Excerpt from Lillian Ashford Eddington’s Journal
New Year’s Eve 1986
Forty-six Years Old

This was an incredible year of financial success. Atlanta is growing in reputation and size just as Redmond is in his job and I am in my volunteer duties. I think I have finally made Ellie realize that marrying Rusty is a logical choice. All her life I have tried to make her understand that her heart cannot go making willy-nilly decisions about life, as I know better than anyone those are the decisions that cause the problems.

There are certain things we have control over in our lives—and love CAN be one of them. She can choose whom to love and spend the rest of her life with. If my hard-earned lessons can do anybody some good, it should be Ellie, and this is what I know: the heart is deceitful and therefore choices must be made with logic and care, not emotion. Of course it would have been silly and irresponsible for her to stay with that Hutchinson person from Alabama who obviously has no family prospects for a decent life. Now, Rusty with his Atlanta family close to ours, with his money and his reputation, is a much, much better fit for Ellie, and I believe I have helped make her understand this truth.

If only I had understood these things when I was her age—if only I had known that love is fickle and foolish. It is commitment and logic that make a home, a solid and beautiful home. How I could have ever thought otherwise is amazing to me. I look back at the girl who loved Him like that and I am embarrassed for her. Of course those were just hormones, just feelings. Nothing more. Nothing less.

Twenty-three

Twenty-three

The morning arrived along with the pattern sewn over years of marriage. I rose and began “the list” of what must be done that day, avoiding the thorough comprehension that the house felt carceral and tight. I sorted the mail and waded through the voice messages and urgent requests until Sadie arrived. We’d planned on lunch and a visit to Mother’s grave. Each time Hutch entered my mind (about every five seconds), I shoved the thought away, which was akin to shoving a boulder up a hill. But I was determined. I was.

Sadie and I had just left Mother’s grave, where fresh dirt still surrounded the outside rim of the rectangle where she was buried. I couldn’t seem to add facts—she was dead plus she was in a coffin plus she was buried here—to equal anything I fully understood. I’d left a fresh lily at the side of her gravestone. Sadie stood with me in silence.