Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

A Friends of the Library Mystery

Last Installment

“Anthony,” began Celia, “please don’t do this. Everything you’ve studied about medicine tells you that these words you are saying are a lie. You know, deep in your heart, that underneath the skin, we are all made of the same blood, bone and sinews.”

As she spoke Celia stepped in front of László and Emajean, trying to form a protective shield. One of the men stepped up and grabbed her by the arm and flung her to the ground. He raised his club to strike László , who had knelt to help Celia back up. Celia saw the club descending towards László ’s unprotected temple, pushed up from the ground and over to the man, ramming into him with all her might. As László fell back on his heels, Celia’s head moved into the downward path of the club. It landed with all of the man’s force upon her occipital bone, crushing it inward, driving the pieces into her brain.

“Celia!” screamed Emajean and dropped to the ground, trying to revive her friend. The two men with clubs took off running out of the quad. László examined Celia and then pulled Emajean into his arms. “It’s no use,” he whispered. “She’s gone.”

Suddenly Anthony Harper was on the ground with them, cradling the lifeless body in his arms. “You were right, Celia. I didn’t listen. But you were right.” Tears ran down his face as he raised it to László and Emajean. “You need to call the police. I am responsible for this.”

László shook his head. “No, Dr. Harper. I have never agreed with you regarding your politics and your views on the races, but I have always admired your skill as a doctor. If you take responsibility for this, you will never practice medicine. It is better for you to use your skill to do good, to promote life. Otherwise, Celia’s death is in vain.”

Anthony Harper looked at Emajean. “Do you agree to cover this up? To give me a chance?” he whispered.

She nodded affirmatively, and then buried her head in László’s shoulder and sobbed. László held her for a moment and then said, “We must agree what has happened here. Two ruffians from town approached us trying to take our money. When Anthony and I tried to defend the ladies, one pulled out a club, but in trying to hit me, hit Celia instead. We are doctors. No one will question this story.

Now go call the authorities, Anthony. Save your outrage at yourself and pour it into your story so it will be convincing!”

Anthony ran towards the Administration building yelling, “Help! Please! Someone, help!”

Celia’s senses returned slowly. A low hum of machinery and that antiseptic smell of hospitals was distressingly familiar. As she peered in the low lighting at the monitors and listened to the buzzes and beeps, she became aware that she although she was again in a hospital setting, it was at least a 21^st century hospital setting. She began to hope that she was back in her own time.

The door to the room opened and her dear Rob came in. When he saw her eyes open he hurried to her side. “Celia?” he asked. “Are you back with us?”

Celia’s eyes filled with tears as she smiled and whispered, “I’m here. What happened?”

Rob answered, “The elevator at the library didn’t stop properly at the doorway so when you stepped out you fell. You hit your head and passed out. They brought you here by ambulance and we’ve been waiting for you to wake up.”

Celia asked, “How long have I been out?”

He smiled, “about three hours, but boy am I relieved to see you awake again. You had us worried! I’ll go find the doctor so we can talk about taking you home.”

Celia relaxed and began to smile. She was back! She wasn't stuck in 1933 anymore!

EPILOGUE

Celia was restless. She had been home from the hospital for three days, and had been unable to concentrate. The dream, if that was what it had been, had been so vivid, so lifelike. She had known Emajean and cared about her and László. She felt bereft of that relationship she and the girl from the 1930’s had shared.

After the kids had gone to school and Rob had gone to work, she sat down in her home office comfy chair.

“Emajean,” she said to herself as she lifted the 1933 Loyolan from her bag. Turning to the page with the graduation photo of the young woman, she teared up. “My friend,” she whispered, tracing the photo with her finger. She held the book by its covers and shook it, pages down, to see if there were any more secrets for it to yield. For the first time since the Annual had come into her possession, there were no photos falling out.

She thumbed through the photos that had fallen out before. This time, each one of them had names on them. There were photos of Emajean with some of the other nurses Celia had met. The young man was indeed Walter as the young girl was Frances. When Celia turned the baby's photo over it said "Celia."

Celia turned on the computer and called up her file on Emjean. Rob had been sweet enough to give her a year’s subscription to Ancestry so she wouldn’t have to go back to the library with the broken elevator. She smiled as she logged in, and went to the tree she had started for Emajean.

Suddenly she sat up straight. Something was wrong. After 1930 the file was empty. Emajean Murphy was gone! There were no City Directories and no further entries.

