The Brown House
A Visitors Series Novel
Christy Sloat
CHBB Publishing
Contents
Acknowledgments
Brown Family Tree
Mayhew Family Tree
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
This Book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Copyright Christy Sloat ©2012 ©2018
Edited by Cheree Castellanos
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are
either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the author.
CHBB Publishing
Acknowledgments
To the readers, I hope you enjoy The Brown House. This house and some of its stories are based on a home my husband grew up in. Tales of this house came from my husband and his family. I of course put my own spin on this tale, but only they know what really happened. The brown house still stands today.
For Joe. You have showed me that this is where I want to spend my life. Forever in your arms and by your side. A family is forever.
Brown Family Tree
Mayhew Family Tree
Chapter One
The drive was so long it seemed endless, almost unyielding. I tried to sleep but that was next to impossible with how uncomfortable the back seat was. Luckily, we had shipped all of our belongings to the new house. I was thankful that at least I didn’t have to sit there, buried by tons of stuff.
My parents decided that a road trip to our new home would be good family fun time and all that. Yeah, and a lot of fun it was. I was stuck in the back seat while they got to see all the sights they wanted to. I was not interested in seeing Arizona, Texas, or any of those other desert states. I wanted to see California again. However, that was way behind us now. We were in Pennsylvania and it was just as green as Tennessee, or wherever we had been the previous days before. My mom insisted on going on and on about how green Pennsylvania was. In addition to that, she kept asking me repeatedly if I thought it was pretty. I just kept saying yes to appease her. In all honesty, I didn’t care how green it was. I wanted to see the blue California ocean and the palm trees.
My dad had lost his job, and we lived in our own little house for a year before the bank made us leave. It was the saddest day of my life. My mom cried for weeks and my dad was just pissed off. We moved in with my mom’s friend, but we all knew we couldn’t stay with her and her three kids for too long. All of her kids were under the age of five, and super hyper. My mom said we had to be good little soldiers, march on and stay strong. I felt like I had been as strong as I could possibly be. When I finished my sophomore year my dad calmly announced that we would be moving to New Jersey. New Jersey? Was he serious? He said that he had spoken to my Uncle Keith, and that Uncle Keith landed my dad a job. Although it was an entry-level position, whatever that means, it was enough to support us.
My dad seemed optimistic about everything and my mom followed his lead. They tried really hard to tell me how wonderful New Jersey was. Telling me it had beaches, beautiful lakes, and lush green forests. The wildest thing they pointed out was that there were a lot of reality TV shows about New Jersey. Hello! I watch MTV I knew all of this, still not impressed. My dad flew out there to check things out with the new job and to search for a new home. He sent a picture message of the new place and it was the ugliest house I had ever seen. I pouted for days about this old house that we were supposed to live in, and rightfully so. It was nothing like our cute little white house in the hills of Los Angeles. I loved that house! Sadly, I guess I had to let go of it sometime. The day before my dad came home, I thought that it would only be fair to show him that I was somewhat excited about all of this, even though I was not in the least excited about it.
He did nothing but talk about New Jersey and our new house. How it had three stories and six bedrooms. He said I could pick any room I wanted and that was a little encouraging. So, we packed the car, and I daydreamed about how I could decorate my brand new room. I decided on keeping the walls white and waiting to see what inspired me when we actually got there.
It was a sad day to start with and then Grandpa and Grandma came to say goodbye. I was just heartbroken by the whole thing. Grandma and Grandpa made me promise to video call them every week, and of course I said I would. I am going to miss them terribly; especially grandma’s homemade cookie weekends, where we would just bake cookies for no specific reason. I hugged them, not wanting to let go, but I did turn around. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I got into the car. I did not want them to see me cry. I would have some family in New Jersey. My Aunt Leona would be there. She was terrific and we got along great. She was my dad’s little sister and to be around her was so much fun. She knew all about fashion, so I knew I could go shopping with her anytime, and come back looking like a runway model. My mom refused to shop in a store; she says shopping online is just as fun. I just do not agree with that. Trying on the outfits is the best part, but mom says she hates dressing rooms and I have no clue as to why.
None of my so-called friends showed up to say goodbye when we left. That also made it a bit easier to leave. I guess you find out who your friends are when you lose everything you have. You lose coolness points when your family has a financial problem. That was fine by me because they were snobs anyway. Maybe the girls in New Jersey would be a bit more down to earth and less shallow.
We passed a green sign that read, “Welcome to New Jersey, the Garden State.”
