The first thing I notice right of the bat, written in first person. This may be the last story I wrote that way. I discovered that I didn't like being limited to the one person point of view. In one of my later rewrites toward the end there was a plot point where my character was not present but I really wanted the story in there so it was a retelling of events. Didn't work very well.
ONE
The car came to a slow stop, the tires crunching into
the gravel beneath. My eyes were closed and I wasn’t ready to open them. I had
closed them the moment I sat down in the rear passenger seat. I hadn’t slept;
at least I don’t think I did, though the ride had seemed really short. I was
tired. I hadn’t slept much at all in the last 48 hours. That’s all the time it
took to turn my life upside down. I kept my eyes closed to put off finding out
whether the change was for better or worse. Keeping my eyes downcast I opened
the door and stepped out. The first thing to notice, I wasn’t standing on
typical gravel. The crunching of the tires had not been on your every day
ordinary rocky pebbles. Rather, it was white rock, granite maybe. I took a deep
breath and raised my gaze. Instantaneously my mouth dropped open. In all my
life I had never seen anything like it. It was huge, it was beyond huge. I
heard the door on the other side of the car open and close snapping me out of
my reverie. I quickly closed my mouth to hide my amazement. I wondered if he
heard the click of my teeth as they closed a little more forcefully than I had
intended. I didn’t want to give anything away.
He came and stood next to me. I took a step forward
to hide my face from him. I wanted to take a look around at the grounds, but my
eyes were glued to the structure before me. Buckingham Palace,
eat your heart out. (I find this sentence embarrassing now. I couldn't even pick Buckingham Palace out of a line up. Really. Sigh.) It seemed like one of those castles in a fairy tale. It
looked old but not in a bad way. There was a sophisticated class to it, yet I
wouldn’t think it uppity. In fact there seemed something very homey and
welcoming. I got a very strange feeling standing there that this building had
more life in it than I could ever imagine or had ever experienced. I was amazed
by its beauty, attracted to its sense of mystery, yet even more I felt
comforted by its strength. Again the man broke through my reverie.
“They call her ‘The Giant’. She’s been here as long
as we have history of the island. No one knows the exact date she came into
being. We have some documentation of improvements made. At one time she would
have been considered a castle of old but she’s had a lot of construction
through the years. This structure is reportedly much larger than the original.”
Something
from deep inside me stirred and I wondered what it would have been like to grow
up in this house. I was sure that hundreds of children could play hide and seek
in it and it would still be a challenge. I smiled at the thought but quickly
remembered that I had not grown up here and it was not my home. I finally took
a look around. We stood at the end of the driveway next to a side entrance into
the Giant. Looking over I saw that the main entrance was preceded by a circular
driveway with a lush nature pond with a waterfall in the middle. I peered at
the pond. Was that a real frog sitting there? Yes, yes it was. (That repeated yes, yes was a rewrite. The attitude there wasn't around when I was in school. Kind of like how Grey's Anatomy made "Seriously" a thing.) The amphibian
hopped into the water. I had grown up in what would be considered a lower
middle class neighborhood. The structures themselves were not in bad condition,
but their upkeep was an entirely different story. The neighborhood I had spent
my teens in was brick and concrete. I had never in my life seen such a
landscape as this. Well, there were a few television shows that had given me
that vicarious taste but I had been certain that they were complete fiction
until now. As far as I had been concerned, the greener side of the fence was
fantasy. Somehow I had wound up in a fairy tale, demented fairy tale that I was
sure it would become, I was still in wonderland. “Call me Alice.”
“Pardon
me?”
“Can we
look around?” I asked as uninterested as I could possibly make myself sound.
Instead
of going through the building we trekked around the side. On this side of the
building was a stretching field of grass. Spaced about even in the middle was a
square garden. I noticed there were walkways through it and benches to sit on.
I could smell the fragrance radiating from it. I took a deep breath. Roses? (Rewrite, rose garden based off of the cool rose garden at CSI that Charlotte and I used to roller blade around on campus) I
hadn’t smelled many in my life. I took a few steps out of our path to get
closer. Yes, those were roses. Wow. I had never seen so many assortments of
colors. I thought roses came in red, white, and pale pink. Apparently they had
a few other varieties. I fell quickly back into step. I didn’t want him
thinking I was interested or impressed. I bit my teeth together as hard as I
could when we rounded the building to the back. My jaw was threatening to drop
to the ground. I got a faint look at the ocean on the plane. It was my first
time seeing it and I won’t lie to you; being in a plane for the first time over
nothing but water is not so comforting. Yet I was amazed. There was so much
water. I’ve always felt rather small but never so much as to look out those
windows and not see a stitch of land anywhere.
