Untold Secrets

Copyright © 2006 by Debra Guiou Stufflebean

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Untold Secrets is a work of fiction. While the author used historical research to create a believable novel, the book should, in no way, be considered factual. Information regarding historical figures was written for the entertainment of the reader, and was not intended to tarnish their reputations. With the exception of historical figures, all characters in this novel are fictitious, and any resemblance to living persons, present or past, is coincidental. There is no known writer of Laura’s waltz, but credit will be given in subsequent publications, should a writer become known.

ISBN-13: 978-0-595-41785-8 (pbk)

ISBN-13: 978-0-595-86129-3 (ebk)

ISBN-10: 0-595-41785-X (pbk)

ISBN-10: 0-595-86129-6 (ebk)

Contents

Acknowledgement

Chapter 1. Days One & Two

Chapter 2. Day Three

Chapter 3. Day Four

Chapter 4. Day Five

Chapter 5. Day Six

Chapter 6. Day Seven

Chapter 7. Days Eight & Nine

Chapter 8. Day Ten

Chapter 9. Day Eleven

Chapter 10. Day Twelve

Chapter 11. Day Thirteen

Chapter 12. Day Fourteen

Chapter 13. Days Fifteen & Sixteen

Chapter 14. Day Seventeen

Chapter 15. Day Eighteen

Chapter 16. Day Nineteen

Chapter 17. Day Twenty

Chapter 18. Day Twenty-one

Chapter 19. Days Twenty-two & Twenty-three

Chapter 20. Day Twenty-four

Chapter 21. Day Twenty-five

Chapter 22. Day Twenty-six

Chapter 23. Day Twenty-seven

Chapter 24. Day Twenty-eight

Chapter 25. Days Twenty-nine & Thirty

Chapter 26. Day Thirty-one

Chapter 27. Day Thirty-two

Chapter 28. Days Thirty-three through Thirty-seven

Chapter 29. Day Thirty-eight

Chapter 30. Day Thirty-nine

Chapter 31. Day Forty

Chapter 32. Days Forty-one & Forty-two

Chapter 33. Day Forty-three

Chapter 34. Day Forty-four

O Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways.

Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord… Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way of everlasting.

—Psalm 139:1-4; 23-24

Acknowledgement

I wish to thank my husband, Michael, who has listened to my ideas for this novel for several years. He has been a good sport in brainstorming answers to what if questions. I thank my mother who helped me breathe life into earlier drafts, and is probably more responsible for the concept of the book than anyone. Special thanks to my friends who took turns editing and giving me feedback about the manuscript: Sonja Bickel, Nancy Lewis, Carole Rost, Carol Yoho and Judith Miller. I thank Miriam Long for letting me hum Laura’s Song in her ear while she put the notes on paper. I appreciate all the prayers that have been lifted up for my successful completion of this novel—especially to the Christian women’s group at my church.

I dedicate this book to my daughters.

Debra Stufflebean

CHAPTER 1

Days One & Two

Frantically Debra searched in the darkness on her hands and knees. The floor, the walls, smooth, icy cold—like a blind student whose fingers searched to understand Braille, her fingers examined every crevice. A window, surely a window? But no. She felt entombed.

Sleep came to her stressful, tense body. When Debra awoke, she was still lying on the floor. Her gown was wet and clung to her naked body like a second layer of skin. The dim lighting now in the room was her first clue that it must be daylight. The smooth glassy granite floor made her feel like a slab of meat in a meat locker, sending chills to her core.

Is anybody out there? Debra called. Nobody responded.

Everything was so sterile, as it should be in a hospital, but this room was a holding cell. Debra saw a contorted image of herself in the frame of the stainless steel bed, like the hall of mirrors at a carnival. The striped ticking of an undressed mattress reinforced the prison motif. That was all: a cold floor, four walls and a bed. She tried to focus her thoughts; then she remembered. Just like me to have botched what was to have been my last act.

Please God, Debra begged, Please, a blanket? Silence. Debra cowered in the corner, drawing her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them to conserve body heat for warmth. Listen, listen, use your ears, she told herself.

Shhh… Shhh… Slow your breathing and hush the chills. Listen.

Be still and know.

Know what? Who said that? Is someone here?

I am the Lord, your God. Did you invoke my presence?

Is it you, Lord?

