The Rennillia Series: Volumes 1-5

by M. Sembera

  Standing up, I shouted, “Dr. Chepelli!”

  He stopped quickly. Walking through the doorway he took a seat across from me.

  “Mrs. Herterand, how are you?” he politely asked.

  Smiling, I replied, “Good. I didn’t know you had patients here.”

  Nodding with a look of confusion, he shared, “I just have one, your mother-in-law.”

  Mirroring his look of confusion, I asked, “You’re her doctor?”

  “Yes,” he answered.

  Figures it would be him, considering he seemed to work directly for The Office.

  It never occurred to me I would be able to see one of her doctors but since he was here and so was I, I took the opportunity to ask a few questions.

  “Ms. Herterand seems to be doing very well. Do I have you to thank for that?” I asked.

  Apprehensive in tone, Dr. Chepelli replied, “She is displaying very encouraging signs of mental stability.”

  “Do you think she will be able to leave the institution to visit us? Maybe for a party or something?” I questioned.

  Slightly more relaxed, he stated, “It is entirely possible.”

  Happy to hear it was a possibility, I asked, “When will we know?”

  “Ms. Herterand is already granted day pass permission. It is a matter of how comfortable she feels leaving,” he shared.

  As I nodded Dr. Chepelli excused himself.

  Waiting for Ms. Herterand, it occurred to me that she and I needed to discuss Sophia’s birthday. Perhaps the excitement of Sophia turning one would sway her into coming. Still months away, it wouldn’t hurt to start laying the groundwork. I smiled wide as she entered the room.

  “How are you? I just saw Dr. Chepelli,” I greeted.

  She stared at me for a minute before saying, “Francis comes every Thursday. He was in surgery yesterday and came this morning.”

  Mulling over her statement, I asked, “Your appointment with him is on Thursdays?”

  Appearing confused, she said, “To visit.”

  “He’s not your doctor?” I questioned.

  Scowling at me, she informed, “He is a doctor and he visits on Thursdays.”

  Adjusting to her use of facial expressions while talking, I got the impression I was offending her.

  Deciding there were more important issues at hand, I changed the subject.

  “I was wondering if when we have Sophia’s birthday party you would like to come,” I offered.

  Looking directly into my eyes, Ms. Herterand said, “I want to talk to you Rennillia.”

  I stated, “Yes Ma’am.”

  “Rennillia, you need to be careful. Information is never easily given. It will always come with a price. The greater the information, the more costly it is,” she imparted.

  I stared at her shaking my head and saying, “I don’t understand.”

  She replied, “Yes, you do. You already know far more than you should. What have you benefited from it? And what has it cost you? My son is obligated. You need to protect him. He protects you.”

  “Yes ma’am,” was all I could say.

  The last few minutes of our visit were spent in silence.

  The trip home would have been as swift as the one there had I not intentionally driven slow. How was a mentally unstable woman, locked in an institution, so well informed? I wanted to write her advice off as ramblings but the truth in her words was clear. The question was, did Ms. Herterand actually have the information herself or was she simply cautioning me? Who could possibly tell her? Hert had not visited in months. Other than Dr. Chepelli, who else would visit? If it was the doctor, why wouldn’t he warn me himself? It was altogether suspicious. Her words of wisdom caused me to grow even more curious.

  Finally, I arrived home. I walked in the back door. Hert was in the kitchen with Sophia. He was already dressed. Sophia was too.

  “How was your visit?” he asked.

  Judging his reaction, I replied, “I saw Dr. Chepelli there.”

  Appearing nonchalant, he said, “Huh, I wonder what he was doing there.”

  Incredibly confused now, I informed, “He was there to see your mother.”

  “Why was he seeing her?” Hert questioned.

  Shrugging my shoulders, I walked by him and into the living room. Making my way upstairs and into our room, I found it hard to believe there was something Hert didn’t know. There wasn’t time today but maybe when he came home Saturday we could talk about it. It was exciting trying to figure things out with Jackson and it would be even better with Hert.

