Kaleidoscope
Betsy Griffin fought back her tears as she reread the telegram informing her of her husband's death. So many women she knew had received similar missives from the War Department. Most of them were crushed by the tragic news; their hearts were broken and their dreams shattered. Betsy's foremost emotion, however, was not one of grief but of trepidation. How was she to support herself and her three-year-old son without a husband?
The distraught young widow crumbled the telegram in a ball and tossed it into the wastebasket. What a fool she had been to behave so impetuously. She had known Lance Griffin only a few weeks when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor and the United States entered the war. Like so many patriotic men that dreadful December 1941, eager to take on the Germans and the Japanese, Lance enlisted in the Navy; and as so many young women swept up in a similar rush of patriotism did, Betsy married a young warrior going off to battle.
By the time her son, Matt, was born, though, Betsy had difficulty remembering the sound of her husband's voice. Had she not had several photographs of him, she probably would not be able to recall exactly what he looked like either.
For the past year or so, the young mother had been apprehensive about her soldier's eventual return. How was she to live as husband and wife with a man who was practically a stranger? Now that Lance was dead, she would not have to deal with that particular dilemma. Still, there were many other problems—most of them of a financial nature—that Lance's death presented.
"What am I going to do?" the widow sobbed aloud and covered her face with her hands. "How can I support myself and my son?"
The following day an answer of sorts presented itself in the form of a letter from Lance's grandmother. In the letter, Mrs. Griffin expressed her condolences on Betsy's loss and invited her grandson's wife and son to stay with her until such time as they wanted to leave.
Betsy smiled with relief and thanked her maker for the unexpected windfall. She quickly got a pen and paper and wrote a reply accepting the invitation, fearful that if she delayed, the old woman might change her mind and rescind the offer. After putting the stamped envelope in the corner mailbox, the widow returned to her small apartment and immediately began to pack. Three days later, after allowing sufficient time for Mrs. Griffin to receive her letter, she and Matt got on a bus and headed north to Massachusetts.
"Where are we going, Mommy?" her little boy asked.
"To stay with Grandma Griffin."
Since the old woman was the only living relative the child had other than his mother, he was understandably excited at the prospect of the visit and eager to arrive at their destination.
When Betsy and Matt got off the bus in Puritan Falls, they were greeted by an elderly farmer wearing overalls and a plaid flannel shirt.
"You must be Addie's kin from New Jersey," he said, holding his hat politely in his hand.
"Yes. I'm Mrs. Griffin's granddaughter-in-law, and this is Matt, her great-grandson."
"Fine boy," the farmer remarked with a smile.
Then his demeanor abruptly changed.
"Sorry to hear about your loss, Missus. It's a shame how many good men are losing their lives over in Europe and the Pacific. A damn sight too many, if you ask me."
"Well, if you can believe the newspapers, Germany is about to surrender any day now." Betsy then looked around impatiently and asked, "Could you tell me where Mrs. Griffin's house is?"
The farmer snapped his fingers.
"I plumb near forgot to tell you. Addie sent me here to pick you and the boy up and take you to her place."
The farmer carried Betsy's bags to his truck and then opened the passenger door.
"Is the house far from here?" Betsy inquired.
"Nope. It's just up in those hills."
During the ride, the amiable farmer entertained his passengers with the Griffin family history.
"Addie's son, your husband's father, was wounded in the First World War, lost a leg in the Argonne. When he came back home, he and his wife and their little boy moved in with Addie. Shortly after that, his wife died. I guess the poor man couldn't take any more 'cause he hanged himself in the barn."
"How terrible!" Betsy exclaimed.
"Naturally, Addie raised young Lance."
"She must be a wonderful woman. I honestly don't know what I'd do right now if she hadn't invited us to stay with her for a while."
When the farmer pulled into the long driveway, Betsy was amazed by the size of the house.
"Is this some kind of old age home?"
The farmer laughed.
"No. This all belongs to Addie. Of course, her workshop takes up a good part of the house."
"Workshop? What does she do?"
"She makes toys," he replied and turned and winked at Matt.
When the truck came to a stop, the front door opened, and Mrs. Griffin stepped outside to welcome her grandson's family. Although Addie's hair was snowy white and her face lined with age, her eyes were bright and alive, and her wits were as sharp as a much younger woman's.
"I'm so sorry, my dear," she said, kissing the widow on her cheek. "I hope we can comfort each other during this difficult time."
"I want to thank you for letting us stay here with you."
"Nonsense! There's no need to thank me. You're family. Speaking of which, this must be Matt! Oh, it'll be so much fun to have a youngster in the house again!"
* * *
Matt's eyes widened with joy and amazement when his great-grandmother opened the door to his new bedroom. Unlike the closet-sized room in the New Jersey apartment, there were large windows to let in light, plenty of room in which to play and toys galore.
"Can I touch them?" he asked, eyeing a battalion of miniature soldiers.
