by Renee Carr
The auto-timer on my coffee pot rang out and I hurried over to pour myself a cup. I was kind of a coffee junkie, and I was really excited to have my first cup in my new place, at least for a little while. It was going to be nice. I was centrally located, only living about a block away from my grandmother, so I’d be able to get to her if she needed anything quickly. At the same time, I had some privacy. My grandmother had gotten used to living alone and so had I. With us both having pretty blunt personalities, the last thing I wanted to do was ruin our loving relationship with bickering because neither one of us was ready to have a housemate.
I walked over to the window and pulled back the long, thin, gossamer drapes and leaned against the frame as I sipped my coffee, watching the people and cars pass by. My house was on the main strip and only about a block from the robust happenings of Galena. It was getting to be that time of year, where the wind whipped through the trees, the leaves started to change color, and people began getting excited about the upcoming holidays. In Maryland, it was still a comfortable 70°, but out here in Illinois, snow would probably come at any point. I hadn’t been out here for Halloween or Thanksgiving, or even Christmas, but I could remember the pictures that my grandmother sent over of every first snow that they ever got. Some of them were in October, others not until December, but they always seemed so far away from where I was. Small-town living compared to the political firestorm and primal social wilderness of Washington, DC.
The school bus pulled up to the corner and several kids got out, hopping their way along the sidewalks. There were a couple of parents there, but most of them didn’t walk their kids back home. This was foreign to me. Even in the nicest part of town where we lived, no one let their kids walk home from school by themselves anymore. The world had become a dangerous place, but Galena seemed to be tucked away in some sort of protective time warp where elementary school kids, dressed in their full jackets, carrying some sort of construction paper art project, laughed and talked as they chased each other toward home.
I smiled, remembering what I was like at that age and how I would come here, to Galena, to spend summers with my Grandma and Grandpa. We had so much fun. They would take me to the summer fair in the center of town, we’d get ice cream, and we would drive about an hour away to the lake where we would jump right in the water off of the pier, swimming for hours and hours. When the sun would turn a golden orange, I would throw myself, charred from the sun, into the back seat of my grandmother’s station wagon where I would pass out before even making it halfway home. There were cool nights in Galena, and hot summer days, and they were some of my best summer memories from when I was a kid. In fact, they were some of the very few times I could remember my parents just relaxing and not talking about the business at all.
I took another sip of my coffee and flipped my wrist over, looking at my watch. My eyes went wide and I hurried over to the sink, setting my cup on the edge. I had promised my grandmother I would meet her at the house for tea after her appointments and I was about to be late. I pulled on my boots, grabbed my lightweight jacket, and hurried out of the house. When I got down the second step, I stopped and turned back, realizing I hadn’t locked the door. I didn’t go back, though, smiling a bit as I hurried down the driveway and briskly walked toward her two-story Victorian home on the corner of the block. Galena wasn’t the type of town where you had to lock your doors.
When I came to the front of the house, I stopped and smiled, my eyes shifting up toward the tall, peaked roof, the crisp, white paint that always seemed brand new, and the bright blue shutters and the front door that I could remember so vividly from summers nearly a decade before. Her small front yard was lined with a white picket fence and a small gate that latched just perfectly. I was pretty proud of my grandmother for keeping up with everything; my grandfather had been the one to do the maintenance before he passed away. I knew she probably hired people, but still, it looked great.
As I climbed the steps to the front door, the door handle turned and it creaked slowly open. The smell of apple cinnamon blanketed me, taking me back. Everything I had experienced that day was covered in memories from the past. My grandmother stepped forward into the light, her appearance almost startling me at first. I was so used to the woman I had seen probably six years ago now with smooth skin, proud shoulders, and a pep in her step. The woman that stood in front of me was nearly unrecognizable. It was my grandmother, I could see it in the sparkle of her beautiful, blue eyes and perfect, broadening smile. But around those features was aged, wrinkled skin, her shoulders bent forward, frailty peppering her movements as she hobbled forward.
She opened the glass door and grinned at me. “My sweet, beautiful Lily, you finally arrived.”
I forced myself to smile widely, remembering that she was getting up there in age so I shouldn’t really be that surprised. I opened my arms and leaned down, hugging her tightly. “It’s so good to be here. I’ve missed you so much. You look beautiful as always.”
My grandmother pulled back and chuckled. “You shouldn’t lie to me. I thought we were ruthlessly honest with each other.”
I giggled, following her into the house as I remembered the time when I was fourteen years old and had told my grandmother she was still my best friend. We promised each other to always be “ruthlessly honest with each other”. She still had her sassy personality, something age hadn’t even begun to touch.
I closed the door behind us and looked around. Everything seemed just the same as it had the last time I was there, the only difference being it was a bit messier, but not anything that anyone else would have noticed. I was just used to my grandmother being one of the neatest and most organized women I knew, besides my mother. I had followed in their footsteps, hating clutter.
