by Aiden James
“‘Getting angry, Grandpa paused to catch his breath and reorganize his thoughts before going on.
“‘Sorry, boys,’ he told us, wiping at his eyes and nose. ‘I see you’ve both finished your drinks. Just let me get through this. Five more minutes tops, if even that much.’
“We both nodded for him to continue, completely absorbed by everything he said.
“‘Well, we were finally free, Elsie and me,’ he said. ‘Despite the tremendous stress from all of this, I assumed things would work out. Later that morning, a representative from the court in Birmingham came to visit us with some papers to fill out. The rep came with the social worker involved in removing you both from our care. We soon learned that even though our arrest was over, and despite the fact any and all charges against us dropped, the state authorities didn’t think we were fit to raise ya’ll.
“‘The only way for us to regain custody of you boys was to fight the state’s decision through the legal system. Mrs. Joyce Summers, the social worker, advised what I confirmed later that day, the earliest court date available wasn’t until late February. This also meant we had to wait at least until then before we could see you boys again, since we were still restricted from having any contact with ya’ll.
“‘This was the final straw for Elsie, even though we were on our way out of the hell we’d lived through over the past five months. After our two visitors left us, we spent a very somber Christmas together. I did my best to cheer her up, but she seemed to get more and more despondent by the day. She’d even grimace now and then, so I knew her heart palpitations, which had grown more frequent since September, were getting worse. Without having you boys around, there just wasn’t enough to get her through the grief of our first Christmas without our beloved daughter.
“‘On the morning of December the twenty-ninth, just two days before our thirty-fifth New Year’s Eve together, I found her lying on the floor upstairs just a few feet away from the top step. I think she woke up sometime during the night, probably to get herself a glass of milk downstairs. Maybe she thought it was indigestion, but I’ve tried to thank God that the heart attack that killed her did so quickly and quietly.
“‘We buried her in the double plot she and I’d purchased some years back on the other side of town, over in Greenbrier Cemetery, as you both know. Then, in February I managed to get custody of you boys again, and I’ve spent the last dozen years or so trying to raise you two as best as I can. But not a day goes by without me pining some for your mom and grandma—I’d surely be lying if I told you I wasn’t.’
“Grandpa excused himself from our presence and left the dining room. We watched him go into the kitchen, where he wept. When he reached the kitchen table, he leaned on it and began to cry harder, his shoulders heaving as he could no longer contain the terrible pain within. I immediately went over and hugged him. Jeremy wasn’t able to maintain his facade of coolness, and soon followed. We all cried together, the emotional deluge spreading quickly from one to another.
“I think this was the onset of true healing for each of us, the seeds of which had been sown two nights before when I’d brought the talisman inside our old farmhouse. As we stood together in the kitchen, the years of silence, pain, and misunderstanding flowed out through our tears.
“When the tears subsided, Grandpa thanked us both for our support, telling us if it hadn’t been for our presence in his life he would’ve never made it this far. Finished with his story, he suggested we spend a few minutes checking out the mysterious photo album he’d set out on the dining room table. He told us he preferred to wait in the kitchen until we were done looking through it. After Jeremy stepped outside for a quick cigarette, my brother and I returned to the dining room.”
***
“I guess we could stop here,” said Jack, whose stomach had just growled. He looked over at the door that remained shut. Christ, it’s been at least eight hours since they gave me anything to eat! … Processed peanut butter and cracker bullshit only lasts so long....
“But you’re not finished…are you?” Peter’s voice betrayed his disappointment as he followed Jack’s eyes to the door. “Like I said earlier, we can break for dinner and come back to finish this.”
“What kind of shit do ya’ll serve for dinner around here?” asked Jack, cynically. “Or, does everything originate from a goddamned vending machine?”
He turned his gaze to the agent, his hazel eyes more brown than green now as his blood sugar continued to fall.
“Well, normally the fare’s not so good for someone in your position,” Peter confessed, his approach concerned. “But you are my VIP, and with that comes certain privileges…. Just about anything you like can be had, as my guest.”
