Talk of the Town (21 page)

Clothilda glanced at Ethel, who nodded. “Yes. That’s exactly it.”

“This is fabulous!” exclaimed Lucinda. “Before he passed away, my husband and I had traced the Mullers back to the family that came out of the Port of Philadelphia, but we never could go back any further. If you and I share information, we’ll have a connection across the Atlantic.” She leaned forward. “How many generations back have you gone in Germany.”

“Nine,” said Clothilda. “Too far in back, there are no more written records.”

“Nine,” repeated Lucinda reverently. “That’s amazing. We have ten here, if we include my children’s children. May I see your work? No, wait.” She popped up out of her seat. “Let me go get my notebook first. Then you can look at my research too.”

Off she zipped into the house.

Jane smiled. “Goodness, but she has a lot of energy.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Lacy replied. “She makes my sister and me tired just watching her sometimes.”

“I want the name of her vitamins,” Ethel said, and they all laughed.

“I called my sister a few minutes ago,” said Lacy. “She’s on her way over so you’ll get to meet her too,” she said to Clothilda.

“Lacy,” said Jane, “Clothilda is seeking a genetic link to a condition that has been passed down through her family.”

Clothilda rattled off something in German and Ethel spoke for her. “She says that her granddaughter, her husband’s grandmother and one other great-great-something all had the same kind of condition. She wonders if you know of anyone in your family who might have it.”

“What kind of condition is it?” asked Lucinda, who had returned bearing a hefty notebook that she placed on the table with a thud.

“It’s called Leri-Weill Syndrome,” Ethel told the mother and daughter. “It’s characterized by short stature and a wrist deformity.”

Lacy and Lucinda exchanged glances and Lucinda nodded. “We’re familiar with it.”

“You are?” Jane was nearly as excited as Clothilda and Ethel. “Someone in your family had it?”

“
Has
it,” corrected Lucinda. She beckoned to someone just coming through the French doors. “Haley, come and meet our guests.” She turned to the three visitors. “This is my younger daughter Haley and her friend Akiko. Akiko’s family just moved here last year from Tokyo.”

Jane turned with a smile to greet the newcomers, and her eyes widened in surprise.

Haley, Lacy’s younger sister, was pretty and dark-haired like her mother and sister, but she was only about four-and-a-half-feet tall.

Chapter Eighteen

A
t dinner Saturday evening, Jane, Ethel and Clothilda told Alice and Louise about the discovery. Maxwell, though he had begged, was not allowed to come downstairs for dinner, so Jane made up a tray for his father and him to dine together in his room.

“What a burden,” said Alice sympathetically as they spoke of the girl they had met.

“Not really,” said Jane. “The young woman is extremely petite, but her stature does not appear to hamper her. She can do most ordinary things. Lucinda said she keeps several small folding stools around the house to make it easier for Haley to get items out of higher cupboards and reach into the washing machine.”

“And you would never know she has weak wrists. She compensates well for that too.” Ethel closed her eyes as she chewed a piece of bacon-wrapped chicken breast stuffed with banana-nut bread. “Jane, this is just delicious.”

“Thank you,” Jane smiled. “Maybe it would be more accurate to say that others compensate for her. I saw her quietly hand a bottle of water to her sister to open for her, and the young friend who was with her while we visited picked up a heavy backpack for her without even being asked. I thought it was very nice that they didn’t even seem to think about it.”

“So what did they tell you about the family history?” Louise asked. “Were there others who had it?”

“There were,” Ethel confirmed. “Lucinda said her husband had a great-aunt who was tiny and had weak wrists all her life, and apparently the great-aunt remembered someone even further back on the family tree who was the same.”

“When Haley was a teenager,” Jane went on, “she began to have pain in her wrists. Radiographs showed an unusual skeletal structure, so she was referred to a specialist for testing. That’s when they discovered that she had this specific syndrome linked to a form of dwarfism. And that’s when Lucinda recalled the great-aunt.”

Clothilda said, “I wanted to know if there was any treatment for this wrists.”

“Apparently, in some cases in the past, surgery has helped with the appearance of the deformity,” Jane said. “Haley has never had anything done because her case is fairly mild. But for people with significant wrist deformity, there is a surgical procedure that can stabilize the wrists. The problem is that the patient loses some flexibility because they have to fuse certain bones together.”

“So if she has surgery, she loses range of motion,” Louise restated.

“I have a question,” Alice said to Clothilda. “Did you look for a doctor in Europe? Surely there is someone who could do it there.”

The German woman shook her head. “Surgery Jane talks of is done by very few. But no one knows anything to do to stable—stabilize wrists without taking away motion.” She demonstrated her meaning by twisting her wrists back and forth, up and down and every which way.

“And that’s what you are hoping to find for your granddaughter?” Louise asked Clothilda.

“Yes. Lucinda gave me the name of doctor who has talked about new surgery. Lotte, my granddaughter, has more troubles than Haley. More bad wrist. But to choose bad wrists or no motion,” she shook her head. “I wish to see if American doctor can help more.”

“Clothilda is going to give her daughter the name of the orthopedic surgeon Lucinda recommended,” said Ethel. “They can send her history and X-rays to him. If he thinks it might help, then Clothilda might try to find a way to bring Lotte over here for the surgery.”

“Expensive,” said Clothilda grimly. “I help with what I can, but still expensive for daughter.”

“I imagine so,” said Alice. “I will keep your Lotte in my prayers, Clothilda, in hopes that you and your family will be able to discern what might be the right thing to do.”