With butterflies in her stomach she tried searching “Emajean Timar” and there, in the Chicago city records for 1935, she saw entries that said:

Husband: Laszlo Timar: Birthplace: Hungary; Occupation: Physician

Wife: Emajean Timar: Birthplace: Michigan; Occupation: Housewife

Mother: Anna Timar; Birthplace: Hungary

Child: Celia Timar; Birthplace: Illinois, 1934

And when Celia saw who was living next door, she laughed out loud.

Husband: Teodor Timar: Birthplace: Hungary; Occupation: Salesman

Wife: Hulda Timar: Birthplace: Hungary; Occupation: Nurse

THE END

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

A Friends of the Library Mystery

Prior Installment

“Absolutely not!” Teodor emphatically told his nephew. “I am not going to marry an old fashioned Hungarian woman. I came to America to escape the old fashioned.”

László choked back a laugh. He gazed around his uncle’s study which was strewn with books and pictures from Hungary. Coats of arms of the great houses of Hungary, depictions of nursery rhymes they had both been raised with, paintings of hunting and stags.  Even the curtains were heavy damask, as would have been normal in old-fashioned, conservative. Hungarian homes.

Teodor himself gave an air of old fashioned conservatism. He wore a high removable collar, and cuff links showing a family crest. László caught Teodor’s arm and peered more closely.

“Are these your family crests?” he asked his uncle.

“No,” his uncle replied, jerking his arm back. “I helped a friend out with some cash and he insisted that I take them. They’re gold, so they’re worth something. What is it to you?”

László stifled his smile. “Nothing at all. If they’re worth something though, why don’t you sell them and get your money?”

His uncle, chastised him. “László! They are the crest of the man’s family! I cannot treat them as if they are unadorned gold!”

László smiled broadly, “But they’re not your family. Why would you wear them?”

Teodor answered shortly, “My shirt sleeves needed cuff-links. Now stop pestering me. I’m not going to change my mind about this girl!”

“Uncle,” began László, “she is a modern woman. She has even served as a nurse. Look around this place; you need someone to help you.” László gestured to the piles of papers and cups and saucers strewn about the study. It was where Teodor spent most of his time at home. The smart young man added, “she’ll be a fantastic cook, too, and you cannot deny that you miss good home cooking.”

Teodor grimaced. “Nephew,” he said. “I do not want to be dishonest with you. I do not want a woman to cook for me, to clean up after me, or to be dependent on me. If I want the company of women, I can seek them out and leave them when I am bored. ”

László sighed, “Teodor, I don’t know what to do then. I guess I’ll have to go to Hungary myself.”

Teodor was irritated with him. “That is not the only solution! This woman can accompany your mother, but not under the impression she will be keeping house for me or marrying me. I just want to make that clear!”

László smiled. “Okay, I’ll take the train to New York to meet their ship. I’ll spend the entire journey from New York to Chicago telling her what an unpleasant fellow you are.”

Teodor drew himself up to his entire height of 5’7”. “You will not do that! I will go to New York and meet the train. I will make myself an obviously unsuitable bridegroom.” He flashed a smile, “I need to do some business in New York anyway, and you cannot afford to miss out on your studies. I may not like having women around me, but I do love New York, and I know how to handle women when I need to be a charming rogue. I will enjoy the challenge. By the time we reach Chicago she will beg your mother to find her a widower with seven children to care for!” He winked at his nephew and twirled his moustache.

László rolled his eyes, shook his head, and assented to the arrangement.

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

A Friends of the Library Mystery

Prior Installment

When they got in that night the young women sat on Celia’s bed and talked quietly. Emajean asked, “Celia, would it be breaking the ‘time-rules’ for you to tell me about your own family? You must miss them.”

Celia teared up. She did miss Rob and her children, and to talk about them was a joy. Without revealing anything about their time they lived in, she was forced to describe her family by who they were, what they looked like, and what was important to them. She found it refreshing.

“My daughter is a lot like you. She is lively and passionate and wants to do everything all at once. My son is more introspective, but because he is a boy, he believes he should be tough. So he holds in his tenderness. I think someday a girl is going to break his heart. As his mother, I’m going to be so angry at her!,” Celia laughed at the prospect.

“Rob,” she started, and she choked up. “Rob is the kindest man alive. I do silly things and I forget to do things that are important to him and he never gets angry. He just laughs and hugs me and says none of that matters. He supports my writing and my volunteer work, and well, just everything.”

“Do you work?” asked Emajean.

