Return to Cedar Hill

by Jacie Middlemann

  "No, but I did cross through the yard." He nodded to his left beyond the porch swing that sat assembled on the floor of the porch but not yet hung.

  Mary took a step out to look in the direction he motioned. "You live next door?" For some unknown reason she had imagined an elderly woman being her neighbor. She stared at the house, a small bungalow with pretty green shutters. An elderly woman had lived there once upon a time. Had baked cookies for them and had cats everywhere. She wiped the sweat that dripped on her forehead, where had that thought come from she wondered. Where had that memory been buried? And how on earth could she practically see it before her as it had once been?

  "For the last couple of years," he said as he followed her into the house. "Court Gordon." He took the hand she offered.

  "Mary Lane." She sized him up quickly and would have put him at thirty at first glance but looking closer at his eyes she had a feeling there were more years there than she might think. "Have you ever seen the house?"

  "Took a run through when it first went on the market a while back." He looked around the room they stood in, more surprised than he would admit at how much had been accomplished already.

  "It's been a chore just getting it cleaned up enough to feel comfortable living here." She led them both into the kitchen. "In all honesty, I know I need help but I want to do a lot of this on my own." At his raised eyebrows she added simply, "It's cheap therapy." And left him to imagine on his own why she might need it.

  She took in the room and all that really needed to be done. "I'm looking for someone who can do what I can't," she shrugged. "And in some cases what I don't want to." She gestured to the sink and the cabinets above it. "A new sink would be the first order of business and new cabinets but not where those are now." She looked down to the floor. She hated the swirling marble linoleum someone had badly installed somewhere along the way. She wanted her grandmother's intricately laid black and white tile back. "I can do the floor but I need someone to rip this crap up."

  Court silently agreed with her assessment of the current floor covering.

  Mary continued through the kitchen to the small hallway that despite its limited space, opened to every room in the house but one.

  "The light is out in the hall, new light bulbs haven't done anything for it so I'd like that fixed but the fixture to stay unless there's no way around it." She heard the scribbling as he continued to take notes of what she'd already decided. A quick glance told her it was in his own personal version of a short-hand only he could read.

  She led him into her grandmother's bedroom that she was slowly coming to think of as her own. She stood at the bottom of the bed and looked around the room. She wondered, and not for the first time, if anyone had done anything to this house since her grandmother died. Granted it had been a rental with no one living here longer than they cared to. Some longer than others. She simply couldn't understand how anyone could live anywhere and not make the slightest attempt to make it a home.

  "I'd like the floors in here to be sanded and re-stained. The windows all need to be re-glazed and there may be a couple that need to be replaced completely but I'd like that to be done only if necessary and even then done as much as possible to maintain the look of the others." She sat down on the small wooden desk chair she'd found at a local antique, junk and knickknack shop. "I can sleep in the other bedroom while that's being done." she paused, thinking of all the notes she’d made over the course of the past week. "All of the floors probably need to be done but I want them to be done room by room so I can survive the dust and stink."

  "It would be cheaper doing it all in one big sweep." Court felt obligated to mention, though he doubted that was a huge concern to her.

  Mary shrugged. "I've had my fill of hotel rooms. We might be able to combine a couple of rooms at a time as long as I can close them off until it airs out." She knew she was being picky but couldn't think of any other way short of checking into the hotel again and that simply wasn't going to be an option. "Anyway once all that's done and I get a better sense of the space I'm thinking about having a dormer type room built in the attic."

  "Have you been up there?" He thought of his own attic. If it was the same structurally it would be possible but costly.

  "No." She couldn't help the small smile she knew played around the edges of her mouth. "It has been said there are bats up there."

  Court looked up quickly at that. "Have you heard any?"

  "No."

  Court wondered how she'd heard there were. And who she'd heard it from. And with that thought another one began to form and as it did he took another good long look at her.

  "I don't think the property is large enough for a garage out in the back but there used to be a fairly good sized shed back there. I'd like something similar built in the same space," Mary continued on as she thought about what had once stood there, wondering if she had any photos of it anywhere. "I don't know if I have any photos but I'll look around."

  Court turned around a bit more slowly this time and simply stared at her. "Photos?"

  Lost in her own thoughts Mary didn't catch his questioning look that added to the seriousness of his question. She was caught up in trying to remember if she'd ever seen any actual photos of the shed in her multitude of old family photo albums.

  Court really didn't want to join the ranks of who knew how many people who had asked her what he was tempted to ask, all in the hope of being related to the nationally known and loved author. His own mother had devoured each and every one of her books within hours of their release. She had actually bought them ahead of time at the local bookstore. He was among the several family members who had been sent down to pick them up on the day of its release the minute the store opened. They had teased her about it every time. Made a big show about tossing a coin to see who would be 'stuck' with the task. But in truth each of them would have done it without a qualm just to see that smile.

