Lucy's Letters

I actually saw myself in that desert landscape, and couldn't help wonder if the reading of Lucy's letters had injected Stephanie's spirit into my veins. I felt as if I knew her. Of course, I didn't know her. And yet, there were these connections we had; being born in the same year, and being the grandchildren of two women with a deep and long-lasting friendship.

And that's when I decided to track down Stephanie.

The Search for Stephanie

As for leads, I knew that she was living in Tucson, and that she was an artist, and did pottery. However, I couldn't know for sure what her last name was. Clearly, her mother, Doreen, would have married and taken the name of her husband, so it was unlikely Stephanie was going by Bledsoe.

My hope was that there could only be so many Stephanie's in Tucson who were also potters selling their work in galleries. I decided to conduct an online search of galleries in the Tucson area to see what surfaced.

But first, I called my mother. I had no intention of revealing to her the full extent of my discoveries. Not yet. But I did want to ask her about Lucy. "Hey Mom!"

"Hey sweetheart. How was your first night in the house?"

"Uh, well, I didn't sleep too well. I kept hearing Grandma's ghost walking about."

"Oh, don't even say that! Please."

I had to chuckle. Mom was a staunch believer in the afterworld. "Sorry about that. Actually, the reason I'm calling is I want to know if you ever heard Grandma mention a friend by the name of Lucy. Seems they knew each other in college and kept in touch over the years."

"Lucy...Lucy...Not off the top of my head. Why?"

"I just found some correspondence here at the house from a Lucy Dwyer-Bledsoe. Apparently, she lived in San Francisco."

"Wait. Did you say Bledsoe?"

"Uh, yeah...ring a bell?"

"I vaguely remember her talking about the Bledsoe's. They lived in California, if I remember correctly. Your grandma may have flown out there to see them at some point, though I can't remember exactly when."

I thought about sharing the letters with Mom, but I felt my first responsibility was to track down Stephanie. After all, the letters were written by her grandmother, not mine. At least, Mom did have some recollection, vague though it might be, of Grandma Audrey taking a trip to the Bay Area.

For some reason, this whole connection to Stephanie's family seemed important to me. I just wasn't clear as to the 'how' or 'why'. Maybe through Stephanie, I'd learn more about my family's past.

If anything, it had the makings of a future article for one of my magazine publishers.

~*~*~*~*

My search for Lucy's granddaughter was much easier than I thought. I simply searched for galleries in Tucson, and typed in words like 'pottery' and 'Stephanie', and eventually found what I was after.

While visiting the Saguaro Gallery of Fine Arts website, I read about a show of paintings, drawings, sculpture and pottery currently running at the gallery. There were several artists listed, and one of them was Stephanie Whitmore. "Ah, Whitmore..." I murmured under my breath, quite pleased with myself. "Still have the stuff, Gray."

Stephanie's name was an active link, and when I clicked on it, I was taken to her bio. There was mention of her love of birds and nature and how she wove them into her textiles and pottery. It listed her education and credits. But most importantly, there was a head shot of Stephanie Whitmore, smiling out at the camera from beneath her baseball cap. And I knew in an instant that I'd found her.

Whitmore could be her married name, but there wasn't any mention of a husband or partner. Likely scenario, Stephanie Whitmore was the daughter of Doreen Whitmore, and the granddaughter of Lucy Dwyer-Bledsoe. Now, all I had to do was figure out a way to contact her.

I copied down the gallery phone number and made the call. When I reached the gallery office, I got straight to the point. "Hello, my name is Adina Gray, and I need to get a message to one of your artists. Her name is Stephanie Whitmore."

"Sure, I can do that for you. What's your message?" the man on the other end of the phone asked me.

"Please tell her that I have in my possession some important letters pertaining to her grandmother, Lucy Dwyer. Again, my name is Adina Gray, and she can call me, or if she'd prefer, she can email me as well." I gave the man my contact information and signed off.

I was tremendously pleased with my efforts, so far. The very thought of actually connecting with Lucy Dwyer's granddaughter, the very Lucy Dwyer who had fallen for Grandma Audrey when they were schoolmates, had me over the moon with excitement. And even if this contact resulted in nothing more than the passing on of Lucy's letters, I felt that it would be worth it. I was sure that this simple gesture was mending a thread that stretched deep into our families' pasts. A connection that began on a Seattle college campus nearly six decades ago.

