fingers. The music notes from Rebekah's sheet music were stuck in her head. She now knew what her new song would be about and how she would write it. Betty spent all night writing, and then the entire Sunday practicing on her guitar. She recorded the song Sunday night. The idea of playing the song live in front of the others at the music club was too much for her. She would rather sit in silence and listen to the song with them instead. It felt a little less terrifying that way. She wanted to make sure it was really good and felt happy with the final recording before she brought it to school.

When Betty played the song titled "Marjorie" to the class, the room fell into silence. She had used the sheet music she found, played some chords from it, and remade it into her own version. The lyrics came naturally to Betty and seemed to fit the music so perfectly. The bridge of the song was Betty's favorite part. She was nervous but couldn't wait to share it with the music club. She had even added recordings of Marjorie singing opera in the mix. Her song had turned out beautifully. It sounded as though Marjorie was singing right along with Betty at times.

Mr. Stephens listened to the entire song before he said anything. Betty stared at Mr. Stephens' eyes. She couldn't tell what he was thinking and if it was good or bad. He almost had a smirk on his face and she was worried her song was terrible. Betty had never felt so vulnerable from sharing a song in her whole life. It was like she had cut her chest open and thrown up her beating heart all over the English class's cold dirty floor. When the song was over, Betty started to realize that the smirk on Mr. Stephens was a good reaction for him to have. Everyone loved the song! It sounded so catchy, yet comforting. The song had a peaceful sadness to it. They all congratulated her and asked if they could do a version of the song to perform live at the Christmas concert.

Betty was relieved and ecstatic, she couldn't believe that the song was so well-received and popular. It was the first time Betty felt like she belonged somewhere in the school. She finally found them - these were her people.