“Hmmm…. Prime rib or filet mignon, perhaps?” Asked in fun, his hunger kept a full smile at bay.
“Something similar, if not that,” said Peter, as serious as Jack looked. “I can at least guarantee top sirloin.”
“USDA Grade A one hundred percent?”
“Absolutely!”
“Then I can wait a little longer,” said Jack, leaning forward in his seat. “Let’s get this over with…I’m getting closer to the end of it all.”
“Okay, whatever you prefer.”
Peter offered another warm smile and motioned for Jack to continue.
“Jeremy pulled his chair next to mine while I brought the heavy book over to us,” said Jack, resuming his tale. “It smelled musty when I opened it, and I noticed a small rip on the inside of the leather-bound album. The pictures near the front were old and yellowed. I glanced over my shoulder to where Grandpa sat at the kitchen table, listening to the radio on low volume while he smoked his pipe. The cherry almond aroma my favorite, I started to pick up the photo album to take it into the kitchen so Jeremy and I could join him there.
“‘I’d prefer that you both keep that thing in there, if you don’t mind,’ said Grandpa. ‘It’s important to me that you look through it without my hindrance.’
“Jeremy looked back at Grandpa quizzically, and almost said something. But after everything that’d taken place that evening, he decided to go along with what Grandpa wanted. He and I turned our attention to the photographs on the first page.
“I recognized some images, since there were a number of pictures throughout the main floor of Grandpa and my Uncle Monty as youngsters. I was also familiar with the images of my great-grandmother and her mom and dad. As we moved through the pages, carefully turning each one over before going on to the next, the pictures were more recent. I paused to point out a photograph of Dr. Stratton to Jeremy, after I recognized the image was in fact the old man I met in Genovene’s village. Grandpa recognized that’s who we were looking at from my excited comments, and asked us to tell him when we reached the very end of the album.
“As we neared the end of it, we found lots of photographs of our mom and a few that included Grandma and Grandpa. They looked like a real happy family when Mom was young. I lingered most on an image when she was a senior in high school, since nearly identical to how she looked when I first saw her in the village the day before. When Jeremy saw the picture he whistled and nodded approvingly
“‘Goddamn, mom was a real looker back in her day, huh?’ he cooed. ‘Sorry ya’ll, but man-n-n! The only pictures I’ve ever seen of Mom were when she was older. You know, the ones on the wall and that smaller photo beneath the coffee table in the living room. Oh, and the one on Jackie’s dresser upstairs.’
“‘She was definitely something to behold, for sure,’ Grandpa agreed from the kitchen. ‘Just like her momma, though I’d say she got some of her good looks from her old man too.’ He chuckled, but grew sad again. ‘It’s no wonder you kids turned out so handsome with parents like Frank and Julie.... You should be just a few pages away from the end.’
“He stood and slowly moved back to the dining room, where he leaned against one side of the doorway. He motioned for us to finish, puffing thoughtfully on his pipe.
&nb
sp; “The next page featured pictures from my parents’ wedding. Jeremy again commented on mom’s ‘hot’ look. Our dad wasn’t too shabby either. There was even a picture of him in his Atlanta Falcon uniform diving for a football on the album’s next to last page. Feeling a bit sad going through these pictures, we lingered on them the most. Nothing could’ve prepared us for the photos on the very last page.
“Four of the five pictures featured our mom and dad and looked as if taken with a disposable camera. The quality wasn’t near as good as the other pictures. All of the shots appeared to have been taken in the backyard near the oak tree.
“‘That one was taken shortly after ya’ll arrived from Atlanta,’ Grandpa advised, his voice a whisper as he stole a peek at the first photo over Jeremy’s shoulder. ‘Everything started out just fine.’
“Indeed, my parents looked real happy. Dad held Jeremy against his shoulder and Mom had me in her arms. To be honest, Agent McNamee, to this day I just wish we’d closed the album right then and called it a night. Even though I knew they were now okay, the images of my parents in the ensuing photographs have haunted me since.
