Inheriting Evil

by K S Logan

  She had to concentrate now to remember his face. The years were slowly erasing it from her memory, like an old, fading photograph. She did, however, remember his eyes, particularly on that one day in the summer, when Grace was about six or seven. Father took her fishing with him for the day. It was a gorgeous, perfectly warm afternoon and he had been teaching her to fly-fish, off the bank of a river. He looked down at her, the deep blue sky behind him, and she remembered thinking it was as if his eyes were just holes and she could see the blue of the sky right through them.

  Her father had noticed a wounded butterfly, struggling in the grass; its right wing was damaged. They watched as it struggled but then eventually managed to take flight and flit away across the river. Father said that, just like that butterfly, she too could overcome any obstacle with the same determination. He told her about the changes a butterfly undergoes in its short life, and this teaches us about the importance of going through those changes with grace (she remembered him tickling her under her chin as he said the word) and lightness. “That’s you, Gracey...my little flutterby.”

  Grace sighed deeply and walked back to her desk. She took a sip of her coffee and grimaced as the lukewarm liquid met her lips. She drank some anyway.

  How could she go back now? Back to that enormous mansion with its many rooms holding terrible secrets and silent sufferings. Back to seeing her awful sister and being belittled and subjected again to her abuse. She just wouldn’t. Morvin can handle it all. She would, once again, just push it from her mind, press it way back there along with all the other vile memories and continue with her life.

  Grace sat down and tried to focus again on paperwork, her mound of bills; deciding which ones to pay now, which ones could wait a little longer. But her mind kept spinning; returning home, where her mother was ailing, and then she’d find herself thinking about Marc, that cheating bastard. What would she say to him when he called? If he called?

  She reached for her now cold coffee. It slipped from her grasp and spilled all over her desk, her bills, everything.

  “Shit, shit, shit.” Grace stood up quickly before the cold, brown river poured onto her lap. “What a week from hell,” she said. She rubbed at her temples again.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “How long would you be gone? A week? Two? Big Deal. Wesley and I can handle the store.” Devi was trying to convince Grace to make the trip back home. “We did fine when Marc took you to Spain.” Wesley and Grace stopped by Devi’s café after closing the bookstore, which they regularly did. The coffee shop was relatively quiet now, the dinner rush long passed.

  “Did you really have to bring him into the conversation?” Grace was still fuming mad at Marc. He’d called twice since she saw him at the restaurant but she couldn’t bring herself to talk to him yet. Let him stew in his guilt for a while longer, she thought.

  “Sorry, but that is another good point. After what Marc did, a change of scenery might be good for you.” Devi sipped her coffee.

  Grace ran her fingers roughly through her hair and let out a loud sigh.

  “I agree with Devi, Grace,” said Wesley. Devi always gave Wesley extra whip on his hot chocolate, and he was wearing half of it on his upper lip. He did it on purpose to try and make Grace laugh. He didn’t like seeing her down and stressed out. “What if there’s a large inheritance? You sure could use some money to fix up the store. And...ahem, get a new sign,” he added under his breath.

  “I don’t want my family’s money, Wesley. I told you that.” She snickered a little and handed him a napkin. “I would like to say goodbye to my mum, though, and I’d love to see my aunt too, but I hate the thought of seeing Morvin. It’s taken me all these years to recover from the damage she did to my self-esteem. I’m afraid she’ll bring all those feelings back.”

  “No way,” said Devi. “You’re a completely different person now. I think it will be therapeutic for you to face her as the successful woman you are and show your sister that you’re worth something, that you matter. Can you imagine the look on her face when she sees how beautiful and strong you’ve become?”

  “What about Ernie? I can’t just leave him on his own.” Ernie was Grace’s six-year-old tabby cat.

  “I’ll look after the fat, beady-eyed little monster,” said Wesley. “Sodded thing loves me anyway.” Whenever Wesley was over the cat would not stay off his lap. Ernie would knead his claws into Wesley’s legs, get comfortable, and then, at any sudden noise, jump off, leaving bloody scratches behind and scaring Wesley half to death. Grace always found it quite entertaining.

