Una Meredith stopped in the doorway of John Meredith's study and peered inside. The honey-tinted light of the afternoon shone through the windows half covered with wild wine. John Meredith was bent over his papers and books, which were scattered all over the study, which was somewhat cluttered despite Rosemary's best efforts. John Meredith raised his dreamy eyes to Una and said, "What you asked me of earlier, I think is in those cabinets, but I'm not quite sure where."
Una nodded softly and began to examine the drawers of the drawer, which contained interdenominational cooperation between Glen and Lowbrigde, such as it were. On the narrow cards, the years were recorded in bluish ink, 1899,1905,1907,1911,1912, 1916, and cooperation had accelerated considerably during the war years.
Una brought out the years 1912 and 1918, two narrow folders whose contents rustled quietly. She opened them on a narrow card table, which already had a thick Bible with illustrations by Gustave Dore. John Meredith glanced over his sermon draft towards Una, and inquired, "The Lowbridge church might have some papers too, and they made it into a church bulletin that caused quite a stir."
Una nodded, and with her narrow, dry fingers stroked open the torn-off bulletin, the title of which proclaimed, "Congregational Cooperation in the Aftermath of the Titanic Tragedy, April 1912, Prayer and Musical Evening in Memory of the Victims."
The bulletin was a yellowed programme, with a group photograph below it, on the wide steps of Lowbridge Church.
Most of the faces were just muffled blurs, except for one, clear graceful features, under heavy golden hair, slightly smiling, impish deep blue, eyes, folds of lawn dress, and a saucy tilt of chin. Alice Parker, responded to Una's gaze, from the group photo, with quiet self-awareness, a small smile on her lips, as Una looked at her own likeness, next to Alice, all sweet serenity, but her eyes also glowed with humor, not wistfulness at all, because a moment before the picture was taken Alice had whispered a barely audible joke, in her usual sweetly irreverent way, but not as Faith would have done, as Alice was, she had been sutble one. With an inner sigh Una looked at the stiffly formal group photo in silence for a moment, and then she put it back in its place, between the bulletin.
Years, years ago, Una had heard Alice's impish resonant voice whispering, "Think what kind of storm in a teacup this will create, in both churches, and we'll get a change, although of course tragedy is the most tragic, it still brings excitement here, and we'll get a chance for a new kind of hymn music, one can't forget that!"
The scent of lavender water had been faint from Alice's white gloves as she had walked ahead of Una down the main aisle of Lowbridge Church, as her lavender belt had fluttered against her hems, as she had reached the pew, she had smiled with wry impishness,as she had confessed, half whispering, "If ever corsets go out of fashion, I'll be among the first to throw mine away. We have to set an example, to others, but I'd rather breathe more freely."
Alices impishness had melted into a look of attentive pleasure, as Una had thought the slightly overtly decorated organ began to play, under the roar of the music, Una heard Alice whisper, "Shall we learn that too?"
And Una had nodded, and so it had been.
Days and weeks of merry music making, and endless tea-parades, and church functions.
Una touched the narrow folders, because they contained the spark of her deceased friend's life, and wistfully, Una remembered the letter she had received, too, too late, and the funeral she couldn't go to, because of the risk of infection, as Flu had raged furiously.
John Meredith looked at Una and the papers that were neatly by her side, reams of paper, parish registers and some sheet music, and gently John inquired, "Did you find what you were looking for?"
Una looked up, and nodded slightly as she answered, " Now the end of August, it is her birthday, did you know that?"
John Meredith frowned, "Who exactly, my dear?"
Una's reply was almost inaudible, but it came, "Alice Parker's."
John Meredith, just nodded lightly, and said, "I see, I didn't know you were on such friendly terms with her. Many lives were lost before their time, in recent years. Maybe you should think about what she would want you to do, in her memory."
A small smile appeared on Una's face, at the same moment that Rosemary's gentle voice remarked, "John dearest, the tea is on the table."
In the streets of the Glen, Irene Howard encountered Betty Meade Sinclair and said audibly, "All these new styles, low hemlines, and boyish haircuts, where has traditional full-bodied femininity gone I just ask? Una Meredith, as well as Nan Meredith, walk in jersey dresses, and neither of them seem to have corsets under their dresses."
The reddish maples sparkled in bright colors, as Redmond term had begun, in Kingsport, as co-eds competed in the streets, and in the lecture halls, but in one class there was a concentrated, almost holy silence, as the padded door opened, and a slender figure dressed in dark colors slipped into the class, walked to the window, turned her back, so that the tortoiseshell combs glistened in her hair, which was mid-brown, and said, "Go ahead, you should all know these by now."
There was a slight scramble of sheet music, and then the scales began, one by one, as the students played what was required.
Afterwards, Victor Chase, found Una Meredith sitting in the inner courtyard, of Redmond, and he waved his hat, lightly, and said, "Sorel was demanding today, more demanding than usual, my fingers ache."
Una Meredith half looked up from her note papers, and said in a mild tone, "Professor Sorel, ."
Victor Chase smiled, and rubbed his leg as his wound always ached in autum, as he remarked, "Well, have you had fun during summer term at all? Or has it just been weddings, parish duties or christenings, and gossip?"
A small smile appeared on Miss Meredith's face, which Victor happily noticed, as she replied, "My summer was pretty much what you said, Mr. Chase."
With a bit of exaggeration, Victor pressed his felt hat against his heart as he said, "But to think you forgot to have fun, enough, Miss Meredith!"
Autumn's decaying leaves flew over them, like old half forgotten or crumbled whishes.
Una looked up, into Victor's eyes, and there was a glow of loss in that look, it spoke to him.
His mirth momentarily suffocated, Victor said seriously, sincerely, "Autumn, it's always at these times that I pass momentarily over there, and though the war is over, I still sometimes wake up at night to the sounds of shelling, and the cold of the mud, and the cries of my wounded comrades, and then the only thing that helps is music, and the lighting of candles." Victor gave a gentlemanly arm to Miss Meredith, and they walked, and soon, soon two candles were glowing, before the memorial plaque.