Chapter 1
The young woman sat at her kitchen table bewildered, staring down at the sealed envelope she held tightly in her trembling hands. She assumed the mysterious packet contained an important letter of some sort, and she was quite certain it would not be any typical letter. It had arrived as a certified, registered letter, requiring her signature before acceptance. Never in her life had Stephanie needed to sign for a letter, nor had she ever been required to confirm her identity by showing the postman her driver’s license. It was all very new and quite disconcerting for her. She felt a strange hollow sensation deep in the pit of her stomach, as if to suggest any such letter could not possibly be good news.
She tried to think of any bills, which she might have forgotten to pay recently. Perhaps she had inadvertently forgotten to send a check for some important invoice for several months in a row, and now that particular account may have gone delinquent and had been turned over to a collection agency. She wondered if that could be possible. She didn't believe so, as she was quite fastidious about her record keeping and bill paying. No, she was quite certain this had nothing to do with any late bill payment.
She looked apprehensively at the return address, twisting her longish brown hair in circles, as was her habit. The name printed in an ornate, pretentious calligraphic gold script read, “H. Mason Armstrong, Attorney At Law”. Stephanie’s lips moved silently as she read the name over and over to herself, one of those childhood practices which she had never been able to overcome. "H. Mason Armstrong, Attorney At Law", she finally said aloud. Yes, this definitely seemed like quite a pretentious name indeed.
Stephanie always had a negative prejudice toward anyone who used the initial of their first name and then used their middle name as their actual name. For Stephanie, it was to suggest the name Mason Armstrong was a powerful moniker for a lawyer, whereas the owner might feel his first name, which could be Harold, or Henry or something along those lines, was not strong enough for a man so grand and in such a prestigious position. Most people would not have even given any consideration to such an thought, but Stephanie always seemed to notice things like that; she always believed she could tell when people were "putting on the dog" as her mother used to call it.
The address for the law firm was in the town of Ashton, Pennsylvania in Schuylkill County. She could not imagine what an attorney from Schuylkill County could possibly want with her. Stephanie was not overly familiar with that part of the state, having been born and raised in western Berks County some fifty-plus miles south of Ashton. The only times she had been in the county was as she passed through it when heading north for one reason or another, and those occasions had been few and far between. Once again she looked down at the ornate lettering of the return address and was convinced this lawyer was most definitely "putting on the dog", trying to appear as if he were some big-time, big city law firm, when in fact he was more likely simply a small time storefront solicitor from a small coal region town.
Stephanie was familiar with the names of many of the small towns and cities in Schuylkill County from reading various articles in the local Berks County newspaper. She knew of the city of Yuengsville, because that was one of the larger cities in the county and where the county courthouse was located. It was also the home of America's oldest brewery. She knew of the town of Ashton, which was located some fifteen or twenty miles north of Yuengsville. She recalled Ashton had a tourist attraction, a coal mine called the Miner's Tunnel where visitors could ride in coal cars over a mile down under the ground inside what was once a working coal mine. She had been meaning to take her family up there soon before Jeremy was too old and too "cool" to appreciate it, but just hadn't been able to find the time. Perhaps they could get there this year over the summer.
She also was familiar with Ashton because the manufacturing company where her husband, Jason worked as an engineer, had a sister facility just outside of the town at its lower end. Since Ashton was built along the slope of a hill, locals often referred to its east end as "downtown" or the "lower end of town" and its western end as "up town". On occasion Jason would have to make trips to the facility to coordinate some sort of manufacturing related activities. She didn't understand exactly what Jason did, but knew it was important enough for him to be paid a decent salary. And as long as he was able to earn a living and the bills got paid, that was good enough for her.
Jason would always come home from his visits to the small community with stories of how that particular manufacturing plant was one of the few places in the area where anyone could hope to earn an adequate wage and he would tell her of how hard the local people had to struggle to make ends meet. He would often joke that if they could live in Ashton while still earning his higher Berks County salary, they could live like royalty. However, since both of them had spent their lives among the rolling farmlands of western Berks County, they believed they could never be happy living anywhere else.
