The Sky Beneath My Feet - By Lisa Samson Page 0,84
more being happy.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?”
He leaned down as if to study the map, but I could tell he wasn’t paying it much attention. My father never liked getting into deep conversations. Not with me, at least. A knock-down-drag-out fight with Gregory was more his idea of fun.
The truth for my nineteen-year-old self ran something like this: Miss Hannah, by her very excellence, made men like my father uncomfortable. Not only had she made something of herself, but her accomplishments outshone his and made him feel small. Accepting a woman as an equal he had no problem with. As a superior? Not so much.
I’d never heard Miss Hannah say anything unkind or judgmental. Maybe I come by the art of projecting myself onto others honestly.
That afternoon he drove up I-83 with me, veering off toward Monkton, then doubling back in the direction of Hampstead, always asking whether anything looked familiar. Nothing did.
“Are you sure it was north? Maybe she took you out toward Reisterstown, more to the west? There’s a meetinghouse out in Westminster, though I never heard of it having a hole in the roof.”
The next day I tried again, following his advice. I didn’t take him along, though, not wanting him there when I discovered the place. He was bound to try to ruin it.
When I found the meetinghouse in Westminster, a white plank structure, I was filled with disappointment. Fortunately, in the greasy spoon across the street, I ran into a couple of old-timers who knew the area quite well and took an interest in my quest. They argued over the map and put a half dozen Xs in various spots from Manchester to Taneytown, New Windsor to Walkersville.
Gas was much cheaper back then, and I used plenty of gallons. Over the course of my Christmas break, I acquired a frustratingly good knowledge of central Maryland. I went to every Quakerrelated site within fifty miles. The search proved hopeless.
On Christmas Eve morning, I planned a quick drive northeast to Jarrettsville, where a librarian who’d helped me look up possible locations had said she remembered a brick one-story church that looked a little like a dentist’s office. Could that be the one? I had to sneak out early because my mother had given an ultimatum the night before: the quest had to end or it would spoil her Christmas.
As I started up the Bug, the passenger door opened and Gregory slipped in. He wore dark glasses and a denim jacket with a hoodie underneath. I heard a sloshing sound as he settled himself, liquid shaking in a bottle. I’d seen him the day before with a flask-shaped bottle of brandy, and now he must have had it hidden inside his coat.
“Where are you going, Eliza? What’s the deal?”
“I’m not going anywhere until you get out.”
“Come on, I know what you’re up to. Take me with you. I promise I’ll behave.” Before I could protest, he added, “If you don’t, I’ll tell them you’re leaving.”
“Fine,” I said.
The whole way, Gregory needled me about the search. I could tell from his breath that he’d been drinking. Hair of the dog, I figured. Strange as it sounds, I never made the connection between his drinking and him being an alcoholic. I was a college student. Everybody drank. And compared to some guys I knew back at school, he seemed to have it under control.
“Why are you so obsessed with finding this place?” he asked. “By now, it’s bound to be a disappointment. You’ve built it up way too much.”
“I just want to find it,” I said. “If I can.”
“You should have paid more attention to where you were going.”
“No kidding. At the time, I didn’t know she was going to die.”
Saying it out loud: a bad idea. Tears started to stream down my cheeks. Even in his state, Gregory could see it was no good for me to drive. He made me pull over so he could take the wheel.
“It’s all right, Liz. Don’t cry. She lived a full life, you know. It’s not like she went before her time.”
“I just wish I could have been there.”
“I know you do.”
Neither one of us was surprised when the Jarrettsville lead turned out to be a bust. All the one-story brick buildings we could find that looked like dentist’s offices really were dentist’s offices. Once again I had failed in my quest.
“I’ll help you out if you want,” Gregory said. “I’ll ask around. Maybe some of Mom’s friends might know . . .”