  Grace shifted in her chair and looked down at her empty cup. She felt sick to her stomach all of a sudden. “I’m going to the washroom.”

  “I’ll get us some more coffee,” said Devi.

  “My hot chocolate needs a refill too, Dev,” said Wesley.

  She clicked her tongue at him and grabbed his cup, muttering something under her breath as she walked toward the counter.

  “What’s that, Devi? I can’t understand your grumbling.” Wesley snickered as she continued her mumbling, only now she was doing it louder.

  A few minutes later, a tired and puffy-eyed Grace returned and sat down next to Wesley.

  “These are all good points, you know,” Wesley continued, “and also if you go and then find that it’s too much, turn around and come home again. At least you won’t have any regrets about not saying your goodbyes. That’s the main thing, right?”

  “It is a five-hour drive, you know, Wes. It’s not just down the block.” The drive back to Craigrook House, her family’s estate, would be a long one, through mostly country roads. It was too early in the season for snow, thank goodness, but she hoped her old 1973 Volkswagen was up to the task.

  Grace knew all their points were valid, and she knew she probably should go back, but, although she’d confided a few stories of her difficult childhood, her two friends didn’t even know the half of it. Would they still suggest she go if they knew everything?

  Loud voices started from the kitchen as Devi walked out with the drinks on a tray. There were a few other customers in the café but, just like Grace and Wesley, they were regulars and were used to Devi and her mother’s loud bickering back and forth in Hindi. It always sounded like they were mad as hell at each other, but they usually weren’t. Devi’s mother didn’t speak much English. She knew ‘hello,’ ‘goodbye’ and ‘not good.’ A waving finger always accompanied the latter.

  “You guys seriously think I should go?” asked Grace, silently praying that they might give her a reason not to.

  The two looked at each other and at the same time said, “Yes!”

  “Well, there it is. I guess I’m going. Oh my god, I can’t believe I just said that.”

  “Ooh, Gracey,” came a voice from behind them. It was Aanandi, Devi’s mother, shuffling along slowly toward their table in bright blue slippers. She took Grace’s chin in her small, cold, wrinkled hand and looked into her face, then proceeded to speak to Grace gently in Hindi.

  Devi translated, “My dear little Grace. Be strong and know that we are with you, here and here, always.” She pointed to Grace’s heart and forehead. In her other hand was a large pastry, still warm from the oven. She handed it to Grace. “Mmm, mmm.” She made a gesture with her own hands toward her mouth and smiled at Grace. Devi continued to translate. “You don’t need that terrible man in your life anyway. He is no good for you. You will find another soon, a better one.” Then came the finger as she said in English, “Not good, not good.”

  Wesley couldn’t help but snicker as did Devi. Aanandi gave them both stern looks and then hugged Grace and shuffled away, back into the kitchen. The three of them laughed, in kindness, at the caring older woman’s personality. Grace adored Devi’s mother and envied their relationship. Devi was lucky to have her.

  “Well, if I’m going, you guys, I’ll need something stronger than coffee here,” said Grace.

  “Two Cosmos, coming right up!” said Devi, excited,
as she got up from the table.

  “Ahem,” said Wesley.

  “Ugh... three.”

  “How am I going to leave you two? You’ll be at each other throats within mere hours.”

  “We promise to behave,” said Wesley, “don’t we, Devinator?”

  Devi called over to them from the bar. “At least until you get back.”

  Grace laughed and noticed that she was mindlessly biting at her knuckle, something she hadn’t done in years.

  “Oh, God, don’t look...Marc’s coming,” said Devi, averting her gaze from the doorway a little too obviously. She practically ran from the table to the kitchen.

  “Oh no,” Grace didn’t know what to do. She fixed her hair.

  “I’m outta here,” said Wesley.

  “Gee thanks, friends,” said Grace sarcastically.

  He walked into the café and directly over to Grace. “Hi, babe. You haven’t been returning my calls. What’s up?”

