Motherhood And Other Tales of Terror

by John Grover

  Tobey took a sandwich wrapped in plastic wrap and set it on his plate—olive loaf smeared with plenty of ketchup, his favorite. He placed a sandwich on the absent Aaron’s plate. That one was peanut butter and jelly. What would anyone expect from a five-year old? The last sandwich he placed on Merydith’s plate was a tuna salad sandwich with diced onions, which she had prepared herself.

  “Thank you, Tobey.”

  “You’re welcome,” he answered with a rather bashful nod. Tobey was more a gentleman at twelve years old than most adult men.

  What a perfect day for a picnic, thought Merydith as she started scooping helpings of freshly made potato salad onto the plates. She had learned all of these recipes from her mother, the greatest cook in the world next to Grandma, of course.

  The two settled down to a very appetizing lunch. They weren’t very concerned with Aaron; they knew he would pop up eventually and wolf down his sandwich. They had to enjoy these daily lunches while they could, because in another month, school would be in session and the garden would be deserted until around three o’clock every day.

  Aaron was lucky; he was still too young to attend school. He had to wait one more year. That meant he could stay home with the garden all the time. Tobey and Merydith envied him that, which was probably the reason Aaron was so enthralled by the place. Everything was in such perfect harmony here. In a way, it was as if the Garden of Eden had been reborn right there in South Carolina. As Merydith and Tobey sat and ate, the garden creatures kept them company. A white and gray rabbit hopped its way timidly into the gazebo. Three Robins landed sturdily on the roof and a small squirrel occupied itself noisily by Tobey’s chair. Merydith and Tobey laughed to one another. The animals were so friendly and unafraid, as if the two of them were a part of nature.

  “Here you go, little squirrel, this will fill you up.” Tobey promptly tore a piece of his sandwich and threw it to the squirrel. The critter automatically snatched it up. Tobey laughed as he listened to the squirrel chatter and squeal as it nibbled the food.

  “Now, Tobey,” Merydith said. “Don’t make a mess in Grandpa Simon’s garden. That could be considered littering. Grandpa would be furious with you.”

  Tobey gave her a confused look and just giggled. “Oh, c’mon, Mery. I’m only feeding an animal. Look, he didn’t leave one crumb. They never eat from the garden so I figure they must be hungry.”

  Merydith paused for a moment and then thought about it. She had always found the animals’ refusal to eat here to be curious. It was as if Grandpa had made the family rule clear to them as well, and they obeyed.

  “In any case, Tobey, the animals do fine by themselves. They know where to find food. Now you leave them be.”

  “Yes, Merydith,” Tobey said as he squinted. Merydith noted his sarcasm.

  They continued to eat in the serene surroundings of their home. The sun finally reached its peak and was at its hottest. Merydith and Tobey loved the sun. They thrived on it, as did Aaron. Each of them seemed to grow stronger the more time they spent in it. Merydith suddenly remembered the absent Aaron. He had been out of sight far too long, she thought. Lunch was nearly over.

  “Aaron!” Merydith called. For a fifteen-year-old, she was extremely motherly with her younger brothers and quite protective. “Aaron, c’mon to lunch now! It’s getting late.” She waited. Only silence answered her beckoning.

  “Aaron! Don’t play with me now!” A smidgeon of fear crept into her body. “Tobey, find your brother. I’m beginning to worry. I told him not to wander far.”

  Tobey got up and left the gazebo. “Aaron! Aaron where are you?” His voice was stern and angered. He would make a good father. Tobey would probably have to substitute as a father figure for little Aaron someday. Grandfather Simon was not getting any younger.

  Merydith stood up as well and searched the garden. Anxiety left its mark on her delicate little face.

  “Aaron!” They called in unison. Tobey began to advance on a trail twisting deep into the garden. Tears began to pool in the corners of Merydith’s eyes as panic slithered through her. Where is he? My baby brother is lost out there. We’ll never find him. Oh, Answer, please answer.

  “Boo!” Aaron jumped into the gazebo, nearly scaring the life out of his sister. Merydith turned and fell against the table, knocking over the teapot and sending a river of cold tea to the floor.