  But it was just too ... weird, he decided for lack of a better word. But weird or not it was something that was also too hard to ignore. She didn't just remind him of his mother, she resembled her to the point they could practically have been sisters. Coincidence, he wondered. Maybe. But coincidence or not he needed to know one way or another.

  "Mrs. Lane...Mary," he corrected himself at her pointed look. "Are you from Burlington?" he paused then added. "Do you have family here?"

  Mary looked back at him wondering how they'd gotten to this from pictures of old sheds. She heard the intensity in his voice and wondered at it. "Probably," she answered his second question first, slowly. She watched as his eyes narrowed then continued to answer his first question, "I used to." She moved back into the front room, wondered again at the seriousness of his studying gaze. "This was my grandmother's house," she began, "I never lived in Burlington but we spent all of our summers and just about every major holiday here until she died." Because she was looking at the fireplace remembering cold winter nights spent in front of it roasting marshmallows on long sticks that more often than not fell into the flames before they could be enjoyed she didn't see the surprise that had him taking a step towards her. "She lived in Burlington all her life though, as did her mother and father before her." She looked back at him. "My father's family...their ancestors were among the first settlers of Burlington back in the 1830s. So I guess you could say I'm from here in an indirect way. I don't know for certain if I still have family here but there are ties beyond family one can have to a place."

  Court followed her into the room where she’d walked toward the fireplace. He could tell she was thinking of another time, the way she stared off and tapped her fingers together. His mother had done the same thing. Habits, he wondered, or genetics? He flipped through his memory of what he knew about the house. He didn't remember anyone in the family on either side ever having lived in it.

  "Both my parents grew up here though," Mary continued almost as if talking to herself. "I really don't know much about my father's family, that seems to b
e the way more than not." She said as she thought about it. She knew there had been aunts and uncles, many of whom he'd grown up around, but he'd never spoken of them, not like her mother had of hers. She had never met them, spent time with them as they had her mothers'. Whose choice had that been she wondered now with the wisdom of an adult and the experience of her own marriage.

  Court was coming up blank but something she'd said had spurred a long forgotten memory. "Do you remember any of their names, their family names?"

  Mary tossed off a few names that came to mind immediately, all from her mother's side and told him so. When she began going through her father's side of the family she slowed, struggled remembering the names. And felt shame for what she should have known without thought.

  Court listened carefully. If there was any connection it would have to be through his mother's family. His father had come to Burlington in pursuit of his mother from where his own family roots lay to the east in Pennsylvania.

  "Wait," he interrupted her. "How are the Serrines related to you?"

  She thought for a moment, wanted to be certain with all the names jumbling around in her head. "My father's grandmother on his mother's side was married to a Serrine," she paused. "I think."

  She saw the light in his eyes, something was clicking there, she thought. She struggled for memories of the side of her family she knew so little about. "Dad's mom, my grandmother, had several brothers and I think at least one sister. I know at some point many of them lived around here. That was how my Mom and Dad met, somehow through the connection of Mom's parents to one of Dad's uncles, one of his mother's brothers," she elaborated. She searched her memory for a name, "I want to say his name was Harry but I won't swear to it." She looked at him, instinctively realizing this was family however distant the connection. "My grandmother's maiden name was Serrine."

  Court remembered a family story from his youth. He'd heard it enough times to remember it clearly. "Did your father's parents die when he was pretty young?"

  Mary studied the man standing in front of her. "Yes." She decided in that moment her new life here couldn't be fraught with all the caution that had become such a huge part of her life over the last twenty years. "That's how he ended up in Burlington. He came here after that to live with his grandparents."

  Court saw the caution despite her efforts to overcome it and understood it. He understood it far better than she could realize at the moment but wasn't ready to have that conversation just yet. Instead he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. Flipping it open, he slid out a photo he had carried with him since it was taken three years before. It was dog-eared from wear and obviously handled often. He handed it to her silently. If that didn't ease her concerns he could probably dig out the family bible that had been passed down through numerous generations on his mother's side of the family.

  Mary took the photo, taking care with it. If she hadn't her surprise would have caused her to drop it. The woman in the photo might be a bit younger than her but the resemblance was incredible and indisputable. What really drew her was the even greater resemblance to her Aunt Beth, one of her father's older sisters. Somewhere in one of her photo albums she had a picture of her aunt at about the same age. The two could be twins. She lifted her gaze back to the man who lived next door.

  "That's my mother," he explained in a quiet voice. "That picture was taken just a couple of months before she died." He saw the question and knew she was too polite to ask. "Cancer. It went really fast." He looked at the photo she handed back to him, then back at her. "You could be her sister."

  "There's a strong resemblance, I'll grant you. But the resemblance is even stronger to one of my father's sisters."

  "Maybe. I don't know her. I'm looking at you and the resemblance is..."

  "Difficult," Mary spoke softly. She could well imagine her feelings if she were to run into someone who could pose for her mother.