“Thank you.” Clothilda looked around the table at her four friends. “Coming to Grace Chapel Inn was very good for me.”

Maxwell pestered Alice half to death until she gave in and agreed that he could attend church on Palm Sunday with them. By that time, his course of antibiotics had eliminated the chance of passing on the infection.

His father reluctantly took his leave immediately after Sunday breakfast. “I left a number of loose ends when I rushed out of my office,” he told Alice. He extended his hand to her. “Thank you for everything, Alice. Without your help, Maxwell and I might never have been able to overcome the distance between us.”

Alice shook his hand as she smiled. “I suspect it would have worked itself out someday,” she said modestly. “But I’m glad I could be an instrument of change for you both. Have a safe trip, Mr. Vandermitton. Please visit us again someday.”

While Maxwell and his father said their farewells, Alice discreetly gave them some space. Then she walked to the front porch with Maxwell, and they both waved good-bye until the rental SUV drove out of sight.

He sighed. “Alice, I don’t know how to thank you. I suppose it sounds silly to thank you for ignoring my wishes, but if you hadn’t, my father and I would never have had this chance to talk.”

“So you’re feeling better about your relationship with him?”

The young man nodded. “Much. Neither of us is perfect, and we both made unfortunate choices that kept us from really seeing the other. But that’s in the past now, and I think we’ve made a very good start on a closer bond.”

“That’s wonderful, Maxwell,” she said sincerely. Then the nurse side of her personality kicked in. “How are you feeling? Coming downstairs for breakfast may have been enough for you—”

“No, Alice, I want to go to church. It’s only a short walk,” he protested. “I feel all right. Honestly. And I can sleep for the rest of the day if you think I need to.”

“I propose a compromise,” she suggested. “You can go to church
if
you allow one of us to drive you and drop you off at the door. It sounds foolish, I know, but that short walk is enough to get you coughing again if you’re not careful.”

“All right,” he said. “Anything you say, as long as I can go the Palm Sunday service.”

Jane drove Maxwell to the church just before the service was to start. The others had arrived at Grace Chapel a few minutes earlier and were there to walk with Maxwell into the church. Jane observed that there were ripples of smiles and waves directed at Maxwell as their fellow congregants noticed him.

When Louise began to play “The Palms” prelude, pleasure and peace stole through Jane as she prepared for worship. The Palm Sunday service always had been one of Jane’s favorites. When she was small, the children of the chapel were dressed in simple white choir robes and lined up in order by height. Each child received a small bundle of palms, which they were instructed to hold with both hands. As the stately music began, the children started to wave their palms and step forward. The biggest children started off because it was too risky to try to get the smallest, newest palm-wavers to walk up the aisles first. Every other child went left and right down the outside aisles of the church until they met in the center. Stopping to lay their palms on a growing pile before the altar, they came back to the center aisle, two by two, to the rear of the chapel.

Step-together, step-together, step-together, slowly in time with the music. Dip your palms twice to the right and twice to the left.

Seeing the children of Grace Chapel continuing the same tradition in which she had participated so long ago brought tears to Jane’s eyes.

When the palm processional ended, the congregation rose to sing “All Glory, Laud, and Honor.” Jane enjoyed hearing the voices around her, though she usually didn’t sing at all or just mouthed the words. As some unkind music teacher had once told her, she “couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket” and she was loathe to inflict her voice on anyone.

The service flowed on smoothly, Rev. Thompson delivering a stirring sermon before administering Holy Communion. The choir sang a beautiful four-part voice arrangement of an old standard, “Were You There When They Crucified My Lord?”

Glancing over, Jane noticed Maxwell paying rapt attention throughout the service. She tried to imagine what it would be like to be experiencing one’s very first Palm Sunday service as an adult. She had been away from the church before moving home to Acorn Hill, but the childhood memories associated with the church and congregation were such a part of her that she could not imagine who or what she would be without them. Someone with a void in her spirit, she supposed. Perhaps that is the way Maxwell felt, before coming to Christ as an adult. What a wondrous feeling to have that void filling with the Holy Spirit.

The service concluded with a final, heartfelt hymn, “Hosanna, Loud Hosanna,” another of Jane’s favorites. As the postlude began and she turned to speak to those around her, she was amused to note that Maxwell had been inundated with well-wishers wanting to hear the details of his illness and to ascertain that he really was feeling better.

“Thank you all,” he was saying. “I can’t tell you how much your cards, flowers and other expressions of caring meant to me while I was hospitalized. Acorn Hill truly has welcomed me with open arms.”

The young man looked as if he was on the verge of tears. Jane glanced at Alice, who usually knew just what to say in situations like this, but she was looking at the floor, apparently distracted and unaware that Maxwell was struggling.

Jane stepped forward. “I hate to bring this love fest to an end,” she said, evoking chuckles, “but Maxwell needs to get home and rest again. The last thing we want is to put him back in the hospital.”

There was a murmur of agreement, and in moments the crowd had dispersed.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully to Jane.

She took him by the arm and urged him to sit down again in the pew, noticing that he seemed breathless and that his color wasn’t good. “I’ll go get the car.” To Alice, she added, “Meet me out front in a couple of minutes.”

Maxwell slept most of the afternoon. He’d been exhausted by the time they got home from church. Even eating some of Patsy Ley’s tasty chicken soup had seemed to sap his energy. Fortunately, the ugly cough he’d had just a few days ago had all but disappeared, and he slept soundly.

Just before dinner, Alice was in her room feeding Wendell one of his packs of treats when she heard her name being called up the stairs.