“Yes, I’m a lawyer in a small law firm,” answered Celia.

Emajean’s eyes were round and her jaw dropped. “Women can be lawyers?” she asked, incredulous.

“Sure, a few are lawyers in your time. But it’s a hard road for them. I’m very grateful to them for going before me,” Celia said.

Emajean grinned. “I’ll bet you’re going to tell me that women are doctors too.”

“Actually, yes,” said Celia. “The medical schools are over 50% women in my time. There is still a pay disparity, but women are actually getting to where they can really contribute to their families.”

Celia thought for a minute before continuing. “Emajean, in your lifetime, we will have a Roman Catholic president, and you may even live long enough to see a Negro as the president of the United States.”

This was too much for Emajean. “I can’t believe that either one of those things will happen. How can a Negro be president if they can’t even use the same water fountains as we do?”

“That will change too. It will be difficult, and it will take a great deal of courage, but someday, the differences between you and László will be insignificant compared to the changes in society around you. Your children will see even greater changes. Men will walk on the moon, and . . . “ she stopped, realizing her enthusiasm was carrying her away from what she felt was permissible to share.

Emajean’s eyes were shining. She shivered as she said emphatically, “If we can get to the point where László and I raise no comment whatsoever, I’ll die happy!”

The lights dipped to warn the girls in the dormitory that they had only ten minutes to finish their evening toiletries and be in bed. Emajean hugged Celia quickly and slipped from the room.

Celia laid back in bed after brushing her teeth and stared at the ceiling. “God,” she began, “please let me be back with Rob and my children. Please?”

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

A Friends of the Library Mystery

Prior Installment

Released from the hospital wing, Celia was ordered to stay in her dormitory room for another twenty-four hours. She figured that was all the time she had to make this whole situation right because if she had to work as a nurse, they would surely know she was not who they thought she was.

Emajean had shown up to escort her back to her dormitory room. Celia discovered they lived on the same hall. Emajean told her that Celia’s roommate was away taking a semester off to help with a sick family member. After Emajean had fussed over her for a few minutes, Celia told her to go away for a while and come back to get her for dinner. She needed time to think. She sat on the bed and closed her eyes, trying to remember the photos that had fallen out of the Annual.

If this is about Emajean and László, why does she still show up single in the later City Directories? Am I supposed to help them get together? Or is this about Walter and somehow healing that rift? Is the Anthony Harper of this time related to my husband?

Emajean returned as promised and the girls went down to the dining room. Everything was very formal. There were highly polished silver utensils and serving pieces, cloth napkins and beautifully ironed tablecloths. All the formality was in contrast with the food served which was sparse and not very appealing. Celia guessed that even though food was scarce in 1933, the administrators of the university believed that the standards of the establishment should still be maintained, thus the formality.

After the meal Emajean invited Celia to stroll outside to enjoy some fresh air. Taking the hint, Celia agreed and the girls wound their way through the tables to the doors. An older nun fixed them with her forbidding gaze and admonished, “be back by 8:30 p.m!” The girls chorused, “yes, Sister,” and went through the heavy wooden doors, down the front steps, and out into a clear evening.

Emajean peppered Celia with questions about the future as they strolled arm in arm around the quad. Celia dodged most of them, to the point that Emajean was exasperated and burst out, “why don’t you tell me anything?”

Celia answered, “I think I’m supposed to follow some code of not telling you things because it can change how things turn out.”

Emajean countered, “I’m not important enough to matter to the big scheme of history! I’m an average girl from an average family who has few aspirations beyond marrying László and having a decent life here in Chicago. What about me can possible affect the outcome of world events?”

“I’m not sure,” Celia said, “but I don’t want to take any chances. I think I need to err on the side of caution.”

As the girls neared the corner farthest from their dormitory Celia saw a huge willow tree between two buildings. Standing underneath the tree was a shadow of a figure. Emajean began to walk faster, and Celia suspected she knew who was under the tree.

When Emajean threw herself into his arms, Celia sighed. This is all so romantic but all so wrong for this time in history. How can I help them?

Suddenly, she knew. She stepped towards the embracing couple and then stopped, embarrassed. They pulled away from one another, similarly embarrassed. Girding herself, Celia announced, “we don’t have time to be embarrassed with each other. I’ve just thought of a plan.”

They both turned toward her eagerly, with attentive expressions.

“László , are there any young women your mother knows who would be a good wife for Teodor?” she asked.