“Several other photos had been removed from this last page at some point. Of the handful that remained, three pictures featured my mother and father, and each revealed the steady regression of their personalities—changes that defined their bizarre behavior during the last week in Carlsdale. Each shot taken in the same general area of the backyard, my brother and I were present in only one photo with them. The last picture. Even though they held us again, they seemed completely distracted. Dad’s attention was drawn to the oak, to his left, Mom’s gaze followed his. Even Jeremy frowned, which made me wonder why in the hell Grandpa kept this picture, or why anyone spent the effort capturing the shot in the first place.
“Jeremy squinted his eyes as he studied the picture more closely. He gasped slightly, pulling on my arm. When I looked at where he pointed, at first I didn’t recognize the wispy image barely visible next to the south side of the oak tree. Once I brought my face close enough to confirm what was there, my blood immediately turned cold. I saw a face, which hardly stood out at all. Yet, the blue eyes and sardonic grin framed by ghost-like hair were clearly recognizable once I realized what I looked at.
“‘Well, your reaction confirms what I’ve worried about since the other night when you first brought that talisman in here, Jack,’ said Grandpa, his voice hushed as he moved between us to close the album. He pushed it toward the middle of the table, and I silently prayed it’d be the last time I ever saw Genovene’s face.
“‘That’s her, isn’t it, Jack?’ asked Grandpa, his reddened eyes bore a glint of excitement. ‘Elsie said it was a face and not some defect in the film when we first got the pictures developed. She later told me about a young girl she saw sitting in the tire-swing, a week after your folks were gone, that had light hair and very blue eyes. But, until I heard your story last night I still wasn’t sure, even though I’ve seen the empty swing moving through the air as if someone sat in it from time to time. You’d think after everything I’ve personally experienced, including Julie and Frank’s disappearance, it’d knock some sense into my head.’
“He moved over to the dining room windows, peering through the blinds once more. The abundant light from the full moon still at its brightest, the backyard lay illuminated nearly as much as when bathed by the mid-afternoon sun. He closed the small crease he’d created between the blinds and turned to face us again.
“‘I’d say we’ve spent enough time tonight in this room,’ he said. ‘How about we forget about that album for now and go out on the back porch for a while? The moon’s out and it might be kind of nice.’
“‘What about that presence you felt earlier?’ I asked, thinking about my strange experience in the garden that afternoon. It didn’t help matters I’d just seen a picture of the owner of the voice that sent me sprawling face-first into the garden’s mud.
“‘I believe whatever tried to peek in on us has left. I really do,’ he advised. ‘Just in case I’m wrong about that, I’ll bring the gun with me. So, we’re good.’
“‘It’s all right with me if we go out on the back porch for a while,’ offered Jeremy. ‘I can always use another smoke. We can check the pictures out some other time, Jackie.’
“My brother reached for his breast pocket, and Grandpa led us through the kitchen and on out to the back porch.
“Once outside, we all remarked on how it felt so much cooler than normal for the time of year, especially July, and the strong scent of burnt wood filled the night air. But at least there was no sign or feeling that Genovene or any other menace was in the immediate area. Everything felt very peaceful, like it usually did until three days ago.
“Grandpa sat down on the porch steps and looked out into the backyard with his shotgun cradled between his knees. He struck a match to relight his pipe and allowed Jeremy to use the rest of the flame to light his cigarette. My brother leaned up against the support post closest to the steps. I stood across from him, leaning on the porch rail and watching the steady smoke stream from Grandpa’s pipe rise into the air, seemingly chased by the small row of rings Jeremy created with his cigarette.
“Grandpa had turned the porch and security lights off just before we ventured outside, as there wasn’t a need for artificial light. The entire yard aglow from the moon’s brightness, even the giant oak and the mimosas, along with the backyard’s assortment of rusted junk, were fully illuminated. The stone sphere looked ominous and eerie near the back wall, though we only caught glimpses of it through the oak’s branches and leaves.
