by Louise Corum
There might be inquiries about what had happened but he never had to talk about it, if he liked. But there would always be Elka in his mind and some measure of doubt whether what had happened was really an accident or not. He would carry the guilt of it for the rest of his life. It would not choke him, this guilt, but it would always be around to remind him that he hadn’t done the right thing.
But mostly, he regretted how things had turned out for Elka. Regretted that she had to endure a life of hardship just because someone got angry at her because she didn’t do something they wanted. The regret, in the end, was what John wrestled with emotionally. If only… But there was nothing to be done. What was done was finished and it was time for him to let go of that as well.
Elka would be laid to rest next to her parents in their family cemetery. The photographs of her would remain in the attic. The memory of what she could have been would linger on in John’s mind. He would always think of his sister and he would try to forget the times when she was crazy. He would instead try to remember how she had been as a young woman, when life was hers for the taking. When she was really alive and well.
He liked to think that Elka had forgiven him from above. And if she hadn’t? He had forgiven himself and, in the end, that’s all that really mattered. Sometimes he did have doubts though. Maybe he was crazier than his sister had been. What kind of person does the kind of thing he did? He knew he did it out of selfishness. He knew he’d been wrong. He knew he should have gone to the police but he hadn’t. He hadn’t because for once, he wanted his life to be about him and what he wanted. He just wanted to be normal, that’s all. And he had gotten what he wanted. He had gotten the woman and the son and the life he’d always dreamt about. Every man deserves that. And every woman, too.
As John had anticipated, a few days later, he was cleared and Elka’s death was ruled an accident. And James’s? Not so accidental. He had told the police what had happened to Elka and they had corroborated it with Velma. They had also talked to Amos and managed to track down this mysterious man who had told him about James being stabbed. Since everybody involved was now dead, there was nothing they could do about it. It was over.
The Cashman’s were the talk of the town for a few weeks, well, a few months, but soon enough, it died down and they resumed their lives. Ray would start school soon and John had decided to eventually turn the factory over to someone else to run. He might even sell it as he didn’t want to saddle Ray with too much responsibility.
Every so often, John would take out the picture of Elka he’d gotten from James O’Neill’s brother and stare at it. That picture showed a beautiful young woman, full of life, full of promise. The picture was a reminder to John that life was fragile and it was not to be taken for granted. But for some, it ends all too soon and all too badly.
He stared at it one day while sitting on an old wrought iron bench that Kathleen had rescued years ago from the ivy. His son came up and sat beside him. He smiled over at him and asked, “Who’s that, Daddy?”
“Your aunt, Elka,” he said.
“She was pretty, wasn’t she?” Ray asked.
John nodded. “She was.”
“Did you have fun with her when you were little?”
John thought about that and remembered the day it happened, the day when everything changed. He remembered Elka staring at him and smiling, the love for her younger brother shining in her eyes. She had leaned over and whispered in his ear about how she was going to suck his blood. And then the fun chaos of having a vampire chasing him around the kitchen as their mother yelled for them to stop as they acted like kids. That day she loved him. That day he loved her. That day, so very long ago, reminded John of what they had had and they had love. That love was what kept him caring for her when he should have given up. He knew he hadn’t killed her. It was an accident and probably unavoidable.
“I did,” John said. “I did.”
“Were you sad when she died?” Ray asked.
“I was, very much so,” John said.
Ray laid a small hand on his arm and said, “It’s okay, Daddy. Sometimes you mess up.”
John stared into his eyes and nodded and for once, he found relief in what he had done. He’d messed up, as Ray had so eloquently put it. And sometimes life was like that.