She carried the necklace across the room. Nana Lisbeth, too weak to hold up her arm, opened her bony fingers. Auntie Jordan lowered the small shell into Nana Lisbeth’s palm.

  A tear slid down Nana Lisbeth’s cheek. “Wouldn’t she be amazed to see your life? Living in a home your daughter owns. Your grandsons in United States uniforms. Naomi working as a nurse. All her dreams for you come true.”

  Auntie Jordan nodded with a tight smile, but there was a shadow of something besides agreement on her face—whether sorrow or doubt, May could not be certain.

  Three days later May stood at the sink washing up dishes from the gathered crowd. Every movement felt slow and heavy. She was glad to have the house filled with the people who loved Nana Lisbeth, and yet May only wanted to be left alone. There was nothing to say and nothing to do but wait. When it was over Nana Lisbeth would be gone—forever.

  “May?” A quiet voice intruded. Dynamite exploded in her chest. She took a breath and turned around. Elena.

  Tears streamed from May’s eyes. Elena’s too. Her cousin opened her arms, inviting May into an embrace. May buried her face against her cousin, clinging to her warm life in the midst of impending death. Their sobs mixed together, pain poured out of their bodies.

  When the wave passed they broke apart.

  Elena looked at May, put a hand on her cheek, and asked, “Can I help?”

  May nodded, tears flowing again, but she had no words. She welcomed Elena’s companionship, a slight balm for this time.

  Aunt Diana found them in the kitchen. In a horrible, kind voice she said, “We think her last breath will be soon. Come or not as you wish.”

  Tears streamed again. May wiped at them with her handkerchief but it was so wet that it couldn’t soak up any more. Aunt Diana gave her a tender smile through her own tears and held out a fresh one.

  Her auntie said, “I promise it won’t always be this painful. Our sorrow is sending dear Lisbeth off in love—never, never be ashamed of your tears. They honor her life—her devotion to you and yours in return.”

  Aunt Diana hugged her for a long time. May felt like a child. Everyone else seemed to know how to face this horror.

  Elena spoke quietly. “I’m going in. We can face this together if you like.”

  May looked at her cousin, who seemed so mature. Elena had attended the passing of both of her maternal grandparents while May had seen death only in a casket, but never witnessed a last breath or lost someone she loved so dearly. Her doubts must have shown on her face.

  “Or not,” Aunt Diana reassured May. “It is a personal decision to be so close to death. Not everyone wishes to experience it, so you choose what is best for you.”

  May’s throat closed up. She was uncertain, scared, and devastated. Nana Lisbeth alive was best for her, but God was not giving that option. Aunt Diana patted her arm and left.

  Elena arched her dark eyebrow in question. May shook her head. Her feet would not move. Elena nodded.

  “I’ll see you in there if you change your mind.”

  May nodded back. Kay Lynn ran through the swinging door and threw her arms around May’s legs. May lifted her daughter up. The girl hugged her tight, the left arm pressing a curled-up fist and the right patting with an open palm. Kay Lynn kissed both of May’s cheeks. Then she pulled back and said in her sweet, high voice, “We walking to the market for lollipops. I pick one for you too. Your favorite—peach!”

  She wiggled down to the ground and scampered out the door.

  Stephanie, Elena’s younger cousin, popped her head in and explained the plan to May: “We’ll go to the park after the store to give you a quiet house.”

  “Thank you so much for watching Kay Lynn too,” May said, tearing up in gratitude.

  “Absolutely,” the young woman replied. “She’s delightful.”

  She was a delight; the biggest joy in May’s life. It was hard to fathom that she nearly gave her up for adoption—or worse yet to the home for imbeciles. She remembered that moment when she fiercely knew Kay Lynn belonged with her. Every so often she thought about what might have happened to her precious daughter if she followed the doctor’s prescription. It made her sick to imagine what Kay Lynn’s life would be. She shook off the thought. She had brought Kay Lynn home, and while she walked with a limp and her left hand ended in a fist, she was in no way an undue burden. She was as bright, loving, and articulate as May could hope for.

  May’s thoughts veered to her family as she finished washing. She teared up again. Being in that room would be horrible, but it was more distressing to be outside of it. She needed to be with them to add her love to Nana Lisbeth’s send off.