Unlike me,
who had once again only visited the ocean vicariously through a television set,
the Giant had the entire ocean for its viewing pleasure. It was a little ways
off, no danger of it invading the back doorstep but I could make out the waves
lapping up onto the beach and slapping into the rocks where the fresh river
water emptied and mixed with the salty ocean water. I pulled my eyes away from
the waves. I wanted to walk over to them but they both scared and exhilarated
me. There was so much power there. I was sure it would crush me. I focused on
the immediate landscape. I followed the beach up to where it struck grass, then
the grass up to where it struck marble. Marble? There was a pool. Not too
shabby by the looks of it. There was a diving board at one end but there were
no numbers to indicate depth. I looked over to what I could see of the other
side of the house. We began to walk toward it. The river that I had spied
running into the ocean flowed very near this side of the Giant. (Okay, most of the description was a rewrite. I'm not a descriptive writer at all. I had a period when I was at ISU where I tried to do better. I must have gone through this then. Not that it's much better but believe me there was sad effort of descriptions the first time through.)
“This is
the larger of two main rivers on the island,” he informed me. I wondered if he
moonlighted as a tour guide. He did it so well. “Down the beach about a mile
the terrain turns into a large cliff side. The trail at the end of the property
leads to the tip of it looking over the crashing waves.”
Oh, he’s
so poetic. “Lovely, I’m sure.”
He didn’t
seem daunted. He might be a hard nut to crack. “The kitchen entrance is on this
side. We’ll enter there.”
Before
entering I leaned against the Giant and looked off toward the river and the cliff
side mountains that lay beyond it. How I would have loved to have taken walks
along that river and explored the mountain side. My thoughts again were
interrupted by the man who stood beside me. He was watching my every move.
Maybe I had gotten to him. Something told me that he didn't trust me very much,
not that I cared, I didn't even like him.
After
getting my attention he motioned to the door and I followed him in. When
picturing a kitchen I picture a medium size room with a stove, fridge and all
the essentials. This kitchen was unbelievable. It had all the
"essentials" that I think a kitchen should have but they were just the
beginning. This kitchen could easily be used for a cooking show. I knew a chef
who, when seeing this place, would have thought he had died and gone to chef
heaven. I shook my head at my sad inner display of cheesiness. I drug my
fingers lightly across the counter top. This kitchen was set up so that you
could cook for one or so you could cook for one hundred. It was huge, it was
beyond huge. Was everything about this place going to be large and
overwhelming? Maybe that was the wrong description. Surprisingly, I expected to
feel small and rather inept in a kitchen of this size but I didn't. I wasn’t
really at home in a kitchen. Inept really was a good word for my experience in
previous kitchens. Needless to say, I never did a whole lot of cooking. It was different
here; it seemed that this whole place had a sense of warmth that penetrated
throughout my whole body. I had never felt such pleasure at being in a room
before. I mean… it was the first time I felt at... no, that couldn't be it. I
just... it’s just strange.
I
followed the man through the kitchen into a hall. He paused and let me pass. It
was as if he were curious to which path I would take. I basically had three
choices. I could go straight and follow the path to wherever it may lead, I
could go up the staircase that was only a few steps from me, or there was the
way I came in. In truth there were more options than the three but I suspected
those three were the only ones that didn't lead to a dead end. (Remember that which way story I mentioned, the three paths had something to do with that story. In my mind it was a suggestion that there were three possible directions for the story to go but you'd only ever know the one you chose. Course that was only relayed in my mind. Okay, I just read the next paragraph. Apparently I wanted the reader to be in my head.)
From out
of nowhere a thought popped in my head. It was a story I had read not long
before and had forgotten not long after reading it. The hero, when starting his
adventure came to three doors. Above the doors was inscribed in gold lettering
the words, ‘One way leads to indescribable fortunes, one way leads to
unconditional happiness, but beware for one leads to tremendous pain and
sorrow.’ Needless to say, I stepped back and motioned for him to pass me.
"After you," I said with a sly grin. No way was I choosing between
the three.
He smiled
as if amused and then passed me and headed for the stairs. I followed like an
obedient little puppy, which frankly, was getting on my nerves. Who did this
guy think he was?
"There's
really no need to tour the entire building. That would take much more time than
we have granted." He sounded so thrilled that I was there, you'd think he
would rather pet a rattle snake than let me through the door. "The rooms
from the second floor up are all basically identical. There are two elevators,
one at the back of each hallway. Mandy's... Ms. Callway's
father had them installed many years ago and that seemed to be the only places
they would fit. They go clear to the top floor but only start from the
second."
"How
inconvenient" I interrupted. It got me a possibly dirty look but otherwise
was ignored. I was beginning to feel unloved. Oh well.