“‘Tomorrow, I’m going to start cleaning away all of this garbage back here,’ Grandpa announced as he puffed on his pipe. ‘It’s finally time to get that done. I should’ve done it years ago, but could never bring myself to care much about it after Elsie passed away. That damned sphere has always reminded me of what’s happened every time I’ve laid eyes on it. I gave up on removing it after the NASA fiasco happened long ago…. I can tell from both of your faces that you’ve heard that story before.’
“We both confirmed we had, but I hoped he’d tell us more.
“After all Elsie and I had to contend with, I was so overwhelmed by grief that I just wanted the goddamned thing out of here,’ he explained. ‘But, I’ll never try that again.’ He smiled wanly as he said this. ‘I’ll bet she’d be glad to know I’m finally taking care of this eyesore.’
“Jeremy and I told him we’d help him get that done, which brightened his smile some. He looked up toward the sky. Despite the moon’s powerful presence in the sky, we could still trace some of the constellations and identify the brighter nearby planets and galaxies in the summer night sky. Grandpa quizzed us, as he sometimes did, on the celestial bodies we could identify and the various zodiac myths.
“We spent maybe an hour doing this, until we started getting tired around midnight. The three of us went back inside the farmhouse, the steady din from the crickets, tree toads, and cicadas no longer audible as we walked back into the kitchen and closed the storm door behind us. Grandpa turned the porch light and the security floodlights back on. Then he and Jeremy walked into the living room to relax a little before retiring for the evening.
“As for me, the full affects of my adventure from the day before had finally caught up to me. I said goodnight to them both and headed upstairs to bed.
“Once I reached my bedroom, I left the light off since moonlight poured in through my window. I walked over to it and looked out into the backyard. Through gaps in the oak’s foliage, the blackened remains of the woods glistened. Amazed at the contrast between what I beheld now as compared to the same view two nights prior, I stood there several minutes before turning away.
“Really exhausted, I climbed into my bed with half my clothes on. But I couldn’t sleep, still too excited about everything that’d happened. I remember how I laid awake for quite a while, staring up at the ceiling. In an effort to distract myse
lf, I tried to think about anything other than the events of the past few days.
“Soon after, I finally started drifting off to sleep. A warm presence invaded my room. Before I crossed over into the world of dreams, I heard my mother’s voice softly say, ‘Remember, Jack… no matter what happens, I’ll always be with you.’
“I forced myself awake again, hoping to capture the quiet warmth that now enveloped my bedroom.
“‘Goodnight, Mom...wherever you are,’ I whispered.
“A light chuckle came from somewhere near the window and then, ‘Goodnight, my son’. I smiled and closed my eyes, soon fast asleep.”
PART VII
A Season’s End
Jack leaned back in his chair, silent, his story now finished.
So engrossed by the chronicle’s conclusion, at first Agent McNamee didn’t recognize his body language. Until he heard Jack’s stomach rumble again. He straightened himself in his chair and leaned slightly across the table. “So, that’s it?”
“Yeah. Pretty much anyway,” Jack told him.
“Then there’s more?”
“Well, I guess if you want information on the tornado and such, there might be.”
“ Please tell me about that, too, Jack,” said Peter, holding his ball point pen near his face as he relaxed in his chair once more.
Click-click.
“I’ve said all along I want to hear everything. That includes anything else you can possibly tell me about what happened back then. Again, if you want to take a dinner break first, that’s fine with me. I don’t want to leave here tonight until you’ve shared all you know.”
Click-click.
Jack stared at the pen in the agent’s hand, his current state not reacting well to Peter’s nervous habit. Peter stopped clicking his pen, as if suddenly realizing its affect on his subject.
“I can still wait on dinner,” Jack said, glancing at Peter’s hand that now rested on the table, still holding the pen. It proved enough for the agent to set it down and withdraw his hand from the table. “But, before I tell you anything more, I need to know what you honestly think of everything. Especially my grandfather’s story. I mean, do you believe it? Or do you think it’s a load of bullshit?”