This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters and events in
this book are the products of the author’s imagination or are used
fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons living or dead is coincidental
and not intended by the author.
LIZZY: Through Tragedy She Found Triumph
Published by Gatekeeper Press
2167 Stringtown Rd, Suite 109
Columbus, OH 43123-2989
www.GatekeeperPress.com
Copyright © 2019 by Jim Wetton
Illustrations by Gary D. Bratton
All rights reserved. Neither this book, nor any parts within it may be
sold or reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical
means, including information storage and retrieval systems without
permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a
reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.
ISBN (hardcover): 9781642375039
ISBN (paperback): 9781642375022
eISBN: 9781642375015
Library of Congress Control Number: 2019931357
Printed in the United States of America
Dedicated
To
Carol
And to all the special women in our lives.
Millie Elizabeth Monroe McKeever
Contents
I. A Torch For Hannah
Chapter One: A Family Revelation
1881
Chapter Two: A Time to Reflect
1881
Chapter Three: Moving On
1881
Chapter Four: Reunion of Memories
1885
Chapter Five: The Truth Is Hard to Hear
1885
Chapter Six: Time for Change
1888
Chapter Seven: The Hope to Carry On
1890
Chapter Eight: Letter from California
1891
Chapter Nine: Father and Son
1892
Chapter Ten: Time to Panic?
1893
Chapter Eleven: A Crash of a Different Kind
1893
II. Keep the Vision
Chapter Twelve: How to Begin Again
1894
Chapter Thirteen: A Name from the Past
1894
Chapter Fourteen: A New Family, A New Era
1896
Chapter Fifteen: Reflection
1897
Chapter Sixteen: What Happened to My Son?
1897
Chapter Seventeen: Time to Speak
1898
Chapter Eighteen: Heart Unbroken Is Broken
1899
Chapter Nineteen: A New Term for Hope
1901
Chapter Twenty: Made it on His Own
1905
Chapter Twenty-one: Memories on a Train
1906
Chapter Twenty-two: Can Chocolate Mend a Heart?
1906
Chapter Twenty-three: Her Family’s Coming Home
1906
Chapter Twenty-four: Hell’s Inferno
1906
III. Stay the Course
Chapter Twenty-five: An Era of Surprises
1909
Chapter Twenty-six: Tragedy Brings Hope
1912
Chapter Twenty-seven: The Year for Rejuvenation
1913
Chapter Twenty-eight: Family Ties That Won’t Bind
1914
Chapter Twenty-nine: Heavy Cost of Recruitment
1915
Chapter Thirty: Is the Yoke too Heavy?
1916
IV. The War Years
Chapter Thirty-One: Not Teddy
1917
Chapter Thirty-Two: War at Home is Hell
1918
Chapter Thirty-Three: Time to Come Home
1918
V. Change in Sight
Chapter Thirty-Four: Blessings from Above
1919
Chapter Thirty-Five: Changing Times
1920
Chapter Thirty-Six: Hannah Gets to Vote
1920
Timeline of Events
About the Author
LIZZY
THROUGH TRAGEDY SHE FOUND TRIUMPH
A woman’s search for equality is ignited by a diary. The words from a great-grandmother launch her into a quest to make right what her female ancestors considered wrong and unjust. Many women fought hard for the freedom of representation; this woman gave up much more than most, and yet through it all, she was triumphant. The third novel in the Monroe series follows Lizzy and her family from a day of mourning to a day of jubilation.
Questions to be answered throughout the novel: How much can she endure to honor her great-grandmother’s plea? Only Lizzy will be able to answer the second question: Was it all worth it?
MILLIE ELIZABETH MONROE MCKEEVER (LIZZY)
Thrown into womanhood at the early age of nine, she takes on the role of mother to a house full of men. Always working for a cause, from the Underground Railroad to her future endeavors, Lizzy never lets anything slow her from achieving what the Monroe women stand for. Now, Lizzy accepts a dear relative’s calling found in the words written in a diary discovered deep inside a cedar chest. Most would call it an insurmountable challenge, but Lizzy will not give up. She will follow her family and her family will follow her, but at what cost?
MARTIN MCKEEVER
To fall in love with Lizzy Monroe meant to follow Lizzy Monroe. Martin’s desire to follow his own dreams has been supported by his loving wife. In the long run, how much pain will she be able to endure?
GREAT-GRANDMOTHER HANNAH MONROE
A woman for all women. A few centuries ahead of her time, but she is determined to see it to the very end, even if it’s through the heart and stamina of her great-granddaughter. She places her faith in the bottom of a hope chest where she prays that a Monroe woman will someday find her writings. The words she writes inspire many, especially her great-granddaughter, but will her wish ever become a reality?