Am I crazy? I didn’t hear the words with my ears, Debra thought. She grabbed her head with both hands and combed her fingers through her hair. Damp. Her hair was damp. How can I be perspiring if I’m so cold? She asked herself.

I need a blanket! Debra screamed; her teeth chattered uncontrollably.

To cover up the lies? To cloak yourself in the mantle of righteousness?

What are you talking about?

The secrets, Debra, all the secrets. You must give them to me.

What are you talking about?

You so tenaciously protect the lies, the secrets. You were born into sin. The sins of your ancestors, the way your family has always handled secrets, is embodied in you. You must tell the secrets and I will set you free.

"What secrets?! My secrets? I don’t know what you mean about my family’s secrets."

I will help you. Believe you are loved.

Then, please, a blanket?

You are focused on things of the physical; you must concentrate on the spiritual. Soon you will realize that no matter what happens in the flesh, when you are one with me, I can provide all things. But the choice is first up to you. When you hide from me, I am still here.

Lord, help me, I want out of here.

Sick people keep secrets, and secrets keep people sick. Your soul is sick and when the soul is sick, humans are affected both physically and emotionally. They search for answers, going to physicians and psychiatrists, when it is the spirit that has the disease. When the spirit becomes healthy, all other things are healed, or if it is too late to replenish the mind and body, maladies are endured with newly found strength and a sense of peace. Abide with me, Debra, and you will feel my warmth.

What do I do, Lord?

Tell your secrets. Trust your life to me. Your journey is not unique. Every human has his or her own story, but not every human is willing to learn from his or her mistakes and purge their sin. I will walk with you through the valleys. You will see what I see. Soon you will understand why this walk was necessary.

Quiet. Nothing. Debra no longer heard anything. She began rocking herself to and fro in the fetal position.

Lord, are you still there? Nothing. Please, Lord, stay with me. I do trust you.

Debra heard nothing, but she began feeling warmer, like the warmth of a cotton blanket that has just been removed from a clothes dryer. She began to hum to herself.

I’m not afraid, Debra reassured herself.

What is it you are humming? asked the Lord.

I don’t know.

Does it bring you comfort?

Yes, I have always hummed this melody to myself.

Perhaps it was sung to you as a child?

I don’t think so, my mother doesn’t recall it, and I’ve asked others if they know the tune. No one seems to have ever heard it before. I used to hum it to my babies when I rocked them to sleep.

Hum a little more.

Ah, yes. Your great-grandmother Laura liked that song.

1865

The music at the cotillion, and the smell of orange blossoms, filled the air. Mirrors hanging from great velvet sashes above three-legged tables reflected light from the candelabras around the hall. Upon each table sat a French porcelain vase generously filled with a bounty of flowers from the hosts’ garden.

Dance partners twirled inside the pattern of the hall’s intricate parquet perimeter. The rustle of full skirts swished in time with the orchestra.

I could never be reined in by a husband, Laura spoke matter-of-factly. Now that Uncle Abe has freed the slaves, I shall bend his ear to emancipate women.

Tell me, Miss Todd. Are all the women in your family so head-strong?

Laura looked into the face of her amused dance partner, knowing full well that he didn’t take her seriously. Dan Wheaton’s rugged good looks: muscular physique, black wavy hair; were little distraction.

My father says I am very much like my Aunt Mary. You know she has a head for politics; indeed, I’m not convinced that Uncle Abraham would have ever achieved the presidency had he not met Mary Todd.

I wonder what the president would say about your opinion.

My uncle is in awe of my aunt. He would say I speak the truth.

Dan Wheaton shook his head in amazement over the confidence that seemed to ooze from the essence of Laura Todd. She was all of 5 feet tall, very petite. Her high cheekbones formed the outer frame of her deep-set green eyes. Her slender nose, slightly turned up on the end, gave her an air of aloofness. Her red hair cascaded in waves down her back. Laura was beautiful by anyone’s standard and her eyes gave her a cat-like aura. So far she had managed to avoid the lasso of several marriage proposals. Mr. Wheaton, like others before him, found her evasiveness challenging, like a spirited mare needing to be ridden. Laura’s eyes snapped with fire at the slightest hint of condescension.

Mrs. Lincoln has certainly asserted herself in the White House, but only on frivolous matters such as furnishings and china. Dan’s dark eyes shone brightly as he delighted in raising Laura’s ire.

Laura’s spine noticeably stiffened beneath the outstretched palm of her dance partner. "A good wife allows her husband to believe ideas and decisions are his own."