Mom and dad grabbed each other’s hands and laughed. They had been through a lot and I guessed they were excited about celebrating a new beginning. We pulled into a rest stop that looked more like a shopping mall than a gas station, and I opened the door to stretch my long legs. I do not consider myself super tall, but I am definitely not short.
“Well Brylee, we made it!” Mom said, as she grabbed me and scooped me up in a hug. She is just as tall as I am but she is ten times stronger. She loves to work out and she loves to show people that she can still pick me up.
“God Mom, put me down!” I shouted. She put me down and started laughing. It was not funny! People were staring at us. Dad entered the rest stop/shopping plaza and my mom and I followed. It really was just as I thought; the rest stop had several stores and food courts. It was so weird, definitely not like anything I had encountered on our trip. As mom and dad both went to the restroom, I got in line for coffee. I was sleep deprived from our many hotel stops and trying to rest in the car. I took notice of the people around me, they all looked normal. I guess I
thought the people here would be different somehow. But they all seemed to dress just like the people back home. The girls wore their hair the same and dressed in the same style outfits as me. The boys looked a bit different though. Some wore their hair spiky and some slicked back. Nothing like the long hair the boys back home wore.
There it was, my first thought of him. It was the first time since we left on our trip that I had even thought of his name. Ethan. I pictured him at one of the tables here, laughing and joking with his friends as he often did, his blonde hair hanging in his eyes. He loved to wear it like that; all shaggy and disheveled. I remembered being mesmerized by his tanned skin as he rode upon the waves, and how the beads of water trickled down his abs. I remembered the day he first talked to me. He seemed nervous, and I didn’t understand why. I felt my heart pounding in my throat, I was so nervous, too. He was anxious it turns out, because he liked me. Nothing exceptional had happened between us except one date and several long phone calls. Shortly after our first date together, school ended and we had to move. It was one date that I would remember forever, though. It may have not been much, but it was something to me.
Ethan had wanted to go out one more time before I left but, sadly, it never happened. My parents had kept me so busy I just didn’t get the time to go out with him again. Our last phone conversation was me telling him goodbye. He said he was sad to see me go but that he would call and email as often as he could. I doubt he will. I am sure he will have a new girlfriend in a week.
“What can I get ya?” the woman behind the counter asked in her thick accent.
“A Chai tea please,” I replied. I noticed that people tended to talk differently as we went further east. They spoke with slang’s and strange pronunciations. Instead of water, they pronounced it wooder. Car was simply, caw. They said yeah a lot and, instead of you guys, said you’s guys. However, I found it cute and humorous. I knew that after a few months of living here I would soon pick up the same accent. I paid for my tea and found my parents waiting for me by the exit.
“A Chai tea this time? No coffee?” Dad teased.
“Nope, I figured a tea would be nice,” I answered.
“Alrighty kiddo, let’s get on the road. We are about an hour away still so, are you ready?”
I shrugged my shoulders. What was another hour when I had been in the car for a week? We piled back into the car and Mom fussed with the radio to find a decent station. She settled on a mixed station, which was playing all sorts of old and current music. I just sipped my tea and tried to enjoy the last hour in this God-forsaken car. I watched Mom’s excitement as the drive went on; her curly brown hair waving in the breeze from the outside air. She was really pretty, and fit for her age. She had just turned forty-one last month and she looked thirty, or at least that’s what everyone says. She shares the same green eyes as me, but she burned in the sun with her fair skin where I tanned like a Greek goddess. Dad has green eyes too, but his were a bit more hazel than green. I got his olive complexion, thankfully. His once brown hair was turning gray as time went on, especially lately. Every day it seems to get more and more gray.
My hair is dark brown because of a dye bottle, not by birth. My natural blonde was hiding because I felt like I needed a fresh start. My mom cried when I dyed it, and Dad said he liked it. Maybe he was just trying to be nice but I took the compliment anyway. It wasn’t going to stay there forever, it was semi-permanent, but my mom was still upset about it. I was a typical California girl, blonde hair, tan, and tall. I was popular enough. I joined cheer in freshman year and that really boosted my popularity. By summer, I had had enough of the cheerleading; it was grueling and way too much work. Not to mention, I didn’t like the person I was turning into. So I decided for sophomore year that I would watch them cheer at football games instead. That worked out well because the girls still talked to me after the game and the football players still flirted with me. Ethan was who I set my sights on, not some football jock. Ever since junior high Ethan was my crush, even after he teased me relentlessly. All along, I just wanted him to notice me. I had to stop thinking about Ethan. I would have to find someone else to crush on out here.
Sophomore year went well, I had plenty of things to do after school. Like hanging out with Leslie and the crew or so I called them. They were all cheerleaders and they still talked to me even though I had quit the squad. I was still invited to the parties. Mom hated it, but they were just simple parties nothing crazy. Mostly hanging out at Leslie’s house, and swimming with the cheer team and some of the football players.