"Would
you like to see what one of the rooms look like?" He paused by a door
waiting for my answer.
I thought
for a moment, I had about given a smart alack remark but a better idea popped into
my head, probably the best one I’ve had in a long time. It would help to answer
some questions, plus it would drive this guy nuts. "Yeah," I paused
for slight effect, "her room."
His face
was completely blank and that bothered me a little. "Right this way."
He didn't even seem reluctant. I was fairly sure that he didn't like it either,
so I was happy or at least content.
"This is it," he said while turning the knob and
pushing the door open.
He let me
go in first but he fully intended to follow me. I couldn't have that so I
turned to face him, "I'd like to be alone, if you don't mind." Then I
closed the door and walked into the middle of the room without waiting for an
answer. I took a little time to
savor the look of annoyance on his face that I had seen just before the door
closed. After that, I took a good look around the room. The rooms in the Giant
were extremely large. I didn't even know why they called them rooms. This one
was more like an apartment. Mainly it was one big room with a small sectioning
wall separating out a small but efficient kitchen. I peaked in and found a very
respectably sized bathroom. I didn’t know they put pools in bathrooms. The
bedroom was split in two, much like a hotel room, except bigger and with a
homey feeling to it. There was a chair and a love seat, both facing a TV. In
the middle there was a coffee table and next to the chair was a lamp stand with
lamp.
By the
door there was a closet and next to the bed a dresser. I went to the dresser
and looked at the items on top. There was a jewelry box with probably millions
worth of jewelry in it. Not that I would know for sure but I knew it wasn't
fake and I knew it wasn't cheap. I picked up a few things and looked them over.
I gently placed them in their proper places. Next
to the jewelry box were three pictures. One was a younger version of the man
just beyond the door. I picked up all three pictures without taking my gaze
from the first and sat in the chair. I glanced up and flipped on the lamp then
I looked back at the first picture.
I hadn't
really had a chance to study the man. When he had met me at the airport I had
been wary of him. I spoke only when spoken to and kept a comfortable physical
distance from him. When we had gotten to the car I had purposely chosen to sit
in the back even though there were only the two of us; now seemed to be a safe
time to take a look. He was very attractive and even though he had aged a good
many years since this picture was taken, he had still remained attractive. He
had a strong jaw line, something I've always liked in a man but his face was
gentle. His eyes were a pale blue and though his hair was grey now, it had at
one time been a dark brown. Even at a young age he looked to be in control, the
kind that stuck to the rules but achieved whatever goal they were working on. I
think, had the circumstances been different, I would have liked him. I looked
at his picture one more time before setting it on the lamp stand. I couldn't
help but smile. It was apparent that he chose the correct occupation; he even
looked like a lawyer.
The next
picture was of three people, two girls and one guy. The girls, resembling each
other, were both blonde haired and blue eyed. They were both very beautiful and
judging by their eyes, which I often do, they weren't just beautiful on the
outside. Their smiles were genuine by the looks of them. I was somehow drawn to
the third, how could I not be? He was gorgeous. Black hair, blue eyes, bronze
tan, great muscle tone, he was practically perfect. Even in this small of a
picture his eyes seemed to catch yours and hold them captive. He had the same
look as what I assumed were his sisters but it seemed to almost intensify. I
couldn't help but feel attracted to him. "Great, I'm attracted to a
picture. Hey, you'll keep me warm at night wont you?" I laughed and set
the picture aside. My laughter turned to physical sickness when my eyes set on
the third picture. I didn't know why I was surprised to see it. This picture
contained the reason I was here.
Milly
Callway, she was probably only in her late thirties when the picture had been
taken. She was the main reason for the most miserable days of my life and she
was only a picture. Sure she had existed but I had never met her. She was my
great grandmother and apparently she most certainly was indeed great or at
least that's what I was told every day of my life until I turned thirteen.
Every
time I had ever made the slightest mistake, I heard all about how great my
great grandmother was. How pure and kind she was and how she would never do
anything like that. I didn't deserve to be her kin, let alone the dirt she
walked on. A copy of this picture had hung high on the wall so that no matter
where you stood, she was looking down on you. That woman helped make me what I
am today, ironic that I would now be sitting in her beloved sister’s room when
she would have wanted me nowhere near the place.
Irony,
basically I love it, it’s a lot of fun. I'm just not so sure what it’s up to
this time. One day I'm minding my own business shooting pool with a couple of
acquaintances and the next I'm sitting in a quite comfortable chair in a
virtual palace. I hadn't believed the private investigator when he first
approached me at Jimmy's bar. I had
almost been afraid that he was sent by my mother but he soon convinced me that
he was in no way associated with mother dear. Somehow he convinced me to get on
a jet and fly here. Paul had met me at
the airport and informed me that he was Mandy Callway's lawyer and while I was
on the island, I was under his control. I wasn't impressed; if not for
overwhelming curiosity I would have told them both to stick it. We all know
what happened to that poor curious cat.