  “Aaron!” she yelled. “Where were you? You scared us to death! Don’t you ever do that again. Next time you answer when we call you, do you understand?”

  Aaron looked up into her face, his eyes as big as a puppy’s. His tiny lips pouted. “I...I’m sorry, Mery. I didn’t mean to scare you. I was only playing.”

  Merydith took pity on her brother and with relief, she gave him a big hug. “It’s okay, Aaron. I’m sorry I yelled. It’s just that we love you so much. If anything ever happened to you, I don’t know what we’d do.”

  The two hugged once again and then stood up. Aaron immediately ran to his peanut butter and jelly sandwich and began to eat it.

  “Tobey! It’s all right I found him! Come back.”

  Within moments, Tobey came running up a path and joined his brother and sister. “Where was he?” he asked, panting heavily.

  “He was hiding, just playing a little game.”

  Tobey sighed and rolled his eyes with irritation before returning to his lunch.

  After lunch had finally ended, the siblings cleaned up the gazebo and started packing their things to take back into the house. As they walked back to the big old gate, they met Grandpa Simon at the door. He was about fifty-eight years old, or maybe older, but no one really knew. He had the face of an old-fashioned Father Christmas, complete with rosy cheeks and scraggly beard. “Hello there, children. Did you enjoy your lunch?”

  “We sure did. We can’t wait to come back and play in the garden tomorrow, Grandpa,” Aaron didn’t hesitate to respond. He always had a good time.

  “Well, time to give the old garden a drink. I’ll see y’all inside.”

  “Okay, Grandpa. Boys, come along.” Merydith had great respect for their grandfather. She was his first grandchild and she felt special because of that.

  ***

  Simon stretched a long hose from the inside of his cellar. He left the outside doors open just a crack to fit the thick rubber hose through. He stepped to the outskirts of the garden, behind the gate, where there was an irrigation pump. He connected his hose, nice and tight. He gave the rusty old handles a crank and let the irrigation system do the rest. It was the only way to do it, with a garden that size.

  A pale white fluid showered the entire garden. It was part water and part of Simon’s own secret formula. It was something he’d developed in the cellar workshop. Every day he did this using the same hose and same formula. He was a creature of habit.

  Each day the garden drank and became even more vibrant and stronger. The formula seemed to have some part in its overall health and growth. All the children in the family wondered what it was and how their grandfather had come up with it, having watched him water many times before. Was it a discovery or an invention?

  If only Simon would share his secret with the world, they thought, he would be a millionaire. But he never did and probably never would.

  He watched as the fluid rained down upon every root, every branch, every fruit, every blade of grass. It acted as water, fertilizer, and food all at once. It was the only nutrient he ever put into the garden. He smiled proudly, beaming with happiness and satisfaction as he watched over his baby, his ultimate achievement in life.

  “Drink, my beauty. That’s right…drink it all up. What a fine beauty you are.” After a thorough sprinkling of about fifteen minutes, he switched the system off and disconnected the hose. With glee, he wound up the hose, left the garden and shut the gate firmly behind him. He brought the hose back to his private workshop, his own little world beneath the house.

  2. The House

  Upon entering the hous
e, Merydith set the tray down on the counter by the sink. As was to be expected the boys had vanished into their own play world, leaving Merydith to clean up the lunch dishes. She really didn’t mind. The interior of the house was so cozy and old-fashioned it always made her feel safe and warm. She enjoyed spending her time in and out of the house.

  The kitchen floor was black and white linoleum. Handmade cabinets, built by Simon, lined the kitchen walls. They matched the floor perfectly. Not a speck of dirt dare touch the white cabinets with brass handles. Ruffled curtains, a soft creamy pink color, hung elegantly in the windows.

  Merydith brought the dishes to the sink, carefully drained the excess tea, and covered the rest of the potato salad. She placed the leftovers in the white refrigerator in the back of the room.

  She switched on the cold and hot water and filled the sink with soap, the afternoon sun pouring in on her. It felt wonderful coming through the solar panels built into the slanted roof. The whole house was heated by solar energy. The second floor had solar panels as well, and it felt so good to stand under them—clean, warm and somehow pure. It really gave Merydith a boost.