I thought they were my friends but once things went east, literally, they didn’t return my calls. I didn’t want to be the same girl I was back there. I had become just as snobby as Leslie and the others. I didn’t want to be a snob. It wasn’t my nature to be a bully or to talk about someone I hardly knew. Over time, they had me doing it, too. It was just that way, you did it or you were the one getting the brunt of it. So I acted like a bitch to everyone who wasn’t, in our eyes, seen as “cool.” I really hoped the new school I would be attending wouldn’t be like that. Unfortunately, something told me bullies were everywhere and so were girls like Leslie.
The sun started to go down and I realized that I couldn’t see the sunset because there were too many damned trees. You couldn’t see anything beyond them. It was as if they were smothering everything.
I leaned back in the seat, set my tea down, and closed my eyes. I figured I would rest them for just a bit.
“Brylee wake up. We’re here.” Mom’s gentle voice pulled me from my sleep. I woke up groggy and drooling just a bit. I wiped my chin and looked outside the car. I saw nothing. Blackness surrounded the car. I looked ahead and peered out the windshield. The headlights illuminated a huge, brown house. It was our new home. I slumped back into the seat. It was just as ugly as the picture. I had thought that once I saw it I would find some beauty in it. I was so very wrong. It was hideous. No wonder it was so cheap. No one in their right mind would live here, but we were going to.
“Come on Bry, we have to start unloading the car and get settled.” Dad was already pulling out our luggage. I got out of the car and looked down, pine needles scattered the ground. I helped dad with my luggage and we walked toward the side of the house.
“This is the door. There is no front entry,” Dad explained as he unlocked the door. It led into a small entryway; there were hooks for jackets and a stool for shoes. This room led to another door that Dad unlocked. The door creaked and moaned as it gave way and we entered. We stood in the kitchen, if you could call it that. It was small and it had no cupboards or shelves, just a sink with a small cupboard underneath, so small that no one could store anything in it. The stove sat lonely under the stairwell. The refrigerator sat on the opposite wall. The walls were a pale, rusty yellow and the floors were hardwood. The house gave off a smell, which made me feel this house had been empty for a while.
Mom’s face sunk and I could tell she was severely disappointed by this so-called kitchen. My mom loved to cook and, with a kitchen like this, that would prove to be a nightmare. I wondered why in the world there was a stairwell in the kitchen.
Dad continued through the house into, what I guessed, was the living room. It too had hardwood flooring and it looked really old, like it hadn’t been changed since the house was built. Our house back home had carpet, and then later we added hardwood. However, I doubt that there has ever been any carpet in this house.
The house was quiet and still; the floors creaked as we walked. I dragged my mom into the next room because she still looked melancholy. I needed to snap her out of it.
“You can always look at it like a blank canvas. You can decorate it and make it into a kitchen you will love.”
She smiled back at me and tickled my side. I laughed. Whatever I had said had worked. She was smiling again and that was good. Seeing mom smile had been rare lately; except for on the drive here. She seemed to smile a lot more once we left California. Maybe she felt
free and she wanted to reinvent herself. Now she had the chance to do that. I could definitely relate to the feeling of wanting to be someone new.
The walls in the living room area were a dingy white and there were several cracks in the ceiling. The window was decent size; it was a bay window, which reminded me of our house back home. To the side of the window was a large iron radiator. Something I had never seen before. I only knew what it was because of a movie I had seen once. There was a huge fireplace that took up an entire wall and it was somewhat beautiful. Well, I tried to see the beauty in it. It looked like it had not been used in about ten years, though. I tried to imagine it being clean and shiny with me laying in front of it while I read a book. This thought brought a smile to my face.
“Oh, does someone like the fireplace?” Dad joked. He knew I was a sucker for a nice fireplace. I noticed a bathroom off the side of the kitchen and I checked it out. It had pale pink wallpaper that was peeling off the top part of the wall. The sink was old fashioned and there was just a toilet. I eyed the doorknobs; they were very old and vintage, almost antique looking. I closed the door and followed Mom and Dad into the next room. The only thing that separated it from the living room was a wall with an arch. It looked like another living room. It too had a fireplace, just not as big as the first. There was a nice window, but between the lack of curtains and the darkness outside, it was a little eerie. Dad showed us the first bedroom on this floor and it was decent size but it didn’t have a window. Directly behind us was another stairwell, but this one looked dark. Dad tried all the switches but none of them seemed to light up the stairs.
The Brown House Page 1
