Lucy's Letters

This is a romantic tale exploring the developing affections of two young women brought together by a past connection they share. Not a story driven by dramatic conflict, but more dependent on the peeling away of layers and the unfolding of events. There's definitely sex, but it happens later in the story.

*****

Seattle, Washington, 2000

When 'Grandma Audrey' passed away from cancer at age 75, I was deeply saddened. She had been such a positive light in my life and a true inspiration for me. And now she was gone. Audrey Ellison was a strong-willed person who stood up for women's rights, and for those less fortunate. And on a more personal level, it was her love of literature and her work as a high school English teacher that eventually led me, Adina Gray, to pursue a career in journalism.

Now, at twenty-seven, I'd been at it long enough to have established a reputation as a writer of some worth, and as someone who manages to meet her deadlines. But I never went in for any of that investigative journalism or city desk stuff. I was more drawn to stories with a personal slant, or 'features' as they're often called in the biz. At the time of this story, I was mostly working freelance for a travel magazine, which had its perks. My last assignment had me reviewing Costa Rican travel lodges!

Grandpa died well before Grandma, leaving her to spend her last years on her own, in the very house she had lived in with her husband for nearly forty years. When Grandma became sick, she fought my parents 'tooth and nail' to not relocate her to a care facility. And so, instead of risking an all-out civil war, my parents wisely enlisted a nurse to come to Grandma Audrey's home and provide her with as much care and support as Grandma, and the nurse, could possibly stand.

"I'm ready to head out," my mom called out to me. "Are you going to be alright?"

"Yeah, I'll be fine, Mom. Thanks!" Mom and I had been cleaning out Grandma's place for the past week, and it was starting to feel fresh and alive in there again. Curtains were open and the windows washed. And quite a bit of stuff donated to Salvation Army. Of course, it wasn't too bad a job, for Grandma wasn't a hoarder, or messy, even when she was ill. And since I was moving into the house, I could take it at my own pace, and gradually settle in.

That's right, I was moving in. Keep it in the family, I say. And I sure as heck couldn't beat the price.

But I really did love the house. It was a cute marine blue bungalow chock full of so many wonderful childhood memories. The Christmases in that house were an especially grand time for me. Granted, the house was a bit dog-eared in places and rather old fashioned in many respects, but it also had its charm. And the kitchen and main bathroom had been remodeled about ten years ago, so they were now much nicer. Lighting had been modernized as well.

But the main reason I was moving in was because about a year prior, my husband and I had finally called it quits. I give the two of us some credit. We did keep it going for five years. But eventually it fell apart and I was forced to slink back home with no children to show for it, and with my tail between my legs. Speaking of 'tail', that was one of my reasons for ending it. Jeffrey just couldn't keep his pants zipped.

My first night alone in the house wasn't the best night of sleep I'd ever had. It was strange being in Grandma's bed that night, on the very mattress she'd spent her last days on. Even with fresh sheets, I kept waking up throughout the night, sure that her ghost was pattering about the house in those blue fuzzy slippers. Every cursed creak and groan had me sitting up and staring into the dark.

"Okay," I muttered. "Maybe I should hire an exorcist..."

Well, I never did hire an exorcist. But I did buy myself a new mattress! Not that I believe in ghosts or goblins, but one can never be too sure. In preparation for its arrival, I stripped the bedding and yanked Grandma's mattress off the slats and onto the floor. 'A good time to dust under the bed,' I thought.

And that's when I found the letters. Inside a shoebox.

I raised up the slatting and retrieved the dusty box from beneath the bed. Scrawled on the top in bold black marker were the initials, 'L. D.'. I sat in a nearby chair and opened the box. There inside, were a packet of letters all neatly bound together with thick yellow string tied off in a bow.

When I say 'letters', I should mention that they were still tucked inside their original envelopes. This was very good, for it offered more clues as to their origin. Without undoing the string, I attempted to discern who the sender was, but it was difficult to tell much without unbinding the packet. I gleaned from the top one that it was addressed to my Grandma, though the address wasn't one I recognized.

Audrey Callaghan, 35th Ave. NE., Seattle, Washington.

Grandma's maiden name was Callaghan, and the address was probably from when she was a young girl going to school in Seattle. If there was a return address, it would be on the back, I surmised. And so, with nervous anticipation, I undid the tie.