  Hert walked into the room. I could tell he was still thinking about his mother and the doctor. Pulling a dress out of the closet, I slid it on before walking over to my dresser. I turned facing him.

  “Mrs. Thomas just picked up Sophia,” He informed.

  Disappointed, I said, “Awe, I wanted to tell her ‘hi’ and I didn’t get to tell Sophia bye.”

  Trying to cheer me up, Hert shared, “Jackson said he would bring her home after the funeral. You know if you want him to stay with you and Sophia, it's okay with me.”

  With a soft smile, I assured, “We’ll be alright; it’s just one night.”

  His expression grew concerned as he questioned, “What about when I leave for the week?”

  “I don’t know but I’m sure we’ll be fine then too,” I answered.

  His expression lightened as he said, “Oh, so you’re just fine without me.”

  I started to laugh, saying, “No, I’m not. Hert please don’t leave me. I don’t know what I’ll do without you here,” as I grabbed onto him.

  “Alright, alright,” he said, laughing too.

  I finished getting ready and headed downstairs. Hert walked behind me with his hands on my shoulders. Glancing at the clock in the living room, I took a deep breath. The driver would arrive shortly so I took the opportunity to ask my husband how he was doing.

  Wrapping my arms around his waist, I looked up at him, asking, “So are you doing alright?”

  Nodding, he leaned down, kissing my forehead and saying, “It’s a shame what happened. What about you?”

  With a sigh, I shared, “Same old thing, just a different person’s funeral.”

  Hert hugged me, kissing my forehead again, right before the driver arrived.

  Hert and I sat quietly in the backseat. I wasn’t looking forward to going back to the house. I knew as soon as we returned, Hert would leave for the night but still I was relieved the funeral was over. Having been to my share of funerals, this particular one was like nothing I had ever seen. It was closed casket which was not unusual, however, when Telli’s aunts walked to the front, throwing themselves on it and hollering ‘Why!’ I wasn’t sure what was going on. Throughout the service there were random wails of crying. Several times, I stared wide eyed at Hert, who seemed just as shaken as I was. Even the men were crying out loud. Two of Telli’s cousins started fighting, over who missed him the most. His entire family was loud and frenzied, turning what I had always viewed as a solemn occasion into a large obnoxious brawl. The strangest observation I made was that all the condolences went to Hert. Jackson and I stood to the side with Amila as she silently cried watching family member after family member tell Hert how sorry they were for his loss.

  We arrived home and walked inside the house. Hert’s face reflected how I felt. Neither of us said a word, walking up the stairs and into our bedroom. Pulling out a suitcase, Hert packed for the night. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I had to say something.

  “I cannot believe what went on today,” I stated.

  Hert closed his suitcase, saying, “I don’t know what to say about all that. It was definitely a first on funerals for me.” He walked over and sat on the bed next to me. “I’m sorry but I have to leave,” he handed me a piece of paper as he informed, “Here is the number where you can reach me if you need anything. I love you. See you tomorrow.”

  He kissed me and then stood up and walked out of the room. Lying back on the bed, s
till in disbelief from what I had witnessed, I stared at the ceiling.

  It wasn’t long before I heard Jackson’s voice calling me. I took a deep breath and got up. Walking downstairs I saw Jackson standing by the couch with Sophia asleep in his arms. I swiftly opened her playpen and laid her in it before sitting down on the couch.

  Jackson sat on the other end of the couch, recalling, “That was something else today, huh?”

  Nodding, I confirmed, “It was so out of hand it was ridiculous. Poor Amila; did you notice how they all just ignored her?”

  “I think I’m gonna go by and check on her when I leave here,” he shared.

  Agreeing with his idea, I said, “That’s a great idea. She doesn’t have any friends and by the looks of it today she doesn’t have much family to be there for her either.”

  With a slight smile, Jackson replied, “It’s funny ya know, I was so mad at you when you left Hert. Do you realize though, if you hadn’t, you probably would have never met Amila and she would have no one.”