"Connor,"
Paul said from the doorway. I hadn't
even heard the door open. "It’s time to go."
I set the
pictures where I had found them and walked to the doorway. "Go where, Paul? I thought this would be my new home."
"It's
not quite that simple," he replied. I saw his eyes dart to the jewelry box
and I wondered if he was checking to see if I had stolen anything. "There
are conditions in the will that you will have to meet before you get
anything."
"What
kind of conditions?" I asked suspiciously, just a little nervous about the
answer. I didn't like where this was going.
"We'll
discuss all of that at my home. I have a copy of the will that you can look
over then I'll answer any questions that you might have." He closed the
door behind us and began walking to the front of the Giant. We walked down the
front stairs and out the front door. I was surprised to find, that in what
looked to be some sort of lobby, there stood a large circular fountain. No
water flowed through it but it was rather beautiful. I thought it a shame that
it had been turned off.
Paul turned out to be one of the only few close neighbors
to the Giant. I suppose he lived that close to Mandy to ensure that she had
everything that she needed. From what I could tell, they had been very good
friends. Possibly they had been romantically involved at one time, though Paul was a good ten years younger than Mandy.
We were
greeted at the front door by a very cheerful lady that turned out to be Paul's wife. I liked her immediately, which made me
wary. I couldn't afford to start liking these people. It was not worth the pain
that comes with those emotions. I was not going to allow them or anyone to hurt
me in the name of love again. No one was worth that.
"You
must be Connor. It's so nice to finally meet you. We've been looking forward to
it for some time now. Take a seat. I've got stew on the stove that will be
ready in a few minutes. Afterwards you can rest in the bedroom I've made up for
you. You must be tired after your long trip." She walked out of the room,
into what I guessed was the kitchen, before I could say a word in response.
I shook
my head and hid the smile that threatened to rise. Turning to Paul I put on my most serious face. "Before we
do any of that, I would like to read that will." He nodded and showed me
to the den. He opened a filing cabinet and brought out a folder which he handed
to me. I sat down in one of the chairs facing his desk and he sat in his chair
facing me. "Here goes nothing,” I said as I began to read.
The will
was set up like I expected any other to be. This was so bizarre. I checked
around the room for hidden cameras. Maybe I was on some psychotic new reality
show. On one part of the document there was listed a bunch of names, most I
figured to be family, with a few friends including Paul
and his wife. The will itself looked perfectly normal, except the part that
said that she 'hereby leave the remainder of her estate to Connor Lane.' That was strange. Why? Why
would she leave everything to someone she had never met and probably would
never want to meet. My question was soon answered when reading further. It was
a matter of control. They wanted to control me. The conditions in which I had
to meet to inherit it all were unbelievable. Had I not been reading it myself,
I would never have believed it.
First of
all, I got nothing until Paul found me
to be responsible, moral, and fit to run her estate with the help of a lawyer
of Paul's choice. Until I was found to
be all those things I would remain with Paul
and his wife Missy, under their guardianship. This scared me a little, I was
still technically a minor and my mother had legal
right over me. If I did something wrong these people could send me back to her. I would rather die.
Her next
request showed her obvious lack of trust when it came to me. Even after the
estate would turn over to me, none of the original money I would inherit could
be used in the United States.
Any interest I made on the money after acquiring it could, but if a cent of the
original money was spent there I would lose it all. I didn't quite understand
her reasoning in all of that, unless it was her way of making sure that I
stayed on the island.
Her next
condition wasn't too surprising. If any of the laws on the island were broken I
would pay by the standards of their laws and then I would lose everything. In
accordance to that, I was to read and memorize all existing laws that applied
to the island.
The next
was quite bizarre. Not only was she a control freak, it turned out she was
insane too. It stated that if I were to ever become pregnant outside of marriage,
I was to be kept on the island until the baby was born and then I would lose
everything, including my baby. I was to never see the child again, unless the
child chose to do so when becoming an adult. What kind of a person would do
that? How could they do that? What about the mother’s rights and all of that?
As if
reading my thoughts, Paul answered my
question. "This is a private island. It is tied to no country and has a
legal system of its own. It's set up with the same basic structure as the U.S. but has
different punishments and rules than those of the United States. For instance, adultery is a crime here."
"You’re
kidding me." I was stunned. Not that I thought it was a bad idea, I just
didn't realize you could do that. "What's the punishment for that?"