"Of course, you can!" the old woman laughed. "They belong to you now."
Betsy, who was exhausted from the long bus ride, suggested it was time they both take a nap.
"Why don't I keep an eye on the boy, and you go lie down and get some rest?"
"I don't want to impose."
"It's no imposition. I'd like to get to know my great-grandson."
After Betsy went to her room, the old woman took Matt to her workshop. It was a veritable wonderland filled with playthings.
"Here is where I make my toys," she announced proudly. "Even when I'm not working, I love to come here and play with my creations."
"Aren't you too old to play with toys?" the boy asked with the innocence of youth.
"These aren't just any toys," she confided. "Not when they're in the right hands, that is."
The old woman picked up a tube about eight inches long and handed it to Matt.
"Do you know what this is?"
The child shook his head.
"It's called a kaleidoscope. If you look inside it and turn the tube in your hand, you can see all different designs."
Matt did as she instructed and became entranced by the changing patterns of colors and shapes.
The old woman then stooped and whispered in the boy's ear, "If you look very hard, you'll see more than meets the eye."
As Matt stared through the eyepiece, his great-grandmother rotated the kaleidoscope. The bits of colored glass disappeared, and the boy could see the interior of his New Jersey apartment.
"I've been keeping an eye on you for some time now," the old woman confessed.
"Wow! I can't wait to show this to Mommy."
"You mustn't tell your mother," Addie cautioned. "She wouldn't understand. These toys are magical, and only children can make them work."
* * *
In the months that followed her arrival in Puritan Falls, Betsy saw little of her son, who spent nearly all of his time with his great-grandmother behind the closed door of her workshop. At first she enjoyed her freedom since it gave her time to recover from the shock and uncertainty she experienced when she learned of Lance's death. After weeks of nothing to do but listen to the radio or read a book, however, the young woman grew bored.
Addie was sympathetic to her feelings and suggested Betsy make friends in town.
"You need to get out of the house, to have an interest in life beyond raising your son," the old woman suggested.
"You wouldn't mind watching Matt for me?"
"Mind? Don't be silly! I dote on that boy. He's breathed new life into this house and into me."
Betsy took the old woman's advice and got a part-time job as a secretary in a small real estate office on Essex Street. She had been working there for only three months when a handsome professor from the college in neighboring Essex Green went into the office to inquire about selling his home. The secretary and professor were instantly attracted to one another. They had lunch together that day and dinner the following evening.
Betsy told Addie only that she had made a friend in town, not bothering to enlighten her as to the true nature of their relationship. She was not being deliberately deceitful; she just did not think it was any of the old woman's business if she had a romantic interest in the professor. It was Matt who discovered his mother's secret as he was sitting in his great-grandmother's workshop one day looking through the kaleidoscope.
"I can see Mommy," he told Addie. "She's with one of her friends."
"Is she now?" the old woman asked with feigned interest.
In all honesty, she did not really care what her grandson's widow did with her time. She was only interested in the child.
"Yuck!" Matt cried. "They're kissing."
Addie immediately sensed danger.
"Let me see that."
The boy was right. Through the kaleidoscope Addie watched the couple enjoying a candlelit dinner in the professor's home. They were sitting close together and occasionally sneaking a kiss. It came as no great surprise then when Betsy came home from work one evening and announced that she and the professor were going to get married.
"Isn't this rather sudden?" the old woman asked. "You've been widowed for less than a year."
"Yes, it is, but Ted is relocating to Indiana. He's going to teach at the University of Notre Dame."
Addie's heartbeat quickened. How could she have missed this development?
"You must be nervous about starting a new life with a new husband. I'd be more than happy to let Matt live with me until you two get settled in."
"I appreciate your offer, but I wouldn't dream of leaving my son behind."
Addie forced a smile.
"I'm sure you wouldn't, just as I'm sure Matt would never want to stay here without you."
* * *
"Time's up," Ted announced when he saw the minute hand of the classroom clock land on twelve.
As his students walked toward the door, they deposited their exam papers in the wire basket on the professor's desk.
Only one more class to go, Ted thought.
After that, he could look forward to his nuptials and honeymoon, followed by the move to South Bend and the start of a new career and a new life with a wife and stepson.
Meanwhile, in a workshop in Puritan Falls, Addie Griffin removed a large spinning top from a box that had been hidden in the back of a storage closet.
"Look at what I have here," she called as she took the shining top out of the box.
At that moment Ted took the stack of exams out of the wire basket, placed them in a folder and put the folder in his briefcase. Then with a snap he closed the case and headed for the door.
Addie placed the top on her workbench in front of Matt.
"Watch closely," she commanded as she started the top spinning.
As Ted stood at the top of the stairs, he suddenly felt his head spin.
"Keep watching, Matt. If you turn away, the magic won't work."
The colorful pattern on the spinning top blurred as the toy spun faster and faster.
