Forget Me Not, Books I, II and III

Five Years Later

1938

As soon as Teddi saw the postman from her perch in the attic, she rushed through the house and out to the mailbox. She was glad Gertrude was the only one home. The maid would be too occupied with preparing six o'clock dinner to admonish her for running in the house. Teddi's grandmother watched her all too carefully. Though Teddi was sixteen, her grandmother treated her as if she was a small girl with muddy hands and messy hair. She was used to it. She figured it was best to keep the peace and do what she was told. It wasn't that hard. Take music lessons. Keep up with her studies. Attend church on Sundays and important social gatherings. All of her grandmother's rules, though miserable to endure, were reasonable. Except one regarding a certain person she loved—Liza Donovan.

Teddi pulled down the silver flap and took out a small stack of white envelopes. She shuffled through them. "It's here!"

"Hi, Teddi! You're looking very pretty today," Ben said, heading up the walk of his house. Teddi waved her hand at him. He was practicing being polite to her like his mother had been training him to do with girls lately.

"Thanks, Ben! You look handsome too," she replied, stuffing the rest of the envelopes back into the mailbox for her grandmother to retrieve when she came home from tea, then went back to the attic. Teddi settled onto the soft decorative pillows she had strewn across the floor. The return address read: Liza Donovan, Paris, France.

June 23rd, 1938

Dear Teddi,

Everyday something new happens here. Last night, Mac and I sang at Chez Bricktop. Well, he sang and played the piano, and I pretty much sat beside him chiming in every few notes. It was only for fun at first. We were a little bit tipsy. But you won't believe this! The owner, an American woman everyone here calls Bricktop, I think because her hair is so red, hired Mac as a permanent musician! I love it here more and more everyday. I really wish that you could come, but it's better for you at home. This life is too fast for you, but I do miss you, kid. I hope I can see you again very soon. Until then, don't forget to write. These little notes are the best part of my week. Write back soon.

Love,

Liza

Somehow Teddi doubted that Liza longed for her letters as much as she did hers, but it was nice to hear. Liza was always very pleasant when she wrote to Teddi, never bringing up any memory of the past. Teddi had once asked her why she and Mac left, and Liza told her that if she didn't already know she would soon find out. In a small way, Liza was like her grandmother. They both were intent on dreaming the past away: Liza through her life abroad, her grandmother through a need to perfect her youngest grandchild.

Her grandmother did not allow Teddi to correspond with her sister, and for a time, had intercepted their letters. Liza had committed the worst crime imaginable. To Elizabeth Donovan and so many others, it was even worse than her son being mixed up in organized illegal activity. Disgraceful. Disgusting. Unforgivable. Liza had run off with a musician from New York City. Actually, Mac Binot had been born in Louisiana, a handsome man with a caramel complexion, beautiful curly black hair, and eyes that changed color with his mood or the season. Teddi had eyes like that, but her sister hadn't noticed they were anything special until she found them on Mac.

"His kisses are like honey and lime, sweet and fresh," Liza had once told her. Teddi's mother would have called Mac "high yellow," Liza explained. Teddi never heard her mother mention the term but believed her sister, seeing as how she'd spent seven years more of her life with their mother than Teddi had. Liza didn't call him anything but the man she loved, which Teddi found both romantic and frightening. How could anyone love another person so much that they'd defy everything they'd ever known? Teddi secretly hoped she'd have the opportunity to be brave one day like Liza and Mac.