  May pulled up her masks and opened the door to the sickroom. After her eyes adjusted to the darkness she made out Nana Lisbeth’s figure in the bed. Damp hair stuck to her sweaty and swollen face. A mask covered her nose and mouth, her eyes more sunken than just a few hours before. Momma, also masked, still sat on the bed, holding Nana Lisbeth’s hand directly.

  Masked faces turned to welcome May into the space made sacred by their gathering. Even riddled with sorrow, Momma managed to convey a smile with only her eyes. She reached out her arm, inviting May to come close. May accepted the offer. Standing by her mother, she looked down at her grandmother, whose rattled breaths were shallow and far apart.

  May leaned over and placed her warm hand on the laboring chest. She poured a blessing into Nana Lisbeth. Thank you. I love you. Go in peace.

  Through her masks she kissed each of Nana Lisbeth’s cheeks, mindful that it was for the last time. Perhaps she should care more about getting ill, but she could not let this final opportunity pass. Her tears left a lingering mark of love. Uncle Sam, occupying a wooden chair by the bed, patted May’s arm.

  She joined Elena and Auntie Diana standing vigil at the foot of the bed. Elena hooked her arm through May’s, making a chain of three loving women. Aunt Diana held out an open palm and wordlessly recited a prayer.

  May opened her hand and did the same:

  Thank you. I love you. Go in peace. Thank you. I love you. Go in peace. Thank you. I love you. Go in peace. Thank you. I love you. Go in peace. Thank you. I love you. Go in peace. Thank you. I love you. Go in peace. Thank you. I love you. Go in peace. Thank you. I love you. Go in peace.

  May’s silent prayer was interrupted when Momma moved to listen close. Was it over? Momma leaned in to touch Nana Lisbeth’s pulse. Then she sat upright with a sigh.

  May’s legs were getting tired, but she didn’t want to disturb the room by moving. She wiggled her toes, swayed a bit from side to side, and returned to her personal blessing.

  Thank you. I love you. Go in peace. Thank you. I love you. Go in peace. Thank you. I love you. Go in peace. Thank you. I love you. Go in peace. Thank you. I love you. Go in peace. Thank you. I love you. Go in peace. Thank you. I love you. Go in peace. Thank you. I love you. Go in peace.

  The disturbing sound of Nana Lisbeth’s erratic breaths filled the room. They went from a fast and shallow pant to stopping for a distressing number of seconds. May’s heart beat hard in the booming silence. Nana Lisbeth gurgled, and a large gasp followed. Did she feel herself to be drowning?

  Uncle Sam uncapped the brown bottle on the bedside table. He placed a few drops of laudanum into Nana Lisbeth’s gaping mouth.

  Nana Lisbeth’s forehead relaxed almost instantly. She looked at peace again. May sighed in relief, grateful they could keep her grandmother’s pain at bay.

  Thank you. I love you. Go in peace. Thank you. I love you. Go in peace. Thank you. I love you. Go in peace. Thank you. I love you. Go in peace. Thank you. I love you. Go in peace. Thank you. I love you. Go in peace. Thank you. I love you. Go in peace. Thank you. I love you. Go in peace.

  May lost track of the time as they kept their vigil, each in their own thoughts and actions. The loud sounds of breath coming and going. May studied her grandmother’s hands. Those hands held her, fed her, and clapped for her since she was born. Kay Lynn too. It was unfathomable that they would never hold hands again.

  Suddenly the room was silent; May felt a chill and a breeze.

  She stared at Nana Lisbeth; her face was entirely changed. Uncle Sam touched Nana Lisbeth’s pulse. Momma rested a hand on her chest. Then laid her cheek on her mother’s heart, tears streaming down her face. Nana Lisbeth was gone.

  Auntie Diana opened the curtains, letting in bright sunlight. The windows were already open to the late-October afternoon air.

  “Lisbeth, you are free of your body now. Go. Go find your ancestors; they are waiting to welcome you,” Auntie Diana commanded.

  Elena turned to hug May. Their tears flowed, marking one another’s shoulders with love and sorrow.