Well, a week went by without me receiving either a phone call or an email from Stephanie. I was just about to call the gallery a second time, when an email came through.

To: Adina Gray

From: Stephanie Whitmore

Hello, Adina. I'm responding to a call you left at the gallery. According to your message, you have some letters having to do with my grandmother, Lucy Dwyer?

Stephanie

----

Hooray! I had the right person. I felt my excitement growing by the minute.

----

To: Stephanie Whitmore

Hi, Stephanie. Yes, thanks for getting back to me. I am the granddaughter of Audrey Callaghan, who was a close friend of Lucy Dwyer while at the University of Washington. My grandma recently passed away, and while cleaning out her place, I uncovered a box of letters that were sent to her by Lucy while they were at the University of Washington, and later when she lived in San Francisco. Anyway, I'm thinking you might like to see them.

Adina

----

To: Adina Gray

How did you track me down?

S.

----

To: Stephanie Whitmore

Well, in one of the letters, your grandmother very proudly mentions that you are an artist working in Tucson. There is also a photo of you in that letter taken while you were out on a hike. So, I was able to find you through a bit of sleuthing. I'm a journalist by trade.

Adina

-----

To: Adina Gray

Are you doing a story on Lucy?

S.

-----

To: Stephanie Whitmore

No! I was just tooting my own horn, that's all. Sorry. This is strictly a personal connection.

Adina

-----

To: Adina Gray

Well, it does sound like these letters were written by my grandmother. She definitely attended UW. And I am an artist living in Tucson. I'd love to see them.

S.

-----

To: Stephanie Whitmore

I figured you would. What do you say we move this conversation off email? If you're okay with it, let me know a good time to call you and at what number, and we can chat a bit more informally.

Adina

-----

Stephanie then emailed me her home number and we agreed to talk the following evening.

The next day, I called her at home. "Stephanie, it's Adina."

"Adina! Thanks for calling. So, tell me more about these letters. How do I get to see them?"

"Well, I suppose I could use a special courier service," I offered, hesitantly. Of course, she didn't like that approach at all.

"Don't do that. If they get lost in transit, then neither of us will have them. Could you possibly send me copies, maybe scan them for me?"

"I suppose I could, but it would be much more meaningful if you could see the actual letters. They're quite elegant. Being an artist, I'm sure you can appreciate that. I wish there were some way I could get them safely to you." I did believe that she needed to touch and hold these letters, not read them via some electronic files.

"Well, you could always hop on a plane and fly down to Tucson," she joked.

I was about to laugh that one off, when it occurred to me that it was not a bad idea. I'd never been to Tucson, and I was between projects, and it wouldn't be much of a burden to fly down for a week. A short trip from Seattle. I would be doing a good deed, taking a vacation, and conducting research, all rolled into one trip. And who knows, I might even get myself a new friend out of it.

"Hello, Adina...?"

"Oh, yes, sorry. I was just thinking about your suggestion that I fly down to Tucson."

"Oh, Adina, I was joking! You don't have to do that. Just scan the letters and send them to me. I'll be fine with that."

"No, I don't want to do that. It's important for you to see these letters in person. I want you to hold them in your hands and read them as if she'd written them to you. That's what it was like for me, when I first read them, and it was transformative. Her writing is heartfelt and personal. They're special letters, Stephanie. I think you'll find them quite moving."

"'Moving', huh? Now I definitely want to know what's in them. Nothing risqué I hope," she again joked.

I almost laughed. Risqué for that time, definitely. But I was hesitant as to how much I should reveal about the nature of the correspondence. I didn't want to spoil her experience of reading them for the first time. Besides, I couldn't bring up the whole lesbian angle and the threesome marriage over the phone. That was too weird. No, she had to experience these letters, as I had. Of course, she might know all about Gabrielle and the sham marriage. So, I decided to run a little test.

"Let me just say, the letters reveal a side of your grandmother that may surprise you. Tell me, did she ever mention to you someone by the name of Gabrielle?"

"Yeah, that name sounds familiar. I believe she was my grandmother's caretaker, after grandpa Robert died."

Her caretaker? I wasn't expecting that. "I see. Well, I still think it would be best if you could read the letters for yourself. I mean, they were written by your grandmother, so in some respect, they have more meaning to you, than they do to me."

