(All I Ever Wanted, Epilogue to Howard's End. The title is taken from the song in Moses, Prince of Egypt."
The year was 1932. Helen Schelgel married a farmer named George Weatherstaff and had three sons-Friedrich, Elijah and David. They lived not far from Howard's End so the family often visited Henry and Margaret Wilcox and their daughter Elizabeth. Henry had lost much of his wealth in the depression and only retained Howard's End and the country estate where his daughter Evie had been married. But he had grown up middle class and made his fortune in the Edwardian days so he was used to having little. Years of Margaret's nurturing influence had softened him and he became a much kinder and more thoughtful gentleman in his later years with far less of his old cynicism.
Friedrich Weatherstaff-Helen's eldest son-was a tall, beautiful and sensitive young man with wavy blond hair and blue eyes. Although he had a steady job at the post office, his true love was art and literature. During his spare hours, he would create soft gentle watercolors and rich, vibrant acrylic depictions of rustic life-farmers in the fields, mothers and children, still lifes with flowers and fruit and the occasional pond or lake. He loved visiting Howard's End, for he felt a deep, spiritual connection to it-it's rusty red bricks adorned with vines of wisteria and ivy, it's bushes of camellias, azaleas and roses, it's little beds of crocuses, irises, lily of the valleys, bleeding hearts and daffodils and fields of Queen Anne's Lace-represented a place of peace and contentment.
Aunt Margaret never tired of telling him the story of her friendship with Ruth Wilcox-her husband's first wife. Ruth was so soft and ethereal, so wise and thoughtful, she seemed an outsider in her circle. She was an old-fashioned sort of woman who held fast to the traditions of her time. When Margaret told Friedrich how they had once discussed the subject of women's suffrage and Ruth said "I am all too grateful not to have the vote myself." he laughed for the idea of a woman putting down a women's rights movement seemed absurd. How he wished he could travel through time to meet her.
"You, Ruth and I are the same." said Margaret. "We love the things of the earth-the plants, the trees, the animals, the birds, the rain and the soil. It is from these things we derive our strength...not the clatter of coins and the tinkling of crystal."
One day, Henry Wilcox's daughter-in-law Dolly Peterson came to visit. She and her husband Charles, (the eldest son of Henry) should have borne the name of Wilcox but they had changed it due to the publicity of a manslaughter case involving Charles. The tale was an open secret to the older generation in the Wilcox and Schlegel families; they never spoke of it. Charles had died in service in France during World War 1 shortly after serving his sentence and their son Ralph had been sent to boarding school.
Friedrich had never like them, for Dolly's shrill, piercing voice and gossipy disposition repelled him and Ralph had inherited his father's brutish tendencies. But Henry and Margaret insisted they be welcome guests along with Henry's other children's families. (Evie and Paul) When they were young, Ralph and Friedrich had gotten into a tussle on account of Ralph calling Friedrich a "bastard from a basket." Henry separated them and administered the belt for corporeal punishment was an accepted custom in his family from generation to generation. Dolly, Margaret and Helen protested but he said "I have been whipped several times as a boy and it did me no harm." As they grew older, the two boys learned to tolerate each other's presence during family visits but they had never been the best of friends.
On this particular day, Friedrich was twenty and Dolly had come alone. Friedrich was taking a turn around the house with his nose in A Tale of Two Cities when he caught the sound of conversation from an open window. It was Margaret, Henry and Dolly in a sitting room, enjoying tea and cake.
"Does George have a retirement plan?" asked Dolly.
"I'm afraid not." said Henry. "George is the sort who will work until he drops. He loves his farm and his family."
"I'll say." said Dolly. "Taking in a son who's not his own after all that went down. I don't know if my Charles would have done the same. Appearances were everything to him. But then again, he was no saint, either."
"Our Lord said it best." said Margaret. "Let he who is without sin amongst you cast the first stone."
Friedrich's heart leapt in his throat. He ran from the house and sat underneath the great chestnut tree with the pig's teeth stuck in the bark "to cure the toothache." He tried to convince himself he had heard wrong and anyways he had no business eavesdropping at a window. But then again, there was that time Ralph had called him that name. Was Ralph simply looking for a friendly fight or did he know something? Sometimes, Friedrich felt estranged from his family. They all loved each other but his younger brothers were feisty, sports-oriented and liked to play rough like their father George Weatherstaff whereas Friedrich was the quiet, wistful, melancholy one-more apt to sit and brood than tug and tussle. Elijah and David teased him about this, calling him a "fuddy dud" and "the black sheep" but Helen said to pay them no attention-God loved him just the way he was. Helen would never cheat on George-they had a great relationship. Could she have had a lover in her past-or worse...?
Friedrich tried to wipe it out of mind; whatever happened was in the past and didn't matter. He had a promising career waiting for him at Oxford. His parents were poor but his Uncle Henry saw he was the most studious of his siblings and had laid aside some money for when he came of age. (Being the future heir to Howard's End also helped.) He would pursue the profession he had studied for-whatever that was-and find his matching half like every other man. He would always have people who cared about him and whom he could care for in return.