“Well yes, there is our neighbor’s older daughter, Hulda. She is considered unmarriageable in Hungary because she worked as a nurse during the Great War. She is closer to Teodor’s age,” he answered.

“What do you mean unmarriageable?” Emajean queried. “Simply because she has helped wounded men?”

“There are many things about Hungarian traditional culture that would surprise you Emajean,” he said. “Including that if a woman has seen any part of a man’s body that should only be seen in marriage, she is considered to have been compromised.”

Seeing Emajean begin to wind up for an argument, Celia broke in. “Emajean! We don’t have time for this. Don’t you see? Hulda would be a perfect person for László to suggest to accompany his mother. She is a nurse, so if László ’s mother has any difficulties with the passage, she can minister to her. She’s a bride for Teodor who can help him make money here by helping Hungarian families with small children. I’ll bet László can even find a doctor who serves that community here who is desperate for someone who can talk to the mothers in their own language with their own traditions!”

Celia could see Emajean’s argument deflate and László’s beautiful smile widen. “Celia! This is a stroke of genius! Teodor cannot possibly object! I will not lose any time in my studies, I will be able to take the time I need to prepare for my exams, and I will be on the list to compete for good positions in the city!”

Emajean added, “and we can proceed with plans to marry! Celia, this is why you’re here! It’s brilliant!”

“Now all I have to do is convince Teodor!” said László.  “I’ll go see him tonight. Good night, dear ladies!” László gave Emajean a quick kiss and hurried away. The girls heard the tower clock begin to chime the half-hour song and hurried towards their dormitory.

Emajean Continues

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

A Friends of the Library Mystery

Prior Installment

Emajean’s background was very different from László's. She was the daughter of a coal merchant. Her father was much older than her mother, and had been married once before. His first wife had died, leaving him a son, Walter, who Emajean’s mother raised as her own. Walter was ten when Emajean was born. Ten years later, baby sister Frances was born. Frances was a sickly child and demanded a great deal of her mother’s attention.

Walter took it upon himself to walk Emajean to and from school each day. Although he was a grown man, in many ways his mind was still that of a child. He was fiercely protective of Emajean and began to interfere with her relationships with her classmates. When she complained to her mother, she was told that she was lucky to have an older brother to look out for her. Overhearing this, Walter appointed himself Emajean’s protector for her own good.

When Emajean was in high school Walter got a job working on a farm just outside the city. Whenever he had an afternoon off, he walked to the street car line and then caught a ride to Emajean’s public school where he waited to walk her home. One afternoon, she came out of the school building and didn’t notice Walter. She and a young man turned to walk down the street together. The young man bent his head to say something to her and took her books from her arms to carry them for her. Walter saw her look at the young man with a sweet smile, and  snapped. He rushed over to the couple, seized the boy by the shoulders and threw him into the street. An oncoming truck was unable to stop in time, and the boy’s leg was broken as the truck ran over it. When the police came to the house that night to question Walter, Emajean’s father told them he had sent Walter far away already, where he would not bother anyone anymore.

From that time, no one in the family mentioned Walter. Emajean could sense that her parents wondered what had gone on between Walter and Emajean in those first couple of years when baby Frances was so sick. But instead of asking, they pretended that he did not exist. The denial of his existence was so complete that Emajean began to wonder if she had indeed done something wrong, whether she had encouraged him in some  way that was wrong. A feeling of responsibility descended upon her, so she joined in the artifice whenever her parents were around, and gradually, their life went on as if Walter never had been part of it.

Emajean never knew where they had sent him, but once, when she was home sick with a fever, she heard the postman call out to her mother as he brougt her mother the mail. She heard “here’s a letter from the Yukon! That’ll be young Walter telling you he’s discovered gold!” Emajean did not hear her mother’s reply. She heard her mother telling her father about it that evening, angrily declaiming the mailman's nosiness. Emajean tried to find such a letter, but was never successful. In the end, all she had to remember her brother by was an old photo, taken when he was working with his father on the coal wagon. In it he was dressed up, and looked out shyly, as if he was unworthy of the time and expense of a photograph.

Emajean graduated from high school with honors, and received a scholarship to study nursing at Loyola University in Chicago. Her first semester she had been a little homesick, but after the first trip home for Christmas, she knew that Lincoln was not where she wanted to live. She returned to Chicago with a zeal for enjoying the city and her college life, changed her name to Jean, and pursued her studies. Although she hoped to find a husband and start a life in Chicago, she never would have dreamed of meeting a man like László.