I felt a bit uncomfortable, knowing that I was about to violate my grandmother's privacy, and yet, she could hardly mind now. Besides, there was no possible way I'd pass on a chance to examine the contents of these letters. And much better that I found them than some stranger. Or worse, they were tossed out, and an important part of our family history was forever lost.

The Letters

Having removed the string, I began shuffling through the first few envelopes. They were slit across the top, indicating that they'd been opened and read. As I looked through the stack, what soon became clear is that they were all written by the same person; Lucy Dwyer. Thus, the initials on the box. 'L.D.' As I suspected, her return address was on the back of the first envelope.

Lucy Dwyer, The Vintage Inn, Seattle, WA.

I made a note to look into that. I checked the stamped postal dates, and they were all mailed sometime during the mid- to late 1940's, when my Grandma would have been of college age. I knew from conversations with her that she had attended the University of Washington.

"The Vintage Inn could very well be the name of a women's boarding school," I deduced, my journalism skills slowly kicking in. "Lucy and Audrey were maybe schoolmates." How fascinating! A glimpse into post-war college life.

The first set of envelopes were in various pastel colors with flowery borders, which would be typical for a young woman of that time to use for sending letters. And what beautiful, flowing handwriting! Of course, a woman was trained to do these things back then. You know, sew, cook, drink from a cup, and walk with a book on her head.

I can't remember the last time I wrote anything to anyone. I do have some colleagues who swear that their work improves when they write by hand, but I'm not one of those people. Now it's email, text, cut, paste, upload, download...add an emoji...

I noticed that the last three envelopes were larger in size and off-white. And based on the date stamp, they were from a much later period. They were addressed to Audrey Ellison, at this address, which is where she moved with her husband Conrad Ellison in the 60's. These too were from Lucy, only now she was Lucy Dwyer-Bledsoe, and living in San Francisco, California.

"Hmmm..." All these years later, and they continued to correspond. Who was this friend who meant so much to my Grandma that she kept her letters for all this time? I couldn't remember her ever mentioning such a person. Perhaps Mom knew something of her?

My hands were sweating so much that I went and got a towel to dry them off. The last thing I wanted was to soil these precious artifacts. I also decided to move out to the living room, turn on a table lamp, and settle in with a cup of tea for what I presumed would be a captivating read.

"Where to start?" I wondered out loud, as I shuffled through the stack. There clearly was a story here, and it seemed best if it unfolded chronologically. I sorted the letters as best I could by their date stamps and opened the first letter.

Seattle, 1945

Dear Audrey,

I'm so happy we've become friends! I've asked my uncle if you could come horse riding with me at our Issaquah ranch, and he says that you are more than welcome. You should plan on spending the night, if that's okay? And don't worry about riding gear. I'm sure I've an outfit you can wear. We're pretty much the same size...Except for in the chest. You've got me beat there! Speaking of which, I love your blue skirt. Looks good on you. But then everything looks good on you.

Sincerely, Lucy

'...everything looks good on you'...? Mustn't read too much into that comment. Did my Grandma read more into it? Problem was, I didn't have her responses, so I'd no idea what she thought.

And yet she kept this letter. Well, on to the next one...

Dearest Audrey,

Thank you for not being upset. What a relief! I know my secret is safe with you. I cannot imagine what horrors I'd undergo if this ever got out. I'd certainly be removed from school. Yes, I am 'that way' and while I do have feelings for you, I promise never to do or say anything that would compromise your reputation. It's just difficult to deny what's in my heart. But such is the way of the world, and so I shall 'soldier on'. Forgive me for daring too much. I did sense some affection and, for a brief instant, I thought you might be like minded. Please don't regret my kiss. As long as I still have your friendship, all is right.

With deepest affection,

Lucy

~*~*~*~*

"Oh my god!" I blurted out to no one. "Lucy Dwyer was attracted to my grandmother. And she kissed her!"

I couldn't believe this. What had I stumbled into? I must confess that my heart ached for this young woman's tender confession. Having to conceal one's feelings because it might offend others must be terribly painful. And in the case of one's sexuality, unjust. To think Lucy's feelings were directed toward my grandmother. And did Grandma reciprocate? I hoped that answer was contained within the remaining letters.