But then...there was...this...
Friedrich decided he could not truly put it behind him unless he searched the matter to the bottom. So the next week, he took a long stroll through the fields of Howard's End with his Aunt Margaret.
Margaret looked sadly at her nephew.
"You remind me so much of your father."
"That's just it." said Friedrich. "I don't look anything like him. I don't even see much of my mother in me."
Margaret shook her head.
"No...you look like Leonard Bast...you have his eyes, his hair, his disposition...you love poetry and literature, music and art, the way he did...that's how he bonded with your mother."
"Was he a big charmer?"
"Oh no...he was shy and awkward. He had difficulty keeping a job. He had a wife to provide for and he felt like a failure. We were friends-Tibby, Helen and I-but Helen was special. She took it upon herself to be his advocate. She felt my husband owed him a job. If she saw someone in need, she wanted to hold on to them and lift them up, no matter what it took."
"That's like Mama." said Friedrich. "She likes taking care of little animals. She calls them her babies."
"Yes, that's Helen...Well...my husband couldn't give him a job...because he had been Leonard's wife's lover in her past-Jackie is her name-and he was afraid they could use this as blackmail leverage against him...and Helen flew into a rage. She called him stingy and heartless and refused to come and visit us when we married. She stayed with the Basts for a week or so, looking for some sort of opening for Leonard. And one day, I guess she lost her wits and gave herself to him. He was growing apart from Jackie and Helen cared about him so and they had so much in common...The Basts left London and Helen found out she was pregnant..."
Friedrich put a hand to his face.
"Oh God..."
"...So she took a vacation to Germany and Italy. She was intending to stay until she delivered so she could put you in an orphanage...oh...I know...you hate me for saying this about your mother...but you have to understand...a girl's innocence and respect for family name meant everything...women were often ostracized by social circles back then for what we now consider normal behavior. She didn't tell anyone. Not even me or Tibby. She was so ashamed.
I was worried sick because she wouldn't write to us...I mean really write...all she sent were postcards. So I tricked her into coming to Howard's End so I could see her again. We stayed the night and the next day, Charles came to help us pack. We didn't own Howard's End at the time, we were just visiting.
Then Leonard Bast came...I don't know what he wanted...I hope it was to make amends with Helen...Charles grabbed my father's sword-you know, the one above the mantle-and whacked him over the head with the flat. Leonard collided with a bookshelf and was knocked out. He died an hour later. It turned out, he was in the last stages of heart disease and Charles simply finished him off. Charles went to jail for five years and when he was released, he and Dolly changed their last name to Peterson and moved away.
Don't EVER talk to Dolly about that. And please don't EVER, EVER mention any this to your mother. It would break her heart if she knew that you know..."
"No." said Friedrich. "No, I wouldn't dream of it...What happened to his wife?"
"She lives with her daughter Emily in Sussex. That's not far from here. The court ordered Charles pay her a handsome sum every year as compensation for the loss of her husband so she would be provided for. Dolly still honors this pledge. We all promised never to contact them again."
"She has a daughter?" exclaimed Friedrich. "Then...I have a sister..."
"Yes."
He stared at the ground.
"So...everything I believed...everything I am...is a lie."
"No. You are still the son of George and Helen. And they love you. We all do. You cannot help your origins. But you can change the course of your future. No matter where you go or what you become...our hearts will always be open to you."
Friedrich embraced his aunt and wept silently.
OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
The next day, Friedrich bought an address book for the town of Sussex and looked for Jackie and Emily Bast. Then he went to the courthouse asking for the files on the trial of Charles Wilcox Peterson, just to make sure. He would not tell them who he was-he only wanted to see them, just once-so he could make closure with this untimely discovery.
As he drove through the countryside, he thought of what he would say if they asked him who he was. He created a psuedonym and cover story and went over it several times so he would not falter. His heart pounded as he approached the little cottage with white walls and thatched roof, adorned with bushes and ivy. Part of him wanted to drive away but he had come this far and there was no point in turning back.
A maiden with long, wavy golden hair and a white muslin dress was tending the garden. Friedrich guessed at once this must be his sister for her eyes and hair were like his. He took a deep breath, picked up his portfolio of artwork and left the car.
"Good morning, miss."
The girl smiled.
"Good morning, sir. What can I do for you?"
"I'm a travelling artist. I thought perhaps you'd be interested."
"You mean...you want to paint me?"
"Sure...if you like...fully clothed of course."
She laughed, and what a rich, warm, musical laugh it was.
"I would love to see your work, sir. Come and meet my mother."
She ushered him inside. There in a rocking chair with a pair of knitting needles and a blanket in her lap, sat Jackie. She was forty-seven now but her face still had it's soft, cherubic quality with the rosy cheeks and her curly hair was still luscious and golden, with only a hint of gray.
