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Of the Past and Eternity

By Carole Lehr Johnson

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1

Boston, Massachusetts
April 2023

Springtime held too many painful memories for her.The aching loss battered her heart while she watched the cherry trees adorning the Boston Public Garden as they swayed in the wind, showering fragile blush petals over the crowded park.

Cora Anderson sat on a bench beneath a gingko tree that had most likely been a sapling during the mid-nineteenth century when the Boston Public Library was founded.

She looked at her phone, noting the time. It was a forty-minute walk from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum via Boylston to the park, but her sister should’ve taken the T or the bus and arrived by now.

Her phone trilled a text message from Selena. She wouldn’t be able to make their picnic lunch because of a minor emergency at the museum. Heaving a long sigh, Cora ate a solitary lunch. Halfway through, another message arrived—a picture of an online job application.

C—This is your dream job! Check it out. NOW.

Cora grimaced, packed the remains of lunch, and dropped the phone into her purple bag, which slipped from her fingers, spilling its contents onto the concrete. A small brown Bible stared at her, and she retrieved it, lingering over the feel of the worn cover. She stuffed all the items into the bag, knowing she rarely cracked the book open. Not anymore.

It was time to return to her mundane job at the Minster Hotel. The dream job of a managerial position at a historic property was just a wisp on the breeze like the petals floating overhead. Years of applying at the many notable hotels on nearly every Boston street left her disillusioned.

Experience wasn’t what she lacked, but it seemed no one wanted a fifty-year-old spinster. They searched for a pretty, bubbly thirty-something. Cora’s appearance, both professional and personal, was always important, and she tried to maintain a healthy lifestyle, yet not obsessively so.

History was her passion, and she wanted clients to experience it to the fullest. Employment at a property that existed from times long past held her heart. If only she had the chance. But nothing had worked out yet.

The phone rang just as she reached Kenmore Square. She scanned the exterior of the six-storied hotel where she worked and tapped the phone. “Hi, Selena—”

“Cora, did you look at the job?”

An irritated sigh escaped before she could stop it. The often-sent job prospects from Selena bordered on the fanatical.

“You didn’t look—did you?” Impatience tinted Selena’s voice.

“No, ma’am.” Cora recognized the sarcastic tone in her own words, unable to stifle it.

Someone in the background bandied about her name to Selena.

“Selena, who is that?”

“Oh, it’s just Thomas. He said to tell you he knows the current director, and you sound exactly like who she wants as an assistant manager.”

“Is this another one of Thomas’s cast-off girlfriends?”

“I heard that!” A deep voice commented. “She has you on speaker, love.”

Cora couldn’t help but snicker. “Let me guess—she’s British?”

“You are good,” Thomas quipped. “Yes, she is.”

“Go back to work, you slug,” Selena reprimanded him. “I’ll take care of my sister’s professional life. So, shoo!”

Cora raised her voice. “Bye, Thomas.”

“Bye, Cora. Don’t let Selena bully you. But this is a brilliant opportunity.”

“I give up. I’ll look at it tonight. For now, my current employer has probably noticed I’m late.”

“Good. I’ll come to your place after work, and we’ll discuss it. Thomas told me he’s been to the property, and it’s brilliant.”

“That’s Thomas’s favorite word.” Cora cleared her throat. “You’re coming all the way to Sommerville?”

“It’s only forty-five minutes on the T.”

Cora sniffed. “And forty-five minutes back—on a work night.”

“You sound like Grandma.” She released a loud sigh into the receiver. “I miss her.”

Cora’s heart squeezed. “Me too.”

The grip of shared grief slogged through the space between them. Selena’s voice lowered. “I can’t believe it’s just the two of us now.”

Though Cora understood what Selena meant, she said, “We have cousins.”

Selena countered, “That’s not the same as parents and grandparents.”

“Let’s not do this again, Selena. God took them from us, and that’s that.”

“Oh, good grief! God didn’t do it to punish us.”

Tears never came easily for Cora, but this time they arrived with force, unyielding. She repeated, “Please—let’s not do this.”

#

Cora answered the knock on the apartment door at six-thirty to find Selena with her overnight case and a large takeout bag from their favorite Italian restaurant.

“That smells delicious, but what’s with the sleepover?”

Selena placed the takeout on Cora’s kitchen counter and slung her bag onto the sofa with a bounce. “Thought we needed to regress to our teens.” She removed two lidded containers and deposited them on the surface.
Cora’s eyebrows lifted. “To discuss boys?”

Selena sent Cora a glare that quickly morphed into serious contemplation. “Well . . . I’ve always wanted to ask you about Bobby Young.”

Cora’s face heated at the mention of her fourteen-year-old-self’s crush. “That was a lifetime and three thousand miles ago.”