Well! This is very interesting,' I mused, as I opened the third letter... It was a short note, but was it ever a shocker.

~*~*~*~*

My Dearest Audrey,

I had to write and tell you how grateful I am. Returning the biology book was a perfect ploy! I don't believe any of the other girls suspect us, and I hope with time, we'll find a safer place to meet. But right now, my room at the boarding house is all we have.

Eternally grateful,

Lucy

~*~*~*~*

Whoa, Grandma did have sex with Lucy Dwyer! The letter was a bit vague on the details, and understandably so. If such a letter got into the wrong hands, it would be devastating to both of them. Still, the gaps in time, and the lack of my Grandma's side of the story were extremely frustrating. Though it must be noted that my grandmother married a man and had two children by him.

The next letter, interestingly, was without a return address. I soon learned why. And it also helped clear up my misreading of Lucy and Grandma's relationship.

~*~*~*~*

Dear Audrey,

No doubt you've heard, Gabrielle and I were discovered in my room. We were in bed together, and not exactly sleeping! Oh, you should have seen the look on Mrs. Rawson's face. I told Gabrielle we had to be quiet. Not good when your doors don't have locks on them! As for Angela, she's a loathsome rat! Nothing we could say would keep her quiet. It's not like we're the only ones. Sadly, the boarding house has evicted us, and my dad is threatening to either send me to a convent or marry me off. Can you believe him? As usual, my mother has no say in the matter. I had to sneak this letter off to you without him knowing. Good news is, Gabrielle has taken refuge with someone who is also like minded. I plan to join her. We'll hide out until we find the means to leave the area. How I hate this place! I'm not sure when I'll be able to write again. But I will, I promise. Oh, what we must do for Love!

Your trusting friend,

Lucy

~*~*~*~*

I was astonished by what I'd just read. Lucy wasn't secretly in a relationship with Grandma Audrey. But with a girl named Gabrielle. While I knew this had taken place more than fifty years ago, I still couldn't help rooting for them, hoping they made it to a safe haven.

And my Grandma was not only privy to Lucy and Gabrielle's relationship, she provided cover for them as well. What must she have been thinking!? She clearly hadn't condemned them, and yet, what thoughts must have been roiling through her head.

Would the rest of these letters provide answers? Godspeed, on to the next one... Again, no return address.

~*~*~*~*

Dearest Audrey,

Gabrielle and I are leaving for San Francisco. Hallelujah! She has a relative there that has agreed to put us up, and help us start afresh. Yes, Audrey, there are kind people everywhere. You only have to seek them out. The woman we've been staying with has been a godsend. Though she has also become our teacher as well. There's so much to know, I had no idea! But I guess you'll have to take my word on that. I couldn't possibly tell you all that we did, for that would make you blush a hundred shades of red. But imagine, if you will, someone watching!! I know! How could I possibly do such a thing, you ask. But it got even more daring. There's a French expression for it, which I've forgotten. Anyway, the experience was beyond anything you might imagine. I fear you think me wicked, but there's no wickedness in it at all. In fact, I may write a book about it someday. I can't think there's much out there on the subject. Anyway, I hope I haven't shattered your faith in me?

PS: Once we are settled in San Francisco, I'll send you word, and perhaps you will visit? As for the contents of this salty missive, please burn it straight away!

With eternal friendship,

Lucy

~*~*~*~*

Well, sorry Lucy, but Grandma didn't burn your letter. Burn it, indeed! There were no more letters from this early period. All that was left, were three letters sent by Lucy from San Francisco. So, at least I knew Lucy had made it.

As I sipped the last of my tea, I had this strange feeling my world was expanding. Lucy's letters had provided me with a portal to a previously hidden world, and I was compelled to enter it. It was like coming upon a winding, dusty trail and wanting to know what waited at the other end.

And so, I topped off my tea, and delved into the San Francisco letters. Upon opening the first one, out dropped a newspaper clipping announcing the marriage of Lucy Dwyer to Robert Bledsoe, at St. John's Church, Mill Valley, California.

What!? Well, I could only hope that her letter explained this unexpected turn of events. The first thing I noticed is that the handwriting was smaller and the letter longer.