WILLIAM FESTER MCKEEVER
The eldest of Lizzy’s children. He begins as a loving child and matures to become like most men of that era, believing the place for women is in the kitchen and pregnant. Nothing could ever change the minds of these men and especially not his. Three thousand miles it will take to soften his skin, but in the end, his remorse and transformation may come too late.
CAROLINE WHITE MCKEEVER
A West Coast progressive, she joins in with the California cause for women’s rights just to be stamped out by a domineering and traditionalist husband. Reaching out for help, soon her two boys are reunited with their grandmother and her husband begins to yield. Dreams of joining her mother-in-law and her family on the East Coast come so close to reality. Unfortunately, Mother Nature has a different point of view. As she overcomes an emotional riptide, she becomes involved with her mother-in-law’s quest and ventures overseas to gain traction, only to find tragedy.
JAMES MCKEEVER
Always the second son, the smaller child. He is emancipated when his older brother goes west and his greatest desire is to follow in his father’s footsteps and to make him proud. They become partners until someone has a difference of opinion. Engaged to be married, James works endlessly to make a career that his fiancée and his father would be proud of, only to find out on a dim night that those plans may have to change.
MARY ELIZABETH MCKEEVER
Lizzy’s right-hand gal. Always the first to come and the last to go. Her dedication is always for “the cause” and her sacrifice is her own life which would never come, that of a wife and mother.
NELLIE ABIGAIL MCKEEVER MONROE
Whoa, Nellie. . . . Playing second to
her older and wiser sister, Nellie becomes Lizzy’s confidante, supporter, and at times, hugger. She raises a family that Lizzy couldn’t have been prouder of. Daughter and mother; destined to change the world. She would be the one to help Lizzy fulfill a promise made to a family member, even at a gut-wrenching cost that would fill a lake full of tears.
HENRY MONROE
A name from the past. A distant relative who, unbeknownst to anyone, reappears in the family tree as a husband and a loving father.
The eldest of Lizzy’s grandchildren, she will evolve into a loving wife who will follow her husband to the ends of the world. While she realizes the need to change her destiny, she knows of no other place but home. It is this home that is the setting for what may be the worst decision of her life.
BONNIE LOUISE MONROE
Second in line to her older sister, Hannah, Bonnie is stubborn. She lives for the times at hand no matter what others may think. But in the end, she is all about family and it is her firm hand that helps change history.
THEODORE ALLAN MONROE
Adventurous, cantankerous and a boy eager to become a man, he makes his father proud by enlisting and may live to see his own generation carry on the Monroe name.
NANCY LEE MONROE
The youngest of the Monroe clan. She’d just as soon give up her life for any cause. She maintains her belief that her grandmother’s cause was just the beginning, and her cause is yet to be determined. Too young to vote, she won’t be denied the right to be by her mother’s side and on the side of all women.
ADELINE FOSTER
A child when her father tragically leaves her. A young woman when she is accepted into the Monroe family. A Monroe when she lovingly finds a family which she accepts as her own.
TEDDY ROOSEVELT
A bully of a soldier, a progressive as a president, but more so, a true friend when he is really needed. Lizzy’s relationship with him grows close as does their trust in each other. To her children, he is Uncle Teddy, but to Lizzy he is just TR.
EDITH GALT WILSON
A family friend, confidante and pseudo sister, she becomes just as much a part of the family as if she carried their own blood in her. By their side through tragedy after tragedy, it is fate that will eventually place her in the role as a president’s wife. What better place to help Lizzy put her final stamp into her Hannah’s request?
I
A TORCH FOR HANNAH
CHAPTER ONE
A Family Revelation
1881
It was dark and damp and smelled of mold. What inspired her to open the cedar chest in the first place was beyond her, especially so soon after the services. Nevertheless, there she sat, the top of the chest open, a mass of papers scattered about. She held tightly to an old book in one hand and a tear-soaked handkerchief in the other.
The morning had been icy cold and frosty white with snow. It had taken the groundskeepers longer than expected due to the hardness of the frozen ground, but what she had dreaded had finally come and now, thankfully, it was behind her. She had not looked forward to the funeral because she knew she’d fall apart. It was something loved ones did, she had endlessly told herself. She remembered the hole in the ground, the large redwood box sitting on a pair of poles anchored to two long leather straps that were caked in mud. She could still see the family name engraved in the top of the dark reddish sarcophagus but what she cherished the most was the memory of the three red roses that she had placed on the top of the casket.
Now, just a few hours since laying her father in his final resting spot, she was looking through another large box of her own. This wooden box was made of cedar and it held what most people would call important papers, yet she wondered why, with him now dead and buried, the papers meant nothing. To her it was a collection of a life now gone. Still, something captivated her. A name. A woman’s name. She stared at its cover. A voice rang out yet no one was with her. You’re hearing things, girl. This thing doesn’t talk . . . or does it? she snickered.