"Immediate
exportation,” he answered. “They will never be allowed to return to the island.
In some cases their homes here become property of the island." His face
was totally serious or otherwise I would have thought he was trying to put one
over on me.
"How
can you do that? Aren't most of the people on the island U.S. citizens?
Doesn't our government object to that?"
"They
probably would except to live on this island you must sign an agreement stating
that you agree to the laws and their consequences. You will have to do the same
if you stay. However no, most families on the island have descended down
through the ages. This island was populated a lot like the United States
in that it’s a type of melting pot but enough time has passed that most
islanders are considered natives rather than foreigners."
I didn't
know if I would sign that agreement or not. It would be like signing away your
life and everything in it. I'd rather make a deal with the devil. Somehow I
trusted him more. I went back to reading the will. Those were most of the big
conditions, the rest were directions on how to handle her estate. Such as the
rule that I was never to sell any pictures that hung on the walls of the Giant.
They had been hanging there for centuries and were not to be removed. Last
there was a note stating that if any of these conditions were abused outside of
the island, all rules still apply. Further down on the page I found a
continuance of her directions. If by the age twenty seven, I had met all the
requirements, the estate would be given to me no strings attached. If not, the
situation was to be reviewed at the time of Paul's
choosing. Otherwise, Paul decided when
I was to inherit. I turned the page and finished reading her sentence.
What I
saw there ripped a hole in my defenses and one in my heart. Would this never
stop? When Paul decided that I was
worthy of her estate, he could then turn it all over to me. "Worthy?"
I asked the question in such a tone that to answer it wrong would be sure and
sudden death. How dare they?
"You
know what you can do with your estate?" my mind was reeling. All I could
hear was my mother’s voice over and over in my head.
"Does
that mean you've decided against accepting the conditions of the will?" he
asked. His voice was so polite and lawyer like, distant in itself, but even
more distant because of the voice in my head.
I stood
up and threw the copy on the desk. "You bet it does." I grabbed my
head as the room started spinning. What was happening to me?
"Fine,
we'll get something to eat then head for the airport. I'll accompany you to the
States. I have to go there anyway. I have some business to attend to with your
mother."
Suddenly
the spinning stopped and I stared at Paul.
Were they going to give it all to her? "Did they hate me that much?"
I asked before the room went black and I collapsed to the floor.
The
nightmares that engulfed me were ones that I had had many times before, only
they were amplified and slightly changed. This time my mother had the means
with which to catch me. She had them throw me in that psychiatric unit and this
time I couldn't escape. I was locked in a padded room with no windows. My
mother sat across from me telling me how worthless I was. Telling me that I was
not worthy of my name. I was just trash and would never amount to anything.
Then my dream changed and I was in Paul's
study just before I collapsed. In my dream I focused on the confusion in his
face when I asked if they hated me that much. He looked as if he had no idea
what I was talking about. This
was only a dream. He did know what I was talking about, and he was going to
give my mother the means to make my life a living hell. I never wanted to wake
up but unfortunately, I did.
I heard
voices, they sounded familiar but it took me a while to place them. When I
realized it was Paul and Missy, I
decided to keep up the appearance of being asleep so that I could hear what was
said.
"Paul, what could have brought this on?" Missy
asked with concern in her voice. It sounded as if she actually cared.
I'm not
exactly sure but it had something to do with Mandy's wording in the will. She
wrote that I could decide to give Connor the estate when deciding that she was
worthy of it. She took great offense at the word worthy. Why, I don't know but I
intend to find out." He walked over to the bed and took my hand. "Why
don't you tell us, Connor?"
I
obviously wasn't a good actor. I opened my eyes and looked into his. He looked
surprised and I realized that he hadn't known I was awake. Apparently, neither
did Missy.
"That
girl has been wronged, Paul. I don't
even think we could guess the half of it. The pieces may not be fixable. It may
be too late." She stopped when seeing that I was awake.
"What
makes you think you know anything about me? What makes you think anybody
does?" I looked from Missy to Paul.
Who did these people think they were? This was my life and none of their
business.
Missy’s
face went red. She looked very sorry to have offended me but I pushed away the
feelings her care warmed. I was about to say more but a doctor interrupted us
with his presence. "Miss Lane,
I see you’re awake."
"How
observant,” I snapped. “Did they give you your degree solely on your ability to
notice the obvious? Oh and the names Steele. I
dropped Lane long ago and thank you so
much for reminding me.” I hated that name with a vengeance.
"Okay,
um sorry," he apologized quickly. "So how do you feel?" he asked
it cautiously as if he was afraid I might chew him out again.