"Mama, this man is a travelling artist. He's come to show us his paintings."
Jackie got up in a hurry.
"Oh my goodness!" she muttered. "Look at this mess! And look at me! Still wearing my nightgown and my hair all out of place! You couldn't give me five minutes warning!"
"That's all right." said Friedrich. "My house is messy too."
"Well...pleased to make your acquaintance, nonetheless." said Jackie. "We don't have visitors very often. I'm Jackie and this is my daughter Emily."
"Pleased to me you too." said Friedrich. "I'm Elijah. Elijah Williams."
The two women gathered round as Friedrich opened his portfolio.
"Oh! That's beautiful!" said Emily, pointing to a painting with bright pink clematis flowers climbing a wall. "How much are they?"
"Fifteen pounds for the big ones. Ten for the medium size and five for the little ones."
"Aww." said Jackie, looking at a watercolor of a group of country girls playing Double Dutch. "I remember doing that as a girl."
"Have you ever been to the National Museum of London?" asked Friedrich.
"Once, a long time ago. My Lenny, may he rest in peace took me there. I'm afraid I don't remember much about it."
"Most artists these days want to say something big and important. All those nude women and symbols that represent virtues, vices and whatnot. I simply wish to convey the beauty and simplicity of things, ordinary people can gravitate towards."
"I couldn't agree more." said Jackie. "What did you say your name was again?"
"Fried...uh...Elijah."
"That's right, Mama." said Emily. "Elijah Williams."
"Yes, thank you." said Friedrich. Inwardly, he said "What a narrow escape."
"You're not from these parts, are you?" said Jackie."
"No." said Friedrich, trying to control the unsteadiness in his voice. "I'm from Landsford. I live with my family and travel about fifty miles to sell my work. I work at a post office too, so I have something solid and reliable. Painting is just my side gig. Next year, I plan to go to Oxford."
"Well, you're very talented."
"Thank you. Which one do you like best?"
"Well...I like this one...because it's a starry night. And each star is different like the snowflakes...It reminds me of a night when my Lenny took me out on the porch and showed me the sky. He said there were shapes and animals and people if I looked closely. 'Look!' He would say. 'There's Ursa Major and the Big Dipper and Orion the Hunter.' They're called constanta...consa...oh...what's the word?"
"Constellations."
"Yes. That's it. He had a big book with a map of the sky. He never tired of looking for those shapes...I always thought he was a bit daft for that...I said 'They're just stars, Len.'...I wish...I had tried harder...to appreciate them..."
Jackie wiped a tear away from her cheeks.
"You know...you sort of look like him...you have his face..his hair...and you love art and nature the way he did...Oh it's a sad, sad story. I needn't burden you about it..."
"It's allright." said Friedrich, trying to keep himself from crying.
"Well, how much will you offer for it?"
Friedrich looked down at the painting of the starry night over the town he had lavished so much care and love on.
"Nothing." he said, softly. "You can have it."
"Oh no." said Jackie. "No. You mustn't get the wrong impression. I wasn't try to prey on your sympathy. I just thought of my late husband when I saw it, that's all. It was a long time ago and I have a good life now. He left me his books and pocket watch but most importantly...he left me this girl over here...and that's a lot to be grateful for."
It touched Friedrich that this woman would speak so warm and fondly of her late husband when his very existence bore proof of his unworthiness.
"Well, it's ten pounds but I'm willing to sell it for whatever you wish."
"How about seven?"
"Seven will be fine...and...I'll throw another one in the mix for you miss..."
"Oh would you?" said Emily. "Thank you, sir. You are so kind. I would like the one with the pink flowers."
Jackie went to her bedroom to fetch the cookie jar.
"Can I see your husband's watch?" he called.
"Oh yes. Sure."
It was a round silver watch with swirls on the front. Friedrich gasped as he opened it. For there was Leonard Bast, in a black-and-white photograph. He knew at once, it was his real father.
"There." said Jackie. "That's seven pounds, three shillings and sixpence. I figured I ought to give you a little more since we're taking two instead of one."
"Thank you."
"Would you care to stay for tea?" asked Emily.
"Oh no. I have to go. But thank you, nonetheless."
"Thank you for visiting." said Jackie. "You're a very talented young man. I've no doubt you will go very far."
He shook the two women's hands-and oh how his pulse throbbed when he touched his sister's for what would be the first and last time.
As he drove home, Friedrich suddenly remembered he had signed his real name on the back of the paintings. Surely Jackie and Emily would notice that when they examined them more closely. Did Jackie know his mother Helen had married and changed her last name to Weatherstaff? She had seen the resemblance of Leonard Bast in him. Would she put two and two together?
He thought about explaining this in a letter, but then again, it was better not to open old wounds. It was not likely he would ever cross paths with Jackie and Emily again but if he did, he would always recieve them with a warm and open heart.
The End