Ted lifted his right foot and bent his left knee. A wave of vertigo came over him, and he felt himself falling forward.
Betsy suddenly opened the door to the workshop, startling Matt and Addie.
"Mommy!" her son cried with excitement.
As the boy ran toward his mother, he bumped into the workbench, and the top fell to the floor with a clatter.
"I've got a surprise for you," Betsy told her son. "Ted is going to take us out for ice cream."
Addie cursed under her breath, "Damn that woman for coming into my workshop uninvited!"
* * *
"You could have broken your neck!" Betsy cried as she sat beside her fiancé's hospital bed.
"But I didn't. It's only a broken arm."
"And the dizzy spell?"
"The doctor couldn't find anything wrong with me. I'm in excellent health. Maybe I was just suffering from pre-wedding jitters," Ted laughed.
"Don't use that as an excuse. I'm not letting you off the hook."
Unbeknownst to the young lovers, they were being watched through Addie's kaleidoscope.
"Damn it! If the top hadn't fallen off the table, that professor would be dead now!"
The more Addie thought about the situation, though, the more she realized eliminating Ted was only a temporary measure. Even if the professor were out of the picture, Betsy would no doubt find someone else eventually. No, the only way she could ensure that Matt remained with her was to get rid of his mother.
Early the next morning, long before either Betsy or Matt was awake, Addie got up and headed toward her workroom. There was work to be done.
It was almost noon when Matt knocked on the door.
"Grandma?" he called.
"Come in, honey. I want you to see what I've made."
It looked like a tin cube, about seven inches high. A crank with a red wooden knob at the end protruded from one of the cube's sides.
"What is it?" the little boy asked.
"A jack-in-the-box. Haven't you ever played with one before?"
"No. How does it work?"
"You turn this crank here, and the box plays music. Go ahead and give it a try."
* * *
Betsy looked at her watch and realized she would be late getting to the office. Even though she would be resigning when she and Ted moved, she was conscientious enough to want to tell her employer that she would be late. She put on her turn signal, pulled over to the curb and went into a public phone booth. Then she put a coin in the slot and dialed the real estate agent's phone number, but instead of the sound of a telephone ringing, she heard a tinny-sounding melody.
She knew that song. How did it go?
All around the mulberry bush ....
It was the child's song, "Pop Goes the Weasel." Why, she wondered, was it playing over the telephone line?
Betsy jiggled the switch hook and then dialed "O" for the operator, but the song kept playing.
At Addie's workshop, the old woman was teaching her great-grandson the words to the tune.
A penny for a spool of thread ...
Betsy put the receiver down and tried to open the door of the phone booth, but it was jammed shut.
A penny for a needle ...
She pushed her weight against the door, but it would not budge.
That's the way the money goes ... Pop! goes the weasel.
All of a sudden, the top of the jack-in-the-box burst open and out popped the "Jack" or, in this case, a "Jill" who bore a strong resemblance to Matt's mother.
At the same moment Jill came out of the box, a gas line that ran beneath Essex Street ruptured, and the phone booth Betsy Griffin had been trapped in exploded.
* * *
Matt attended his mother's funeral, dressed in a black suit and tie his great-grandmother had purchased for him. It was an emotional time for a child not yet four years old, but Addie was there to give him love and support.
After the burial service, Ted approached the old woman.
"I realize keeping up with a young child must be difficult for a woman of your advanced years," he said after the two adults expressed their grief at Betsy's passing.
"I don't mind," Addie replied. "Poor little boy. First he lost his father, and now ...."
Her voice trailed off dramatically.
"You needn't worry about him," she said reassuringly. "I'll give him a good home."
"That won't be necessary. You see, before Betsy died, she asked me to adopt Matt. She wanted him to have a father, and even though we never had the chance to get married, I intend to honor the promise I made to her."
"Oh, no, no, no! That will never do. He's my great-grandson, my flesh and blood. You can't have him; you're not related to him."
"I think a judge might look favorably on my petition to adopt the boy nonetheless. I'm young, healthy and financially secure. It will be in the boy's best interest to have him live with me."
"But he belongs to me," Addie insisted petulantly.
"I've already spoken to my lawyer, so why don't we let the courts decide?"
When Addie and Matt returned home, the old woman suggested the boy take a nap. He did not object. Once the child was tucked in his bed, she removed her mourning clothes and retired to her workshop. It was time to make another toy that, with the magic of a young child's imagination, would help her dispose of the professor just as she had gotten rid of Betsy—not to mention her daughter-in-law and her own son when they had wanted to take Lance away from her.
"This place is dead without a small child to bring it to life," she said with a malevolent smile as she began working on the new toy. "No one is going to take Matt away from me—NO ONE—for doing so would send me to my grave, and I'm not ready to die yet."
I haven't liked magic kaleidoscopes since I looked into one and saw all nine of Salem's lives!