  As she stood scrubbing the teacups her attention was once again drawn to the handcrafted hutch in the corner. Tarnished and stained, it was the proud bearer of Grandma Gladys’s bell collection. She had every bell imaginable…brass ones, glass ones that caught the sunlight in a myriad of rainbow colors, ones shaped like angels and animals. There were even clay ones. Those seemed the most delicate..

  Merydith took a moment each day and rang a bell in the collection just to listen to its sound. It was somehow magical. Each bell had its own unique tone. Merydith’s favorite was the bell with the snow scene painted on it. For some reason that one in the third row, in the center, fascinated her.

  She stared at it as she cleaned out and scrubbed the teapot. Snow was actually not very good for her. When it came to Willington, South Carolina, she burned with fever and grew weak. Every bit of strength was snatched out of her. She could never play in it, not even for five minutes. It wasn’t every winter that snow fell, but when it did, she stared in bewilderment at it, wondering why she could never relish playing in it as she’d heard other kids did.

  She tried not to dwell on it. Other children had ailments or allergies. Perhaps this was her allergy. Her mother and brothers were the same way. Maybe that was why that one bell fascinated her so much—a sort of envy or wish to enjoy the snow, just once. She always thought it was so pretty.

  After finishing the dishes and tucking them back into their resting places, Merydith decided to join her mother and grandmother in the parlor.

  “Gin!” Marion yelled out with a sense of victory. Merydith giggled as she saw the shocked look on her grandmother’s face. “Ha, I beat you again, Gladys. That makes three games in a row,” Marion said with pleasure. She had never been on a winning streak like this before.

  Marion’s luck had never been the greatest. She had never won at anything. She lost every raffle she entered at the Willington annual fair. She played the lottery every other day but her numbers never came out. She and Gladys went to bingo on Thursday nights but Marion never won. Only Gladys got that lucky.

  Her luck was just plain bad. It seemed that whenever she went out to sunbathe, which all of the Santaneen family loved to do, the sun would go in and it would start to rain. But to her ultimate humiliation, anytime she went up to the town market, owned by Garreth Hickley, his old dog would run up and urinate on her. That got quite a few laughs from the kids who hung around up there. Marion would turn red, wipe herself down, and run to gather her groceries as fast as she could.

  “Well, what do you say? Do you want another game, Gladys?” Marion asked, eager to turn her bad luck to good finally.

  “Three games, my Aunt Felia! I don’t play with cheaters,” Gladys answered in a fluster.

  “Cheaters!” Marion was shocked and insulted. “Who are you calling a cheater?”

  “You!” Gladys snapped.

  “How dare you, you old crow. I don’t cheat and I never have.”

  “Then how do you explain the last three hands? You ain’t never won a game from me in your life.”

  “Well, maybe my luck is finally changing for the better. Now, do you want another game or not? Don’t you want revenge?”

  Gladys just sat in the old wooden chair with its flower-patterned cushions tied to the seat and grumbled. Merydith giggled again and placed her hand on her grandmother’s small yet strong body. “C’mon, Grandma, are you gonna let her get the best of you?”

  “Oh, Mery, I didn’t know you were listening. Well, how do you explain your mother’s sudden change of luck?”

  Merydith smiled and thought about the answer to that but knew there wasn’t one. “I don’t,” she replied. “Just like I can’t explain the garden out back.”

  Marion and Gladys looked at one another. There was something knowing in their eyes.

  “Well, the garden is a result of all your Grandpa Simon’s hard work, child. That man has more green thumbs than a hundred farmers. I guess I’ll play your mother once more. Thank you, Mery.”

  “You’re very welcome, Grandma.”

  As Gladys scooped up the deck of cards and began to shuffle them, Merydith sat to watch them in her favorite chair—a large rocker soft cushions deep enough to swallow Aaron right up.. On its back rested a flowery doily, the same that rested on all the furniture in the parlor.

