“I’m sorry. I truly wasn’t meaning to suggest that. I’m so very touched that you’d share these with me.” And honestly, she was touched. Sally lived for her copies of Godey’s . Many an afternoon had been spent at Sally’s, wiling away the hours poring through the pages.
“I brought you this,” Ramona said, handing Dianne a small metal box.
Dianne opened the box to reveal sheets of writing paper and envelopes. “Oh, Ramona, this is a treasure to be sure. I’ll write to all of you using this.” She glanced up to meet their gazes. “I don’t know how often I’ll be able to write, but just know that I will as time allows.”
They nodded somberly. Dianne felt an aching deep in her heart. What would she do without them to talk to? How would she ever abide the long, perilous trip across the plains without them to encourage her and bolster her spirits?
“This is from me,” Ruthanne said, pushing a small cloth bundle into Dianne’s hands.
Dianne unrolled the material to reveal a small wooden cross. “My pa carved it for me, but I told him you were leaving and that I wanted to give you something to remember me by. He said I could give this to you and he’d make me another one.”
Dianne smiled. “I’ll cherish it always.” She put her things aside and reached out to embrace the three girls. “I’ll miss you all more than I can say.” The awkward hug ended to reveal them all in tears.
“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Ramona said softly. “I’ll miss you so much.”
“You’ll miss Morgan just as much, I’ll wager,” Dianne said, trying to keep the situation from growing too maudlin. The girls giggled even as tears streamed down their faces.
“We’re a sorry lot,” Sally said, taking up a dainty handkerchief. “Just look at us. Our faces will be all red and splotchy.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Dianne said. She studied the face of each girl, memorizing her features. How would she ever manage to say good-bye?
“I have some things for each of you,” Dianne continued, trying to regain her composure. “You know we can’t take many of our possessions, so I’m forced to leave them behind.” She went to her wardrobe and opened the doors. “I want you to share what’s left in here. The party gowns, the slippers, and such.”
The girls were instantly animated with oohs and aahs over the bounty. While they shared the wealth among them, Dianne went to her vanity and opened a drawer. “I also have a special gift for each of you.” She took up three small parcels wrapped in brown paper and brought them to her friends. “I wanted you to have something special to remember me by.”
Sally was first to reach for the gift. She opened it even as Ramona and Ruthanne took their packages in hand. “Oh, it’s beautiful.” She held up a necklace—a delicate gold chain with a small heart hanging from the end. Ramona and Ruthanne found exact replicas in their packages.
“This must have cost you a fortune,” Ruthanne exclaimed.
Dianne shook her head. “There are benefits to being a shopkeeper’s daughter.” She didn’t bother to tell them her mother had found the entire lot tucked inside a box of useless bits of bric-a-brac. Dianne had declared an interest and her mother had shrugged and tossed the entire collection to her. It seemed preordained, as there were three necklaces of the same style and gold color.
“Now you’ll each have something to remember me by, and I shall have these little treasures from you. I feel like the richest girl in the world.”
“My father says your family is pert near the richest in these parts. If your pa hadn’t made friends with the Yankees, like mine did, we’d probably all be poor as church mice.”
Dianne knew that was most likely true. It was one of the reasons some people hated her family. They’d never understood her father’s desire to work with, instead of against, the Yankees. Truth be told, Dianne wasn’t at all sure she
Kathy Reichs, Brendan Reichs