Time Windows (25 page)

"Can you sew?" asked Miranda.

"Not a stitch." Susannah grinned and stuck a wad of gum in her mouth. "I'm telling you, it's my great-grandmother's big despair in life that I'm not accomplished."

"Oh, well," said Miranda. "Maybe you can take a basic home ec class in school."

"I'll be too busy tackling chemistry and physics!"

Helen laughed. "Good for you!"

"So when did you move here?" asked Susannah, tossing her long blonde curls over her shoulder.

"About a month ago, but it seems longer," answered Miranda, looking at Susannah's hair. "From New York."

"I've always wanted to live in a big city," said Susannah eagerly.

"Oh, no! I think Garnet is much nicer!"

Susannah shrugged. "My family has lived here for a million years. I'd like to go someplace new." She poured herself some iced tea and handed the pitcher to Miranda.

Miranda set it aside. "Why did Mrs. Wainwright say we have something in common—besides being in the same grade, I mean?"

"You both play the flute," Helen pointed out.

"True," said Susannah. "But she meant because my great-grandmother lived in your house when she was little."

Miranda's heart skipped a beat. "Your—grand-mother?" she whispered.

Susannah looked at her curiously over the rim of her glass. "Grastf-grandmother. The one I was telling you about, who wants me to sew and be a musical prodigy and stuff. Her ancestors built the house, and she was born there. The family's name was Galworthy; that's why people still call it the Galworthy House, even though lots of other people have lived in it since then. I think it's listed that way on the
Register of Historic Houses.
"

"Oh, how interesting!" said Helen.

"Why doesn't your family still live in it?" was all Miranda could get out, although a hundred questions tumbled through her mind.

"Well, when Nonny—that's what I call her—when she was a little girl, her mother was killed in a train wreck. Her father was really devastated, and they moved out of town to Boston. But when she got older, Nonny came back to Garnet to teach school, and she married Pop."

"Who was it—the guy she married?"

"My great-grandfather!" laughed Susannah, not understanding Miranda's interest.

"But what was his
name?
" she pressed urgently. Helen glanced at her curiously.

But Susannah answered with a smile. "His name
is
Joseph Johnston. They live on Greenapple Lane, just past the high school. They're both really old—in their nineties, can you believe it? Nonny still gets around really well—still drives, and everything—but Pop is in a wheelchair now. They were childhood sweethearts. Isn't that romantic?" Susannah lifted her hair off her shoulders, then let it drop again. "God, it's hot!"

Miranda twisted a paper napkin. She felt like crying, like laughing, like singing. She felt she had found a long-lost friend. Dorothy!

Dorothy had lived, had grown up and taught school, had married the neighbor boy who liked her so much—Joey Johnston—and had a child! Miranda stared at Susannah Johnston with wide eyes. She knew where she'd seen hair like that before. Here was the living proof. Dorothy's great-granddaughter!

Mrs. Wainwright bustled into the kitchen, her bright-colored scarves floating out behind her. "I'm sorry I was so long," she apologized. "Come, Miranda, let's go right on to your lesson."

"Hey, how about if I wait till you're finished," Susannah suggested. "Then you can meet Nonny! She'll be coming with my mom to pick me up in a few minutes. I know she'll get a kick out of talking to the people who live in her house now."

"We'll sit out on the porch till your lesson's over," said Helen. "It'll be fun to meet her, won't it, Mandy?"

Miranda stood holding her flute, unable to speak. A vision of little Dorothy's tear-stained face and wise old eyes flickered in her head.

"You'll like Nonny," Susannah assured her. "I'm sure you two will have a lot to talk about."

"Yes," murmured Miranda. "Yes, I'm sure we will."

 

Late afternoon sunlight flooded the music room as Miranda played her flute. Through the light, the music kept rising. The notes soared high and clear, suspended in the summer's day. In the still, warm air her song blended with the timeless smells: fresh cut grass, a hint of rain, and the heavy, sweet scent of magnolia blossoms.