  Merydith sat and watched as Gladys passed out five cards to herself and then Marion. Merydith’s eyes began to wander about the room. An old-fashioned phonograph sat in the corner. Sometimes her grandparents would play old records on it for the family after dinner.

  Her attention then turned to the large bay window that faced the dusty dirt road. It was dressed in light, gold-colored curtains, a shade softer than the chair. The other windows also had matching curtains. The bay window had a shelf that showcased all the pictures of the Santaneen family, including Gladys and Simon’s wedding picture. How beautiful young Gladys looked in her gown, a shimmering white veil with a train stretching down the back. Grandpa looked so different in a tuxedo, not at all what he looked like now.

  There were also pictures of Marion, and, of course, the three children. Those were the most recent, taken last year. There were also pictures of Simon’s parents, and Gladys’s parents, all who were gone long before Merydith arrived.

  The strangest thing of all was that there were no pictures of her father. None whatsoever. It also seemed that Marion was an only child, and perhaps Merydith’s father as well. No pictures of any siblings existed. Merydith had made a vow to save and protect all the pictures in this house and someday add her own.

  The walls of the parlor were covered in wallpaper—a beige with gold fleck. The rug was cocoa and tickled bare feet when you ran across it. In one corner was a great Grandfather clock, its pendulum swinging endlessly as the clock ticked away the minutes.

  The huge, timbered front door was often kept closed while they occupied the room. Grandma always said enough light got through the bay window and solar panels that there was no need for it to be opened. The source of light here was a single domed light that was mounted to the center of the ceiling. It had fringes dangling from its edges and could only be switched on from a long chain. It was odd and didn’t really seem to fit the room.

  “Gin!” Marion called once again with a twinkle in both her eyes.

  “My stars,” Gladys complained in disbelief. “That’s impossible. I can’t believe this is happening. This must be some kind of sign. If your luck has gone good, then everyone else’s is bound to go bad.”

  “Oh, stop it, Gladys. Just face the fact that I have learned and become better. I can now beat you at Gin.”

  “I still won’t believe it until I see for myself that you’re not cheating.”

  “Gladys, let it rest. I do not cheat.”

  The two were beginning to spin a storm of anger and accusation
s. Merydith almost opened her mouth to stop them until Marion turned and met the eyes of her daughter. “Merydith, would you please find out what your brothers are up to and keep them out of trouble?”

  Merydith had no choice and did as her mother asked, leaving her and Grandma to finish their dispute in private.

  ***

  After Merydith had vanished up the stairs, Simon entered the parlor, getting right in the middle of the feuding women.

  “Gladys, if you don’t stop accusing me of cheating, I just won’t play with you anymore.”

  “Ha, right there that proves you were cheating. You’re getting defensive and backing down from the game.”

  “That doesn’t prove anything. Play me again and this time Simon can watch me.”

  Simon laughed and sat in the rocker, wiped his sweaty hands on his blue painter’s pants, and picked up the glass of lemonade Gladys had put out for him. “Ladies, please hush your bickering and don’t get me involved. I can’t choose sides. I’ll end up in the doghouse.”

  “But we don’t have a doghouse,” answered Gladys.

  “We don’t have a dog either, Mother!” Simon said.

  The three of them broke out in a strange sort of cackling laughter.

  “Well, I’ll tell ya,” Simon began, “times are sure changing fast, Mother. You two should enjoy your gin games while you can. This house probably won’t stay like this forever. Like the garden, soon our own little ways will die and the children will grow up and move away. Let’s enjoy the time while we still have it.”

  What he was saying made sense to them, and they listened attentively, but his tone was strange, as if he knew something but didn’t want to admit to it. None of them wanted their way of life to disappear, yet they all had a fear that hung in the backs of their minds.

  Gladys and Marion smiled as Simon stood up and pulled his gold pocket watch from the pocket of his blue and white flannel shirt. They watched him like he was their shepherd, leading them with compassion. “Well, I have a lot of work to do. I’ll be down in the workshop. Call me when dinner’s ready, as always, and don’t disturb me before then.”

  Their eyes shared a secret understanding that was fearfully serious. “Yes, Simon,” They answered simultaneously.