I
shrugged. I wanted to lay into him and blame him for every bad thing that had
ever happened but it wasn't even close to his fault. I didn't like doctors very
much. Never have, probably never will. Once when I was really young, my mother
had left me alone at a hospital. I hadn't known what to do so I wandered around
the hospital for hours. Eventually I ended up in the morgue. They must have
been busy or understaffed because no one stopped me from walking in.
They may
as well have had the no vacancy sign flashing, the place was full. I looked
from person to person, wondering who they were and who they had left behind.
There was a girl there; she appeared to be my age. There seemed to be nothing
wrong with her. Some of the others you could tell that they had been in a car
accident or something of that nature. Others you could tell had been sick for a
long time, they had virtually wasted to nothing before ever have dying.
This girl
looked as if she had lived a great and happy life then suddenly died for no
reason. I remember thinking that doctors, they go to school for years and
years, they practice medicine and make big bucks but they couldn't even save
this little girl. I was too young to understand the inescapable reality of
death, I still am.
I had
looked at her name tag; her name had been Katherine Cage Steele. She was the
reason that I chose to use Steele when I changed my
last name. I guess you could say that I adopted her. I had never even met her
while she was alive but she was like a sister to me in her death. Sad that I
could relate to her so well, needless to say, I didn’t have a thriving family
life.
I left
the morgue and the hospital. I walked a mile and a half in the direction of
home until a police car stopped and gave me a ride the rest of the way. I was
eight then, now I'm almost an adult. Katherine,
she's still eight.
"Connor,
he asked you a question," Paul's
voice brought me back to reality or at least the present reality.
The
doctor, probably trying to avoid a confrontation of some sort, went on without
receiving my response. "You seem to have suffered from an anxiety attack.
You should be fine but we'd like to run a few more tests just to make sure."
"No,"
I said as I got out of the hospital bed. "I just want to go home."
"Marty,
Missy, could you leave us for a few minutes, I would like to talk to Connor
alone." Paul opened the door for
the two to leave and waited till they had gone.
Not
really caring that he was there and hoping to embarrass him enough so he would
leave, I checked to make sure I wasn’t completely nude under my gown, then
finding I wasn’t, I changed from my hospital gown to the clothes I had been
wearing earlier. It didn't seem to faze him one bit. This guy was good.
"So,
you want to go home," he said while crossing the room.
"Yeah,
you got a problem with that?" He was making me nervous. He was looking at
me with a look that I had only seen on television. You know, that look that TV
fathers would give their daughters after they had caught them doing something
they shouldn't and were just about to lay down the law.
"And
where is that, Connor? Hmm? The bar where you worked? Or maybe the establishment you spent so much time at?
Did you work there too?"
I knew
what he was referring too. I really couldn’t blame him for jumping to
conclusions but I would anyway. "Now wait a minute, you have no right to
talk to me like that. I have never ever sold myself."
"Maybe
not, Connor, so you tell me, where is your home? Is it with your mother?"
He was up to something, I could feel it.
"No!
I'll never go back there." I had to get out of there. I made a quick dash
for the door. Paul caught me by the
arms and held me there, forcing me to look him in the face. "Let go."
It came out as a whimper.
He
ignored my plea and demanded an answer. I looked at his eyes, they were angry but
they also had compassion in them. "That was never my home." I looked
down, not able to keep contact with his eyes. "I've never been home."
He let me go but still blocked the door. It didn't matter, I had no where to
run to. "What do you want from me?"
"I
want you to give it a chance." He led me to the bed and we both sat down.
Turning toward me he continued. "Would it really be that awful living with
Missy and I until you’re ready to take on an estate as large as Mandy's. You'd
have a warm bed, good meals, and a place you can call home."
"But
it's not my home, is it Paul?" I
couldn't believe how good it was sounding. I wanted so much to say yes.
"Home
is where the heart is, Connor. How will you ever know what's in a room if you
never open the door? You have nothing to lose, give it a chance."
I stood
up and walked to the window. It was a great view. The hospital wasn't far from
a river. It would be a nice place to live. I was scared to say yes, but I was
scared to go back as well. Standing in front of the Giant I felt something that
I had never felt before. I didn’t know what the future held for me back in the
states but it wasn’t anything that couldn’t wait. Maybe I owed it to myself to
figure out why that building stirred something within me. I turned to him and
nodded my head. "Okay Paul, I'll
give it a try." As soon as I had agreed to it, I felt a shift deep inside.
Tears threatened to well up but I pushed them deep down. Was it possible that
my future just opened up to me? Could this ever be home? I felt something I
hadn’t felt in a very long time…hope. "So, are we ready to go then?"
I was surprised at how eager I sounded to get to Paul
and Missy's house. It was probably just that I was more than ready to get out
of this place.