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

A Friends of the Library Mystery

Prior Installment

“Won’t you sit down?” László asked, gesturing to the table.

Emajean was still hesitant as she sat. “Usually at this time the doctors are elsewhere so I come in to have a little quiet cocoa. I really am sorry if I interrupted you.”

“Not at all! Is there some place where I too could get a cup of cocoa? It’s just that it reminds me of home, and for a moment, I had a bit of nostalgia,” László said.

“I bought it at the canteen. We can go there,” she said.

He frowned a little. “No, I don’t think I want to leave this room,” he said quietly.

“Is it because doctors don’t like to be seen in public with nursing students?” she asked.

“No,” he replied. “I like that it is just us here.”

“Then I’ll share. Here,” and she pushed the cocoa to him. The mustache of cocoa that covered his upper lip after he took a deep draught caused her to start giggling.

He took on a look of mock hurt. “Are you laughing at me? A poor foreigner trying to learn American customs?” he asked.

She bit her lip lightly. “No, it’s nothing foreign about you that makes me laugh. Even American boys get cocoa mustaches. It’s just very undignified for a medical student.”

He hung his head in pretend sorrow. “Ah,” he replied. “The stereotype of the doctor being too dignified to be human.”

She smiled, and reached across the table to retrieve her cocoa. László closed his hand around hers on the mug and said, “You may not have it until you tell me your name.”

Her smile grew wider and she said, “Jean. I like to be called Jean.”

He furrowed his brow and answered, “That sounds very American, short and to the point. It doesn’t seem ornate enough for you.”

She said, “Well yes, my parents named me Emajean but it sounds so old fashioned. I wanted to be called Jean once I came here.”

László tried it out, “Emajean.”

She had never heard her name pronounced with such precision wrapped in velvet. It made something inside her warm even more to this man. “All right. You may call me Emajean, but only you. Everyone else has to settle for Jean.”

“And already you have given me another gift,” he said.

“Another?” she inquired.

“Yes, first you started my heart. Second, you shared your cocoa. Third, you gave me exclusive use of your full name, Emajean,” he said.

There was something about the way he declared the gifts and finished with his caress of her name that Emajean knew she’d be a goner if she didn’t leave the room immediately. Suddenly the door flew open and a dark haired girl looked in. “They’re looking for you, Jean! Hurry up!” she called and ran off.

Emajean abandoned the cup, straightened her cap, and fled out the door.

They both knew where they’d be tomorrow at the same time.

Chapter XI

From their beginning with cocoa, László and Emajean tried to progress as if they were colleagues. When others were around, they struggled to ignore the currents of electricity that ran between them. But in their second year, the inevitable occurred and thrown together by long shifts and difficult patients, the electricity matured into a deeper relationship, cemented by friendship and shared challenges.

When László was in his third year of medical school, his father died. This coincided with the world-wide depression so his father’s already small pension from the Hungarian government was worthless. As the only child, László was committed to caring for his mother and was making himself sick trying to decide what was best for her.

Uncle Teodor provided what appeared to be the perfect solution. He offered to pay for his sister-in-law’s passage to America. László agreed that it was a great idea. Unfortunately, his mother refused to get onto a ship that would cross the ocean. Anticipating her answer, Teodor had been urging the young man to finish a semester early, quickly take his exams, and then go to Hungary to bring his mother back to Chicago. Teodor had picked up the current that ran between his nephew and a young Irish nurse, so his additional hope was that the trip would give the young man an opportunity to be immersed in all good things Hungarian, and the Irish girl would no longer appeal to him.

László suspected that his uncle had such an intention, but his suspicion was of no consequence to his decision. He was torn between the duty to his mother, and his love for Emajean. László also knew that if he left immediately following his exams, he would not be considered for further specialization studies, and might even have trouble finding a position practicing medicine when he returned.

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

Prior Installment

Chapter X

László Tímár had grown up in Budapest, the only child of a minor official in the government and an intensely dedicated mother. He started school at age four with a local convent school. The nuns who taught the children were from many parts of Europe and it was quickly discovered that the boy had a gift for languages. He picked up the various languages of the sisters, so with the assistance of the priests, they searched for foreigners to bring in to speak their languages to the young prodigy. At the age of twelve his education moved from the sphere of the nuns’ influence completely to that of the priests. It was then that another of László ’s gifts began to shine. There was simply no mathematics or science class that he couldn’t breeze through. By the time he was eighteen he spoke ten languages and had mastered advanced calculus.

