Ten Years Later

It was one of the darkest days the United States had ever known. Suicides were at a record high, and of those remaining, many were lost, confused, unsure of what to do. The stock market had just suffered the most devastating crash in the country's history, but my family and I took hardly any notice at all, as it was also the day of my mother's funeral.

Tough and resilient as she'd always been, she'd amazed her doctor by holding on much longer than he'd anticipated. Her mind had been clear as a bell until the very end, and as Wade, Ella and I had stood at her bedside, watching her slip away, she'd said a personal good-bye to each of us.

The decade since the loss of my father had been tumultuous, with changes happening faster than I could keep track of them. To my great joy, women were allowed to vote at last, and modern-day conveniences such as automobiles, telephones, and silent movies became much more commonplace than they'd been before. American women also began to imitate European women in their approach to romantic relationships, and I wasn't sure at all whether that was a good thing or not.

How well I remembered going to vote with Mother for the very first time! Although our candidate, James Cox, lost to Warren Harding, we were both thrilled to finally have a voice in our nation's government.

Now her voice was permanently silenced as she lay there looking so peaceful in her coffin, her white hair beautifully arranged, her cheeks rouged so that she appeared somewhat younger than her actual years.

"She looks lovely, darling," George said as he placed a comforting hand over my own.

"Somehow I could just never make myself believe that this day would ever come," I muttered numbly.

"I know," he said sympathetically.

"At least she isn't suffering any more," said Liza. Over the past decade, she'd grown very close to the grandmother she'd met for the first time as a young adult. My mother had regaled her with stories of growing up in the years before the War Between The States, of life on grand plantations where there were barbecues, peach orchards and cotton plants, where women wore dresses that had skirts with big hoops underneath that, if you weren't careful, could fly up and break your nose when you sat down. That way of life was but a distant memory now.

As we stood at my mother's grave watching her casket being lowered into the ground, I glanced at Walter and Liza's seven-year-old son, Rhett. He was my oldest American grandchild, and the one to whom I was closest. He had my father's dark hair and my own blue eyes, and his curiosity knew now bounds. Mentally, he was far beyond his years, yet he still retained the sweet innocence of the child he was.

"Great Grandma is with Great Grandpa now, isn't she, Grandma?" he asked me after the ceremony was over.

"Yes, she is, darling," I told him.

"I never met Great Grandpa, did I?"

"No, you didn't. He died three years before you were born."

"What was he like, Grandma?"

"Well, he was very charming and very clever, and very passionate. He loved your Great Grandma very much, but it took her a long time to learn to love him back, and when she finally did, her love for him was equally passionate. I had a very happy childhood. Your Great Grandpa always made a big fuss over me, cuddling me and doting on me and doing everything he could to make sure that I was happy. He was always very good to your Great Uncle Wade and your Great Aunt Ella as well, even though they both had different fathers."

Rhett considered my words for a moment. "Grandma, what's heaven like?" he finally asked.

"It's more beautiful than you could ever imagine. Everybody is happy all the time, and they have everything they want."

"And that's where Great Grandpa and Great Grandma are now?"

"Yes."

The decade following the stock market crash was the most difficult one our nation had ever known. Many of the investments my parents had made were now worthless, and Wade, Ella and I were forced to sell the grand house in which we'd grown up to pay off debts and support our families. George and I found ourselves living in a modest shack very similar to the one which we'd dwelt in when we'd returned to Russia in disguise after Vova's departure from France with Greek George.

In the waning years of our lives, we watched our American grandchildren grow up. Rhett grew to be a tall, gangly teenager, reminding me in many ways of my George as he'd been when I'd first met him. He excelled in both academics and athletics and became my personal pride and joy, in some respects seeming to fill the vacancy left by Vova, who remained in Paris with his mother and stepfather. From the news that trickled across the Atlantic from time to time, I learned that Vova had never remarried. I still felt largely responsible for the trauma and emotional pain he'd endured as a young man.

News also arrived of trouble brewing in Europe, as Germany invaded Poland and torpedoed a British cruise ship en route to Canada. France, Russia and many other countries were soon involved, but President Roosevelt insisted that the United States would continue to isolate itself from the war.

In the meantime, Rhett finished high school, graduating with honors. As he'd inherited his great grandfather's wanderlust, he immediately enlisted in the navy. I protested that with his grades, it would be a wiser choice for him to enroll in college, but he would hear none of it.

"This is my one chance to see the world, Grandma," he told me. "You saw a fair amount of it when you were young. Now it's my turn. College will still be there when I've served my time." I couldn't argue with that, so I simply smiled and wished him the best.

After he'd finished basic training, we learned that he'd be stationed at Pearl Harbor in Hawaii. "Hawaii!" I exclaimed. "But Rhett, that's so far away!"

"I promise, I'll write as often as I can," he told me. "I love you, Grandma."

As he gave me a good-bye hug, I felt that I'd never see him again.