From the Relief Society Magazine, April 1954 –

The Best Years of Her Life

By Pansye H. Powell

Aunt Tabitha’s rocking chair had sat in the same spot in the Higgins living room for over seventy years; except, that is, for those brief intervals of housecleaning when it had gone to the front porch along with the horsehair sofa, the whatnots, and the heavy rag carpets. Aunt Tabitha’s mother had brought the chair with her from Kentucky when she moved to Missouri as a bride in 1885.

It was not a particularly handsome chair, but it was comfortable and fitted to Aunt Tabitha’s bony form. She regularly made new covers for the plump cushion that always lay on its seat and for the back-rest that eased the straightness of its back; at intervals she added a coat of paint to freshen the wood. At various times it had been painted red, blue, and green, as her fancy dictated. Its redeeming quality as a piece of furniture was that it was comfortable for her, and that it was unobtrusively a part of the general decor of the room. it was old – but so was Aunt Tabitha.

She was as old-fashioned in appearance as her chair. She wore her still brownish hair in a bun on the top of her head, severely plain; she dressed as she had for the past fifty years – in dark print house dresses at home, and in simple black away from home.

Everyone in Mooresville knew Aunt Tabitha. She had always lived there, except for a brief year when she had attended a young ladies’ seminary in Grantsborough, twenty miles away. Her stay at the seminary had ended abruptly when her older sister Mandy married. There was no one else to stay with her mother and father but Tabitha. She had gone home willingly enough and had eased the last years of her aging parents without much thought of herself.

No suitors had vied for her hand. As the years went by, she had found much affection in Mandy’s growing family, becoming friend and confidante to her nieces and nephews and later to Mandy’s grandchildren. She had lived quietly, and most people thought happily following the unbroken tenor of Mooresville ways.

Then Aunt Tabitha fell one winter day and broke her hip.

Fortunately for her, she fell on her front steps and was seen by a neighbor passing by. when Dr. Starks arrived, he looked very serious and ordered Aunt Tabitha taken to the Gainsborough hospital at once. Two hours later, she was in a hospital bed, her little house left lonely and locked against a possible prowler.

Mandy and her family did all they could to make the hospital stay pleasant. At the end of two weeks, Dr. Starks held a private conference with Mandy, the gist of which was that Aunt Tabitha’s hip would be a long time healing, and she must not live alone, now or ever again. Next time she fell, she might not be so lucky.

Mandy called a meeting of her family, unknown to Aunt Tabitha. Who could move out to Mooresville to live with Aunt Tabitha? Or should they talk to her and convince her she should come to live in the city with one of them?

All the time the family had sat around debating these questions, the youngest grandchild, Ted Browning, had sat without speaking. Everyone knew he was Aunt Tabitha’s favorite of Mandy’s grandchildren; he had spent weeks of his adolescent vacations out with Aunt Tabitha, and she had contributed liberally to his college training in business administration. Now, he was successfully established in a growing brokerage business and about to be married to a young schoolteacher.

With all this before him, no one expected that he would even think of setting up housekeeping in Mooresville, so everyone was much surprised when he said, “Maybe Ellen and I could go out there when we are married.”

“Better speak to Ellen about that,” his sister Irene protested. “I’ll bet she’d have a different idea.”

“How could you manage the trip to town every day?” Mandy questioned.

“It’s no farther than people in New York and Chicago drive to work every day. And if the roads are impassable, there’s that little train that makes the trip in every morning — and there are buses.”

“But the house …” began his older sister Marion.

“Oh, Ellen and I could fix that up. I’ll bet she’d get a kick out of all those antiquated belongings. Anyway, I’ll ask her tonight and we’ll see what then.”

So the family conference broke up, with the other nieces and nephews secretly relieved that there might just be a way out of the dilemma that would require no sacrifice on their parts.

When Aunt Tabitha was approached on the idea of moving into town with Mandy, she registered a decided negative. “Absolutely not,” she declared. “I’m not going to move out of the only home I have ever had. I belong in Mooresville and there’s where I’m going to stay.”

In spite of pain and discomfort, she was still the old Aunt Tabitha, with plenty of fire yet.

That night Ted went to see her during the evening visiting hours. Ellen went with him. Ted ushered her proudly into Aunt Tabitha’s room, where the elderly woman lay patiently suffering the discomforts of her inactivity.

She smiled as they entered and put out her hand to Ted. “Well, Ted,” she said, “it’s good of you to come to see your old auntie again. And this time you’ve brought Ellen. How are you, my dear?”

“I’m just fine,” Ellen spoke cheerily. “And you’re looking ever so well.”

“I’m doing all right, I guess; but it’s a long time to be lying here and nobody in my house to keep the cobwebs down.”

“That’s just what we’ve come to see you about,” Ted hastened to put in. “How would you like for me and Ellen to move into the house and help you with everything?”

Aunt Tabitha’s face broke into smiles. “I’d rather have you and Ellen than anyone else I know,” she said, “but are you sure you want to do that? it’s not a very fine house, you know. It’s warm in winter and cool in summer; but it’s not very fancy for a young couple to go into.”