"Well..."
he had a slight cringe. It was a playful cringe; one you would give a friend
right before telling them slightly unwanted news. It was amazing how fast
things could change. I don’t think he hates me. I thought back. Had he possibly
just been cautious, not suspicious?
"What?"
I knew I wasn't going to like this.
"Well,
now that you've agreed to stay," he paused and smiled, "you need to
take a physical. Luckily, we don't have to go very far, we're already in the
hospital."
I went
stone faced. "Is this necessary?"
"It
won't be that bad. You wait here and I'll go tell them that you're ready when
they are. Besides, they still have tests to run." He was halfway out the
door when he turned back around. "Oh and Connor, I've raised three girls,
did you really think you could embarrass me."
I picked
up a pillow and threw it but only hit a closed door. I could feel it for sure
now, my whole personality was shifting. I looked in the mirror adjacent to the
bed. I didn't even recognize myself. There was a strange look on my face. Was I
smiling? It was as if I knew it, I knew that I was finally home and I could
tear down the very thick wall I had put up. Suddenly I was very scared. I knew
that I had better enjoy it while it lasted because it was inevitable, I was
going to get hurt.
I
suffered through a doctor’s questions and tests; at least it was a woman. I
walked to the waiting room and hid behind the candy machine. Paul was talking to the doctor and I was curious to
see his reaction to the news. One should never jump to conclusions.
"She's
in great shape, Paul. She could use
some good healthy meals but physically she's fine." The doctor told him. I
believe her name was Dr.
Thatch. She was okay.
"So no
STD’s or anything of the sort?" Paul,
on the other hand, didn't seem to have a very high opinion of me.
"Hardly,
Paul,” she smiled at him. “In a world
of rarity, she is a virgin."
The look
on Paul's face showed his shock. Like
I said, he did have reason to believe the way he did. And let’s face it; America is no
longer the poster child for purity. With my background and living habits, I
kind of surprised myself. It comes from having high standards. I was
particularly picky in that part of my life.
I leaned
against the machine in plain sight and waited for Paul
to spot me. The doctor asked if he had any more questions and Paul shook his head. I nodded to her as she passed
then focused on Paul.
"You
have a few surprises up your sleeve, don't you?" he asked. I shrugged and
he shook his head. "I owe you an apology, not that I thought you were
really,” he paused, “you know.” Why couldn’t he just say it? “But I had thought
it possible."
"Let's
go." I said and walked past him. I wanted out of this place.
After
getting back, I finally got to try some of Missy's stew. It was delicious. I
was going to like it here. I'd never really had a home cooked meal, at least
not one I hadn't cooked myself. Afterwards we went and sat in the living room.
I guess it was getting to know you time. I told them a little about my resent
life but nothing really serious or important.
"So
let me get this straight. You had no where to live, yet you stayed in school
and stayed out of jail. That must have been very difficult. I think both Milly
and Mandy would be very proud of you."
I stood
up suddenly and looked Paul straight
in the face. "Look Paul, I don't
care what Milly or Mandy would or wouldn't think about me. Okay? You got
that?" he leaned back in his chair with shock written all over his face. I
didn't care. "Another thing Paul,
if this is going to work, I don't want to hear her name mentioned ever again. I
am sick and tired of being compared to a woman I've never met. So let’s just
put it all on the line. That way we don't have to bring it up ever again. Milly
was the greatest thing since canned tuna and I'm scum. Not worthy to be her
kin, let alone live."
"That's
enough." Paul stood up and walked
over to me. Grabbing my chin between his thumb and finger he turned my head.
I pulled
away from his hand and looked down, unable to meet his eyes. I didn't want him
to see the tears in mine. "Look Paul,
I don't think this is going to work. Just take me to the airport. I'll be
fine." I was surprised to find it was the last thing I wanted to do but I
felt like running.
Sighing
he turned and walked into his study. A few minutes later he came back with a
hand full of letters. "Connor, I don't know what your mother said but
before making a judgment, I want you to hear both sides of the story. Read
these and then you can decide what you want to do."
I took
the letters and found a comfortable place to sit. I stared at the front of the
first envelope for a minute. I was reluctant to open it and read what was
inside. I took out the letter and held it. I studied my great grandmother’s
handwriting, not sure what I was looking for. It was nice handwriting, old
fashioned, not a lot of people wrote like that anymore. It was an old letter,
not a hundred years or anything like that. It just wasn't written yesterday. I
began to read it, it was time I quit stalling and found out what my great
grandmother had to say to her younger sister.
