—
Gwyneth continued to come back every afternoon after that. She diligently worked with the art applications while Sybil did her work. And Gwyneth was fascinated watching Sybil do her emails. Sybil taught her how to email and showed her how to Skype, although no one could see her except Sybil. Skype was not made for ghosts. They sent an email to Blake, and Gwyneth laughed at Blake’s response. He thought he was emailing Sybil when it was really Gwyneth writing to him, and both women laughed. Gwyneth was learning her lessons well. Her artwork was beautiful, and Sybil was sorry she couldn’t show it to anyone. It was their dark secret. And Gwyneth was proud of what she’d learned.
Sybil showed her Facebook one afternoon just for fun, and Google, and eBay. The possibilities were endless. But what Gwyneth loved most was creating art on the computer. And she was impressed by how seriously Sybil worked and the volume of emails she dealt with.
“You need a secretary,” Gwyneth said practically one afternoon, and Sybil nodded. She’d had an assistant in New York, but didn’t want one here.
“I do it all myself. I don’t want to train someone to do what I do, but sometimes I get overloaded, especially when I have an article due, or a museum show to organize and curate, with things coming in from all over the world.”
They were talking about it when Alicia came upstairs to offer Sybil a cup of tea and heard her talking to Gwyneth, although Alicia could see and hear only Sybil.
“I’m sorry, are you on the phone?” she whispered.
“No, I’m finished, and I’m fine, I don’t need anything, but thank you,” Sybil said, and the housekeeper went back downstairs. She had noticed that the whole family talked to themselves a lot. They were a little eccentric. The children did it, and Mrs. Gregory. She’d never known people who talked to themselves before, and after she was gone, Gwyneth and Sybil burst into gales of laughter. “She thinks we’re all crazy,” Sybil explained. “Who knows, maybe we are.”
“No, you’re not,” Gwyneth said gently. “You’re a remarkable woman, Sybil. You’ve given a whole new meaning to my life with the computer.” The earnestness with which she said it touched Sybil deeply, as though she’d given her a priceless gift. It cemented their friendship as nothing else had. They continued to meet every afternoon in Sybil’s office. They talked about life, and their husbands and children. Their fears and their dreams. Gwyneth was desperately worried about America getting pulled into the war and Josiah getting drafted. And the subject came up at dinner constantly too.
Bert was increasingly concerned with how badly the war was going in Europe. He didn’t see how President Wilson was going to keep the country out of it, and by March it was even worse. Bert was predicting that America would enter the war in the immediate future. Blake didn’t offer what he knew, nor did Sybil, that Josiah would be enlisting in the army soon, and the country would be at war.
It finally happened on April 6. President Wilson asked Congress for a declaration of war on April 2, and four days later, war was declared, and the families shared a somber dinner in the dining room that night. Two days later, Josiah told his family he had enlisted, and Sybil felt her heart sink, knowing what would come next. Gwyneth saw it on Sybil’s face and whispered to her at dinner.
“Is there something you’re not telling us?” And after a long, long pause, Sybil nodded.
“He mustn’t go,” Sybil said urgently, and Gwyneth understood.
“But how can we stop him? All the boys his age will be going now.” He’d been one of the first to enlist, and Bert was very proud of his son. “Bert thinks he should,” Gwyneth added.
“Is there nothing you can do to stop him?” Sybil looked so sad.
“He’ll be labeled a coward if he doesn’t go,” Gwyneth said, and Sybil realized again that she was powerless to change it. Gwyneth stopped coming for her computer lessons, too worried about her son for frivolous distractions.
Two weeks later, they had a farewell dinner for him. The Gregorys were there, and when Sybil said goodbye to him and hugged him, she told Josiah he must be very, very careful, and not take any undue risks. “Don’t be a hero, just come home!” The men smiled at each other over her warnings, and Blake mentioned it when they went up to bed. Sybil was deeply moved by saying goodbye to Josiah, and had prayed that her warning was enough to change something just a little.
“He’ll be fine,” Blake assured her, as though Josiah were still alive, forgetting the truth about them, that none of them were “fine” anymore, even though they seemed to be. They had all died long ago and were now ghosts.
“No, he won’t,” Sybil said to Blake with a pointed look, and he understood, and seemed shocked when she reminded him. “Unless something happens to change the course of history, he won’t be back. Or, he will, but the way Magnus is, as a spirit.” It was confusing at times remembering who was meant to still be alive and who was dead among them.
“He was killed in the war?” Blake had forgotten. Sybil nodded and Blake looked sad too, wishing he could say something to Bert to alter it. But what could he say? It was already done, a century before.
“I keep wishing we could change things. It’s not fair that we know what we do, and they don’t and have no warning,” she said sadly. Her computer lessons with Gwyneth had brought them even closer.
“But that’s the way life is, isn’t it? None of us are ever warned. And even when we are, we don’t believe it,” Blake said wisely. “They probably wouldn’t do anything different even if they knew.”
“But what if they did? What if we could make a difference?”
“By now, a hundred years later, something would have killed them. We don’t have a right to interfere with their destinies. Perhaps in small subtle ways. But would you have him called a coward when the country went to war? It would break his father’s heart. Would you want that for Andy?” he asked her honestly.
“Yes, I would,” she said emphatically. “I would want my son alive, whatever it took.”
“Bert was very proud of him tonight,” Blake commented, remembering the look of pride on Bert’s face.
“If someone knew something that could help me change the course of history to save my son, I would want to know it,” she said fiercely.
“I’m not sure people would listen. Perhaps it will work out differently than you think.” She shook her head, knowing the truth, and there were tears in her eyes when she went to bed that night, thinking of Josiah and the grief that lay ahead for all of them. She wondered how long it would take him to come back to them, after he died. She was in a world of phenomena she didn’t know or understand, and neither did Blake. “Magnus seems to be all right, in spite of what happened to him,” Blake tried to reassure her.
“He’s not all right, Blake. He’s dead,” she said, and blew her nose.