The Key- Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Washington DC, 1945

         A single rain cloud slipped casually across the sun darkening the world to fit Annabelle’s mood. She stood outside the VA hospital letting the cool autumn air raise goose bumps on her bare ankles. The door opened and closed to reveal short glimpses of the chaos inside. Annabelle wasn’t sure she had the courage to know the truth about Robbie. Her stomach curled in knots. She fingered the soft letter with worn edges where Annabelle had read it many times over. She didn’t need to read it now, she knew it by heart.

         Dear Ms. Downy,

         I am writing to inform you of a new patient we received from France last week. He has been injured in          battle, suffering from a traumatic brain injury that has left him unable to speak at this time. I am delighted to report that he is currently stable and in good spirits. His dog tags were lost some time ago, and we have been unable to identify him. In an effort to learn his name, I searched through his belongings and ran across an envelope with your address. I am hoping you would come to the hospital to help identify him as he seems to know you. He is in room 308.

Thank you and God bless,

Nurse Mary Anne Morrison

         Annabelle felt a little vomit creep into her throat as she entered the hospital doors. The potent smell of human waste mixed with antiseptic tormented her nostrils. Her Mary Jane’s clicked rhythmically on the hard tile as she made her way to the information desk. A heavy-set woman smiled showing a large gap in between her teeth as Annabelle approached.

         “I am looking for room 308,” the words came out dry and caught deep in her throat.

         “Yes Ma’am. Go through those doors and down the hall to your right. The room numbers are labeled on the door.” Annabelle wondered how she could be so cheerful in such a depressing place.

         “Thank you,” Annabelle said turning toward the swinging double doors.

         “Have a nice day.” Annabelle couldn’t bring herself to smile. There didn’t seem to be any reason to smile any more. The war had ended but Robbie had still been officially missing for months, and this letter threatened to bring her worst fears to the surface. Either this was Robbie and he has been horribly injured or even worse this wasn’t Robbie and she would have to accept his probable death. She trudged through the heavy metal doors into the barren eggshell white hallway. Each step felt heavier than the one before. The hem of her navy wool dress felt binding around her knees as she quickly glanced at room numbers catching glimpses of the broken bodies and bandages behind them.

         Mother had begged her not to go. She said a young lady of only 20 would be irreparably damaged to see the horrific nature of war. She promised the government would figure out who this young man is and send him home. She should just be patient. But Annabelle couldn’t be patient any longer. She had to know, no matter how damaging the information.

         The animalistic groans of men in unimaginable pain made her feet move quicker without her consent toward the destination. The sooner she could see him the sooner she could leave in peace. Out of the fog in her mind appeared the room 308. She stood outside the door motionless listening for any sounds of discomfort coming from inside. Silence.

         Carefully, she pushed the door open to come face to face with this young man. His body, small and mangled, was covered in white medical gauze. He seemed to sink into the whiteness of the room only revealing little pock marks of color on where leaking blood and pus had seeped through. A few tufts of black hair peek through ridges of gauze around his head and two dark slits gazed at her without blinking. He lifted one mangled hand as if to wave her in.

         Annabelle lingered in the doorway a moment taking in the extent of his injuries. She noted two lumps under the bed sheet and breathed a sigh of relief that all his extremities were still intact. He lifted his hand again. Gingerly as if she would hurt him with her movements, she crossed the threshold and perched on the lone folding chair next to his bed. She couldn’t look him in the eyes. She was having enough trouble keeping her tears from boiling over; she let her thick blonde hair fall, covering her glossy eyes. She pretended to examine his mangled right hand and determined this was the cause for his lack of communication.

         Taking a deep breath she turned toward him and scanned his face looking for any resemblance to the Robbie she once knew and loved. His eyes glossy stared blankly back at her and she noticed blue flecks in his irises camouflaged by the bruising. Robbie’s eyes were brown, almost black. This man was not Robbie Murphy.

Patting his hand she croaked, “Thank you.” He lifted his hand again directing her to the door. “Do you want me to leave?” she asked not understanding the gesture. He shook his head slightly as it seemed to take great effort. “Do you want me to get the nurse?” He lowered his head and slight smirk curled across his greasy swollen lips. “All right, I will be right back.”

         Annabelle poked her head into the hallway searching for the nearest nurse’s station. She trotted toward the mass of white nurses’ hats surrounding a small desk deep into the innards of the hospital. They all turned toward her, and smiled brightly. She felt like dark stain on the pristine white floor of the hospital. A small nurse with bouncy flame-red curls and a constellation pattern of freckles across her nose bounded up next to Annabelle’s side.