San Francisco, California, 1950

Dearest Audrey,

So glad to have received your letter. Congratulations on your engagement to Conrad. How happy I am for you! He sounds like a wonderful man. I wish you many happy years. I do apologize for not writing sooner, but it's been a whirlwind down here, what with the upcoming wedding and all. You must be surprised to read that I am marrying Robert, and likely curious as to what has happened to Gabrielle. Well, I should preface my tale by advising that after reading to the end, you should burn this letter as well.

Do not be alarmed. Gabrielle and I are still very much together and very much in love! You see, my father, to save face, has threatened to cut me out of the family will unless I marry a man. Clever of him, yes? And so, I'm marrying a man. Of sorts. Robert is one of the first friends I made here in the bay area, and he is also 'like-minded' only toward other men. So, we've agreed to marry and serve as each other's cover. Very much like Edith and her husband Harold. And scores of others, I suppose. So, wish the three of us well.

And please, no gifts! As always, you are welcome to visit. Gabrielle, Robert and I live together not far from Golden Gate park. We are a merry band, indeed. I've a job with the phone company, and Gabrielle is working for an insurance firm. Of course, Robert is in fashion, god bless him, and life is as interesting as ever.

PS: There are plans for me to have a child. That task with fall to Robert, not Gabrielle.

As always, with love and affection,

Lucy Dwyer-Bledsoe

~*~*~*~*

I must say, my opinion of Lucy Dwyer-Bledsoe skyrocketed upon reading this last gem. I've read about such convenient marriages throughout history, such as Edith Sackville-West and Harold Nicolson. But to actually know of someone within my family's social circle, brought the reality home. This whole adventure just kept getting "curiouser and curiouser" to quote Alice.

The next letter from Lucy spoke of their first-born, a daughter, Doreen. She was born in 1950, a few years before my own mother. There were several photos of little Doreen enclosed with the letter. Life for Lucy and Robert and Gabrielle and little Doreen seemed to be quite idyllic, and comfortably below the radar.

And now the last letter from Lucy, dated, November, 1998.

Dearest Audrey,

I was going to call you, but I know how much you enjoy receiving letters. I'm sorry that it's taken so long to write, but these past few years have been quite trying. Robert finally succumbed to his illness, and I've been dealing with the fallout from that. During his illness, his partner, Allan, assumed care of him. Still, I hated seeing him suffer through such a long, painful decline. But now it's over and he's resting with the angels. Though we were a couple in name only, we did produce one beloved daughter, our precious Doreen who has come to accept the true nature of our merry threesome, and I consider her the wiser for it.

It's funny, but you were my first love, Audrey. You were the one who helped me figure out who I was. I think back on those days of innocence with such affection and longing. I can recall them, as if it were yesterday. Your friendship throughout the years has meant so much to me. I wish there was a way for us to see each other again. But it now seems unlikely. Still, one can always hope.

On a positive note, my granddaughter, Stephanie, has a pottery show opening in Tucson. Remember her? She was barely ten when you came to visit us in '83. It's her first show, and I'm quite proud of her. I've enclosed a recent photo of her taken while on one of her hikes. Hard to believe she's 25. As is, your granddaughter, Adina.

With love and affection,

Lucy

~*~*~*~*

By the time I finished this last letter, I was completely won over by this woman's heartfelt sentiments. Though I didn't know Lucy Dwyer-Bledsoe, I was sure that I would like her if our paths ever crossed.

But the key piece of information was that Grandma did visit Lucy in 1983. And she met her granddaughter, Stephanie. Which makes Stephanie a witness to these events.

I picked up the photo of Stephanie. In it, she is sitting on a rock, surrounded by desert. In the background are several towering cacti. She has on a pair of hiking shoes, a short-sleeved shirt and khaki shorts that show off her trim, muscled legs. Her skin is tanned, and her lips full and pink. And thanks to her short sleeves, I can see a red flower tattooed on her upper arm.

Her brown hair, lightened in places by the sun, is pulled back into a ponytail and threaded through her red cap. About her neck hangs a pair of binoculars. She's smiling at the camera, her eyes twinkling, as if she's saying, "Hey, it's great down here. Why don't you come and join me?"

What a tempting idea. She looks vibrant and happy, and would surely want to see her grandmother's letters.