With the blessing and financial support of the Church, his parents decided to send László to get a higher education in the United States. Because the Church was helping, it was to be at a Jesuit institution and when it came to choosing a school, they relied on geography and family connection. László’s father had a brother, Teodor, who had emigrated to Chicago ten years earlier. This brother cheerfully welcomed the prospect of his nephew coming to live with him. There were several wealthy Hungarian immigrant families in his circle of acquaintances who had marriageable daughters. Teodor was the consummate bachelor so wasn’t interested in any of them for himself. But for his nephew, Teodor was optimistic that one of the girls would give László a good reason to stay in the United States.

But wealthy Hungarian Catholic families did not send their daughters to study nursing at Loyola.  Further, László’s hours were such that he was constantly at the campus surrounded by young women from many backgrounds. With his gift for languages, he quickly found a new community among the other students and made arrangements to move into a dormitory. His easy nature and academic ease made him a favorite study partner for men and women alike.

It was in one of the study sessions that László met the young Irish-American nurse from Michigan. He was explaining a procedure from organic chemistry to one of his male colleagues one day when a young nurse walked into the study area with a cup of hot cocoa. The smell took László back to his early days in Budapest, when he shared hot cocoa and the stories of his day with his mother in the afternoon after school. The aroma made him smile and look up at the girl holding the source of the chocolate bouquet. His dark brown eyes met her lively green ones and it was as if an electric current ran from his body to hers and then back again. Her fair skin blushed dark red and her step faltered. The cocoa teetered in her hand.

László jumped up and steadied the mug by gently cupping his hand beneath it. “I’m a good doctor, but I don’t think I could heal a burn on such perfect skin,” he said.

The girl stared at him a moment longer and then dropped her eyes. “I’m sorry, I’ve disturbed your studying,” she said. “I’ll leave.”

“No, it is fine, we were just finishing, weren’t we?” he turned to his colleague. Aware that something magical had happened, the other man could only answer, “I’d say finished is the word for you, yes.” He gathered his things, nodded at the oblivious pair, and left the room.

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

A Friends of the Library Mystery

prior installment

When she got outside it was dark. Celia leaned against the wall of the barn and gazed up at the clearest stars she had ever seen. The night was cool, but the warmth of the sun lingering on the barn felt good. She just rested there for a while, enjoying the view. Even with the light spilling from the barn, it seemed that the heavens were illuminated more brilliantly than she’d ever seen before. As she stood there she saw a falling star trace its way across the sky.

Star light, star bright, first falling star I see tonight. Wish I may, wish I might, have the wish I wish tonight. Please, I want to go home.

Celia heard a voice in the darkness.  “No!” a girl’s voice was saying. “I’m not going back to Lincoln!”

Celia realized it was Emajean’s voice. She held still, hoping she wouldn’t be noticed. Maybe this way she’d get some answers to this mystery.

“But I won’t be here, and your family needs you. Your father is not well and I need to go to Hungary to bring my mother here to Chicago. When I return I’ll come to Lincoln to get you.” The voice was clearly Lazlo’s.

“I’m afraid you’ll never come back from Hungary,” Celia heard Emajean say quietly.

“I promise, I will,” came the soft reply. Next Celia heard a rustling noise and László continued, “this is my only possession of any value. I’ve put it on a chain for you so you can wear it under your uniform each day, near your heart. So a part of me will be near your beating heart. I like that thought,” his voice rumbled.

Celia could hear the couple kiss and tried to ease away, but to her horror, she heard an awful ripping noise and felt a sudden draft. Lazlo and Emajean stepped into the light spilling through the doorway. Celia tried not to look like an eavesdropper.

“Will you please keep my secret?” Emajean asked. “You know I would be asked to leave school if the nuns find out I’m seeing someone, even one of their own doctors!” Celia started to argue that no school would throw out a good student in her last year, but once again, remembered these times were not her times.


"I won't say anything Emajean," she heard herself promising.

“There, you’ve said it again,” said Emajean. “Rosa said you were strange tonight, and I think I agree with her. But I do know you’ve always been a good friend, so I’ll trust you to not say anything to anyone. Thank you, Celia,” Emajean finished speaking and pressed her hand on Celia’s arm as she leaned close to her. A faint scent of floral perfume wafted up to her nose.

