I Still Dream About You

More Revelations

THE DAYS FLEW BY, AND SPRING BECAME PRETTIER AND PRETTIER. Ever since that Easter morning, something had shifted a little for Maggie; a small shift, but still a big one for her. It had happened so gradually that at first she hadn’t noticed, but then one day, it suddenly dawned on her. That old gray dread that she used to feel when she woke up was not there anymore, and as strange as it seemed (for her, at least), she hardly ever worried about things anymore. And what a relief that was. Of course, nothing was perfect; she still had all the same old shortcomings that she had been struggling with for years. But in the past few weeks, Maggie had realized something that had never occurred to her before. She didn’t have to be perfect. Yes, she had made a lot of mistakes in the past and she would probably make many more in the future, but it wasn’t the end of the world. And okay, so she was still just a little bit stuck in the fifties. She enjoyed seeing reruns of I Love Lucy and hearing a pretty song every now and then. She still cried when they played the national anthem. Maybe she was too old-fashioned, but she still loved celebrating the Fourth of July and seeing the Thanksgiving parade and watching the same old Christmas movies on television each year… but so what? As she had found out the hard way, life was too short to be unhappy about anything. Hazel had been right all along. She’d said, “I don’t have time to be unhappy; I’m having too much fun being alive.” And Maggie agreed. She wasn’t thrilled about having to go back to the gym two days a week, but she had signed up for a cooking class that she was enjoying very much. She had taken up her harp lessons again and was learning the song “Blue Skies” in honor of Hazel. With so many new things going on, Maggie had mostly forgotten about her quest to solve the mystery of the Scottish twins. Even the unstoppable Miss Pitcock had finally been stopped. She had just faxed Maggie and informed her that she had reached the end of all available information in the British archives, or anywhere else in the world for that matter. Maggie immediately faxed her back and thanked her profusely for all the good work she had done.

MAGGIE WAS SURE that if Miss Pitcock couldn’t find any more information, there wasn’t any, but when Maggie got into bed that night, she found herself thinking about Edward and Edwina Crocker once again. Of course, now she would never know for sure who Edwina really was, but having seen her photograph taken at Buckingham Palace, and considering the uncanny family resemblance, she was convinced, birth certificate or not, that Edwina really was Edward’s sister and not his mistress as she had once suspected. Besides, now that she thought about it, Edwina never would have been given the title of Lady Edwina Crocker if she hadn’t really been a Crocker. The British wouldn’t have made a mistake like that in a million years. But still… it was odd that there was no record of birth for a person as important as Edwina. Oh well, it would just have to remain unsolved. Maggie rolled over and turned off the light.

At around two A.M., Maggie suddenly sat straight up in bed and said, “Oh, my God.” Why hadn’t she seen it before? It was as obvious as the nose on her face. No wonder Edward and Edwina had never been photographed together and Miss Pitcock had never been able to find a birth certificate for Edwina. There was no Edwina Crocker. There never had been. Edward and Edwina were the same person! Of course. The two sets of clothes in the trunks had both belonged to Edward.

At last, it all made perfect sense. Edward Crocker had been a cross-dresser. He had lived as a woman in London and as a man in Birmingham. No wonder he had never introduced Edwina to any of his friends. He couldn’t. Oh, that poor man. How Edward must have suffered all those years, trying to keep it a secret. Well, bless his heart, he needn’t worry about anyone finding out. His secret was safe with her. She didn’t need to tell anyone. But she did feel relieved to know that she was obviously not as dumb as she’d thought. She had solved the mystery of the Scottish twins. She had finally figured out the real story.

MAGGIE HAD NO way of knowing it, but she was dead wrong. That was not the real story at all. There had been only four people in the entire world who knew the real story: Angus, the father; a doctor; Nurse Lettie Ross; and, of course, Edwina. The only other living creature who knew the real story was the fly on the wall that day in 1884, when it all began.