If there is any manipulation, my dear, I can assure you it comes from the man’s earnest desire to bed the woman, thereby permitting her to think she has more control than she actually has, since we both know her status in life is to service her husband.

Laura pulled herself free and turned on her heels to retreat.

But Miss Todd, the waltz has not yet ended! Dan Wheaton chortled, as he watched the dismayed damsel shove her way past other couples on the dance floor. Dan was mesmerized by the sway of her bustle. Yes, indeed, she is a spir- ited one; he pondered to himself. "A woman that could make life very exciting!

August, 1985

It took a minute for Dr. Smith to gather his thoughts before pushing the play button on the tape recorder. Last night he had met a new patient, Debra DeVereaux. She was cowering in the corner of her room like a scared rabbit. Her hospital gown was damp from perspiration. She attempted to hide her face in shame. Her long brown hair formed a curtain on each side.

Debra, I’m Dr. Jason Smith.

Debra looked up at him with eyes so puffy they were nearly swollen shut. Her lashes were long, black and thick where they stuck together from the tears. Her chin quivered. She pushed her hair back behind her ears.

Why don’t you sit on the bed? he said, offering her a hand up from her fetal position in the corner. He guessed her height to be about 5’ 5", and she probably weighed 120 pounds.

How are you doing?

I’m cold.

Yes, it is a bit cool in here. I’m sure the damp gown doesn’t help matters.

Why aren’t there any blankets on the bed?

Debra, do you remember why you are here?

Yes, she said lowering her head. I tried to commit suicide.

When we are concerned that patients may try to hurt themselves, we put them in a room like this where there are no windows, no blankets, no phone cords or cables of any kind, and so forth. Do you understand?

Debra nodded that she did.

I’ll see about getting you a dry gown, turning up the thermostat a bit, and I’m going to increase your medicine to help you sleep.

Thank you.

The play button was pressed on the tape recorder.

"Note to the file of Debra DeVereaux. Patient is a 37 year old white female. Patient was admitted under suicide watch. Information learned from first session: Patient has been married and divorced twice and has three children. oldest daughter has graduated from high school and lives with patient. Second daughter is a senior in high school and lives with her grandmother. Youngest daughter lives with her father and is in junior high school. Patient is well educated and articulate.

When asked to describe herself, patient gave the following summation: Born in Enterprise, Kansas. Worked from the time she was 12 years old for grandparents waiting tables at their truck stop. After graduation from high school got married and had three children. Later went to college. Loves animals, babies and church.

Any questioning about Debra’s family of origin, her past husbands, or her children causes her to become very agitated. When asked about her marriages, she began to cry and stated she couldn’t talk about that now. When asked about her mother and father, patient responded that she was very tired and would really like to be left alone. When I again endeavored to engage the patient by changing the subject to her children, patient became very anxious. She attempted to explain where each of her daughters lived, often sobbing and shutting down. Patient could not be pressed for more information about her children. Patient became angry, insisting that I leave her alone, that she loved her children, and that I would not understand.

Patient will continue to be sedated for her own protection and to provide rest. It is obvious that she is sleep-deprived."

1832

So nice that you could join us this evening, Senator Clay, Mary Todd said with a flirtatious tilt to her head. Cook always makes something special when you come for dinner.

Mary had quickly descended the walnut staircase of the Todd family’s Kentucky mansion to greet Senator Henry Clay at the front entry.

Mary, you are more lovely every time I see you.

Thank you, sir, she curtsied. You may escort me to the dining room. Mary locked her arm into Henry Clay’s.

Mary was a precocious well-bred emissary for the Todd household. She was short in stature, but carried herself as if she were six feet tall. Although she had a baby doll appearance, her capabilities as a conversationalist belied her youth.

Raising more money for your campaign chest? Mary asked.

Always, responded Henry Clay. We shall win this one, Mary.

Anyone who would vote for Ol’ Hickory, has rocks in their head!

"That’s my girl," Henry replied patting the hand on his arm.

"What’s this? Molly’s my girl," remarked Robert Todd as the two entered the dining room.

Oh, papa, I was just telling Senator Clay that people would have to have rocks in their head to vote for President Jackson in the coming election.

Your daughter takes my breath away, Robert. Not only is she beautiful but intelligent, too. Henry pulled out a dining chair for Mary.