         “You must be Ms. Downey,” she stated flashing a row of glistening white teeth.

         “Annabelle, please. And you must be Nurse Morrison?” She answered offering her hand to the nurse. She shook Annabelle’s frail arm vigorously. Annabelle tried to suppress the grimace making its way to the surface.

         “Mary Anne. I am so glad you came. Have you had a chance to meet the patient?” She asked guiding Annabelle toward a row of benches. Annabelle sat on the edge crossing her legs at the ankles and smoothed out her dress.

         “I have. He wanted me to locate a nurse for him.”

         “Oh, I will go see to him. I will be right back.” Annabelle nodded and forced a smile. As Mary Anne disappeared into the soldier’s room, Annabelle fought an internal battle with the despair creeping up from the depths. She pulled out a hand etched gold locked from beneath the collar of her dress. The locket charm felt reassuring in her palm and she rolled it over to rub her finger over the initials RDM engraved on the back. She felt like she was carrying a piece of him with her even though she could no longer look at the photograph inside.

Mary Anne returned from the room a few minutes later carrying an envelope. She handed it to Annabelle and said, “He just wanted me to give you this letter. Is he someone you know?”

         Annabelle shook her head, “I’m afraid not. I hope he might know something about my fiancé. He has been missing for quite some time.”

         “I am sorry to hear that.”

         “Thank you. If you don’t mind my asking, what happened to the soldier in room 308?” Annabelle shifted her weight uncomfortable for asking such a question.

         “Well, it seems he was hit by some shrapnel which probably means either an air raid or grenade explosion caused his injuries.” Mary Anne crossed her arms behind her back as if inviting more questions.

         “Will he make a full recovery?”

         “Doctors seem to think so. He will need to relearn how to speak and he will have limited use of his right hand, but he will recover.”

         “That’s good news.”

         “Yes, it is,” Mary Anne lightly touched Annabelle’s arm nodding toward the letter, “Take your time and if you need anything I will be at the nurse’s station.”

Annabelle smiled warmly and Mary Anne sauntered off glancing into rooms as she went. When Annabelle felt she was far enough away, she ripped the blood-stained envelops open. Her hands shook as she fought to unfold the yellowed paper.

         Dear Annabelle,

         I told Robbie I would write to you if anything unfortunate should occur. Robbie and I were both part of Monument protection battalion. And I must tell you he loved his job. He was bravely killed in action trying to save irreplaceable artwork from the Louve. He knew the world’s culture was at stake and as you know, he was an extremely passionate man. I wish there had been something for me to give you to ease your pain, but there was nothing left. I felt it was my duty to fulfill a hero’s last wish. Thank you for your sacrifice as Sgt. Robert Murphy was one of the finest men I ever knew.

Regretfully yours,

Tom Anderson

         Hot tears stung the back of Annabelle’s eyes as she gently folded the letter back into the envelop. She stared at the dark brown stains on the yellowed envelop and noticed it had no stamp. Tom had been injured trying to send her a letter. Guilt spread through her core causing sour bile to climb up her throat. He had been irreparably injured trying to help her, a stranger. She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving someone so selfless alone in this hospital. He deserved better. He deserved love. He deserved a home, even for just a little while.

         Annabelle forced herself to an upright position and walked briskly toward the little red-head standing at the nurses’ station. She tapped Mary Anne on the shoulder,

         “Mary Anne, the soldier’s name is Tom Anderson. He was in the Monument protection battalion.”

         “Oh thank you, that information is very helpful,” Mary Anne’s smile was of genuine appreciation, “is there anything else you need?”

         “Just one more thing,” Annabelle paused as she locked eyes with Mary Anne, “when can I take Tom home with me?”

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Camden, VA, 2012

         Cecelia slid her hands underneath her sweating thighs. The wooden bench outside Lakewood Funeral Home felt close to a hundred degrees in the sweltering summer heat. She watched a drop of sweat roll down her bare arm dissipating on the white leather band of her watch. She could see it was time for her appointment, but she didn’t want to go inside even if it was air-conditioned. She couldn’t bear the thought of Grandma Annabelle’s body cold and motionless on a slab. Annabelle was the only real warmth she had ever known. And now she was gone.