“Oh, we’ve talked it all out,” Ellen answered. “If you’re willing, Ted will drive me down tonight and we’ll look it over. We’ll need your key to get in, of course. Would you mind if we did some redecorating?”

“I guess a bride would want things to be fresh and clean,” Aunt Tabitha agreed. “You go ahead. The doctor says I’m to be here another four weeks, and then he will let me go home.”

Two weeks later they had the wedding. Ellen and Ted came to see Aunt Tabitha before they left on their honeymoon trip, which they were shortening in order to have time to arrange the house before Aunt Tabitha returned to it.

“We’ll have everything ready for you when you can go home,” they promised. “Don’t worry about anything.”

Aunt Tabitha smiled after them, as they walked off together, Ted’s arm possessively about Ellen’s waist.

When the day came that Aunt Tabitha was to be allowed to go home from the hospital, Ted arranged for an ambulance to take her to Mooresville. She was carefully moved and returned to her little home and into a hospital bed which had been placed in her room. Too tired to do more than sleep, she did not look around her until she awakened the next morning to see the sun streaming into her bedroom windows as it had always done and to hear robins chirping on the lawn as they had done all her life.

She moved her head carefully, looking at all the familiar furnishings of her room. The wallpaper was different, but she liked the freshness of the tiny sprigs of sweetpeas and green leaves. The curtains were new crisscross tie-backs of spotless white organdy; but the furniture was the same – her high bureau with the little mirror atop; her marble-topped washstand; and her chintz-covered box that made a seat under the south window. On her little bedside table stood a tiny brass figure with a bouffant skirt which she discovered to be a bell. In looking at it, she accidentally rang the bell.

Immediately the door of her room opened gently and a cheerful voice said, ‘Good morning, Aunt Tabitha. How are you?” Ellen, crisp in starched pink gingham, her face smiling, came in.

“I’m just fine,” Aunt Tabitha said, “and I like the way you have made my room so nice for me.”

“We put your own bed away until you are able to leave the hospital bed. It will be ready to put up for you as soon as you are able to get around. Shall I bring your breakfast now? Here, you freshen up a bit while I get your breakfast.”

Aunt Tabitha felt a glow of happiness and contentment. Surely this was to be the best time of her life. Young people with her in her own home. She ate a hearty breakfast. When Dr. Starks came the next day, he promised she should be up and about in a chair within a week.

Just as he promised, a week later, Aunt Tabitha had a coming-out party. Only Ted and Ellen and Dr. Starks were present, but the occasion was a merry one for all that. Dressed in a pretty blue robe over her gown, her hair carefully combed into a neat bun on top her head, she was moved carefully from the bed into a wheelchair, and Ted pushed her slowly from her bedroom into the narrow hall of the little house and down it to the livingroom.

Aunt Tabitha gasped with surprise when she saw what had happened to the living room. The room-size rag carpets had been taken up and the floor polished into a mirror. A large oval rug had been made from the carpet, and small throw rugs from the same source filled in at doorways to the hall and dining room. New wallpaper and paint had brought freshness. Instead of the lace curtains that had hung at the big bag window, long full drapes were pulled back to let in sunshine and air. Ellen had brought her spinet piano; the horsehair sofa had been cleaned and rubbed until the rosewood gleamed. The whatnots stood in the corners as before, but the room was different and more charming than it had ever been.

Ted pushed Aunt Tabitha on through the dining room, which was unchanged except for paper and paint, and into the kitchen, which gleamed with a new electric stove and refrigerator and linoleum.

Aunt Tabitha drew in her breath in astonishment. “Well,” she exclaimed, “I’d no idea you were doing all this.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Ted anxiously commented. “We thought we might as well be using some of our things. We kept all yours and put them in the shed behind the house, so they’ll be there if you ever want them.”

Aunt Tabitha did not answer.

“She’s growing tired,” Dr. Starks said. “Mustn’t keep her up long this first time. Tomorrow maybe she can stay up a little longer.”

They took her back into her own room, carefully transferring her from chair to bed and lowering the back of the bed so she could drop off to sleep if she wished.

The next day Aunt Tabitha seemed listless and had a poor appetite. She did not want to get up into her wheelchair. She lay apathetically, speaking only when spoken to and then only in monosyllables. Ellen was distraught. Finally she called Dr. Starks.

“I don’t know what’s the matter,” she said. “Aunt Tabitha seemed to be getting along so well – and now today she hardly touched her breakfast and lunch, and she just lies there, staring at the ceiling and doesn’t even want to talk.”

“I think she had a little too much activity yesterday.” Dr. Starks did not seem concerned. “Let her rest and don’t bother her. Tomorrow she’ll likely be herself again.”

Ellen worried over Aunt Tabitha until Ted came home at six. She had spent the afternoon preparing a delicious chicken dinner, because she knew Aunt Tabitha was especially fond of dumplings. She had gathered fresh flowers from the garden she was so carefully tending for Aunt Tabitha and had placed a big bouquet of daisies and sweet peas on Aunt Tabitha’s table. Even these had not elicited any response from her. She had glanced at them as Ellen brought them in and had then looked away.

