Last week I started a new adventure in Fiction writing.You can find the first post here.
Part 2
A week later my arrangements were made and I drove the kids out to my mother’s house. She lived in a two story farm house with a large wrap around porch on several acres of land. I could see the beginnings of spring making their appearance as I turned onto the gravel road that would take us to the house.
When we pulled up, my mother was standing on the front porch with her two chocolate labs. Emmy turned to look at me, her eyes full of questions and fears. “It will be ok sweet girl. You worry too much!” I tousled her brown hair and looked into her dark brown eyes, the same dark brown as mine. She gave me an unconvincing smile, opened the door, and got out of the car. I watched her pull down and straighten her shirt, reach back into the car for her small bag, and start walking toward my mother. She was so grown up.
I tried to wake the twins, but they were both sleeping solidly, so one by one I carried them into the house, up the flight of stairs just inside the front door, and into the “purple room” as we called it, because it was purple. Mom still had the same twin beds that had been in that room my entire life. Probably her entire life too, since this had also been her childhood home.
After both twins were settled, the bags were in, and Emmy was helping herself to some of Mom’s homemade cookies, I pulled my mother into the foyer.
“None of them know anything,” I whispered. “Nothing at all.” I hadn’t told my mother all of the details, but enough so that she wouldn’t blow my cover by calling Lila’s house with the kids.
“I wish you would tell me what is going on,” she pressed.
“Mother, we’ve been through this before. I can’t tell you. Just trust me that it’s in your best interest not to know anything right now. Right now you need to act normal and keep a close eye on Emmy. She is suspicious, and the last thing I need is for her to get vibes from you that something is wrong,” I practically hissed.
Emmy walked into the room and offered me a cookie. “Thanks sugar bear.”
I gave her a big hug and kissed her on the top of the head. “Now remember what we talked about. This is only for a few days. I will be back to get you on Sunday evening. Keep the twins in line and help your grandma.”
She looked at me solemnly and nodded, tears welling up in her eyes. I kissed her on each cheek, hugged her once more, and stepped out into the still frigid air. The dogs accompanied to my car door and chased the car as I made my way down the long drive. I glanced back once and saw a terrified looking Emmy standing on the porch, clinging on to my mother.
I wiped away a tear and turned on the radio.
****
Just over four hours later I reached my destination. I looked at the sheet of paper to make sure I had the correct address. It seemed weird to need to use a GPS to get to his house.
I took in a deep breath, got out of the car, and walked up the cobblestone path through a very well manicured lawn. The brown brick house was large. It was one of about three floor plans in this neighborhood, and didn’t stand out from any other house. My stomach churned.
The door opened before I had a chance to knock or ring the doorbell.
“You’re late.” The words were coldly spoken.
I didn’t respond. I looked over the man who had once been such an important part of my life and noticed that he had aged significantly in the last five years. His line of work did that to people.
“Come in. We don’t have much time.” He moved back and allowed me to enter the house.
I looked suspiciously around, my heart racing in fear.
“Oh Addison. Relax. If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead by now.” He chuckled at his own joke, but I was no more at ease.
“Why did you contact me?” I asked coldly. “You were never to contact me again.”
He grunted. “They know it was you.”
My hand flew up and covered my mouth. I could almost feel the blood draining from my face. “Wh-what?” I stammered.
“They know it was you.” He repeated the words coldly but gave no further information. “Sit down before you fall down,” he instructed.
I did. I tried several times to form a question, but there were so many going through my mind, I was completely unable to ask anything. This was worse than I originally thought.
Not surprisingly, he let me struggle for several minutes before starting.
“I overheard a conversation between Reamer and Whitfield. They didn’t know I was still in the office. I heard them say your name. No one has mentioned you in over four years. There would be no reason for them to be discussing you unless they know.” He looked at me.
My mind was reeling. Suppressed memories flooded my entire being. People, places, and things I had hoped to never talk or think about again. And yet here I was, in my estranged uncle’s living room, being forced to open vaulted memories.
“You’re going to have to choose which way to proceed, like we talked about before. And you’re going to have to move quickly. I don’t know how much they know, but I am certain that they know you were involved. And it won’t be long before they come looking for you.”
“Are the children in danger?” I asked breathlessly.
“No. They would never go after them if you’re not with them. Too many questions would be asked. However, if you are all together and there is an opportunity to stage an accident, I would not put that past them.”
I took a deep breath, trying to calm the impending panic attack. I thought about Emmy. Her sweet face. Her even sweeter disposition. How could I choose to walk away from them? On the other hand, how could I ever choose to put them in danger?
“I can’t do this” I cried out.
“You don’t have a choice!” my uncle shouted at me. “You sealed your fate when you…” his voice trailed off. He looked frail.
My head ached as I recalled the events of that night. I put my face in my hands and sobbed.
Here is this weeks prompt:
Our metaphorical spring is coming ever closer although things / conditions are still mostly dormant. The theme this week is: Recovery. The “ice” has thawed a bit, revealing your character’s recovery of a memory; or s/he has recovered (this is not sought, it just appears, like a plant poking through the hard, cold earth) something that was once lost; or experiences an old habit in a new way? Better? Good? You decide. Oh: mostly dialogue.
Check out the other bloggers participating in this challenge:
Clearly Krystal
World’s Worst Mom
Susanne’s World
Grass Oil by Molly Field
Quirky Chrissy
DeBie Hive
Bulamamani
It’s A Dome Life
Near Genius
The Suds Box
katbiggie
Freelance writer at Kat Biggie Press
Alexa B, who blogs as "Kat Biggie" is a wife, mother, and writer. She has three children and one in heaven. She recently self published a book entitled "Sunshine After the Storm: A Survival Guide for the Grieving Mother" which is available on Amazon. She blogs about life after the loss of one of her twin daughters to TTTS, motherhood, all things parenting, advocacy, grief support and social good.
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Michelle Mossey says
July 13, 2013 at 12:39 amOh no! What did she witness? She’s going to leave her kids to protect them, isn’t she? Gah! I can’t read anymore! Yes! No! Yes! No!
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