The Four Seasons

Jilly’s face was white, her back straight against the chair. She stared at Rose for a moment, shell-shocked, as though trying to comprehend all that she had just heard.

“But I don’t understand,” Birdie said, wrinkling her brow. “What does this have to do with the letter and the videotape? She wants us to find the real Spring? The baby Jilly gave up for adoption?”

“Yes,” Rose replied.

“But…but why?”

“She wants us to give Spring the time capsule. And her money.”

Jilly put her palms to her face. “Oh, God.

It didn’t take Birdie long to put things straight in her mind. “But that’s ridiculous! Give more than half a million dollars to a stranger? That’s our inheritance. To be divided three ways. I’m sorry, Jilly, but I have a child, too. Doesn’t she figure into the equation?”

“She didn’t mean the house money, just what’s left of her trust fund. She didn’t have a firm grasp of money but she knew she had some in the bank. Besides, she was mostly interested in our finding Spring,” Rose explained.

“Mr. Collins,” Birdie said, “legally speaking, Merry wasn’t mentally competent, was she? That letter won’t be viewed as a codicil or a will?”

“It could be, but I wouldn’t worry about that.” He put out a quieting hand to ward off any worries. “As I said at the onset, in my opinion, Merry was not legally competent. But if any one of you argue that she was—” he looked at Rose “—her letter would have to be contested as to its legal bearing. I doubt the courts would support it. I only presented her request to you because she wanted very much for me to do so. And now I have.”

“Rose, I can’t imagine why you encouraged her in this,” Birdie huffed. “What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t encourage her, but neither did I discourage her. Like it or not, Birdie, this search for Spring was Merry’s wish.”

“Well, it’s not mine.”

Everyone looked over at Jilly, startled by the cool, harsh tone of her voice. She’d been so quiet, almost forgotten in this discussion.

“I’ve had quite enough of this talk about searching for Spring as though it was Merry’s baby,” she said in measured tones. “She had a doll. Let’s keep that firmly in mind. As concerns the, the…other,” she spat out, grasping for a word that was impersonal, “that decision is mine and mine alone. And I won’t do it. Do you hear me? I won’t do it. And neither will anyone else. I forbid it. You have no right,” she said to Rose. “Merry had no right to bring it up. It’s my history and none of you have any idea what I went through. And I’ll be damned if I dredge it all up again just to satisfy your perverse curiosity or to appease the nonsensical rambling of my sister. That part of my life is closed. Over. There is no Spring.”

Jilly’s eyes were flames in her thin, pale face as she sat regally and glared at them, daring them to challenge her. Rose put her hands to her trembling lips. Birdie folded her hands together.

Mr. Collins put his hands behind his back and said with admirable calm, “We quite understand.”

Jilly lowered her shoulders, appearing older and inexpressibly weary, eager to be gone. She slowly rose with as much dignity as she could muster, then hurried from the room. A moment later they could hear her bedroom door slam.

“Well…” Birdie said, exhaling and unbuttoning her suit jacket.

“I was afraid that would happen,” Rose said.

“What did you expect? How could you have done this to her? Do you have any idea what she went through back then? The decision to search for an adopted child has got to be one of the most painful, not to mention personal, decisions a woman can make. It’s one thing for Merry to go on about her doll and her idea of a lost baby, but it’s quite another to couch it in terms of a last request.”

“But that’s exactly what it was,” Rose exclaimed, rising to her feet. “I knew this would cause a furor, but who was I to deny her? Birdie, you always saw Merry as someone broken who needed fixing. Something half and not whole. Just another responsibility. And as for Jilly…Who knows? I love her, but I haven’t seen her but a few times in twenty years. She never made the effort to get to know Merry. Merry was a rare, beautiful individual. She was my dear friend. And when my sister, my friend, begs me to make a last request to her sisters, you better believe that I’m going to do it.”

“Well, good for you,” Birdie snapped back. “Except did you consider the consequences?”

“As a matter of fact, I did.” Rose lifted her chin and squared off with Birdie. “I’ve spent a lifetime in this house. I was the one who left college to stay here and take care of Merry. I watched you and my friends get married and have children, have lives of your own while I watched the years go by. I don’t need you to tell me about consequences, thank you very much.”