My
Dearest Mandy,
When Olivia's
mother died, I felt responsible for Olivia
and took it upon myself to raise her. She is my granddaughter after all. I knew
it must be hard for a thirteen year old girl to lose her mother, and I tried to
make it up to her. I tried to raise her as if she were my own daughter. She
seemed fine at first and we had fun together. Then everything went wrong.
She
began sneaking out and lying to me. I didn't know what to do and it kept getting worse. Soon the little girl that
I had loved so much was gone, replaced
by a complete stranger. She became hateful and hostile. Eventually, she became so out of control that it was
really no surprise when I found out that she was
pregnant.
She
was in no condition to raise a child. She couldn't even take care of herself. She could have stayed on the
island had she gave me custody of the child and
agreed to seek help from a councilor. It would have been much worse but since she was my grandchild they were willing
to make an exception. She refused and was
sent to the States.
She
took the child with her of course, though I don't know why. She didn't want her. Had it been legal, she
probably would have had discarded the baby into the nearest trash bin before she was even born.
The
worst is that she even tried to sell the child. She would give the baby to me for two million dollars. Though I
thought about it, I refused. I didn't want the
child to grow up thinking that all she was to her mother was a means of extortion. I didn't want her thinking
that you can buy love.
I set the
letter down. It didn't surprise me. I knew my mother hadn't wanted me. I
couldn't help but chuckle. I'd grown up thinking that I wasn't worth a thing,
now I find out that I'm at least worth two mil. It's funny, some animals will
give their lives to protect their young, yet others eat theirs.
I regretted it. I should have given her
whatever she asked for. I let Olivia
take that child when I knew she was unfit to be a mother. I guess I hoped the
baby could change her to who she had once been. Now the child will suffer for
my mistake and there may be nothing I can do about it. I'm going to try though.
I owe the child at least that.
She said
her goodbyes and then the letter ended. I wondered what she had meant when she
said she had to try. None of this made sense. My great grandmother had wanted
me? This was strange, at least now I knew why they put that baby condition in
the will. I took out the next letter, this time I skipped the greeting and went
straight to the letter.
I hired a private investigator in hopes to
prove that Olivia was unfit. It wasn't
hard finding the proof. Olivia would
leave Connor unattended in public places where anyone could take her. She would
also leave her in the car unattended. She lost her temper easily
and would shake and scream at the girl. My lawyer assured me that we will be
getting custody. I can't wait to bring her home, she's a beautiful child.
That
letter was shorter than the last, though even I could see the excitement in her
writing. I took out the last letter, almost afraid to read it. Obviously
something had gone wrong; otherwise I would have never been raised by Olivia.
I lost, I don't believe it. Not even
my lawyer believed it. The only thing Olivia
had in her defense was a false accusation that I had offered her two million
dollars in exchange for Connor, but that was an obvious lie. Anyone could see
if I had offered she would have taken it in a second. No judge in his right
mind would believe her. He did agree to one last visitation for me. I even got
to hold her.
Olivia
told me that I would never see her or the baby again. Then she turned and
walked out the door. Before closing the door behind her she turned and laughed
at me. "Amazing what sleeping with the judge can do isn't it,
Grandma." She actually said that to me. I wonder if it was true or just
meant to hurt me. Yet it would make sense. There seamed to be no other way the
judge would ever have given her custody.
I told my lawyer, but he doubted that there
was anything he could do. We would have to prove that Olivia
had slept with him and we can't. I guess it didn't really matter, Olivia disappeared with the baby and I can’t find
her. I hope that Connor can forgive me
for letting that woman take her. It doesn't seem likely that I will ever
forgive myself.
Everything
that I had grown up believing was a lie. My mother did it purely to hurt me.
Why? Did she blame me for losing it all? I hadn't asked to be conceived. I
always thought it had been something I had done but it wasn't. My mother just
hated me, plain and simple. Oh well,
I told myself. I tried to tell myself that it wasn’t leaving a huge hole in me
to know that my mother felt this way. I wasn’t the only person in the world who
was unloved. It did do one thing for me. "Didn't you mention something
about me signing stuff?" I asked. "I might as well get that over
with."
"Yes,
I have some papers in the study, come on in,” Paul
answered.
As I stared
down at the dotted line, an earlier memory from when we were touring the Giant
popped in my head. As I signed the paper, the thought ran through my head once
more. “One way leads to indescribable fortunes, one way leads to unconditional
happiness, but beware, for one leads to tremendous pain and sorrow.”
Yeah, there's a lot of original writing in there. You can tell it's young but it was fun. I had four colored pens I took with me wherever I went and a notebook. I wrote a lot in class. That's when I wasn't writing notes to my friends. I used to give Ammie a couple page notes once or twice a day. I wrote so much and so often that it's amazing to me that I hardly write a word anymore. Nice memories though. So, just nine chapters to go...
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