You only say that because she supports the Whig party, Robert mused.

Pardon, s’il vous plait, Mary bragged. Je parle francais deux.

Yes, dear, we are well aware that you speak French, too.

Je parle un peu le francais, Henry engaged her. Estce que cette place est occupee?

Ceci est pour vous, Mary responded patting the chair seat beside her to acknowledge that the seat was not occupied but intended for him.

Well it’s nice to know that Madame Mentelle’s School for Young Ladies is paying off. Enough with this playfulness! Robert said sternly. Although he was used to having his lovely daughter steal the attention of guests, there were far more important matters to discuss, such as the outcome of the election of 1832.

Henry Clay seated himself in the chair next to Mary and acknowledged the other table guests: Robert’s wife, Betsey; Mary’s older brother, Levi; Mary’s younger sister and brother, Ann Marie and George; and Mary’s young stepsister, Margaret. Henry then diverted his attention to the politics at hand.

Robert, as a bank executive and fellow legislator, your opinion is invaluable to me. I have something to mull over with you. I think it is imperative that we re-charter the Bank of America. Henry began laying his groundwork.

But the bank charter isn’t to be renewed for another four years, Robert replied.

Yes, but there is a reason why the charter must be renewed now. Jackson’s followers despise the bank; they feel it has gotten too big and too powerful. A re-charter bill would pass easily through Congress, sending it to Jackson’s desk before the election. If he vetoes the bill, he will alienate wealthy and influential patrons. If he signs the bill, his own followers will rise up against him. His fate will be sealed.

Robert Todd pondered Clay’s idea. Damned if he does, damned if he doesn’t.

Mary stared into the face of her mentor with awe. At age 55, Henry Clay was still as magnetically appealing as he was twenty years younger. He had red hair and warm gray eyes, giving him a leonine appearance. His reputation for being a fast-living statesman, known to gamble, enjoy his whiskey, charm the ladies, even challenge men to duels, made him all the more fascinating. Mary grew up sitting on her father’s knee hearing the tale of Henry clay challenging John Randolph of Virginia to a duel for saying that clay shines and stinks like rotten mackerel at moonlight! Clay loved showing off his flair for fiery orations. The gentlemen would puff on their cigars and drink bourbon in the Todd parlor—each reliving Randolph being called out for a duel after accusing Clay of securing the position of Secretary of State in exchange for swinging the votes of his own followers to John Quincy Adams in the election of 1824.

Brilliant! Mary clapped her hands in glee. Your plan to renew the Bank of America charter will put ol’ Hickory right where you want him!

Robert Todd looked at his daughter, then at Henry, and shook his head. It just might work.

Henry Clay was crushed when, for the second time, he lost his bid for the Presidency. The Bank of America re-charter bill was vetoed by President Jackson who declared the monopolistic bank as unconstitutional, seeking to control the country and jeopardize the future of smaller banks that were instrumental to the westward expansion of the country. Poor and middle class voters went to the polls in record numbers, handing Jackson a mandate to withdraw federal deposits and usurp the Bank of America’s power. Wealthy members of the Whig Party were left licking their wounds.

Mary Todd loved the Lexington, Kentucky mansion in which she was born, and while she was happiest in the adoring company of her father and her father’s friends, she detested sharing the family home with her stepmother, Betsey. When Mary was six years old, her mother died from fever, literally within days of giving birth to Mary’s youngest brother, George. Robert Todd was left with six children: Elizabeth (12); Francis (10); Levi (8); Mary (6); Ann Marie (1) and George. Sixteen months later, Robert Todd returned home from a business trip with a new bride. Mary learned very early that the best way to steal her father’s attention from his bride was to stay abreast of politics. As the young girl grew up, Mary acquired an aptitude for understanding the economy, discussing finances, and learning about the important political figures of the day. Robert’s wife, Betsey, withdrew from such discussions, as no respectable lady should intrude in a man’s world. What’s more, Betsey criticized Robert for encouraging Mary’s behavior. She used every opportunity to remind Robert to save politics for the drawing room after the ladies were dismissed.

This infuriated Mary. Betsey’s presence in the home, and that of Mary’s step-siblings, was a constant thorn in her side.