She paused to collect herself. “You forget that I was Mother’s caretaker, too, and when she drank, she liked to talk. I know every dirty little secret that’s been swept under the rug, and frankly I think it’s time to clean house. We have to, or we’ll let it fester and rot. Our parents are gone. Merry is gone. There’s nothing left to hold us together, to force us to keep contact. It’s time for us to talk, at last.”

Birdie rubbed her eyes. “I’m not sure that’s always for the best.”

Mr. Collins stepped forward to stand between them. “I think it’s time that I go. Whatever you decide, on this issue or concerning the house, is strictly up to you. However, my course as executor of the will is clear. The money and the property will be distributed equally among you as stipulated in your father’s will. If I hear otherwise, then we’ll have to have legal documents drawn up. Certainly, you don’t have to make those decisions tonight. I suggest you sleep on it. Goodbye, Birdie. Rose. Please extend my sympathy to Jilly and tell her that I regret any pain she has experienced.”

“I will,” Birdie said, rising to take his hand. “Let me walk you to the door.”

Rose brought him his briefcase. When she handed him the video, he shook his head.

“No, that’s for you to keep. You may want to watch it again.” He paused and his gaze swept the living room. He appeared lost in thought, as though seeing ghosts of a happier time long gone.

“It was a difficult decision for me to agree to Merry’s request,” he said. “Highly unusual, needless to say. I feel sure that if you look at the tape again you will see that Merry had only love in her heart for all of you when she made her request. Oh, that reminds me.”

He bent to open his briefcase. His long hands, pale and gnarled with age, pulled out a child-size shoe box. It was brightly painted and wrapped with tape, over and over again, creating a tight seal.

Birdie recognized the box immediately and held out her hands. “The time capsule,” she said on a breath.

“Quite right,” he replied. Then, handing it to her, he said in utmost seriousness, “As co-executor of the will, I hand it over to your care. It is my client’s wish that it be delivered intact to Spring, should you find her. I assume you know its contents.”

Birdie shook her head, accepting the small box with reverence. “No. At least not all of it. You see, we gave it to Merry as a gift when she came home from the hospital after the accident.” She paused as a million memories of her childhood flooded her thoughts. “My, I can’t believe it’s still here. It was so long ago, I’d forgotten all about it.”

Rose stepped closer, wrapping an arm around Birdie’s waist. “It was supposed to be very private so we each gave our gift to Mom to put into the time capsule. It was a very big deal, rather ceremonial. She’s the one who put everything in the box and sealed it with all the tape.”

“You’ve never opened it?” Birdie asked Rose.

“Of course not,” she replied. “It didn’t belong to me. It belonged to Merry.”

Birdie wondered if she would have been so noble. She suspected curiosity would have gotten the better of her over the years.

“This time capsule is a piece of our childhood,” Birdie said, holding it with a trace of wonder in her voice. “And now it belongs to Spring.”

6

AFTER MR. COLLINS LEFT, Dennis walked lethargically down the stairs. He’d removed his jacket and tie and in his hand he carried a pile of papers.

“Is the coast clear?” he asked.

Seeing him obviously so self-engrossed in his own world did nothing to improve Birdie’s mood. She was tired and emotionally drained and she blamed him for not being there for her.

“Where were you?” Birdie asked sharply.

Dennis halted on the stairs and slapped the papers against his thigh. His face could look very cold when he tried. “Where do you think? I was upstairs grading term papers. I told you a hundred times that I had work to do.”

Rose grabbed her coat from the front closet. “I’m going for a walk,” she said, making a hasty exit.

“You always have work to do,” Birdie countered.

“What do you mean?” he asked defensively. “You make that sound like a criticism, like I’m having a ball upstairs drinking beer and watching a football game. I was upstairs working. Where should I have been?”

“Maybe with me, in the dining room, during the reading of the will.” She knew she sounded bitter but couldn’t help it. Why did he even have to ask? Turning on her heel, she marched through the living room, picking up dishes en route to the kitchen.