Selena’s phone rang, and she answered with a resigned sigh. “Hi, Thomas—” She helped herself to a bottle of water and steadied the phone between chin and shoulder. “No, I’ve just arrived. Yes, I’ll tell her. Thanks.” She stabbed the end button. “That man is more concerned about your career than I am.”

The takeout container crackled as Cora popped the lid and lifted it to take a whiff. “What’s this?”

“Your favorite.” Sarcasm laced Selena’s response as she strode to Cora’s television. “I thought we’d watch that Hugh Henley movie I gave you for Christmas.”

Cora ignored the movie comment and refocused on the dinner. “You mean your favorite.”

“Don’t complain. Open the other one.” Selena rummaged through Cora’s DVDs.
Cora discovered chicken Alfredo, garlic bread, and spinach salad. She stared at the thoughtful meal, and for the second time that day, tears threatened.

Selena returned to the kitchen and slipped an arm around Cora, noting the tears. “This is unlike you. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Cora shook her head, snatched a napkin from the counter, and dabbed her eyes.

“I’ll get you a bottle of water, and we’ll talk.” She tugged Cora to the cream-colored sofa, then fetched the water and dropped next to her. “By the way . . .” She held up the Hugh Henley DVD, the cover revealing a Regency man and woman locked in an embrace in front of a grand house. “This has never been opened.”

“What would you have done if you hadn’t found it?” Cora sighed. “Plus—you know I can’t stand that man.”

“I brought another one, assuming you’d used this one for target practice.” Selena smirked and ignored the slur toward her favorite actor. “Now, tell me what’s wrong.”

“There’s nothing to tell. I’m just out of sorts lately.” Cora inhaled a shuddering breath. “A little nostalgic. Spring does that to me.”

Selena patted her hand. “Same here. But we can’t go on forever crippled by emotion every spring—even if that’s when we lost everyone. It was just coincidence.”

“There’s no such thing as coincidence.”

Selena studied her for a moment. “Do you really believe that?”

“I do.” Cora sipped the water. “That’s scriptural—I think.” She paused. “So, if that’s true, then God did choose to take our family.”

“Cora. Tragedy happens. Grief happens. We trust God in His wisdom to help us navigate it all.” Their gazes held for a long while before Selena said, “Let’s eat. I’m famished.”

They moved to Cora’s small dining table and ate in silence, Cora’s thoughts tossed scenarios around about the loss of so many family members in such a brief span of years. Selena had been the strong one through it, while Cora had fallen apart.

Though Selena was ten years younger, Cora had leaned heavily upon her. So much so it was the final nail in the coffin of Selena’s marriage. Her husband couldn’t handle the constant choice of Cora’s needs over his—or at least, that’s what he told Selena word for word at the lawyer’s office.

The guilt ate at Cora for her part in their failed marriage, yet Selena’s husband, whom she would no longer refer to by name, hadn’t exactly been the most attentive to Selena.

Cora had seen how his eyes roamed over her and their female cousins at family events. Window shopping, he had joked with Selena if she caught his gaze on another woman.

Selena tapped her arm, and Cora jumped.

“Where were you?” Selena’s face paled. “Oh, my gosh—you were beating yourself up again about Randall, weren’t you? Cora, I’ve told you repeatedly it wasn’t your fault. If he’d been a proper husband, he’d have understood until you healed.”
Cora moved the food around on her plate before letting the fork slip onto the china with a clink. “Yet, here I am—not healed. I never will be!” She jumped to her feet.

Selena stood and embraced her. “Let out the anger, but trust God, Cora.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Please. I’m praying for you.”

“I’ll try, but I don’t think He listens to me right now.” Cora pulled away. “I’m off to bed.”

“Oh, no, you’re not. We haven’t discussed the job. Thomas contacted his ex-girlfriend, and she’s put in a word for you, so you’ll be at the head of the queue.” One corner of Selena’s mouth lifted. “Leave it to Thomas to use a British term. I wonder what his Swedish ex would’ve called it?” She led Cora to the sofa and tossed her a throw.

The comment sliced thorough Cora’s grief, and she chuckled, her heart warming.
“Now, let’s sit, and I’ll tell you all Thomas said, then we’ll watch the movie.” Selena went through Thomas’s conversation with his ex-girlfriend about Cora’s qualifications and her passion for historical properties.

Before she finished, her thoughts were a confused tangle. “Well, I guess I won’t have to fill out an application. Sounds like Thomas has told my life story, plus my resume.”

Selena’s eyes widened. “I suppose the entire London agency knows about you by now. I’m surprised they hadn’t already snatched up someone from the U.K.” She waved a hand. “Anyway, first things first, you must go to England in ten days to interview. Thomas said the owner is a bit eccentric and only has his staff conduct interviews on-site. He also said once the manager gave their requirements for the position, she said you seemed a perfect fit. This is your chance, Cora.”

Cora snuggled under the green throw, knees drawn to her chin, as all Selena said sank in.

Could this truly be her chance—or just another dead end?

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