Celia suddenly felt woozy and began to sway. She heard Emajean’s voice as from far, far away, calling her name. Celia wanted to answer but couldn’t get the words out. The edges of her vision were growing gray and she slipped into a faint.

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

A Friends of the Library Mystery

prior installment

Celia must have looked horrified because the other woman broke out in peals of laughter. “It’s fake, Celia!  Look at my costume!” she cried. Celia looked and realized that the other woman was dressed like a hobo. She had a tattered jacket over a threadbare vest, and under the vest a tunic of some kind. It might have been light blue at some point but it was covered with grayish stains wherever it showed through the vest. The pants were held up with twine around the waist and the girl had mis-matched, striped socks on. Most of her hair was pulled back into a red bandana, but some wild curls escaped around the edges. The only part of the costume that wasn’t authentic was her shoes. They were the same kind of sturdy white nursing shoes that Celia now had on her feet.

“Come on, Celia, I want you to meet our Hungarian. He’s here to give us real authenticity to the party!” The girl dragged Celia over to a table where a bowl with pink punch sat, poured her a cup, and then dragged her over to where a handsome, dark man was talking to several people.

“Hey everyone, Celia’s here now!” she exclaimed happily. “László ,” the girl said, “I’d like you to meet Celia.”

“Another nurse?” The man took Celia’s hand in his, kissed it, and said, “it is my pleasure to be surrounded by so many beautiful women.” Celia blushed and took her hand away. He was tall and thin, with jet black hair combed back from a widow’s peak on his forehead. His eyes were dark and hooded, and his skin was a beautiful olive complexion. He had a generous mouth and even white teeth. His personal magnetism obviously had a pull on every girl around him.  As Celia tried to think of something clever to say that would not reveal how out of place she was, another girl came over dressed in nursing whites.

Celia turned to look at the newcomer and was shocked to see the face of the young girl from the 1933 Loyolan! “Why,” she began, “you’re Emajean!”

The girl laughed at her. “Celia, no one around here calls me that and you know it! Ever since I left Lincoln, Michigan I’ve been just Jean! Although some here might refer to me as ‘Maw’.” The other girls all laughed at that. She greeted everyone in the circle and leaned in to give Lazlo a kiss on his cheek. Celia tried to remember the names – especially the name of the first girl she’d encountered. Rosa. Okay, I just have to remember Rosa.

A commotion at the front of the barn revealed that several young men had arrived. A couple of them had more musical instruments. They threw together a few hay bales and began tuning up. Temporarily forgotten by László and the other girls, Celia walked over to the musicians. A drummer started laying down a beat, starting a fast rhythm that the others began to follow. Pretty soon a real tune was getting going with brass and even a clarinet, and couples were starting to dance. Celia looked over to where she had left the others and saw László and Emajean beginning a complicated dance together.

I’ve seen this on an old movie. I think it’s called the Lindy Hop! Celia’s foot began tapping to the rhythm. She thought the poetry of the couple moving together was exciting and energizing! A part of her longed to go out on the dance floor but she resisted.

“They’re really good,” commented a young man at her elbow. Celia opened her mouth to agree enthusiastically but was cut off by a second young man. 

“That dance is obscene. White girls should not be doing a dance like that with old Hungarian men,” he snarled. Celia was surprised by the venom in his voice. She couldn’t help herself. She turned to him and asked, “are you upset because the dance is energetic, the girl is white, or because she’s not dancing with you?”

 The young man turned to her in fury. “White girls should not dance with foreigners, especially gypsies!” he spat.

Celia was shocked and her mouth fell open. “What is wrong with you?” she cried. And then she suddenly remembered that if this was 1933, the issue of who white girls should dance with was still very much strictly controlled by societal mores. Being Celia, she plunged ahead anyway, “any girl should be free to dance with or date or even marry whoever she falls in love with!” she exclaimed. 

The tall blonde athletic looking young man sneered, “if you really believe that, try selling your daddy on a Gypsy son-in-law.” He spun on his heel and marched out the barn door.

“Just ignore him,” said the remaining man, “and enjoy the show.” They both turned back to watch László and Emajean execute a series of swirls and dips that left both of them laughing and breathless and the surrounding watchers clapping and cheering.

Rosa reappeared and asked Celia if she was having fun. “Oh yes!” she answered. “Well, except for that one insufferable man. What a racist!” she said bitterly. 

Rosa looked at her askance. “Racist? What does that mean?” she asked. “Oh you know, someone who dislikes other people because of their race and wants to keep the races separate,” Celia answered. 