As she hobbled down the deep blue hallway toward the kitchen, I followed along. “I’m sorry about the mess. It’s part of the reason why you’re here. I know your mother told you that I fell last year, and I’ve been having a little bit of trouble getting around. So, things have fallen into a bit of disarray. I was going to hire a full-time housekeeper or maybe a part-time teenager to come over a couple of times a week and clean up for me, but then your mother mentioned that you were coming home from college and I thought about how nice it would be to spend some time with you.” She paused and looked back at me with a wink. “That and I figured you might need a break after five years of college, two degrees, and your overbearing mother ready to set you free in the world.”
“Free with a tether,” I pointed out with a grin.
She twisted her lips and grunted, continuing down the hallway. I followed her into the kitchen and looked around. There were dirty dishes in the sink and some of her craft projects spread out on the table, but other than that, it wasn’t too bad. It was surprising, though, as my grandmother had always gotten so anxious when there was any type of mess. “I’m really glad you asked me. It was perfect timing and I’ve been dying to come out here and see you. I’m sorry it’s been so long.”
My grandmother immediately went to the teapot and started the water, a kind of ritual between the two of us. She set out the teacups on the table and I sat, waiting for her to be finished. “Do you want me to get that for you? I can pour the tea this time.”
Using her mitts to hold the teapot, she scoffed, hobbling over to the table and filling each cup. “You’re going to be doing enough around here. I think I should keep doing things like this until I’ve run out of steam. It keeps me spry, you know, so I can get away from all the men chasing me around town.”
I laughed, putting a spoonful of sugar in my cup, but waiting for her to sit down before I took a sip. “You’ll have to come over and see the new house. Mom and Dad ordered all the furniture for it but I’ve kind of decorated it in my own way. I figured if I’m going to be here for a while, I might as well feel at home.”
My grandmother nodded as she sipped her tea. “Yes, I definitely would love to do that. I’m the one that signed for the furniture bu
t they came over here to get my signature for it. I haven’t had a chance to go over and see it. Your mother always had great taste in furniture and décor. I remember when she took the reins for this house, I thought your grandfather might toss her right out, but he was a good sport.” There was a small sigh in her pause, her eyes trickling off somewhere else for a moment. “I know she ordered from the Holbrook family for the furniture, so it’s good stuff.”
There was another silence, this time her eyes glistening in curiosity. She leaned toward me, a small smirk on her lips, her voice lowering. “So, tell me about the other kind of business. I’ve been out of the loop for far too long.”
My eyes shifted over toward the window, careful as always before leaning forward and grinning. “You’ve missed a lot…”
5
Brighton
“Where are the girls?” my father asked. “You know I love you guys but I don’t consider you the real family.”
We all chuckled. Christian shrugged, his beard having grown more than I was used to seeing it. “They went on a little trip this weekend. They wanted to go do some shopping at the outlets, try to get the holiday shopping done before everyone else decided to start.”
My father wrinkled his nose. “It’s not even Halloween yet.”
Eric laughed. “Hey, I’m not complaining. If it keeps me from being dragged out of the house a week before Christmas and fighting my way through crowds for a scarf or random gift for somebody, I’m all for it.”
Christian pointed his finger at Eric and then tapped his nose. “I’m on his level right now. Last year was a mess. Besides, it’s like a boys’ night. Steaks, whiskey, and man talk.”
I raised an eyebrow, putting a piece of broccoli into my mouth. “I’m not sure what you consider man talk, but I don’t think that I’ve ever really heard you guys use it. I really don’t want you to start, it’s kind of frightening.”
My father laughed under his breath, leaning back and patting his stomach. “I’m going to have to agree with my son, at least this one, this one time. I’m half surprised the conversation of tablecloths and curtains hasn’t come up at some point through the night. I’m pretty sure last time we had an hour-long conversation about the different fabrics that napkins were made out of.”
I lifted my eyebrows, tilting my head toward my father. “Don’t forget the follow-up to that, which was us learning all about doilies and what their purposes historically were, versus what they are now.”
Christian put up his hands. “Hey, you can’t blame me for what my wife talks about. You guys asked the question, and she happened to know the answer. The fact that you sat here listening to her probably made her year.”
My father took a sip of his whiskey and nodded toward Christian. “How’s the store doing? I’m pretty sure it’s been two months since you guys have come to dinner.”
“It’s doing really well,” he replied. “We’ve got about a month and a half until the Black Friday shoppers so we’re starting to stock up on the things we know they’ll buy, and I’m already getting calls from the kids that are away at college who will be coming home for winter break and want to have some hours. So, it’s pretty good. I’m not sure I’ll even have to hire anyone this year. As far as dinner, I know we haven’t been here much, but I’d like to change that and start doing it again as much as possible.”
My father’s eyes grazed over a cut on Eric’s arm, and a bruise on his right cheek. “Well, I suppose you’ll have to figure out some free time in between your cage matches. Seriously, every time I see you boys, you look like you’ve been fighting wolves with your bare hands.”
Eric choked a bit on his drink and Christian patted him hard on the back, chuckling. “We just have a little bit more dangerous of a hobby now, or hobbies. Trust me, neither one of us is enjoying the aftereffects.”