         The door to the funeral home gently swung open and a slender man with a beak like nose and thin wire rimmed glasses peered out. He jumped slightly upon noticing Cecelia seated just a few feet from the door,

         “Oh! Miss Wheatly, I was just about to call you. Please come in out of this ridiculous heat my dear.” He stepped out wearing a nice black sport jacket and took her hand between his. She immediately felt underdressed in her thin tank and jean shorts, but he didn’t seem to notice.

         “I am so sorry. I was here a little early and decided to wait outside…”

         “It’s no worry. Please come in.” He smiled as held the door as she entered. The cool blast of air sent shivers through her spine. Mr. Lakewood directed her toward the elegant office of the old refurbished manor. He pulled out a soft leather chair across from an antique mahogany desk. Cecelia had forgotten the chivalrous code that many men still lived by in Camden, “Please have a seat.”

         “Thank you Mr. Lakewood. I wish I knew what I needed to do. I feel like I should have had something more planned but I can’t… I just… don’t really know what I am doing,” Cecelia blurted out exasperated with her own ignorance.

         “That is perfectly normal. You have lost someone very close to you. It is a painful and confusing time. Planning a funeral should be the least of your worries, which is why I am here.” A smiled formed in the corners of her mouth appreciative of his kind words. “May I ask where your father is currently?” Cecelia shifted in her seat. “The reason I ask is because usually the children handle final arrangements not the grandchildren.”

         “Well, Ethan and Eve are living in Utah. I haven’t been able to get a hold of them since they don’t use technology. I have sent them a letter, but I am not sure they will even make the funeral.” Cecelia felt a sense of relief tattling on her parent’s blatant lack of responsibility.

         “I see. Well, Ms. Annabelle had everything taken care of years ago. She chose her plot in the town cemetery and her casket. Everything is paid for and she was very adamant about not having a service of any kind.” Cecelia blinked in confusion.

         “What do you mean not having a service of any kind? I mean I don’t think she was close to many people any more but that seems a little bit odd.” She started to nervously pick at a hangnail around her thumb.

         “I thought so, since the whole town did know her. But she insisted. It is all here in her paperwork. All you need to do is sign and we will take care of the rest.” She looked at the blank line highlighted with a bright yellow x.

         “This is it? When do I get to say goodbye?”

         “I will call you and you can come pay your respects.” Cecelia nodded feeling her already puffy eyelids begin to water. She fought the tears, quickly signed the form and stood up ready to sprint to her car.

         “Thank you Mr. Lakewood.” She held out her hand. He took it gently and held up one finger from his other hand.

         “Hold on Miss Wheatly, something was dropped off earlier from Bud Weaver.”

         “Bud Weaver?” she asked. Mr. Lakewood dropped her hand as he ruffled through some paperwork.

         “Yes, Annabelle’s attorney. Ah. Here it is.” He pulled out a plain manila envelope and handed it to her. “He said it was very important that you open it as soon as possible.” She scrunched her eyebrows turning the small package over in her hands.

         “Well thank you again Mr. Lakewood. I will be awaiting your call.”

         “I am so sorry for your loss. Ms. Annabelle was a remarkable woman and will be greatly missed.” Cecelia smiled and exited the office. The further she got from the office her pace quickened. What could be in this package? And why is it important for her to have now during one of the most difficult weeks in her life?

         She jammed the keys into the rental car and slid into the seat burning her thighs in the process. But she didn’t care. She used the car key to slice open the envelope before turning the ignition to blast the air conditioning on her sweat covered face. Her fingers dug through the envelope landing on a cold piece of metal. A key. She held it up to her face examining the antique skeleton key. “What in the world?” She placed the key back in the envelope and removed the delicate piece of stationary poking out.

         My Dearest Cecelia,

         If you are reading this letter, then I am already gone. I am so sorry I couldn’t share this information with          you while I was alive, but it was for your own safety. With this letter I have enclosed a key. Keep it with you at all times. It will open a lock that holds my, and ultimately your legacy. There will be men that will try and take it from you and for that, I am deeply sorry. I spent my life protecting it after your grandfather died. It was brought here after the Great War and we kept it hidden from some truly evil men. I call it Tuscany, and it has the ability to profoundly change anyone’s life that possesses it. You must find it and guard it with your life. Be careful. I know you will do the right thing. I love you.

         Grandma Annabelle

         Cecelia put the letter back into the envelope. She let her head rest on the steering wheel and this time she let the tears fall freely.