The story behind the story

 

Isabel Woods Edwards was born in St. Louis in 1865 and died of tuberculosis in 1897 after nursing her mother and her mother-in-law as they each succumbed to the same plague. Isabel was married to Ben Edwards, the first of the “sons” in A.G. Edwards and Sons, the investment firm started by his father. Isabel was the mother of Albert. Her other children died in infancy and she died when Albert was three. My mother-in-law was Albert’s daughter and she is the person who gave me a set of letters written by Ben to Isabel in 1887 before they were courting describing his observations on a train journey from St. Louis to San Francisco and back. Isabel kept these and a few other letters which are rich in details about trains and banks and churches but devoid of emotion and with scant if any interest in what she may have been doing. My mother-in-law knew Ben (she called him Grandfather Edwards) and Flora, Isabel’s younger sister who married Ben soon after Isabel died and who raised little Albert along with her own children. The stories she told about Ben combined with how the letters provide a window to his mind and heart make me think that he would have been diagnosed on the Autism Spectrum had he lived today. In addition to the letters, I own a dresser that was Isabel’s and the little spun silver purse described in the book.

I wanted the story to function as Isabel’s last week choreographed. As she fades further and further into the world of stories and in the certainty that her death was imminent, she faced death with dignity and grace knowing her future lay with her Savior. Her only fear was that Albert would grow up in a world without stories. I layered the stories of the family’s past into the week’s news. I envisioned Ben, always concerned for his health, visiting Isabel’s bedroom doorway each morning before he left to work at the bank. I spent time in the newspaper archives hunting for news about banks, trains and churches from the last week of Isabel’s life. Ben reported the news to Isabel in the doorway. Flora and Albert also visited from the hallway. Only Lizzie, the African American maid, Isabel’s brother, Matt, and Dr. Barker ever entered the room. After Ben left, Isabel recalled, reread and reflected on passages from Ben’s actual letters that happened on the same day of the week. Monday’s news reflected letters written on a Monday, for example. Isabel died on a Sunday. “Safe in the Arms of Jesus” is inscribed on her tombstone in Bellefontaine Cemetery in St. Louis – the photograph on the book’s cover.

Whenever I work in fiction, my goal is to juxtapose dysfunctional families with authentic faith and to continue to explore an academic interest of mine in the history of race in America. I work with four main values. I want to demonstrate honor for every person involved even when they act in ways that are troublesome. I want to redeem the lost stories that did not make the typical American historical canon. I want the story itself to be a transformative experience for the characters, for myself, and for the readers, and I want the story to diffuse wisdom. I hope that my readers will find that I begin to succeed in these goals.

By Lesley Barker c. 2025