Four-leafed Clover (by Nancy Allen)

Four-leafed Clover

Elizabeth pulled the massive volume off the shelf and sat down in a nearby chair. Dust particles floated in the air as she thumbed through the pages. She had awakened with an eerie feeling and a word echoing in her mind—“gluck.” She stared out the window at the grassy knoll beyond the Crape Myrtle bushes .Had she ever heard that word before? Why was it in her head? What did it mean? Turning to the gs, Elizabeth saw something tucked in the fold of the book—pressed, crisp, green. She held the pages down and opened the book wide. It was a four-leafed clover. Someone had placed it there years before—but who?

            As she examined the clover, Elizabeth began singing the song she’d been practicing for her high school choir. She wasn’t sure if she would take choir next semester. Somehow, she felt her voice was not good enough. Reaching the high notes had been a stretch and practice was a bore. As she sat thinking, her grandfather walked into the room.

            “Grandpa, look what I found,” she said bringing the clover on her palm for him to examine.

            “Yah, yah, you’re a lucky girl,” he said.

            “Why? How can a clover make you lucky?” Elizabeth asked. 

            “I’m not all that sure it does make you lucky, but my mother swore by them. She said my grandmother collected them and this dictionary was hers. I’ll just bet she saved that clover. She died in 1930—had a voice like a Nightingale—sang opera and made records too.”

            “What did she sing?”

            “She sang professionally for awhile. My mother said she earned a hundred thousand dollars in royalties one year.

            “That’s a lot of money. Why haven’t I ever heard of her?” Elizabeth asked.

            “I don’t know. We don’t talk much about our ancestors. I just never thought to tell you about her, but you do remind me of her. You have her eyes. Mother used to have some of her old records,” he said as he began fumbling with the hasp on the trunk.

            “Here, let me help,” Elizabeth said.

            Lucky for them the old Victrolla still stood in a prominent place in grandpa’s living room. Soon they were listening to a voice from their past.

            Elizabeth began to read the label—Renate Gluck.

            “That’s the name I heard in my head this morning,” she said.

            “Heard in your head? What kind of nonsense is that?

“I can’t explain it. I just woke up thinking “Gluck.” That’s why I was looking up the word and that’s when I found the four-leafed clover.”

“Renate Gluck was my grandmother’s stage name. Her parents brought her to America from Germany to escape the war. Gluck means luck and she was blessed.”

            “Well, it’s my good luck today,” Elizabeth said. “Maybe some of her luck will spill over onto me and I’ll get the solo part for the spring concert.

            “You’re not as good as she was yet, but keep practicing. You’ll get there,” her grandpa said.

            “Is it all right for me to keep this four-leafed clover?” Elizabeth asked.

            “Yes, yes, kept it. Put it in your music book to remind you of your heritage. I’m sure she’d want you to have it.”

            “Thanks, grandpa. This is my luckiest day ever,” said Elizabeth as she gave her grandfather a hug.