Rosa responded, “I've never heard that word used for people like him." She sighed and added,"it's too bad he's so unpleasant. He’s a brilliant doctor.”
Celia said, "brilliance is more than just brains. What's his name, anyway?"
Rosa stared at her, "Celia, you know that he is Anthony Harper! You have been doing rotations with him these last couple of weeks!"
Celia tried to think of a quick recovery, "oh my, I must be losing my mind. I need to get some air." She turned and went outside, leaving Rosa's puzzled expression behind her.

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

A Friends of the Library Mystery

prior week 

The researcher looked around, hoping to see any kind of structure that would be evidence of people. In the far distance she saw a rectangular shape that might be a shed or even a barn. Squaring her shoulders she began trudging towards it.

The sun overhead was hot and she was grateful for the unfamiliar bonnet. It seemed to her that she had been crossing the fields for a very long time, but she had no time reference without her watch or computer. The tickle in her throat was becoming a roaring thirst, but every time she looked up to see how much farther, it seemed as if the structure was the same size in the distance.

She sank down in the field to rest for a minute. This is not fun anymore. I can’t figure out what has happened. Maybe I’ve gone crazy. Maybe this is a dream. She tried pinching her arm to wake up, but accomplished nothing. She closed her eyes and curled herself into a little ball, with her head down, and arms around her knees. She wasn’t sure how long she had sat there when she began hearing faint music.

The researcher jerked her head up and looked towards the structure. Now it was only about 100 meters away and she could see that it was, indeed a barn, and could hear music emanating from the half-open door. She stood up and began walking resolutely towards the barn. To her relief, she could actually approach it this time.

“Oh, that’s too bad, you’ve torn your stockings!” she heard a woman say. The researcher looked down at her legs and to her surprise, she was wearing a white nursing uniform. Indeed, the stocking on her left leg was torn. She looked up at the person who had commented, and asked, “where are we?” The short, dark-haired beauty laughed and said, “oh come on, Celia, we’re at Garm’s barn! You’ve been here lots of times!”

The researcher (whose name actually was Celia) figured she’d better play along. “Oh, yes . . . I’m just really hot and thirsty,” she offered as an excuse. “Well come on in to the Hard Times party!” the girl responded. “I have to say, though, you didn’t put on much of a costume!” Celia couldn’t help but giggle inside. In my real life this would be quite a costume! I hate the sight of blood! The giggle must have made her face relax into a smile because the other woman smiled at her. When she did her lips parted to reveal a blackened tooth.

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

Wherefore Art Thou, Emajean?

A Friends of the Library Mystery, part X

Running after the child was liberating. The researcher felt free of the restraints and conventions of her life. She was soon out of breath though, and slowed to a walk. She could hear the laughter of children, but no longer see them. Ahead on the right was a copse of trees, so she angled her path toward them. As she neared the area, an older boy stepped out. He was dressed in the kind of clothes she’d seen on the male figure in the photos.

The boy stood in a defiant stance with his legs in a “v” and his arms angled on his hips. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. The researcher thought a moment and replied, honestly, “I don’t really know. I was trying to find out the answers to a mystery, and it brought me here.”

He squinted in the bright sun. “Where did you come from?” he asked.

Again the researcher hesitated, “I’m . . . I’m not sure. I was at the library and then . . . I wasn’t.” She looked around her, as if searching for something. “I think I had a bag, and a computer, and I certainly wasn’t wearing these clothes . . . “ her voice trailed off as the boy’s eyes widened with incredulity.

“You must be a ghost then, and we don’t play games with ghosts!” he exclaimed.

“No, I’m real! I remember – I was looking for a girl named Emajean. Do you know her?” she asked quickly.

The boy, who had been about to melt back into the trees, paused. “Maybe.  Maybe she was the little girl you were chasing when you came here. But why do you want to find her?” he asked.

The researcher shook her head, frustrated. “I’m not sure I remember why. I just remember that I need to find her. Can you help me?”

He gazed at her and then seemed to decide something. “No,” he said with finalilty. “You can’t see her,” and he began to fade into the copse.

“No, wait!” she cried, "Are you Walter?", but it was too late. He was gone and the noises of all the children were gone as well.

She looked around her, hoping to see any kind of structure that would be evidence of people. In the far distance she saw a shape that looked like a barn. The researcher squared her shoulders and began trudging towards it. Suddenly her adventure playing Tag wasn’t much fun anymore.