Mary’s older sisters left the home as soon as they finished their preparatory schooling. Elizabeth married a young lawyer, Ninian Edwards, and moved to Springfield, Illinois where Edwards practiced law. Shortly thereafter, Mary’s sister Francis moved there as well. Resisting the role of being the oldest daughter in the home, and thus sharing the supervisory role of looking after the children, Mary could not wait to be on her own and spread her wings in political circles. While Mary acknowledged that society may judge her unladylike in her political pursuits, she was determined to marry well and maintain the social status she was accustomed to as the daughter of a U.S. Senator.

In 1836 Mary informed her father that she would be moving to Springfield to be close to her older sisters. She requested that her maidservant, whom she affectionately referred to as Mammy Sally, be permitted to leave her father’s staff and accompany her. Henry Clay was as shaken as Mary’s father over Mary’s decision to move, perhaps more so.

Mary, always the political advocate and fiery supporter of Senator Clay assured him that she would campaign tirelessly for Clay to be chosen as the party’s candidate to run against Jackson’s handpicked successor, Martin Van Buren. Feeling the sting of Clay being twice defeated in favor of Jackson’s military prowess, however, the Whigs chose General William Henry Harrison who had gained notoriety at the Battle of Tippecanoe.

CHAPTER 2

Day Three

How are you feeling today, Debra? Dr. Smith asked after knocking on the door and entering her hospital room. He was a balding sixty-year-old man with a kind face. He was about the same height as Debra, with a paunchy mid-section.

Tired, groggy, Debra responded. What day is it?

Monday. You were admitted Friday night.

Where am I?

You’re in the psychiatric ward of the University of Kansas Medical Center.

In Kansas City?

That’s right. Have you been sleeping?

Sort of in and out; vivid dreams, not sleeping soundly.

I may need to increase the dosage of your medication. Want to talk about your dreams?

They’re silly, nothing important.

Why don’t you let me be the judge of that. We subconsciously process things that may, in fact, be very important. What we dream about may have quite a bearing on what is going on today; and what is going on today, may have a bearing on what we dream about that night.

The dreams have nothing to do with me, because the dreams take place over 150 years ago.

Can you tell me some of the details?

oh, let’s see, Debra said with a sigh. one dream was set in the Todd family home and they were eating dinner.

Who are the Todd’s? Are they some relation to you?

Todd, as in Mary Todd Lincoln, President Lincoln’s wife. My great-grandmother was a Todd.

That’s interesting. How was she related to Mary Lincoln?

Niece. Mary’s brother was my great-grandmother’s father.

Sorry to interrupt, continue.

Well, they were talking politics at the table. Mary’s dad, Robert Todd, was a senator and Senator Henry Clay was their dinner guest. I think they were talking about him running for President, I can’t really recall what the conversation was about.

That’s ok. Just tell me what you do remember.

I felt like Mary was infatuated with Senator Clay, like she was trying to impress him and get him to pay attention to her.

How old was Mary?

Maybe in her late teens.

And Henry Clay is old enough to be her father.

So? That wasn’t all that uncommon, lots of men took younger wives.

I was simply making an observation, Debra; Mary never married Henry Clay.

I know. It was just a stupid dream, but it seemed so real.

What seemed real?

How Mary felt. She was exhilarated at the mention of Henry Clay’s name.

Was there more?

Mary was sad when Henry Clay didn’t become President. She wanted to comfort him.

Debra and Dr. Smith were quiet together for a few moments while Debra was thinking. I think she moved to Springfield because she was afraid her father would find out about how she felt about Senator Clay. That, and the fact she hated her stepmother. There was silence again.

Can you remember anything else about the dream?

No.

Let’s talk about Debra for a while, shall we?

Debra crossed her arms and tensed.

Just relax. What would you like to talk about?

I don’t know.

How long have you been divorced?

Three years.

Have you been involved with someone since your divorce?

Yes.

Would you like to tell me about him?

No.

Ok. How about telling me about your ex-husband?

Debra smiled. Jim.

Tell me about Jim. Are the two of you on good terms?

We were, until he remarried.

You didn’t want him to remarry?

I’m happy for him, but it has changed things.

In what way?

We continued to be friends after our divorce but I guess his new wife felt threatened by that because now he doesn’t have anything to do with me.

Why did you get a divorce?

It was just a matter of time before he left me.

Was he seeing someone else?

Oh no, I didn’t mean that. Jim loved me very much. I just knew that the time would be coming when he would die and leave me alone.

I don’t understand.

Jim was a lot older than me.

What is a lot?

Thirty years.

