“She was born Catherine Elizabeth Westfeld and she was born in Philadelphia to an art curator and his wife. She came to the Elkhart area when she was thirteen, living with my grandmother. Here she attended Steeplechase, embraced her artistic ability and made a lot of friends. A lot of people have said that my mother was a recluse. Nothing could be further from the truth. She was popular when she went here. Even afterwards. But living so far away, and having all the people she loved most at home, she didn’t have much reason to leave the house. She had many friends. But when someone makes you fear for your life, you’ll do anything you have to protect your family and the ones you love. She enjoyed travelling, enjoyed learning, but most of all she loved spending time with family. Watch the clips. She was a kind woman whose life was cut short. The more I learn about her, the prouder I am to be her daughter. Don’t remember her for her shocking death. Embrace her for the wonderful person she was when she was here. Just out in the hallway, there are four art awards that she earned for the school prior to graduating. On the third floor, outside of Mr. Corlander’s classroom, there is a painting that she created when she was a senior here at Steeplechase. I’ve been told by many people that I look just like my mother. My only hope is that my soul is as good as hers, too. In all that has happened, I’ve learned several major lessons from her. First, be careful who you trust. Second, when you love, love with all your heart. And thirdly, when you believe in something, fight with all your might until there is no fighting left to be done. Live life with courage, and with faith.”
As Tristan walked away from the stage, and up the center aisle, she ignored the applause, she ignored the high fives from the people who wanted to be her friend after recent events. She walked up the aisle not looking anyone in the eye, treating them as if they didn’t exist at all. She leaned in to give her father a kiss on his tear-stained face, before departing the auditorium.
*
As the 3:00 school bell rang, children flooded the schoolyard at Steeplechase. Liam, waiting patiently for everyone to exit the school, glanced at his watch in irritation. Noticing a speck of white paint on his hand, he tried scratching it off.
“Damn, I thought I got it all!”
Finally, the car began to fill up. Blake first, followed by Tommy and Shane, they were just waiting on Tristan. Liam tapping nervously on the dashboard decided to give her a minute or two. Slowly, she walked out of the school with Cole. Watching them closely, Cole must have told a joke because she broke into laughter. Seeing Liam in the car, she kissed Cole goodbye and ran towards the sedan.
“Let’s get home. There is a surprise waiting for you all” Liam said.
“A surprise?” asked Tristan suspiciously.
“Is it ice cream?” asked Shane. “I really hope its ice cream.”
“It’s not ice cream” confirmed Liam.
“Well what is it then?” asked Blake.
“You’ll see.”
When they got home, no one was in the den, or the kitchen, or in the backyard.
“Go upstairs.”
Tristan, confused, followed her brothers upstairs to the second floor.
“Okay. We’re here. Where’s this surprise?”
“No. All the way upstairs. To the third floor.”
“But we’re not allowed up there!”
“Just go.”
Tristan was the first to climb the stairs to the third floor, and she couldn’t believe her eyes. The space that had been barred to them for so long was welcoming them in. The small rooms had been removed, and the space had been opened up for them. Newly painted and renovated, the third floor was now one huge suite for all the kids. Since the boys didn’t want Tristan to sleep alone, and Tristan wanted to have a bigger space, Jack decided it was time to give them what they wanted.
The third floor had long haunted Jack. That was her space. Her area where she retreated when she was most frightened. With great struggle he took down her things and packed them away. He was determined to do so for the benefit of their children. Bridgette reminded him that just because the space was being used for something else, didn’t mean that he was forgetting about Catherine. She would always be a part of this family and would always be a major presence in his life. They donated Catherine’s old clothes to a secondhand shop down on Mountain Road. The only item they kept was her wedding gown and her veil, which were safely stored in the attic of the guest house and her artwork, which lined the walls of the large room.
Tristan looked around, amazed at it all, and she simply didn’t know what to say. Five handsome canopied beds were situated throughout the big room, a small desk next to each. In the back of the bright room she could see an ornate door. She walked to it, slowly, with high anticipation building in her stomach. She pushed the door opened and was amazed at what she saw before her. A larger, circular bedroom complete with a beautiful canopy bed, desk and bookshelves built into the walls. Pictures of the whole family lining the walls, with a note on the plush gray comforter that read, “Welcome home!”
At long last, she finally felt that she was.
Chapter Twenty-One
At Long Last
October 24, 1997