Mama passed away some time in the night. When I woke, I could hear Papa sobbing from the bedroom. The baby stirred next to me, soon to be squall in for his breakfast. I felt the tears pricking at the back of my eyes, threatening to fall.
. . .
July 15, 1865
We sat vigil with Mama till the next morning, after which the service was held that afternoon. We all wore black, even little Eddie, who wore a long, black gown. The woman two doors down had tied black satin ribbons in my hair. Afterward, I tied them around a rose from one of the arrangement. That night, I put it in my little box of treasure to keep.
"Jessa, my dear," Papa told me as I was readying myself for bed. "Your mama wanted me to give this to you." Into my outstretched hands he placed a tiny silver locket on a long chain, slender and oval, about the size of my thumbnail.
"Oh, Papa, thank you." And for the first time since mama's death, he smiled.
Later, as I lay in bed, I inspected the necklace more closely. On the back I found a simple engraving, my initials and the year. Across the front was a miniature scene of swirls and tiny flowers. Depressing a small button at the bottom, the locket sprung open to reveal three ovals, each bearing a picture. First Papa, then Mama, and finally, little Eddie.
Before long I drifted off to sleep, my fingers gently tracing the delicate patterns.
VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
The Jessa Hopkins Chronicles
DiversosThe sea had been treacherous as Jessa and her family had journeyed, by way of the ship called the sparrow, to the shores of America. It had docked briefly in the Boston Harbor, before sailing off again for New York. It had meant only to gather suppl...
