Extensions by Myrna Dey Read Free Book Online Page A

with the painkillers. “I’m going to lie down now and should be all right by supper time.”
    â€œWe can make it another time.”
    â€œNo. I’ll see you tonight. But let’s not go to Wendy’s. Let’s eat at home. We can fix something together. In Mom’s kitchen. Hot dogs, eggs, anything. I’m ready to go through those pictures.”

DAD HAD SCRAMBLED EGGS, sardines, and toast ready for me when I arrived. I had not eaten anything besides the toast and coffee at Denny’s and was hungrier than I thought. I hated to admit Dave might be right about breakfast and headaches. Mine was now in its phantom stage, the hangover still there but the throbbing gone. Dad insisted I take a mug of camomile tea with me to the living room where he had set a large shoebox — his, not Mom’s — on the footstool. He was excited about something.
    â€œThe picture is here,” he said, opening the box, “along with some old letters from your great-grandmother.”
    There they were. Sara and Janet as young twins in long dresses and ringlets, one bow neat and one bow floppy.
    â€œDamn,” I muttered. “I forgot to bring the other one.” When I left the apartment all I could focus on was finding my car keys and keeping my head still while my body moved. “Maybe I’m not seeing clearly right now, but I’m sure this is the same picture.” The angle of the girls’ little black boots was the same. Both in third position, I knew from ballet classes. The hand of the floppy-bowed one was on the arm of the neat one.
    â€œAnd the other picture came from Saskatchewan?” Dad asked in disbelief.
    â€œNot just Saskatchewan — Willow Point, Saskatchewan. Point Zero.”
    â€œYou’ll have to put them together to make absolutely certain. Maybe there are traces of DNA on the back of each photo.”
    â€œYou’re always a step ahead of me.”
    I lifted the top letter from the pile in the shoebox. It was written with blue ink on vellum paper that was beige now, if not originally. Its folds had begun to wear through, so I opened it very carefully. The date at the top read April 4, 1894, Nanaimo, B.C.
    Dear Brother and Sisters,
    Just a few lines in answer to your letter, trusting they will find you better than when you wrote. We were glad to hear that Margaret and Gwynyth were pretty well but sorry to hear that Evan has been so sick. La Grippe is a terrible disease in this country. Gomer has been laid up with it for two weeks and Tommy is not feeling well but he never misses work at the mine. It is all the worse here for it is so wet — cold rain much of the time. We were also very sorry to hear of poor Catherine so sick. We wonder if she wouldn’t like to come out here. We would so much like to see her and all of you. Tommy said he would send money at once. He is making our home here in Chase River comfortable and Mama would brighten at a visit. She is still weak but has her good days. There is never a day passes that I am not thinking of you. I wish I had enough money to carry me back to Wales. I would leave tomorrow.
    I miss school very much, especially the small library in our classroom where I often borrowed books to read. Miss Maasanen gave me a copy of Tess of the D’Urbervilles on my last day there and I treasure it. I have to remind myself that the little money I bring in washing clothes adds to Tommy’s wages. I have two customers now, one is a miner’s wife and the other is a Negro gentleman who lives in a cabin not far from us. He has an orchard here and another farm on Salt Spring Island where his wife and family stay. He is a kind, hardworking man. I am sleepy now. Mind to write back by return mail, addressed to me. I remain your loving sister
    xxxxxxxxxxxxx Jane xxxxxxxxxxxxx
    I stared at the letter in my hands. Why was I surprised that X was not a modern symbol for kisses? Words from more than a century ago as