The Feud Worth Forgetting: Part Eleven

“I remembered something.” Said Juliet, standing in the hall door, her mousy brown hair was just starting to grow back in. The ugly scar from the brain surgery was still visible through the spiky follicles. The Chemo might have stolen her hair but it was the surgery to remove the tumor that had left her a past-less and almost lifeless shell for the past four months.

“What do you remember, Honey?” asked her husband.

“It came back slowly at first. It might have almost been a dream,” she angled the recliner toward the couch and sat down. “It was at night. No it was afternoon but there was a terrible thunder storm. I kept starring at my reflection in this glass door watching the rain pour down outside. And I had a canvas, a painting I had done. That one actually.” She pointed above Joel’s head to a pointillism of an old wooden fence in a field of wheat.

“Then you came in the door Jerry. And you asked if I was waiting for a ride. I said ‘no, just waiting for the rain to stop so I could walk home.’ Then you said that I would have a long wait and that you were early anyway and you could give me ride if I was willing. Then I said that I shouldn’t ride with strange men and besides the rain would ruin my painting before I could make it to the car.” Juliet stopped her narrative and rubbed her temples as if trying to coax the memory back to the surface.

Her husband picked it up where she had left off. “Then I said my name is Jerry and I work in the library. And grabbed large garbage bags from the janitors closet and we wrapped the painting in then and I drove you home.”

“Yes that’s it exactly.” She stood up from her seat. And squeezed in between her son and her husband on the couch.

“You remembered the day we first met.”

“and I think I remember when Joel was born.” She reached out and wrapped her arms around her son. “And I remember that I love you so much.”

“I love you too mom.” Tears were beginning to pool in Joel’s eyes.

Her husband embraced his family with tears running down his cheeks. “It’s good to have you back honey.” He said.

“It’s good to be back. Do you still have my painting supplies? I think I’d like to start painting again.”

“It’s all right where you left it sweetheart. I am glad you’re getting your past back.”

“No not the past. My future. I got my future back.”

 

©  This story and subsequent parts are my own original idea and are protected under United States copy right law.

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The Feud Worth Forgetting: Part Ten

The girls, Harriet and Carla, pulled into the tree shrouded driveway and immediately sensed a grim stillness. They got down from the pickup which now seemed too high. They approached the house via an ever lengthening walkway to the front door.

The screen door squeaked open on it’s hinges. The sisters looked up to see their father placing two suitcases in the front hallway. “Your mother and I are going to Tennessee for a few days. If you’re coming you should probably get packed”

“Grandma?” was all Harriet could say.

Their father nodded and Carla took off to her room to start packing. Harriet was about to follow her twins example when the sound of heavy sobbing came out of her parents room. She pushed the door open and saw her Mom sitting on the bed crying into a wad of tissues. A cell phone was on the bed beside her. Harriet rushed in and wrapped her arms around her mothers shoulders.

“She didn’t even wait for me to say goodbye. Why? First she’s in the Hospital and now she’s gone. Why couldn’t she wait for me to get there?”

“Oh mom. It probably wasn’t her choice.”

Dad was standing in the door way listening, “I’ll go tell Carla that there’s no hurry now.,” he said and walked away.

“I just wish so much knowledge hadn’t died with her.” Mom said wiping her eyes again. “She was trying to find the truth in some of my Grandma’s old stories. At one time she had this great big book of Family History and your grandma had it traced almost back to the Revolutionary War.”

“What happened to it?”

It wasn’t Harriet who asked this.

Looking up from her tear soaked tissue pulp mom saw Carla standing in the doorway, her father’s arm resting on her shoulders. “I can’t really say. Mom must have found something bad in her research. Because she came home and burned it all. She said, ‘Alison remember, some things were meant to be forgotten.’ And then she threw what looked like an old diary into the flames after her family research book.”

“Wow.” Was all either of the girls could think of to say.

“I wish I could remember my Grandmas stories. I should have written them down.” Carla came in and joined her mother and sister on the bed. The closeness of her children started another round of tears in Alison daughter of Carolina Gellervice. “If I had only taken more of an interest in her research. Maybe I could have stopped her from burning our Family history.”

Dad finally entered the room. “Not if she was right.” He stood his wife up and held her in his embrace. “Maybe some things should be forgotten.”

©  This story and subsequent parts are my own original idea and are protected under United States copy right law.

The Feud Worth Forgetting: Part Nine

Joel Richter slammed his car door. Then he slammed the house door.  “Your mother is sleeping.” His fathers voice hissed from the living room loud enough to compete with the blaring TV set.

Joel entered to the same sight that he entered to everyday. His Father, sitting in front of the TV, history channel on and a stack of papers to grade on the coffee table in front of him.

“Sorry.” Joel said taking a seat on the couch.

“So what’s eating you kid?” his dad asked.

“Just this jerk that cut right in front of me off road five. If I hadn’t been slowing down to turn we would have wrecked.”

“But you didn’t. That’s what I’ve been always telling you. You watch out for yourself. As long as you aren’t at fault the other guys insurance will cover it.”

“It was weird. I had the right of way but this truck it was like the driver couldn’t even see me. It was stopped. Stopped like it was going to let me go but then she just pulled out in front of me. Slowly, as if the intersection was empty, in no big hurry.”

“It figures. There are a lot of Crazy Drivers. You’ve got to watch out for them.”

“I know Dad,” Joel said. He stared at the TV and then decided that it would be better to change the subject, “So have you made any progress on your book?”

“No,” his father said placing the paper he had been reading back down on top of the pile. “I gave up. This morning I deleted everything from my computer and I threw away the rest of it.”

Joel looked at his father with a look of horror. “What, Why, How could you do that?”

“Because your mom was right. If the story isn’t true then there’s nothing to find except a pile of historical anecdotes and bizarre coincidences.” His Father paused and took a deep breath, “and if the story is true then it’s not for us to find out about.”

©  This story and subsequent parts are my own original idea and are protected under United States copy right law.

The Feud Worth Forgetting: Part Eight

OK the story is starting to wind down now. No more time jumps and not too many new characters.

*  *  *

Harriett’s hair whipped in the wind as she drove with her window down. She looked over to her twin sister in the passenger seat, “Hey why don’t you put in that CD you bought today?”

“ OK,” Carla said enthusiastically. Her enthusiasm waned as she struggled to free the CD from its cellophane prison. Carla eventually used the knife from the glove box.

As the music began playing through the speakers the girls pulled up to a stop sign. Harriett, sitting high in the ford pick up, looked first left then right and then left again before she pulled forward to cross the intersection. Suddenly there was a screech of tires and a blaring horn coming from the passenger side. There out the window was a Black compact car. “Oh My God! Where did that car come from?” Harriet shouted as she continued to drive through the intersection.

“I can’t believe you would just pull out in front of that car.” Carla said.

“I didn’t see him there. He wasn’t there. No one could have been, I looked twice before I pulled out.”

“I’m driving next time,” Carla crossed her arms and leaned back in her seat. The revving of an engine made her turn. “He’s back,” she said.

Both girls watched as the black compact sped past them.

“Did you see him that time?” Carla taunted.

“If you saw him in that intersection, why didn’t you say anything?”

Carla opened her mouth. Then closed it right away. She had no answer.

“I thought so,” Harriet said getting the last word.

The obvious answer that eluded Carla in that moment was that being sisters meant that she too was a descendant of Job Gellervice and of course saw the same nothing that her sister did.

©  This story and subsequent parts are my own original idea and are protected under United States copy right law.