  Never having had that thought, I scooted closer to him and hugged him for being so sweet.

  Quickly scooting back to my end of the couch, I thought about how lonely she must be and how sad it was that really, she was probably just as lonely before he died.

  Jackson interrupted my thought, saying, “Okay so do you still want to know about the files at The Office?”

  Instantly he had my attention, “Of course I do!” I declared.

  A wide smile crossed his face as he proceeded, “There are twenty six drawers and each drawer is a different letter in the alphabet.”

  I nodded, waiting for him to get to the good part.

  “Here’s the thing, each file is labeled with three letters. I couldn’t figure it out at first and then I realized,” he continued.

  “Realized what?!” I blurted as my anticipation grew.

  Jackson lowered his voice as if he was afraid of being overheard, “There people’s initial’s Ren.” As I stared at him in disbelief, he nodded continuing to say, “There’s a file on pretty much everyone we have ever known, The Office has done business with and who knows how many others.”

  Wanting more information, I questioned, “So I wonder whose files are here?”

  Jackson speculated, “I’m not entirely sure. My best guess though is that some are ya’lls. And possibly mine, Amila and Telli’s and probably Roberts too.”

  It took a minute for it to really sink in.

  As the information Jackson shared reeled through my mind, I remembered Hert telling me his job was to know things. It was difficult not to feel exposed but at the same time, I was wildly curious. What was in my file? Better still what was in my parents? Did Mr. Roberts have one on himself? It didn’t take long for me to recall the note Amila had given me from the stranger at The Store. How stupid could I have been? APH was Abigail Patrice Herterand.

  “What is it Ren?” Jackson asked, noticing the expression on my face.

  I explained, “That note. The one I threw away. I think it was about Hert’s mom. It said APH every Thursday. Those are her initials. I went to see her this morning. Dr. Chepelli was there and she told me he comes to see her every Thursday.”

  Jackson’s eyes grew wide as he blurted, “What the hell is going on?”

  Shrugging and shaking my head at him, I now understood Ms. Herterand’s advice.

  Multiple situations crossed my mind before I decided it was best to take her advice. Scooting closer to Jackson, I shared her caution with him.

  “Okay look, she also told me I needed to be careful. I have no idea how she would know but she pretty much said to quit trying to figure things out and that information comes with a price.” I paused, waiting for him to react before saying, “I think we should listen to her Jacks.”

  With a somber expression Jackson agreed, saying, “I think you’re right Ren.”

  We nodded back and forth at each other several times before he got up and left. Closing the door behind him, I locked it. All in all I was left with a rather unsettling feeling about everyone and everything. Sophia woke from her nap. Lifting her out of her playpen, I hugged her tight kissing the top of her head. I sat on the floor with Sophia playing with her until it was time to make dinner.

  We ate dinner and played some more before I gave her a bath. After her bath, she fell asleep. I slowly walked into my room and put my pajamas on. An eerie feeling hung over me, causing me to be suspicious of everyone. With great difficulty, I managed to dwell on Hert being home in the morning and making plans with Amila over the next week while he was away. The more I concentrated on Amila, the more relaxed I became. Finally, I was at ease enough to try and fall asleep.

  Feeling a little nervous when I heard a noise, I slowly crept downstairs to see what it was. Wishing I had taken Hert’s advice of having someone stay with Sophia and I while he was away, I took a deep breath. Instantly relieved and irritated at the same time, I saw Emerson stumbling in the front door. Surprised to see him, I rushed right over only to find he wasn’t alone. Holding onto his arm was a tall blond girl.

  With a stern tone, I asked him, “What do you think you are doing?”

  The girl at his side looked embarrassed as she answered, “I’m very sorry Mrs. Herterand. He passed out at The Bar and I didn’t know where else to take him.”

  “It’s alright; thank you for helping him,” I assured her.

  She made a quick exit as I watched Emerson wobble his way to the couch. Crossing my arms, I walked over to him.

