Family Secrets

by Zina Abbott

  “So, Quinn Armitage Jacobson is your full legal name, huh? I figured the “A” stood for Andrew or Allen or something like that. But Armitage! That is such an interesting middle name.”

  “Interesting, huh?” he grimaced. “You are too kind.”

  “But Quinn, that is a great name. I mean, Quinn is a pretty neat name in and of itself, but Armitage? How distinguished!”

  “I’m happy you think so. The whole time I was growing up, if I ever told someone my middle name, they found some way to ridicule me.”

  “Oh, that sounds like something little kids would do. They poke fun at anything out of the ordinary.”

  “It’s supposed to be some family name,” he shrugged. “I don’t remember the details.”

  “Would you try to find out? I’ll bet there is a great story behind it.”

  The corner of Quinn’s mouth turned up in a half-smile.

  “So, is that my assignment, Jennie? Do you need birth dates and places, too? You already have the nicknames.”

  “That’s up to you,” Jennie laughed, suddenly embarrassed. “For now, I just think it would be interesting to know the history behind your middle name.”

  Then Jennie asked herself, since when? Would Jennie have given the history behind someone’s name a second thought before her conversation with Mrs. Moore?

  “And here with all your talk about getting to know historical people, I thought you might be interested in me, personally,” Quinn said with mock disappointment as he slapped his open palm on his chest.

  “First of all, you are not a historical person—not yet, anyway. Second, you don’t need an old married lady like me to be interested in you other than as a friend. Aren’t all the other girls around here interested in you?”

  “Yeah, right!”

  “Well, maybe more would be if you did not throw around those big words all the time. Me, I figure it’s a test.”

  “Maybe it is a test. Maybe not too many people pass the test.”

  Jennie finished gathering up her backpack and slung it across her shoulder.

  “Maybe you should stop trying to test people and just be yourself. Try to get to know people and let them get to know you.”

  “The test is more fun. Besides, I figure one thing at a time. Like you, I’m coming back to get my education. I’m not here to meet people, especially women. Maybe that’s why I like you so much. You are a woman and taken. You are safe. It leaves me free to concentrate on my priorities so I don’t get off-track like I did in my earlier days. I like being able to be just friends with you.”

  Jennie felt her throat constrict. She’d been taken, all right, by her husband. At one time she would have liked the thought that she was considered “safe.” But, looking at Quinn bending his head to look in her eyes, she was not so sure now.

  “I need to go, Quinn. Mom is expecting me for dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow in class.”

  Jennie waved good-by as she walked away. She turned back for one last look to see how he had taken her final salvo. Quinn was still standing where she left him, watching her with his crooked little smile.

  Chapter 3 – Jennie

  Jennie tipped her hip outward to serve as a doorstop. The object was to prevent the screen from slamming against her book bag which held her computer. She called out to let her mom know she was home. The smell of dinner cooking greeted her.

  Some of Jennie’s friends thought she was crazy to return to live in her parents’ home instead of getting an apartment. You can’t go back home, they warned her. However, after talking to her parents, the only two people among her friends and family who knew what the real situation was between her and Gerald, she decided it was a great idea. Her mother wanted to be able to help watch Garrett while Jennie was at work or school.

  Fortunately, Jennie had always gotten along well with her parents, even during her teenage years. Her younger brother, Jason, with whom she had not always gotten along as well, was not around much. Her parents cleared her old bedroom. Since her father no longer needed the fourth bedroom for an office, it was set it up as Garrett’s room.

  Jennie smiled as she inhaled the aroma. Her mom, Christy Graves, was a good cook. That alone was enough incentive to persuade her to move back home.

  Living with her parents allowed her to keep more of the income from her job at The Bedazzled Boutique in the mall. That was important, especially this first semester, since by the time she enrolled, she had not had time to apply for scholarships. She was surviving on minimal financial aid, her parent’s help and what she made from her part-time job.

  “Mommy!”

  Garrett, who was sitting on the family room couch next to his grandpa, slid to his feet and ran toward Jennie. A welcoming grin of pure joy lit up his face.

  “How’s my sweet boy?” Jennie let her book bag slide off her shoulder and carefully set it aside before she stooped and scooped her son up into her arms. His arms gripped her neck in a tight squeeze while she held him to her and rocked him from side to side. She was painfully aware at that moment how much she missed seeing him while she was at school and work most days. She knew she had only a couple of precious hours that evening with Garrett before she needed to work some more on her history paper.

  “You are getting so big, Garrett,” she said. “Mommy can hardly lift you anymore.” Then she blew into his neck which set off a peal of giggles from her son.

  After setting him back down, Jennie walked to her room long enough to drop her pack onto her desk. She pulled the paper with the family questions out of the book bag and stuffed it into the pocket of her jeans. She laughed as she watched Garrett reach for the open pockets of her pack.

  “There’s nothing in there for you, Garrett,” she said as she pulled his hand away. “Even if Mommy had candy hidden away, we have to eat dinner first.”

