A Fall of Marigolds by Susan Meissner Read Free Book Online

it on the floor as I shut the lid on the second trunk. I grabbed both the little book and the big one and rose to my feet.
    There was much activity now in the area where the baggage was being arranged row by row. I sought the young lad whom I had somewhat tricked into helping me.
    “I’m finished,” I called to him.
    His cheeks were flushed and a shimmer of sweat had broken out across his brow as he and another clerk pushed and prodded a huge steamer trunk into place. The young man nodded back to me. As I turned to walk away, I heard his coworker ask, “What’s she doing here?” and I doubled my speed out of the room.
    I hoisted the two books tight into my embrace and melted into the sea of humanity in case anyone in authority from the baggage room was to question the young man. I headed for the ferry house and the outer corridor past island two’s hospital buildings to island three. It was nearly noon and the ferry house had quieted down, as many of the day’s arrivals had moved into the dining room for a midday meal. I was also due for a meal break, but I needed to safely stow the two books in my room until I could get them to Andrew after my shift was over.
    On island three I made a quick left down the first concrete path to the nurses’ quarters. The halls were quiet and empty. Those who worked nights were asleep; those who worked days were all in the wards. I made my way to the room I shared with Dolly and stepped inside, going directly to my bed to shove the books under it.
    As I knelt, the cumbersome weight of the pattern book allowed it to shift, and it slid partially from the canvas wrapping. I reached to catch it and the book of poetry fell out of my hands and onto the floor, dislodging its collection of loose papers. I rewrapped the pattern book and shoved it under my bed, and then I reached for the poetry book and the papers Lily Gwynn had folded inside.
    I truly had no intention of looking at those papers. My only design was to put them back where Lily Gwynn had placed them. But when I picked up the first piece of paper, I saw without wanting to what was printed across the front:
    CERTIFICATE OF ANNULMENT
    The two printed names were Lily Kerani Gwynn and Andrew Paul Gwynn.
    At the bottom of the certificate Lily had already signed her name. The place where Andrew’s signature was needed was empty.
    The second piece of paper was a handwritten letter containing a first line that my eyes devoured even as I tried to fold it quickly from my sight.
    Dear Andrew, I hope in time you can find it possible to forgive me. . . .

Five
    I knew with every fiber of my being that I shouldn’t read the letter. I knew decency would have me return the letter to its private place inside Lily’s book. But a force overcame me, a dreadful, relentless curiosity.
    My father once told me that when a child is to be born, there is no stopping it from coming. Something inside the mother’s body—something she cannot control—simply decides the child is to come out. The mother might want to wait until the doctor comes or for the snowstorm to end or the sun to rise or the husband to return, but she cannot press a lever to stop the baby from coming. It just comes. I’ve helped my father a time or two with birthings and I can say it’s true. There are some things you can’t stop even if you want to.
    I could not stop reading the letter, though my face flamed crimson in shame as I did.
    Dear Andrew,
    I hope in time you can find it possible to forgive me.
    Please do not come looking for me. I am not worthy for you to come after and I do not wish you to. What I want you to do is forget you ever met me.
    It was always my plan to disappear when we arrived with our luggage at your brother’s home. From the day I met you, I planned to run back to the hired cab for a forgotten glove, and to find someone on the street to give you the message to look inside my trunk, where I knew you would find this book. This was my plan from before I