  My God, he looked good. Dressed impeccably, as usual, right down to his polished, designer, monk strap shoes. “Where’s your jailbait...oh, sorry, I mean new girlfriend?”

  “What are you talking about, Gracey?” he flicked back his hair and smiled, then leaned in and touched her hand.

  “I saw you, Marc. At Dimitris, getting very close with Hannah Montana.” That was a good one, she thought, as she drew her hand away.

  “What? You were there?” he sat back in the chair. His eyes widened, and he looked around the room, searching for a quick excuse.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m just glad I found out what everyone always says about you is correct. I’m over it.” Grace got up to leave, but he grabbed her arm.

  “Gracey, don’t be so rash. It was nothing. One of the guys at work fixed it up. I didn’t like her. She has nothing on you. You’re so...so much more...mature.”

  Grace couldn’t believe what he said. What a complete ass. He continued, “I’ve fallen for you, gorgeous. You make me feel complete. I thought we had something. Don’t throw it away. I need you.”

  “Marc, I’m leaving town for a while,” she pulled her arm sharply out of his grasp. “Maybe we’ll talk when I get back. But right now, you repulse me.” She put her bag over her shoulder and said goodbye to Devi before walking out the door. She didn’t look back at him; she wouldn’t dare give him the satisfaction and ruin her perfect exit.

  Perhaps, deep down, she always knew he wasn’t the one for her, but she was honestly so tired of going to bed alone. She wanted someone to go home to, someone to grow old with.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Grace picked out some sweaters and a couple of pairs of jeans. She stuffed them into her large over-sized weekender and scanned her tiny bedroom for her warmest wool coat. She was having a lot of trouble picking out her clothes for her trip back home, and had packed, emptied, and re-packed her bag four times already and hadn’t even started picking out shoes yet.

  She sat down on the edge of her bed, feeling exasperated. She knew her problem wasn’t about this outfit or that one; it was about the trip itself. Even though she’d resigned herself to going, she couldn’t shake the nervousness in her belly.

  “Hey, little man,” she said to Ernie as he wound in and out of her legs. She named her cat after her father’s favorite author, Ernest Hemingway; he had a full collection of the author’s work in his study, including a few first editions. She remembered her father quoted him often. One of his favorites was, ‘The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.’

  “Dinner time is it, Ernie?” She picked up her cat and went to the kitchen. After a short scan of her empty cupboards, she plucked a single can of tuna. She lifted it in front of Ernie’s face as in a toast, “Tonight, we feast, for tomorrow...I go back and face hell.” The cat looked at her quizzically. “Never mind, furry face. You get a treat tonight, my friend.”

  She pierced the tin with the opener, and the meowing started and didn’t cease until she placed a small portion in front of him. She prepared the rest as a sandwich for herself, poured a glass of Pinot Noir, and sat on the settee in the living room. Ernie jumped onto her lap before she even had time to settle and began purring as he kneaded her legs into cushiony softness. She pulled up a playlist on her phone, and the smooth sounds of Euge Groove began playing on her Bluetooth speaker.

  Grace loved the old bones of the eighteenth-century apartment building. It was painted a clean white and had warm wood floors throughout. After a long day, and sometimes night, of working in her eclectic, slightly cramped bookstore, she would wrestle into her oversized, puffy chesterfield and try to relax. She felt soothed by the warm tones of her carefully picked knickknacks and soft blue accent colors.

  Depending on her day and the number of customers she had, she would have either a cup of tea or a large glass of wine; these days there were a lot more empty bottles than there were soggy, pressed tea bags in the bin. Most nights Grace would awaken well into the night, still on the couch, a passing lorry or blaring siren having jolted her awake.

  She petted Ernie as he finally settled. “I’m going to miss you, my main man.” She took a sip of her wine. “What am I doing, Ernie? What the hell am I thinking?” Ever since she had decided to return home she’d had a constant uneasy feeling in her core. The way you feel just before a job interview or an important meeting.