I see. And how old was he when you first met?

Fifty-five.

So you divorced Jim so you wouldn’t become a widow.

Partly, but also because I was so riddled with guilt over the impact his marriage to me had on him. Divorce seemed like the right thing to do. Jim wanted to move back to our home, Abilene, when I got my bachelor’s degree, and I didn’t want to give up on my dream of being a lawyer. I knew I needed to establish a good career so that I could take care of the girls and me. My future wasn’t back in our home town or with him.

You and Jim were married for how long?

Ten years.

So your youngest daughter was yours and Jim’s. What happened with your daughters during all of this?

They moved away with Jim. The oldest two girls, who Jim adopted, wanted to go back to their old school. My youngest daughter was a ‘daddy’s girl’ from the start. Jim was the one that always stayed home with her when she was a baby and was home when they got home from school each day.

It must have been very hard on you to have the girls move away, too.

I was used to not being around very much. I went to school full time and worked a full time job, too. When it was hard was when Ashley, the youngest, was a baby. I didn’t want to go to work and leave her.

What about Jim? Didn’t he work?

He was a realtor. When we first met he was very successful. It was my fault that his career went downhill after we got married. And after we moved to Lawrence, his ability to sell real estate became nonexistent. That was one of the reasons that Jim wanted to go back to our home town but he never regained his career.

You said he was successful when you first met. Tell me about that.

I was working as a legal secretary for a firm that did a lot of title work for realtors. Jim brought in one abstract after another. He was one of the top sellers in the town. Debra seemed very relaxed as the memories started flowing freely about how she had met her ex-husband, Jim.

Jim was a high energy person. He was tall, 6’ 6, handsome, silver wavy hair, with a smile that could light up a whole room. He had big hands, always ready for a handshake, and wore gaudy diamond rings. He’d push open the front door to the office reception area and waltz in like we had all been waiting for him to make an appearance. He always spoke to everyone in the office, and with flirtatious eyes would wink at me and say,’How’s my girl?’ He was a great conversationalist, knew a lot about a lot of different things. He was a great kid-der. If he wasn’t selling real estate, you could find him on the golf course at the country club."

"I can’t help but notice how fondly you remember him."

I love him. I always will.

But yet, you divorced.

It’s complicated.

You said it was all your fault that his career went downhill.

"We may as well have been the front page of the newspaper in Abilene. Jim was married, and had been for many years. When he started asking me out for lunch, it spread like wildfire. Jim was a somebody. I was a nobody. And as you so quickly pointed out about Henry Clay, he was old enough to be my father. When he left his wife for me, the curse began. His phone stopped ringing. Nobody wanted him to show them any real estate. Sales staff in stores and waitresses in restaurants were rude to us. He wanted to keep going to the country club, but then nobody would sit at the table with us. Jim tried to convince me that in time people would get over it and there would be someone else to take over the limelight. He was certain that his friends’ wives were behind the ostracizing. I think he truly believed that his friends were jealous that he was seeing a younger, pretty woman. He’d say, ‘there isn’t a guy in the place that wouldn’t trade places with me in a heart beat; they just can’t figure out how this old dog got so lucky.’ But small towns can be very unforgiving. Jim’s business never did recover."

So that’s why even after you had a baby, you continued to work?

I was marketable. I had experience as a legal secretary which I parlayed into being Clerk of the District Court and eventually becoming a paralegal for the district attorney.

So what brought you to Lawrence, Kansas? I’m assuming we have the right address on your admission form.

College. I started going to a junior college part-time while I was working. Then I got a scholarship to go to the University of Kansas. I wanted to become a lawyer. I had already climbed as high as I could without a college education. And for some reason, I became obsessed with thinking that Jim was going to die and I wouldn’t have a way to take care of me and the kids.

"Becoming a somebody, would give you security?"

I guess.

"Are you a somebody now? I mean, you do have the diplomas. Do you feel secure?"

Obviously not. Can I ask you a question?

Sure.

Why wasn’t I admitted to Lawrence Memorial near where I live?

A lot of people prefer a regional medical center.

But, I tried to commit suicide—it would have been closer.

I see why you’re asking. Your chart says you were admitted by Rita Harris.

My best friend.

There’s also a note that no-one is to give out any information about you being here, which isn’t all that uncommon given the nature of your illness. She may have been trying to protect you.

"Or protect me from someone," Debra said under her breath.