  "Yeah," he took a deep breath. "A bit." It was still kind of weird talking to her let alone looking at her. "First time I saw you I thought, there's Mom. I wondered if I was going off the deep end." And he was going to have to work hard to get used to it. "Even my aunt, her own sister, doesn't look as much like her as you do." And the thought suddenly struck him of how the rest of the family was going to react. "Anyway, if I'm right on the family connection, your Dad's Uncle Harry Serrine was my mother's grandfather and my great-grandfather."

  Mary had watched his grief and the control he exerted over it. Her heart wept for the man who still grieved for his mother. She could imagine but had no real sense of how difficult it would be to find someone who looked that much like her own mother...but wasn't.

  "Well, cousin," she tried for a bit of levity. "Am I going to get the family rate?"

  Court laughed, he couldn't help himself. She was so much like his mother he had to laugh to get past it. "Not quite, but close." At her quizzical look he explained, "Family doesn't pay at all. Mom insisted on it." He looked around and thought about all that she needed and wanted done and came to a quick decision. "Actually, I think I'm going to pull my nephew into this. He can do most if not all you need done, he needs the experience, and with any luck it'll help him to think twice about going straight into construction when he gets out of high school this year. I'll be supervising him but he's worked for me the last couple of summers and is good at what he does. If that works for you we can work something out at the end based on how he does and how you feel about the results."

  Mary thought quickly, "I'll go along with that, but I want him to keep track of his time and I'll pay upfront for materials." She chewed on her lip, "Are you sure he won't mind waiting until the end to be paid? This could take a while."

  "Surprisingly enough he likes it that way. That's how we worked it in the summers. It will motivate him and he'll dream all along the way of what he'll spend his one big paycheck on instead of squandering smaller ones as he goes."

  Mary laughed, it reminded her so much of her own son.

  Court paused for a moment. There was no good way to do this without sounding nosy. But if nosy is what it took he could live with it. "Being that we're by way of family would you consider telling me what you're going to do with that huge Victorian up the street?"

  He wasn't the first to ask. Her husband and kids were wondering the same. She wouldn't be surprised if any one of them especially her children showed up at the door for a sanity check. "When I know, you'll know, especially considering how close you are," she smiled at her words. "In more ways than one." She thought how fate must be laughing to have her in what she considered her ancestral home, the unexpected owner of her mother's childhood home, and finding a cousin of sorts on her father's side within a stone's throw of her own front door.

  Court studied the expression on her face. She might be a famous writer but she was easier to read than large print. "Family place?" If she bought one who's to say she wouldn't buy another for the same reason. He knew from all his years growing up in his mother's presence that sentiment could often sway stronger than a tornado.

  Mary sighed, it was and wasn't, not like this place she thought reflectively as she looked around the room where she was surrounded by memories on all sides. But how could she explain to him what she hadn't yet been able to explain to herself. "In a way." It was the best she could do.

  

  CHAPTER THREE

  Mary stood back and studied the results of her wallpapering efforts so far. She liked...no, she loved the colorful and old fashioned floral print. The big cabbage roses made a statement that would likely make the current do-it-yourself crowd cringe and would probably be the subject of much derision if it were to be featured on one of the many check-out-my-house shows. But it was her house, her room, and she certainly wasn't going to decorate it based on anyone's whim but her own. Stepping back towards the bedroom door she took the whole of the room in. The floors were looking great and the windows had turned out perfect. Her next door neighbor and newly discovered
cousin had been on the mark with young Brian. Even as she considered all he had accomplished in a few short weeks she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye. The little sports car whipped into the parking area at the back of the building on the corner. She watched a woman get out of the car as if she had all the time in the world. She strolled into the building in much the same way. It wasn't the first time Mary had seen her and silently berated herself for not taking the time to go over and introduce herself. Even as she thought it she knew it wasn't a lack of time that kept her away. She remembered clearly as if it were yesterday the man who had run the store for all the years when she’d visited her grandmother as a child. He'd slipped more candy in her little brown paper bag than he should have. For her precious penny or nickel she would often walk away with four times the candy she actually paid for.

  She couldn't remember him ever once criticizing or reprimanding either she or her cousins when they spent far too much time discussing which pop to buy and how to somehow split it three ways.

  Mr. Joe had been inherently tied to her family for years upon years. She made a mental note to check out any information she could find in the library's archive that might give her a glimpse of his life after that last time she'd seen him.

  For all her professional success just about social anything put her way out of her comfort zone and was avoided at almost any cost. But taking a deep breath she walked out the front door, ignoring the automatic reflex to lock it behind her, and briskly made the short walk up to the corner.

  Walking through the big framed glass door took her back to all those countless times she and her siblings and cousins raced for it, intent on being the first one through. She remembered too that no matter how many of them tumbled through it in their rush Mr. Joe always welcomed them with his huge smile. For a moment, as she took in the woman standing before her, she could almost swear she was looking at that big friendly smile again. Ordering herself to focus on the here and now she walked forward extending her hand as if she had all the nerve in the world even as they swirled around like butterflies caught in a net.