  Jennie sighed with the anticipation. Dinner would be a nice break before she had to get Garrett ready for bed and then resume working on her history paper. She knew she needed to complete as much as possible that night because she was scheduled for work after classes the following day and for the full day on Saturday. She decided she would multi-task at the dinner table. She would eat and ask her questions from Mrs. Moore.

  “Smells good, Mom,” Jennie said as she entered the kitchen.

  Especially after she had started working herself, Jennie was amazed how her mother managed keep the house organized and meals on the table. By five o’clock her mom arrived home from her job at the school, even when she stopped for food or ran other errands. Yet, she still managed to fix a nice meal most nights. Very rarely did she bring home take-out.

  Jennie knew that several of the families of her friends seldom ate most meals together. But eating together was important to Jennie’s mom. Jennie was grateful for that. As much as she liked eating fast food, she appreciated being able to sit down with Garrett and her family for a good meal cooked at home.

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  “No, I’ve got it under control,” Christy said. “Good timing, as usual, since I just about have everything ready to go on the table.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here earlier. This history mid-term is getting the best of me.”

  “I was teasing you. Right now, your education is a higher priority than you learning to cook award-winning meals for the county fair. Have you washed up yet?”

  Jennie bit her lip. One of the negatives about still living at home was that, out of habit, her mom tended to remind her to do all the little personal care tasks as if she was the same age as Garrett.

  “Yes, both Garrett and I are all washed up for dinner.” Jennie wiggled her fingers in front of her mom’s face. “Don’t worry, Mom. You taught me well.”

  Jennie started to pull four bottles of water from the refrigerator.

  “We only need three,” her Mom said. “As soon as your dad is finished watching the news, we’ll eat.”

  It was a typical night. What her mom said about the bottles of wat
er was shorthand for explaining that Jason, her younger brother, was still at band practice. Jennie assumed they were practicing for the big home game this Friday.

  As for Jennie’s dad, Rob Graves, watching the news was his way of unwinding after work. He had followed the same routine for years. First, he watched the local news on one station. Then, he watched the national news, the station depending on which commentator he was favoring that particular day. After that, it was the local news again on a different channel. Only after a solid hour and a half of news was he ready to turn off the television and eat.

  Jennie had figured out years before that her father’s routine on weeknights gave the family a reference point. Since Jennie’s mom timed dinner to be on the table at 6:30 p.m. following the last news show, both Jennie and Jason knew exactly when they had to be home if they wanted to eat their dinner freshly made instead of from a plate sitting in the refrigerator waiting to be reheated in the microwave. Even Garrett had picked up on the routine and had learned that if he wanted a late afternoon snack, he needed to ask for it as soon as his grandma arrived home. Once she started cooking dinner, he was not allowed to eat anything until the meal was on the table.

  Jennie chatted with Garrett and her parents through the meal. She waited toward the end to execute her plan, but she knew she better catch her parents before they left the table if she wanted some answers about the family. When she judged it to be just the right moment, she fished the paper with her questions from her jeans pocket. Keeping her tone light and casual, she asked her first question regarding the full, legal names of her grandparents.

  Christy glared at Jennie, a frown creasing her face. “What brought this on?”

  “Oh, I was sharing a table in the library with our neighbor, Mrs. Moore, and we started talking about what she does for a living. I told her I knew your full names, but I also realized that I’m not sure of the first and middle names of my grandparents. So, she helped me put together a list so I could learn more about my family.”

  “What kind of information about the family?” Christy demanded sharply.

  Jennie hesitated as she picked up on the concern in her mother’s voice. She looked up to see her mother’s expression hard and forbidding as a high stone wall. Jennie realized she needed to reassure her of her intentions.

  “You know, like the full, legal names of my grandparents, for starters,” she said. “Grandpa, Grandma, Granddad and Nana are okay when I’m around them, but I know that’s not what is on their birth certificates.”

  Jennie waited, but neither of her parents spoke. In the silence, broken only by Garrett making airplane noises as he swooped his fork over his plate, Jennie noticed that her father was not looking at her. He was intently watching her mother. Something was going on, but Jennie could not guess what it might be.

  “I guess that would be okay,” Jennie’s mom finally said.

  Jennie’s dad was the next to speak. “My father’s full name is John Kevin and the last name is Graves, of course. My mother’s name is Amy Renate Walding.”

  Then, Christy told Jennie her parents’ full names, pausing as Jennie carefully recorded them.

  “Okay, I know all their birthdays, but I’m not sure of the years,” Jennie continued. She recorded the birth years of her four grandparents.

  “Okay, where were they all born?” she asked next.

  “Why do you need all this information? What else is on that list of yours, anyway?” Christy demanded.

  Jennie’s senses went on full alert. Her mother was definitely frowning, her voice hostile, her jaw clenched and her body rigid. Jennie looked at her father. His eyes were darting back and forth between her and her mother. At that point, she realized she was somehow touching on a sensitive subject for her mother. What could it possibly be?

  “Just the usual genealogy questions, I guess,” Jennie said. “Names of everyone in the family. Date and place of birth for everyone. Date and place of marriage…”

  “I don’t see any reason for you to be digging into all this.” Her mom cut her off. “This is all in the past. Our family is who we are now, and that is what counts.”