"Well, you've certainly piqued my interest. But since they were in your grandmother's possession, they have meaning for you as well."

"There's a story here, Stephanie, and we're both part of it. Somewhere in the past, our grandmothers were best buddies, and stayed friends for a very long time. Which is why I should fly down there and hand deliver them to you."

"So, you ARE serious about flying down here?" I could hear her chuckling.

"Well, I've never been to Tucson. Why not? I'd love to visit, if it's okay with you?"

"Of course, it's okay! That's fantastic that you are up to doing this. Wow, I'm actually going to get to see these mysterious letters." She sounded like she was about to open a birthday gift. "Look, since you're going to all this expense and trouble, the least I can do is put you up at my place. I could even show you around the area. You like to hike?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do."

"Excellent. Pack some good hiking shoes, a water bottle, some sunscreen and a sun hat and I'll show you some of this magical land that I know and love so much."

And so, I made my flight arrangements, and Stephanie agreed to pick me up at Tucson International. As the day approached, my excitement grew. Stephanie Whitmore seemed like an easy-going person. And that photo of her on the rock was infused with her warm spirit. It looked like she belonged there.

Then it dawned on me that she had no idea what I looked like. So, I emailed her a photo of me, telling her to look for a slender woman, about 5'7" with long, dark hair and wearing a floppy yellow hat. That made her laugh.

She emailed me back. "Nice photo."

How sweet. An unsolicited compliment. It made me recall Lucy's compliment to Audrey. 'But then everything looks good on you...'

In her email, Stephanie described herself to me, and I fired a quick message back. "Oh, I'll know you. I have that photo of you sitting on the rock in your hiking gear, remember?"

Our last few exchanges had cheered me. Other than our recent conversations, all I knew about Stephanie is that we were somehow connected thanks to a friendship that had developed between Lucy Dwyer and Audrey Callaghan, nearly sixty years ago.

And yet, I got a good vibe from this hiker and visual artist.

~*~*~*~*

"Adina, over here!" I saw a rather shapely, brown-haired woman, exactly my age, and almost as tall as me, waving from near the baggage carousel. And just as in her photos, her long, straight hair was threaded through the back of her baseball cap. She also had two earrings in the lobe of one ear, and a pair of full, round breasts that were restrained within her tight short-sleeved top.

I made my way over and was about to shake her hand, when she leaned in and gave me a hug. "No need for us to be formal. We're practically sisters."

"I suppose we are," I laughed, relieved to have finally made it to Tucson. Upon closer inspection, I could see just how fit she was. Lots of curves and well-toned muscles. This girl either worked out at a gym or got in a lot of exercise.

"Okay ground rule number one. No more with the 'Stephanie'. Friends call me, Steph."

"Okay, Steph. And I'll stick with Adina. Phew! I can't believe I'm actually here."

We collected my bags and made our way to her vehicle. Turns out, she drove a green jeep, which was perfect for negotiating rugged dirt canyon roads. We threw the bags in the back and we were off. The top was up, as were the windows so we could talk more easily, but I couldn't wait to get out on some backroad with this baby open to the air and sun.

"You sure it's okay for me to stay with you?" I asked. "No husband or anything?"

She snorted. "Definitely no husband. No roommates either. I'm blissfully single, and live alone. So, there's plenty of room. Besides, why would you want to stay in an overpriced hotel? I even have the coffee set for tomorrow morning."

"Room service and all! Well, Steph, I feel honored."

"I'm the one who's honored. I am very excited to see these letters. What an incredible find! It really means a lot to me that you took the time to track me down."

"Finding you was pretty easy. You're practically famous down here."

"Yeah, right," she smirked. "Infamous, is more like it." I liked her wit and humor, and had to admit, she was cute.

"As for the letters, I'm dying to talk to you about them, once you've read them."

"Sure, okay..." she replied, aware of my vague tease.

"Wow, the sunlight is so different down here," I said, admiring the rocky landscape awash in golden light.

"You're in the desert, now. But you haven't seen anything yet. Tomorrow, we're going hiking in Catalina State Park. Did you bring your hiking gear?"

"Yep," I answered proudly. "You know, I have done some hiking in the Olympics and the Cascades, so I'm not completely wet behind the ears."

Stephanie adopted a serious face. "I could never be in a relationship with someone who didn't enjoy hiking and getting out into nature."