  CHAPTER 29

  MAY

  November 1918

  The space next to Grampa Matthew’s grave at the Mountain View Cemetery was a gaping hole ready for Nana Lisbeth. Without this plot bought so many years ago she might not have gotten a proper burial. In four weeks this influenza had killed more than three hundred people in Oakland.

  They stood around the open grave. Nana Lisbeth’s casket perched next to it. Each of them held a scarlet-tinged carnation from their front garden. The minister spoke, but May didn’t care to follow his words. During “My Life Flows On in Endless Song,” Nana Lisbeth’s favorite hymn, May’s tears fell freely. The simple service ended with an invitation to place their flowers on her casket.

  May walked forward with Kay Lynn in her arms. She kissed her mottled carnation, a mixture of sorrow and courage, and said, “I love you, Nana Lisbeth. Goodbye.” Then she set it on the wooden casket.

  “Bye, Nana Lisbeth!” Kay Lynn echoed. She leaned over from May’s arm and placed her flower on top of her mother’s. Her little hand patted the wooden box.

  The others followed suit—each having a final private moment. Momma went last. She placed her hand on the casket; her lips moved as she offered a silent message and her tears left drops on the wood. She returned to May’s side and their arms went around each other. Mother, daughter; Mother and daughter; the chain lost a link.

  May and Kay Lynn stayed by Momma’s side as she hugged the attendees. Cousin Naomi walked up with baby Dawn in her arms.

  May whispered to Kay Lynn, “See the tiny baby.”

  The little girl nodded and rested her head against May.

  Momma said, “Thank you for coming . . . especially with Dawn only a few days out of the womb.”

  Naomi replied, “I wanted to be here, and Ma shouldn’t be here alone. She’s going to take this hard. Lisbeth was so very dear to her. They didn’t visit daily, but knew they could count on one another.”

  Momma smiled and nodded. “Your family has been a constant in my life.”

  She stared into the distance, her eyes welling up; then she said, “Remember our walk here when May was a baby?”

  “The day you were hiding from Heinrich?” Cousin Naomi asked.

  May’s heart picked up at her father’s name. She listened intently.

  Momma said, “Life is strange, isn’t it? Not so long ago I was on a slow journey toward death. Now I’m recovered and my mother, Lisbeth Johnson, is suddenly gone forever.”

  “If you could know the future, would you want to?” Naomi asked.

  Momma thought. “Life would feel safer, but not so interesting. What about you?”

  Naomi smiled and rubbed baby Dawn’s head. “If I’d known she was coming I think I would have done everything to avoid her. And now that she’s here, I can’t imagine my life any other way. What felt horrible six months ago is now a great gift.”

  May smiled to herself. That was exactly how she felt about Kay Lynn. She kissed her daughter’s head.

  Auntie Jordan walked up and they opened their circle to include her.

  “We have a few things for you,” Momma said, her voice filled with emotion.

  Momma reached into her bag, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to Auntie Jordan.

  The older woman peered in and her eyes welled up. She pulled out that shell necklace. Her other hand covered her chest and she let her tears flow. Obviously it was very meaningful to Auntie Jordan. May remembered playing with the shell around Nana’s neck when she was young, but didn’t realize it was important.

  Auntie Jordan’s brown hands shook, with emotion or age, as she placed it around Dawn’s neck.

  “It looks right on her,” Momma said.

  “Let me know if you ever want it back,” Naomi offered.

  Momma pulled her lips in and shook her head. “It belongs to your descendants. Mattie was kind to give my mom that comfort of connection, but think about where it came from. Those ancestors, your ancestors, kept the faith for Dawn.”

  Naomi said, “Thank you.”

  Wanting to understand, May asked, “Where’s it from?”

  Naomi replied, “The family story is these shells came from Africa centuries ago. They were handed down from daughter to daughter for . . . well, we don’t know how long, do we.”

  “Mattie left one behind for Lisbeth when she escaped,” Momma explained. “I think it was Lisbeth’s most cherished possession.” Tears ran down Momma’s cheeks.

  May touched the shell on baby Dawn. If she’d known the story of it she would have been more reverent with it in Nana Lisbeth’s death room.

  “I’m going to miss her so much. She’s been there my whole life. I don’t know how I can manage without her,” Momma said.