  Jennie felt completely confused as she stared at her mother. Had someone in the family done something wrong that everyone was trying to keep quiet? Jennie did not know what was behind her mother’s reluctance, but she knew she better proceed carefully if she was going to get any more information.

  “Mom, my grandparents are important to me. I just want to find out a little more about them. But, maybe I should just wait and ask them.”

  “No, Jennie, forget it,” Christy ordered her. “I do not want you to ask your grandparents a lot of personal questions like that. I don’t want you saying anything that may hurt someone’s feelings.”

  Jennie blinked, feeling befuddled.

  “I have no intentions of saying anything that would hurt anyone’s feelings,” Jennie said carefully. “I love my grandparents. I would never want to make them unhappy.”

  “I think that’s enough for tonight,” Rob cut in kindly. “I know you would never knowingly say or do anything to hurt your family, but some things may be best left alone.”

  “Okay. Sure,” Jennie stammered. Even her father was in on whatever they were trying to keep from her. “But this is the first time I ever suspected we may have some deep, dark secrets in our family.”

  Jennie was sorry as soon as she said it.

  “That’s enough!” her father spoke sharply.

  “There aren’t any deep, dark secrets in our family,” Christy spoke quietly, as she rubbed the sides of her face with both hands. “It’s just…”

  The three all looked at each other in the silence that followed. Even Garrett stopped his playing and looked around the table in confusion.

  Jennie silently folded her paper and put it back into her pocket.

  “I’m sorry, Mom.”

  “Excuse me,” Christy said quietly as she rose from the table and left the room.

  Jennie sat in silence until she heard the door to her parents’ bedroom close. Then she turned to her father.

  “Dad, I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to upset Mom. But what is wrong about wanting to learn a little more about my relatives?”

  “Nothing, in and of itself, sweetie,” he sighed. “But you caught her off-guard. You may have to tread lightly on this one, Jen. Please, do what your mother asked and let it go for now. Maybe, in time, she will be ready to talk to you.”

  Jennie nodded her head.

  “I’ll do dishes now,” Jennie said. She ordered Garrett to stay in his booster chair until she could get a damp cloth to wipe his hands and face. After she cleaned up her son, she silently watched him follow his grandpa back into the family room before she started clearing the table.

  Jennie decided the term paper would have to wait a little longer. After she finished cleaning the kitchen, she found a sheet of her favorite stationery and wrote an apology note to her mother. She slipped it under the door to her parents’ bedroom before turning toward her own.

  Chapter 4 – Christy

  My earliest childhood memories are more remembered dreams than what I know is real. In my dreams, there is a beautiful woman, her smiling face framed with curly blonde hair. The long hair is parted in the middle, and often windblown into an unruly tangle that is backlit by the sun. It creates a glow about the woman that tends to mesmerize me no matter how often I think back on those dreams. Sometimes, there is a crown of flowers in the woman’s hair. Sometimes, her hair is in braids. The braids try to capture all the fly-away curls, but they never do.

  Through the years, as I have thought back on those earliest memories, I realize that I have no idea where the woman in my dreams lives. All I know is, that along with the sun and the wind and the rain, I always have a sense of earthy sights and smells I connect only to being with her in those dreams. I do not sense them anywhere else I have lived or traveled as I have grown older. There were damp soil, trees, and grasses along wit
h riots of colorful flowers. Some of the flowers were in beds, but most grew in random clumps among the grasses and trees and human clutter on the land. I recall that it rained a lot.

  And there were vegetables. There were lots of salad makings with dirt clinging to dangling roots after the whole plant was pulled from soft, dark soil. I remember that when the woman held them to my nose, I inhaled deeply and could feel giggles racing through me at the kaleidoscope of scents. But when the woman cleaned and cut them into pieces for my dinner, I would shove the plate away because I did not like the taste of them. They were strongly bitter to me. I would shake my head and push while the woman would laugh and push the plate back in front of me, trying to tease me into taking baby bites of everything.

  But mostly, I remember clapping my hands and bouncing on my awkward baby legs as I tried to imitate the woman. I watched her in her loose, ankle-length dress, embroidered on the yoke with a profusion of colorful flowers, while she sang happy songs and danced across the grass as the sunlight created a glow around her curly golden hair.

  Now that I look back and think about these dreams, I have decided that the phenomenon of sunlight shining through hair must have been how people in olden times came up with the concept of angels having halos of light around their heads.

  As I grew old enough to attend school, that made sense to me. I gradually came to accept in my childish mind that this pretty woman must be an angel—my angel.

  Mom sometimes talked to me about guardian angels back then, when I was a kid and curious about the different myths and legends found in the cultures of the world. She didn’t believe in most of the myths, but she believes in guardian angels.

  What I sometimes found strange about the woman in my dreams was how her eyes could change from one extreme to another, almost instantly. Mostly, her bright blue eyes were full of laughter as they looked directly into my own. But then, sometimes, her eyes would take on a far-away look, as if I no longer existed for her. That frightened me. I always wanted to stay with her when that happened because I was afraid the rest of her would go away like her eyes did.