Welcome to the World, Baby Girl!

A Few Scribbled Words

Elmwood Springs, Missouri

1978

Three weeks after she had been to Washington the phone rang. “Miss Nordstrom, it’s Richard Look.”

She closed her eyes and waited for his next sentence. “I have some news about your mother and I’m afraid it’s not good news.”

She sat down and listened while he read her the report.

Look had said he was sending it. Three days later, when the large, ominous-looking envelope arrived, she put it down on the kitchen table. She did not want to open it. The facts inside were so shocking, so brutal, so final. She knew when she opened it and saw the facts on official paper that she would have to accept them as true.

Her mother had destroyed herself over something that in a few more years might not even matter. It was so unfair that a person’s life could be changed so dramatically by just a simple matter of timing. Her mother’s life had been ruined by something as stupid and as changeable as the prejudices of the day. If only her mother had been born in a different time, she would have been spared all that unnecessary misery. Just a few years later, and she might have had her mother back.

Dena got up and walked around the block. Her neighbor, Poor Tot, was in her front yard on her hands and knees working in her begonia garden. She had on red jeans, her husband’s bowling shirt, and a straw hat, and called to Dena, “Hey … isn’t this a pretty day? I think we are going to have an Indian summer, don’t you?”

Dena had no idea what she was talking about but answered, “Yes, I think you’re right.” When she came back she sat down and opened the envelope. Inside was another envelope with a letter attached:

Dear Mr. Look,

Pursuant to your inquiry of November 27, we have obtained the following information:

Le Guarde, Theodore: 43 years of age, cause of death unknown. Central Cemetery, plot 578.

Le Guarde, Marguerite Louise: 39 years of age, cause of death apparent suicide by multiple razor cuts, Hotel Sacher.

I am sorry to inform you that after a thorough investigation, the whereabouts of Marguerite Le Guarde’s remains have not been located. At the time of her death an attempt to locate relatives was made, but when none were forthcoming, as is policy, she was cremated and most probably buried in one of several municipal grave sites. I am also sorry that our investigation could not have brought you happier news.

As the inquiry was made on behalf of a family member of the deceased, we have enclosed some heretofore unclaimed personal effects.

Please call if I can be of any further assistance.

Sincerely,

Dieter Kleim

Director of Forensic Files

Vienna, Austria

The envelope inside had been closed with a red wax seal. Dena took a deep breath and broke it open. Inside was her mother’s passport. Underneath her picture was written Marguerite Louise Le Guarde—born, Vienna, Austria, 1920. A train ticket and about two hundred American dollars and some foreign bills. A few receipts and a folded sheet of Hotel Sacher stationery. Dena unfolded it and read the note her mother had hurriedly scribbled across the page to herself: Pay hospital bill … Call Dena … Tell her to wait at apartment.

Seeing her mother’s handwriting again after all these years, and realizing that her mother had intended to return to her again, was a shock.

If only she could have told her mother that nothing mattered, told her how much she loved her and needed her. But she couldn’t. All she could do was sit there and cry while the cat, upset because Dena was upset, kept rubbing up against her, over and over.