Family Stories

Family Stories
Tessa McDermid

Why do some marriages last for decades, while others barely make it past the wedding?Frank and Marian Robertson would tell you there's no easy answer. Love, yes, but more than that–a willingness to be guided by love, to be changed by it…If Frank and Marian have a secret, that's it.When they met in 1929, they realized they were destined to spend the rest of their lives together. However, wanting a life together and making one are two different things. And the obstacles they faced–parental disapproval, even tragedy–sometimes seemed too much to bear. But through it all, Frank and Marian shared a love that's lasted, a love that affects everyone in their family, right down to their great-granddaughter Hannah. She's busy planning their seventy-fifth wedding anniversary, and is doing some digging into her family's past, her family's stories. Stories that explain what shaped her family…

Family Stories

Tessa McDermid

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

To my family, through birth and marriage

Contents

Acknowledgments (#u8516eb9b-e335-5e23-9007-bdb46b782f12)

Prologue

FRANK’S STORY

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

MARIAN’S STORY

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

FRANK AND MARIAN’S STORY

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

ANNE’S STORY

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

MARGARET’S STORY

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

ALICE’S STORY

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

KATE’S STORY

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My thanks to the Joplin Writers Guild for their support and encouragement; the Joplin Public Library for resources and answers to questions; Gloria Harchar for critique and computer help; my editor, Paula Eykelhof, for direction and wonderful editing; my sons, David and John, for giving me a reason to keep telling my stories. And to Bob, my husband, who always believes and provides love and support throughout the writing process.

Prologue

Summer 2004

Hannah scrambled up the last few rungs of the rickety ladder and then tugged her brother into the attic. “You’ve got to be quiet, Preston, ” she whispered. “We don’t want Grandma to find out we’re up here.”

“Wow!” He straightened, his head bumping the single lightbulb. Shadows danced around the walls, creating silhouettes of a forgotten Christmas tree, complete with decorations, a dress-maker’s dummy, a rocking horse and other remnants of the owners’ lifetime in this house.

“Didn’t anybody ever throw stuff away?” He stepped over a broken chair, the arms crooked, and bent to examine an old chest, its lid askew and clothes spilling out.

“I don’t know. But we’re not here to look at the junk.” She headed for a waist-high pile of boxes stacked neatly against the far wall. “We need pictures. Lots and lots of pictures.”

She sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the boxes. Preston plopped down next to her. Dust flew into the air and he sneezed.

“Be quiet!” She held her hand under his nose. “We’re almost directly over the kitchen. If Grandma hears us…”

She opened the top carton. Inside were stacks of folders, each labeled with a date from decades past and kept together with colorful rubber bands.

“Here, you look at these.” She handed him a stack, then pulled out another one for herself. She slid off the rubber band, and photographs spilled into her lap.

Several minutes passed quietly, the only sound the soft rustle of paper. “Okay, these might work.” She flipped over a photo of a man standing stiffly behind a young woman seated in a stuffed chair. “G.G. labeled all of them on the back, with the date and the names of the people in the picture. I think these are G. G.’s mom and dad. Our great-great-grandparents.”