Ellen went out to meet Ted in the driveway. She was almost in tears. “Ted,” she whispered, “I don’t know what’s the matter with Aunt Tabitha. She’s so different today. Do you think she may be dying?”

Ted’s alarmed expression showed the sincerity of his concern. “What’s happened?” he demanded, as he hurried to the side door.

Ted stepped softly through the doorway into Aunt Tabitha’s room. She looked up at him with an expressionless face. He tried to be cheerful and to act as though everything was as usual.

“Hello, Aunt Tabitha. how are you tonight?” he asked, in what he tried to make his usual tone.

She looked at him and spoke hollowly, “Ted, I am not so well.”

“Do you hurt somewhere? Shall I get Dr. Starks?”

“No, he can’t help me. I guess I’m just not meant to get well, Ted.”

“But you were getting well, until we put you into that wheelchair yesterday. Did we hurt you? Did we hurt your hip?”

“No, Ted. I wasn’t hurt. You didn’t hurt my hip at all.”

Ted knew Aunt Tabitha. Something was wrong, and she wouldn’t be all right until what was wrong was made right. But what was wrong?

Aunt Tabitha motioned Ted to sit in the chair beside her bed. For a moment she did not speak, then she said, “Ted, when I am gone, I want you to have this house and everything in it.”

“Thank you, Aunt Tabitha. But that’s something to be thought about a long time from now.”

She continued as though he had not spoken “… on one condition.”

“What is that, Aunt Tabitha?”

“On the condition that you always keep everything that is in the house. I would not like to go, knowing my things were not appreciated.” There were tears in her voice.

“I can assure you, Aunt Tabitha, Ellen and I will observe your wishes in this matter. We have done so, and we will continue to do so.”

She looked at him sadly.

“Well,” he demanded, “haven’t we?”

Aunt Tabitha did not answer his question. Instead she turned her head wearily and motioned him to leave.

It was two o’clock in the night when Ellen awakened Ted. She was shaking him vigorously. At first he could not remember what it was she was talking about. “Ted,” she was whispering, “I think I know what’s the matter.”

“Matter?” he sleepily rejoined. “What’s the matter?”

“The chair,” she cried excitedly. “It’s the chair. I forgot about it.”

Ted was wide awake now. ‘Of course that’s it,” he agreed. “We should have remembered it was her pride and joy. Well, tomorrow I’ll dig it out of the back shed and put it back into the living room.”

“Oh, but Ted,” Ellen wailed, “that awful green will just spoil all I’ve tried to do in the living room – and there are layers and layers of paint under that.”

“Makes no difference,” Ted stoutly rejoined; “if all it takes to make Aunt Tabitha happy and well is that old rocker, in it comes, green or not. I’ll get it out before I leave for the office.”

Ellen gave up the struggle. Ted could be very firm when he chose. And somehow she rather liked his attitude toward Aunt Tabitha.

True to his word, Ted located the old rocker in the back shed the next morning. It needed dusting, so Ellen cleaned it thoroughly, shaking the seat pillow and the back rest to make them more presentable. She placed it by the window where Aunt Tabitha could not fail to see it when she awakened.

An hour later, there was a ring from Aunt Tabitha’s room. Ellen found her sitting up straight in bed, her eyes full of life, as she glanced from the chair to Ellen and back again.

“Where’d that chair come from?” she demanded. “I thought you had thrown it away.”

“Oh, no, Aunt Tabitha,” Ellen answered gently, “we haven’t thrown away anything of yours. I just moved the chair out of the living room temporarily.”

“It’s the one thing in this house that I love most of all,” Aunt Tabitha said. “When I thought you had done something with it, I just felt I’d lost a lifelong friend. Now, I know you will love and care for this house as I always have.”

Ellen was soon on the telephone, calling Ted’s office. “Ted,” she chirped, “everything’s all right. It was the chair all the time. She thought we had disposed of it – that was all that was the matter.”

“Is she going to get up today?” he queried.

“Is she? She’s up now – sitting in the rocking chair, in the living room. Goodbye now. I’d better go in there, before she falls out.”

Back in the living room, Ellen found Aunt Tabitha looking around her with a puzzled expression. ‘What’s wrong, Aunt Tabitha?” she asked.

“You know, Ellen,” Aunt Tabitha answered, “I think this chair doesn’t look right in this room. Wrong color. My mother told me once that this chair is really made of fine walnut. Couldn’t we have the paint removed and the natural wood brought out again?”

Ellen’s smile was radiant. “Wonderful,” she beamed. “You just sit there quietly until I come back. I’ll call Stone and Grooms and have them pick up the chair today. They’ll have it back in no time.”

Left to herself, Aunt Tabitha looked about her contentedly. The room was ever so much nicer than it had been when she went to the hospital. She patted the arms of her little rocker gently, picturing it as it would be when it came back from the furniture man. She would make new covers for it herself – after Ellen chose the material, of course. She smiled happily to herself. These would be the best days of her life, after all.

Then, carefully, ever so carefully, she began to rock slowly.