  Shaking my head, I scolded, “This is what you’ve been doing? This is why you don’t go to work? So you can stay at The Bar with strange women and get drunk? What would your father say?”

  With a slight slur, he spouted, “To hell with my father!”

  “How could you say that?” I shouted at him.

  I watched his eyes burn with anger. Still not fully out of his stupor, it seemed to slightly sober him.

  “Your father was an exceptional man and I cannot believe you would dishonor his memory like this,” I stated.

  Emerson disagreed, “Exceptional? He was a lying cheater.”

  Standing there just staring at him for a moment, I wondered how he knew. I talked to Erin, surely if she told him, I would know about it. No one else knew. How could he have possibly found out? Putting on my best look of shock and disbelief, I sat down on the couch ready to question him.

  “What are you talking about Emerson?” I started.

  He replied, “Oh yea, the great Mr. Roberts was nothing more than a…”

  Immediately cutting him off, I questioned, “Oh, and your so much better?”

  “I found a letter to him. A letter from some lady,” He answered.

  I asked, “How do you know it wasn’t from before your mom? What did it say? Who was it from?” hoping he didn’t have the right answers.

  “I don’t know who it was. It was signed I will always love you. It said that they had made a mistake and that she wished she could be away from her husband but she just couldn’t. That she had to go back. She said she knew my father would never understand and that since he was fixing to be a father that it was best for everyone if their friendship ended. So see, he was cheating on my mother while she was pregnant with me,” he explained.

  I tried, “Maybe it really was just a mistake then. Everyone makes mistakes. That was a long time ago Em.”

  Putting serious thought into ending this before it when too far, I decided to try having him look at it from another point of view.

  “I know it makes you mad to think of your father betraying your mother but what if it was only that one time and what if they really were friends? What if she was like me and he was like you? What if they were best friends and she was in a bad situation? I’m not saying he wasn’t wrong. Are you going to tell me that if when I left HIM, if you had been in a relationship you wouldn’t have helped me?” I questioned.

  Angry he shouted, “That is a completely different situation!”


  Defending my analysis, I stated, “But what if it was the exact same situation? Maybe it wasn’t about hurting anyone or being in a relationship, it was about being in pain and wanting to feel loved. I don’t know but since you don’t know the whole story either, I don’t think you should sum up someone’s whole life and ruin yours because of one mistake made over twenty years ago.”

  He stared at me for a while before saying, “I feel lost,” looking as if he might cry.

  My heart started aching for him. I remembered having the same feeling when my parents died, going where I knew I shouldn’t and trying to somehow escape what had happened. Reaching out to Emerson, I took his hand.

  “This isn’t the way to find yourself,” I urged.

  I could almost feel what was going to happen next as Em tightened his fingers around my hand. His once soft eyes were full of anguish, reminding me of the night I was willing to let him kiss me. Once again, I felt sorry for the both of us. Sorry that he was hurting and sorry that I couldn’t be what he needed me to be.

  In a low voice, I informed, “I’m sorry.”

  Seeing the personal conflict, reflecting in his eyes, made me physically ill.

  “Just once,” he asked placing his hand on the side of my face.

  Unable to believe the flash of consideration in my mind, I was repulsed by my temporary thought.

  Reassuring myself and him, I stated, “Em, I have made more than enough mistakes already.”

  “What if things were different? Would you then?” he questioned.

  A flash of déjà vu hit me, as I recalled his ‘you can’t or you won’t’ from my dream.

  Swallowing hard, I answered, “You can’t think like that. I can’t and I won’t,” as I shook my head.

  “You can stay here tonight, but then…” I couldn’t finish my own sentence when I realized how cold I sounded.

  More like himself than before, Em replied, “It's okay, I know. I’ll leave in the morning.”

  Giving a slight nod, I stood up and walked back upstairs. In my room, I considered what would be in everyone’s best interest. Picking up the phone, I called Hert.

  I heard his voice say, “Hello.”

  “Hey, Emerson showed up here,” I shared.