  May understood her mother’s distress. She’d had the same fear about her Momma while she was sick, and now Momma lived with that fear realized because Nana was gone.

  Auntie Jordan spoke up: “There were many days when I felt unable to go on without my Mama, but I did. One day led to the next. And then the next. Slowly the joy of getting to be alive became even more precious—knowing it would end someday.” Auntie Jordan shook her head and then continued, “Those were some hard years. So much death piled on one after another.”

  Momma explained to May, “Jordan lost a daughter, a grandchild, her husband, and her Mama in a brief span.”

  Auntie Jordan said, “It seems as if pain should be sprinkled throughout a life, but sometimes it’s pressed in all at once, too much to bear. Like in our nation right now: a hateful president, and a war, and a flu pandemic.”

  “I fear these times will never end,” Momma said.

  Naomi replied, “They will. Only to be replaced by some other troubles, I’m sure.”

  Momma said, “There’s something else in the envelope.”

  Auntie Jordan felt against the side. She pulled out a photo and gasped; the look on her face raised the flesh on May’s arms and sent a chill down her spine.

  Naomi asked, “What, Ma? What is it?”

  Auntie Jordan turned the picture around. It was old, from before the Civil War: a white baby, maybe eight months old, sat on a colored woman’s lap.

  “Is that Grammy Mattie?” Naomi exclaimed.

  Momma nodded.

  May stared at her Nana Lisbeth as a baby—her eyes the same shape as Kay Lynn’s. Great-Aunt Mattie’s hand rested on Nana Lisbeth’s head, as if she were protecting her. It was at once touching and disturbing.

  Naomi said, “Look at those matching dresses. It’s so bizarre, the twisted relationship, documented for . . .” She shook her head.

  “Thank you,” Auntie Jordan whispered through a tight throat. “This is a treasure.”

  Momma nodded, her eyes shining. “Lisbeth hid it for all those years. Her shame ran deep.”

  May looked at the circle of women, bound by the cruelty of slavery. And yet somehow they found love too.

  “She was so young,” Naomi spoke, her voice astonished. “What year was Lisbeth born?”

  “1837,” Momma replied.

  “Grammy Mattie was about twenty in this picture—younger than you, May,” Naomi announced.

  “So young,” Auntie Jordan agreed.

  Momma asked, “Did Mattie’s shell get tossed in the Pacific Ocean?”

  Her confusion must have shown because Auntie Jordan explained, “On her deathbed, my mama told us to throw her shell into the Pacific to ‘tell the ancestors we are free.’

  “We still have Mama’s shell,” Auntie Jordan said. “It’s never seemed right to tell the ancestors that we are all free. Maybe after the suffrage amendment passes and all women can vote.”

  Naomi shook her head and countered, “We won’t be free until we are safe living everywhere.”

  The circle of women nodded.

  “Freedom doesn’t come all at once, does it?” May suggested.

  Auntie Jordan nodded. “Wise words, May. After seeing my Mama’s face in that photo, I know we have come so far. But when I read the news of our city, our nation, our world I despair.”

  Naomi wondered, “Will we ever say this is enough freedom for us and throw that shell into the Pacific?”

  Aunt Jordan looked out at the view of the San Francisco Bay. She gestured and said, “The bigger view is a gift, but also a burden. In this modern age we hear about sorrows, not only in other states but also in other nations. There’s too much to take it all in, and yet here we are: in pain at Lisbeth’s passing, joyful that the war seems to be ending, and angry at the continued trampling on our freedoms after we sacrificed for the freedom of people across the ocean and borders.”

  Auntie Jordan shook her head. She laughed and said, “I apologize—for giving a second message today.”

  Momma took Auntie Jordan’s hand and looked right at her. “No need to be sorry. Thank you for speaking the very complicated truth in my heart.”

  They hugged tight. After a time, Momma’s shoulder pulsed up and down as sobs shook her body.

  “Gammy crying,” Kay Lynn said.

  “Yes, Gammy is sad,” May told her daughter.

  “Mommy sad?” her little girl asked while touching the tears on May’s cheeks.

  May looked at her daughter and nodded. “Mommy misses Nana Lisbeth.”

  “Kay Lynn sad too,” the little girl said, resting her head in the crook of May’s neck.