Peggy Moreland - Miss Lizzy's Legacy

“Oh, no, please. It’s fascinating.”

“Yes, it is. But, then, I love history. But you wanted to know about the Bodeans. Now, what exactly can I tell you about them?”

“Everything. I wasn’t even aware Mary Elizabeth had married until I saw the tombstone.”

“My, yes, she married. Such a romantic tale. As the story goes, Jedidiah courted Miss Sawyer for over a year before she agreed to marry him. Jedidiah was a bit of a rake. Had his hands in all kinds of businesses, a few of which some of the townspeople didn’t approve,” she added, arching a knowing brow at Callie. “There was also another complication. You see, Miss Sawyer believed she was in love with someone else, then along came Jedidiah and swept her off her feet.” She tipped back her head and laughed merrily. “Although I’m quite sure Jedidiah wouldn’t agree with the term ‘swept,’ being as it took him over a year to convince her to marry him.”

“Did they have children?”

“No.” She shook her head sadly. “Not together, anyway. Elizabeth had a child before they married, but the child died at birth. Times were hard then. No doctors or hospitals to speak of. Usually women helping women through the births.” She knitted her forehead in concern and leaned toward Callie. “Did I say something to upset you, dear?”

Callie scraped the heels of her hands across her cheeks to swipe at the hot tears. She tried to smile, but couldn’t. She was too damned mad. “No, it’s nothing you said. It’s just that Mary Elizabeth Sawyer’s son, the one everyone insists died at birth, is my great-grandfather.”

Mrs. Barker reared back, her eyes wide. “Great-grandfather?” she repeated.

Callie dug in her purse and pulled out the faded paper on which Papa’s birth was recorded. “This is his birth certificate,” she said as she passed the paper to Molly. “Contrary to popular belief, William Leighton Sawyer is very much alive and lives in a nursing home in Dallas, Texas.”

Molly placed her reading glasses back on her nose and studied the document. “It looks real enough,” she murmured.

“I assure you,” Callie replied indignantly, “it is.”

Molly leaned to pat Callie on the knee. “I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to infer that you weren’t honest. I just don’t know what to make of all of this.”

“Nor do I.”

Molly passed the document back. “Makes a person wonder if there wasn’t foul play of some sort.” She sighed. “I guess we’ll never know.”

“Oh, yes we will.”

Molly raised a brow. “But that was over a hundred years ago. How will you ever unravel it all now?”

“I don’t know, but I’m not going back to Dallas until I find out the truth.”

“That kind of research will take time,” Molly warned. “Can you be away from your family and your job that long?”

Stephen came to mind, if only briefly, but Callie quickly discarded the thought. “Family isn’t a problem.” Her thoughts shifted to the statue she’d been commissioned to sculpt for the new women’s wing at a hospital in Houston. The deadline for that silently ticked nearer—yet another point of stress in an already stressful life. “As far as my job goes, I do have a project I’m working on. But I can do that here as easily as at home, although I’ll require more space than my room at the Harrison House offers.”

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