The Monsters of Templeton by Lauren Groff Page A

it penance for your lifelong lying to your only child about her goddamn paternity. Call it an indulgence or Hail Mary or whatever the hell you need to call it."
    "No. And I'm born-again Baptist, not Catholic," she said. "And stop saying the Lord's name in vain."
    "Give me a goddamn clue now and I'll stop saying Jesus goddamn Christ's name in vain forever and goddamn ever."
    "Fine," she said. "Okay. One clue. Doesn't matter, since you'll never find any documentation, and he only told me once, and it's just a rumor. So you can have your clue, but it won't help. So there."
    "Goddamn Jesus Christ fucking tell me."
    "All right," she said. "Know how we're related to Marmaduke Temple through both the Uptons and the Averells?"
    "Yes, of course," I said.
    "Well, he claimed he was related to Marmaduke, too. Through some sort of liaison at some point in the past. But I'm not going to tell you what he told me, the details, just that you, Willie Upton, are the product of three lines of ancestry from Marmaduke Temple. Three. It's pretty amazing."
    My mother's face was magenta, and she was panting a bit. There was a long, taut moment between us, and then I watched as her eyes rounded, her mouth pursed, and she slumped back into her chair, watching me, realizing now what she had done. I could feel a smile growing across my face; this secret must have burnt in her for twenty-eight years, must have roiled and rocked my mother with its pressure. I always knew she was prouder about her heritage than she ever would admit. When I was little the thought of her family was a comfort to her, a vital source of her strength, the reason she was able to stay in Templeton. And now, she'd released her secret and was watching it dance like a demon away from her.
    "Uh-oh," she said. She began to blink rapidly.
    "Oh-ho-ho-ho," I said back.
    My mother's hands went a little white around the knuckles. "Willie," she said. "There is no way you'll be able to figure it out from that. Right?" she said.
    "Dearest Vivienne," I said. "You forget that I'm a researcher. It's what I do."
    "Please," she said. "Don't."
    "Vi," I said, "you're in no position to ask favors of me. At all. Maybe ever again."
    "Oh, glory," she said. "You're not going to let it go, are you?"
    "Stubborn heart," I said. "Long memory. Bad mix."
    "Oh, no, no, no. Oh, what have I done?" she said into her cupped hands.
    "Exactly. What have you done? Rather, the question is who, right?" I said. I felt tired. I stretched my arms above my head and, like that, could feel a beating in my belly, a little hungry pulse. "Well, Vi," I said, "I think I've found my project. Rule Number Two, wasn't it? That I have to have a project? It's a good one. Difficult, but I'm feeling confident."
    My mother rose, muttering to herself, and returned to the chicken breasts and the rest of dinner, stealing little worried glances at me from time to time. As she washed the lettuce from the garden, I went out to the porch and stood in the deepening shadows. The moon was apricot above the haunches of the hills and a big band at the country club hooted its music as soft as an owl across the water. All around me Templeton seemed to crouch and hold its breath. There must have been a candlelit vigil of some sort down at the park's edge by the monster, because the tent was lit by a gentle, living glow. And, as the night gathered and thickened all around me, I imagined the body of the monster floating, ringed by this quiet light, lapped on all sides by the many hungry wavelets.

    Chapter 6

Monsters Of Templeton (2008)

    The Wolf at the Door
    IT TOOK ME a few hours after dinner to gather the nerve to call Clarissa. I wasn't afraid of awakening her; she was in San Francisco, and it was not yet dark out there. I wasn't even afraid that she would be furious with me, which she would be, for what I had done to fall into the terrible dark hole where I found myself. Rather, I was afraid because I had been gone for two months, and there had been no