you don’t even seem real anymore. Because I never want to make another memory without you. Because…”
I blushed and waited for him to continue but he didn’t. Instead he sighed. I slowly slid my hand over his and intertwined our fingers. He sat up and I noticed a few beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring.
The sun was on its course to sunset as we pulled into the long driveway of my childhood home with only an hour or two of light remaining. From the short distance there were no visible signs of life. No lights were on inside the home and the row of flowers and fresh mulch lining the driveway, an annual addition by my mother, were noticeably missing.
The first thing I needed to do was clear the house. Depending on the situation, we might need to sleep in the camper for one more evening. I prepared myself for homicidals and dead bodies.
When Ivy mentioned the uncertainty of my parents’ whereabouts, my doubt progressed into certainty. If either of my parents had been alive, they surely would have stumbled upon the people camped out on the Fielding’s front lawn. You couldn’t miss them.
“Okay, babe. I need you to hang here for a little bit. You know the drill.”
“I do.”
“Let me put on a movie for you.”
“Are you going to be that long?” His voice winced.
“No, but just in case. No matter what I find, I’ll come right back out and tell you. Okay?”
He nodded and I loaded one of the animated movies f or him. With the long drives we incurred an enormous collection of kid movies, pilfered during my many raids. Keeping a six-year old child preoccupied was an absolute necessity.
I didn’t bother to put on my normal gear for lack of patience. Ronan sat by the window and watched me leave rather than the movie.
The porch was littered with dirt and field debris. I stepped slowly, lightly up the steps and examined the evidence of abandonment. The unlocked doorknob turned easily and, without any noise, I opened the door into my past.
The house hummed underneath me, signaling working mechanics. I didn’t dare turn the light on. I would search each room, one at a time, before I checked the electric and water utilities. The house looked immaculate. Exactly the way it had before I left. At least, the foyer did. There was no smell of death, only the sweet smell of cedar from the paneled walls. The entry table still had its white lace doily in its perfectly centered position with pictures of Mom and Dad, an old picture of me in grade school with braces, and a family picture with me, Ritchie and Ronan at the beach.
The living room and dining room were much the same. The china was perfectly preserved in the hutch and the living room looked ready to receive guests with neatly stacked picture books on the coffee table and afghans artfully draped over the corners of each couch. I checked the closets and the bathroom before creeping into the kitchen.
The first thing I saw was the not epad lying on the kitchen table with a pen sitting atop it. I noticed it because it was the only thing there aside from a misplaced family photo taken years ago in its familiar glittery frame. The picture was my mother’s favorite photo, showing Mom and Dad with their arms wrapped around an eleven-year old version of me in the summertime. It was taken during our vacation to Martha’s Vineyard and we were on the ferry from Boston. The picture was out of place from its normal lofty placement on the fireplace mantle. I inhaled deeply and walked over to the pad of paper, already knowing what this was.
Dear Carson,
I doubt that you will ever read this but I leave it here now in case you were able to make it home, alive. Your father was taken away from me the morning after we last spoke. It has been eleven days and nights. There is no one left but me, it seems. I haven’t seen your father since they took him. I haven’t seen anyone.
I know he is gone. I know it with all my
I blushed and waited for him to continue but he didn’t. Instead he sighed. I slowly slid my hand over his and intertwined our fingers. He sat up and I noticed a few beads of sweat dripping down his forehead. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a ring.
The sun was on its course to sunset as we pulled into the long driveway of my childhood home with only an hour or two of light remaining. From the short distance there were no visible signs of life. No lights were on inside the home and the row of flowers and fresh mulch lining the driveway, an annual addition by my mother, were noticeably missing.
The first thing I needed to do was clear the house. Depending on the situation, we might need to sleep in the camper for one more evening. I prepared myself for homicidals and dead bodies.
When Ivy mentioned the uncertainty of my parents’ whereabouts, my doubt progressed into certainty. If either of my parents had been alive, they surely would have stumbled upon the people camped out on the Fielding’s front lawn. You couldn’t miss them.
“Okay, babe. I need you to hang here for a little bit. You know the drill.”
“I do.”
“Let me put on a movie for you.”
“Are you going to be that long?” His voice winced.
“No, but just in case. No matter what I find, I’ll come right back out and tell you. Okay?”
He nodded and I loaded one of the animated movies f or him. With the long drives we incurred an enormous collection of kid movies, pilfered during my many raids. Keeping a six-year old child preoccupied was an absolute necessity.
I didn’t bother to put on my normal gear for lack of patience. Ronan sat by the window and watched me leave rather than the movie.
The porch was littered with dirt and field debris. I stepped slowly, lightly up the steps and examined the evidence of abandonment. The unlocked doorknob turned easily and, without any noise, I opened the door into my past.
The house hummed underneath me, signaling working mechanics. I didn’t dare turn the light on. I would search each room, one at a time, before I checked the electric and water utilities. The house looked immaculate. Exactly the way it had before I left. At least, the foyer did. There was no smell of death, only the sweet smell of cedar from the paneled walls. The entry table still had its white lace doily in its perfectly centered position with pictures of Mom and Dad, an old picture of me in grade school with braces, and a family picture with me, Ritchie and Ronan at the beach.
The living room and dining room were much the same. The china was perfectly preserved in the hutch and the living room looked ready to receive guests with neatly stacked picture books on the coffee table and afghans artfully draped over the corners of each couch. I checked the closets and the bathroom before creeping into the kitchen.
The first thing I saw was the not epad lying on the kitchen table with a pen sitting atop it. I noticed it because it was the only thing there aside from a misplaced family photo taken years ago in its familiar glittery frame. The picture was my mother’s favorite photo, showing Mom and Dad with their arms wrapped around an eleven-year old version of me in the summertime. It was taken during our vacation to Martha’s Vineyard and we were on the ferry from Boston. The picture was out of place from its normal lofty placement on the fireplace mantle. I inhaled deeply and walked over to the pad of paper, already knowing what this was.
Dear Carson,
I doubt that you will ever read this but I leave it here now in case you were able to make it home, alive. Your father was taken away from me the morning after we last spoke. It has been eleven days and nights. There is no one left but me, it seems. I haven’t seen your father since they took him. I haven’t seen anyone.
I know he is gone. I know it with all my
Similar Books