My father shook his head. “Well, I think I’m going to retire for the evening. You boys feel free to lounge around the study, watch some TV, talk, drink my whiskey like you usually do…”
All of us stood as my father did, wishing him a good night and watching him leave the room. When he was gone, like clockwork, we grabbed our glasses, Eric grabbing the bottle of whiskey, and we made our way into the study where my father, incidentally, did most of his thinking and had all of his best ideas. We weren’t allowed in there as kids, so as adults we always made a beeline straight for it. It was like a rite of passage.
Eric walked around the room, making his normal lap and looking at the pictures on the mantle. He turned toward us and put his arms out. “Another successful dinner on the books with no arguments.”
I slapped Christian a high five and watched as he went over and did the same to Eric. Setting my glass down on one of the tables, I nodded to them. “I’ll be right back.”
Walking out of the den, I stopped just a few paces past the doorway, a gut instinct whispering for me to wait. After a few moments, I could hear a low whispering inside the room between my two brothers. I took a couple of paces back and stood out of sight, listening to what they were talking about.
“Did we change the meeting place?” Eric asked.
Christian took in a deep breath. “We did. We’re going to meet at the place where we used to camp when we were kids.”
There was a moment of pause and then Eric spoke. “Not the place where you got scratched, in the other forest, right?”
“No,” Christian replied. “About two miles into the woods, head west, and it’s right there next to the small creek that we had put a rope up and tried to swing across when I was about thirteen years old.”
The sound of laughter filled the hallway as Eric remembered the same exact memory that I had. “The place where I tied the rope to that branch and it broke off mid-swing and sent me flying about fifty feet into the leaves and brush?”
“That would be the place,” Christian said with an air of humor in his voice. “It’s out of the way, no one else goes there, and I’m hoping that between the stream and all of us coming from different directions, the others won’t find us. I don’t think we can go back to the original spot for a long time.”
“That makes me so angry,” Eric hissed.
“Instead of anger, feel motivated. None of us want to live this way for long so we need to take care of the issue,” Christian replied.
At that point, Eric changed the subject and his voice level came back to normal. I crept down to the bathroom, washed my hands, and headed back to the room. Whatever it was that they were doing was obviously something they wanted to keep a secret, even from me, their brother. The problem was, I had never been very good at not letting my curiosity get the best of me. I wanted to know what my brothers were doing that was so secretive that they couldn’t even let me in on it. I knew that if I asked them, they would come up with some sort of excuse, some lie to tell me that they were doing something for their wives or something that I wouldn’t enjoy so I wouldn’t have to come along. So, instead of talking to them about it, I pretended as if I had no clue.
“I was thinking…since the wives are out of town, did you guys want to go and have a drink at the pub?” I asked.
Eric and Christian glanced at each other before Christian answered, always the one to take the lead. “I wish that I could, but I’ve got a really early morning tomorrow and I want to make sure that I don’t stay up too late… and that I don’t drink too much. I can only imagine how my orders would look if I did them after a full night of drinking with my brothers. We might just have Black Friday sales on pink aprons because that’s what I accidentally ordered.”
Eric laughed, shaking his head. “I’m kind of in the same boat, dude. I’ve gotta get some photos for this project my editor’s asking me to turn in, so I need to be up at the butt crack of dawn to go out in the field. In fact, I’m about ready to head out now anyway. But we’ll be doing this on a regular basis now, so I’ll take a rain check and we’ll go out next time.”
“I won’t lie, you two are pretty lame,�
� I replied, teasing them. “But I can understand. Don’t think I won’t call you on that rain check, though.”
Both Christian and Eric chuckled, putting down their glasses and ruffling my hair as they headed toward the door. Eric turned back and gave me a thumbs-up. “Try not to let Dad drive you too crazy. And don’t let us stop you from going to the bar. You’ll never know what options are out there until you try.”
I rolled my eyes at the both of them and waved, waiting until I heard the front door shut and the car start before sliding behind my father’s computer desk. Immediately I pulled up the map that my brothers and I had made when we were younger. It was originally hand-drawn but Christian later uploaded it to the computer and made it into a real map. It showed all the places that we liked to go as kids. I knew exactly where they were talking about, but I wanted to make sure that I knew how to get there before I went wandering around in the woods. There was no way I was gonna get that kind of information and not go and check out what they were doing. It was all too suspicious to me, and I couldn’t let it go until I knew exactly what was going on. Whatever it was, it was taking over their lives, and both mentally and physically taking a toll on them. Besides, how bad could it really be?
* * *
It was definitely a nice night with the moon bright and large, high in the sky, twinkling stars shining down, and a cold breeze that bit through the layers of my sweatshirt. I didn’t mind. It was refreshing and I always tended to run hot; all Holbrook men did. I had spent years wandering around those woods, even in the dark. While Christian was the curious one, I always wanted to be the brave one. I used to think, as a kid, if I spent hours of my time out in the woods at night, I would never be afraid of anything again. Not to mention that I would prove to my brothers how tough I was. It was something I was constantly trying to do, being the youngest brother.