"Me neither," I agreed. Here was a woman after my own heart. "And I also want to see your art show."

"Sure, we've plenty of time for that. I also have quite a bit of my work around the house. I'm not shy about showing it off. How long can you stay?"

I smiled rather smugly. "I actually left that open. I haven't yet purchased a return flight. It costs more, but it allows me the freedom to extend a trip, if I'm so inclined."

"Wise woman. I hate over-planning. Which is why I'm doing so well as a starving artist. Now if only I could meet some of those deadlines."

I laughed. "Well, my world revolves around deadlines, and it's one thing I'm actually good at. However, if I overstay my welcome, just let me know. I can easily check into a hotel."

"Not having it. My place is humble, but it's homey. And if you pitch in with the dishes and the laundry, you're welcome to stay as long as you want. Once Gunther moved out, I was actually able to clean the place. That boy was an unrepentant slob."

I raised my hand. "Definitely not a slob. And I promise not to leave my underwear lying about."

Stephanie gave me a disappointed glance. "You don't have to go that far! But seriously, Adina, you can stay as long as you like. It will be nice to share the space with someone."

It didn't take us long to make it to her place, which I later learned was in an older part of the city, what used to be called the 'barrio.' Small gravel lots, the metal fences adorned with ocotillo branches. The building was a duplex with her occupying one side.

As we loaded my stuff into her place, I was instantly aware of all the art. There were textile pieces hanging on the wall, as well as several charcoal sketches and a couple of paintings, and many pieces of pottery strategically arranged on surfaces.

I also noticed a mobile of colorful birds hanging from the ceiling. "Are these all yours?" I asked, looking about the main room.

"Uh, that print of the Navajo woman was done by a friend of mine, Effie Abrillo. She's a very talented print maker. But the rest are mine."

"And the sewing machine?"

"For my textile work."

I was impressed. I picked up a blue bowl decorated with various plants, and held it up for her.

"Yep, that's mine. You can eat your cereal out of that one. Care for some wine?"

"You read my thoughts." As she got the wine, I noticed three charcoal sketches of nude women adorning one wall. "Where did you do those nudes? In a class?"

She gave me a sly look. "No, she's an ex-girlfriend. I've a whole sketch book of her."

"Oh," I nodded, with feigned understanding. "And Gunther...?"

"A mistake," she cringed. "I make them, every now and then. Actually, I make quite a lot of them. And if you're asking if I'm gay, the answer is 'yes.' I've been with a few men over the years, but I've come to realize I prefer women. Now, if you'd asked me a year ago, I might have said that I'm still figuring it out. But I'm very clear now."

"What happened to make it clearer?"

"I met someone. She was an artist in residence, and she rocked my world. We became lovers, and I actually thought she was the one. Problem was, she didn't care much for the outdoors, which tends to be a deal breaker. But I was crazy about her, and kept trying to make it work. But whenever I asked her to do things I liked, she'd blow me off. It was Gunther who convinced me to end it with her. And next thing I knew, he'd moved in with me. That didn't last very long."

"That sounds pretty intense. I didn't mean for you to have to share all that with me."

She waved her hand as if it were nothing. "No worries. It's good to talk about it. And as they say, experience is the best teacher. I came away with a better sense of who I am, what I'm not willing to compromise on, what I like in a partner..."

"Well, I've made my share of mistakes too," I offered. "Marrying my husband was definitely one. I wouldn't say he treated me badly. But he did cheat on me."

"I'd say that's treating you badly," she noted, with a disapproving frown.

"Yeah, it didn't exactly do wonders for my self-esteem."

"Well! If it's alright with you I'd like to read through those letters now."

"Sure," I said, the mood shifting. "Let me get them out for you." I rummaged through my bag and pulled out the bundle of letters which I'd packed into my carry-on to protect them.

As I retrieved the letters from my bag, I thought about her admitting to liking women. I had no trouble with it. In fact, it actually made her seem more interesting to me. Yet it was oddly coincidental, when seen in the context of her grandmother's love for women as well.

I had never intended to say anything to Stephanie about what the letters contained. I wanted her to discover that for herself. But I wondered if I should give her a 'heads up.'

Here," I said, handing them to her as if they were made of glass. "Uh...I purposely haven't said anything about the content. I thought you'd want to discover that for yourself, just as I did, when I first found them." I figured that was vague enough.