The man you’re involved with?

I don’t know for sure. It doesn’t matter.

This has been a good session, Debra. I’ll see you tomorrow. The nurses will start providing some things to make you more comfortable in your stay. Perhaps you can give some thought about why you and Jim divorced.

That night Debra lay on her bed staring at the ceiling. Why had she divorced Jim, she wondered. Debra let the memories of her life with Jim scroll across the acoustical ceiling tile like a motion picture. She finally concluded that Jim was too good to her. Maybe she fled before the bubble burst. Her eyes grew heavy.

1836

Dear Senator Clay:

Be of good cheer. I refuse to send to you my condolences, because I would prefer to focus on how fortunate our Congress is to have your on-going leadership. I do not concur that the party should have stood behind General Harrison, rather than you, Sir, but if General Harrison does not prevail against the little New Yorker, and sadly, I fear this coming election is headed in that direction, then at least you will still be in office where you will have the influence to make Van Buren and all the Jacksonians lives a living hell! We all know that if Van Buren wins it will be President Jackson still pulling his strings. Let me assure you that I have had the opportunity to speak with high regards of you in legislative circles in Springfield. You still have a powerful following, Senator, and I would encourage you to act the presidential part by traveling the circuit from time to time to remind the states of your great charm and wisdom (thus reminding them of little Van’s lack thereof). If I may be so bold, Sir, I would be honored to host a reception, if and when, you are able to come to Springfield.

Ever Faithful, Miss Mary Todd

It would have been difficult for any man, but especially a man like Henry Clay, to not be affected by the flattery and adoration of such a young and beautiful woman. It was not uncommon for a man to occasionally seek the attentions of a woman outside of his marriage, especially in politics, so long as it was done discretely. Henry’s wife, Lucretia, and their eleven children lived at Ashland, their plantation in Lexington, Kentucky not far from the Todd estate. Though Henry had children Mary’s age, again, it was not all that uncommon for an older man to enjoy the company of a much younger woman. Henry and Mary began exchanging letters on a fairly regular basis. Clay’s visits to Illinois were infrequent enough to not raise suspicion, yet regular enough to convey to Mary that she did, indeed, mean a great deal to him.

There was an understanding, of course, that no mention of anything of an intimate nature be shared with those back home.

One evening at a party at her sister and brother-in-law’s home, Elizabeth and Ninian Edwards’, Mary noticed a new state legislator, Abraham Lincoln. He was tall, 6’ 4", and gangly. The first thing Mary mentally noted was his need for a good tailor. Lincoln’s hair was wind-blown. His jacket was disheveled and his pants were high-water’s. Obviously unsophisticated, Mary thought to herself.

Young Lincoln’s first impression of Mary was that she was obviously an uppity aristocrat. Yet Lincoln could not take his eyes off of her. She was 5’ tall with auburn hair that shone like bronze. Her hair hung in ringlets, tied back with blue ribbon. Her blue satin gown brought out the blue of her blue-green eyes, which danced when she smiled. Lincoln watched how Mary moved about the room. She greeted people with ease. She expected men to bow and kiss her extended hand. Everything about her was impeccable from her manners to the clothes she wore.

Lincoln’s thoughts were disturbed by a gallant Henry Clay’s arrival at the party. Clay wore a high crowned beaver hat and carried an ivory handled walking stick. He offered his hat, cane and topcoat to the butler. The swallow-tailed jacket and polished leather boots, alone, would cost a year’s wages thought young Abraham. Senator Clay’s presence commanded an audience. He was always good for a few jokes and a few cutting remarks about current political issues. Clay easily held his audience in the palm of his hand. His eyes seemed to search for someone as he scanned the room, then in recognition of finding that special someone, Clay excused himself. I must dance with this exquisite creature, Clay said as he took Mary Todd’s hand. And with one big swoop, Clay swung Mary around on the dance floor in unashamed joy.

Have I caught you off-guard, my dear?

Not at all. It is always a pleasure to see you, Senator, but had I known you’d be in Springfield this evening, I wouldn’t have filled my dance card.

Then you here without an escort?

Are you here without a wife?

Touche!"

"Should I be on-guard?" Mary asked, batting her beautiful eyelashes.

Indeed! You may need to give your regrets to a few young men.

Lincoln could not help but notice the attention Senator Clay and Miss Todd received from those standing by. Ladies whispered behind gloved hands;