  She wondered if her sister had changed. Maybe the years had softened her. Aunt Lena once mentioned that Morvin had married and had a son. Her husband was a navy man and after only two years decided he preferred living abroad to living with Morvin, and he divorced her. She moved back home to Craigrook and had lived there ever since, caring for their aging mother.

  A Summer Night’s Dream faded, and the familiar, sexy notes of Kim Waters’ Let’s Get On It filled the room. This particular tune was one of Marc’s favorites. She couldn’t help smiling as she pictured him swaying to it while he fixed breakfast; the cute way he shook his butt, the taut muscles— “Next,” she said and picked another song. She’d never be able to enjoy that awesome song ever again. That sucked; he sucked.

  As another song began, Grace’s mind returned to her impending trip. She was looking forward to seeing the mansion again. Craigrook House had been in her family since their great-great grandfather purchased it in the late 1800s. It had eleven bedrooms and six bathrooms, three sitting rooms, a parlor, and even a library that her father used as his study.

  She did have some good memories of the vast estate from when she was little, with its many servants, cooks, and gardeners. There were lots of guests as well whenever her father was home, which, unfortunately, wasn’t very often. When the house was busy, she was less likely to be tormented by her sister.

  Thinking back to her bedroom brought a smile to her face, but it faded when she remembered Morvin barging in to torment her or pull her hair or break her toys. Grace was so afraid of Morvin coming into her room that sometimes she would play quietly inside one of the enormous wardrobes. Many times she had silently wished for the back to open into Narnia.

  Why did her sister hate her so much? Morvin was always quite somber and introverted, but when it came to Grace she was all of a sudden full of personality, and never in a good way. Grace stayed out of her way, avoided eye contact, and rarely even spoke to her.

  Morvin would often push her aside if she passed her in a hallway, or threaten her with violence. ‘Wipe that look off your face, or I’ll do it for you’ was one of Morvin’s favorites. She was so sneaky about it, too; never in front of their parents or any other adult for that matter. If Grace’s mother ever noticed a welt or a bruise, it was quickly blamed on Grace being accident-prone, which she was.

  Well, I’m an adult now. She won’t be pushing me around anymore. Grace glugged some more wine. Ernie jumped off her lap when she leaned forward to fill her glass. Maybe she could patch things up with her mother. So much time had passed, they’d all changed, grown. Grace had been angry that her mother always si
ded with Morvin and never believed Grace when she tried to tell her of the abuse. That anger and hurt may never fully heal, but Grace was a strong woman now, a different person. She had done of lot work on her inner child and part of that work was realizing that her mother, and even Morvin, had inner demons that they too struggled with; everyone did. One of Grace’s favorite sayings was, ‘Every day we pick our way through unknown territory.’ She couldn’t remember who said it but it was very accurate. We are all on the same journey through life, and no one has all the answers.

  Grace paused the music when she saw her phone light up.

  “Hello?”

  “Miss Calhoun, please,” said a cold voice.

  “Speaking.”

  “Good evening, this is Simon Electric calling, reminding you that you’re still in arrears. Your electric service will be interrupted if the full past due amount isn’t paid by noon tomorrow.”

  “But I just paid you forty pounds last week. I made—” Grace was interrupted.

  “You must pay the full ‘past due’ amount. It is long overdue, Miss Calhoun,” said the heartless male robot.

  “Can I send you half that and then I’ll pay the whole thing next Friday?” Grace pleaded.

  “I’m afraid this bill’s ‘past due’ portion is no longer negotiable, Miss Calhoun. Have a lovely evening.”

  “Hello? You did not just hang up on me. Come on.” Grace put her head in her hands. “Well, it looks like another cash advance on the old credit card. Just great. And I don’t even have the plumbing bill yet.” She took another slug of her wine. She patted her lap for Ernie to come back, but he just looked at her and walked away. “Nice, you think I’m a loser as well, do you? Thanks, pal.”

  The cat meowed at her and flicked his tail as if in agreement.

  “I’ll only be away for a week or so, Ernie. Wesley will take good care of you. Be nice to him, okay?” The cat looked up at her and the look on his face said, “Yeah, right.”