For Millie Elizabeth Monroe McKeever, it was a book that she’d found deep within the depths of the cedar chest that intrigued her to carry on with her search. Its owner’s name had been etched on the front:
HANNAH
Lizzy had never heard much of her great-grandmother. Her father rarely spoke of her. Maybe it was because she was a woman or maybe it was because her father only spoke of his grandfather and Lizzy’s great-grandfather, Jacob Monroe. It may not have been the time or place to speak of women. In most cases, they were considered inferior, the nurturing ones, the caregivers. It was a man’s world then and it is a man’s world now. Lizzy’s thoughts of all the what-ifs only enraged her about the times she lived in. She knew it; didn’t agree with it, but knew it. That’s what captivated her about the book she now held firmly and by the first sentence she read:
Who really wrote the Constitution? A woman did.
She paused in shock and lovingly remembered the old portrait of her great-grandfather secured firmly above her mantel. It was just one of the two gifts given to her by her father; the other one was the cedar chest she now sat next to. She could smell the chest’s aroma of sweet cedar overshadowed by the dull scent of mold and mothballs. Lizzy thought back to the days of old. Over a hundred years to the day, according to the words she’d just read from her great-grandmother Hannah. To the best of her knowledge, the words from her great-grandmother were written sometime between the late 1700s to the 1820s.
There’s so much I want to know and now I have no one to ask.
An oncoming storm soon darkened the sky and made it difficult for Lizzy to read. She held a burning candle up close as she turned to the next page; what she read made her heart skip. With her hands shaking, she caressed the pages as if they were fine silk. The only sound in the room was the pitting of raindrops on the roof and the slight crackle from the candle.
She blinked hard to focus and began to read.
To my dearest Great-Granddaughters: It is my dearest hope that you are reading this. We have never met, yet it is my desire that through this diary you will come to not only know me as your great-grandmother, but me as a woman. I am still grieving a woman who was so very dear to me, a woman that you will no doubt read about in your history books. Abigail Adams was not only a mentor and a leader of women, she was a friend. She took me in when I was alone. She nurtured me when I had no one else. But, most importantly, she taught me that women have a place in society beyond knitting and cooking for our menfolk. She taught me that we, as women, have a voice of reason and when spoken wisely, we also have a voice in the business and welfare of our great nation. Though she passed a few years ago, I write to you today because of my own preparation for my upcoming visitors. I should rather say a reunion of sorts.
Yes, some men are arriving soon, the very men who will go down in your same history books as the men who bore this country of ours. Yet, I know of one, James Madison, who would attest to the fact that I, Hannah Adams Monroe, had sole responsibility and foreknowledge regarding the conception and organizational fortitude about how our nation’s Constitution was truly written. Thomas Jefferson, another one of our esteemed visitors will also admit that it was my own inspiration that helped him draft the original Declaration of Independence.
Though, my beautiful daughters of the Monroe family, I don’t want you to dwell on society’s inability to give acknowledgement where acknowledgement is due. What I want you to do and the quest I want you to make in your life is to never give up on the ideals, the values, and the moral aptitude that can only come from the voice and resilience of women.
Abigail Adams tried her best to bring about the rights of all women to vote. I write this now in the year 1820 to tell you that it has yet to happen. God forgive us all if it still has not happened by the time you are old enough to read this. I implore you that if that is true, and if women are still considered second class to the male race, then I not only request, but I expect my daug
hters of the Monroe family to carry on Abigail Adams’ flight and bring about the recognition and respect that is far overdue.
I will return to you once our guests have left. Between you and me, it will be fun to see them all again, but I’m not expecting much in the way of change. They and I are far too old now to make much of a difference. No, my wonderful daughters, that is something I will expect from you.
Lizzy closed the book slowly and rubbed the cover with the palm of her hand. She looked up to the window just to her left and narrowed her eyes in thought. Papa, why didn’t you tell me more? She was your grandmother, for Christ’s sake! She slowly placed her hand across the aged old leather of the cover and closed her eyes. She thought of the family she had, the father that loved her so and now, the family that depended on her to continue on.
The book, securely in her hands, attracted her like a magnet. Its words, now absorbed, were the compass pointing to where her destiny lay. These words from her ancestor had sent a distinct message that this book contained information more personal than she’d ever thought imaginable. As she sat there, hearing the familiar sounds of family in the house, she could also feel the deep drawn sounds of voices from heaven:
This book is written for you and only you!
* * * *
The sounds of children laughing broke Lizzy from her thoughts. She stood, lifted the lid to the cedar chest and placed the book back in, then closed the top with a click of the latch.
Frozen in her thoughts, she glided across the room and over to the window. Through the rain-splattered glass, Lizzy looked down at her family, all nestled under the cover of the back porch. Thoughts were spinning in her mind from what she’d just discovered. Her great-grandmother’s words were almost audible, as though they had actually been spoken. She shook her head and blinked hard to make out the faces that, on any other given day, would have been all too familiar to her.