As a young girl, Stephanie had also heard stories of how some of her ancestors had once lived in Schuylkill County. She knew her grandmother had moved to Berks County as a young woman seeking employment opportunities and had met her grandfather, fallen in love, married and the rest, as they say, was history. Once in passing, Jason had also mentioned that one of his grandmothers was originally from Schuylkill County as well.
Her parents as well as Jason's parents were also natives of Berks County and had attended local schools. Unlike some of their high school friends who couldn't wait to graduate and get as far away from the area as possible, both she a Jason loved the calm and quite of Berks County and had no desire to ever move.
Stephanie turned the letter over and over in her moist hands, unsure if she should open it or wait until Jason returned home from work. It might be easier to face whatever potential bad news awaited her inside the letter with Jason by her side. Jason had a stalwart, logical mind men in his profession often seemed to possess, and having him with her would make it all less stressful; no matter what the news might be.
Then she realized by the time he got home from work, her stepson Jeremy, and her daughter Cindy would be home from school as well, and the house would be thrust into the type of chaos that only a twelve and ten year old could create. Not to mention the fact that the baby, eighteen-month-old Samuel would soon wake up from his afternoon nap, adding to the pandemonium. No, she supposed she would have to open the letter now, while the house was quiet and she had to time to give it her full attention.
She thought about how much she treasured these quiet times when the two older kids were at school and the baby was asleep. These were times when she could get some housework done, or perhaps work on her book, or just sit around and contemplate life. She knew such precious moments would be available less and less when little Sammy eventually grew out of his need for afternoon naps. Plus it was the end of May, and school would soon be letting out for summer vacation. She had no idea how she would ever find time to work on her book when that happened.
She knew Jason would be willing to do what he could to help her and give her some of the time she so desperately required, but there was always so much to do and she seemed to be pulled constantly in so many different directions. Stephanie feared her writing might once again fall by the wayside as it had before. She had only been able to resume writing for the first time in over ten years when school started last fall, and she had only agreed to do so after Jason had talked her into it.
He had found one of her earlier children's books while he was unpacking a box when they moved into their townhouse. The book had been written years before they met. Jason was amazed to discover his new wife was a published author, and he encouraged her to return to her obvious passion. He learned how she had all but given up writing and illustrating children’s books when her daughter Cindy was born.
At that time she had still been married to her first husband, Bill Sanders. Bill had not been in any way supportive of her writing, and there had always been so much tension and stress in th
eir lives in the form of money problems, arguing and just general bickering. Each day the couple became more distant, drifting further apart and it became impossible for her to find the right mood to stimulate her creativity. Then later, when she caught old Billy boy in the act, so to speak, with the divorcee who lived in the house across the street, it was all over but the shouting.
After her divorce, Stephanie was a single mom with primary custody of an infant daughter and practically no time for much of anything else, let alone time to consider working on books, so she simply stopped, promising herself she would get back to her work if things ever settled down. During that time, she worked a full-time job and had to put Cindy into daycare. It was a vicious cycle for her. She needed the job and the medical benefits it provided to survive, and the cost of daycare was high and took a great deal of her money, so she had to keep working to be able to afford daycare. She also hated the idea of not being home with Cindy, but she had no choice.
As a result, her evenings and weekends were dedicated to spending what little free time she had with Cindy. This designation of her free time was often like having a second a full-time job. Stephanie seemed to be constantly exhausted and stressed almost to the breaking point during those difficult years.
Even when Cindy started elementary school, things had not yet settled down. Stephanie was still a single parent, still a working mom and still had to deal with all of the pressure and expense of the heavy responsibility. When she came home at night she had to make dinner, clean the house, do the laundry and try to find quality time for Cindy, who often helped her mother with the chores not only to free up some of her mother's time but also to be able to spend more time with her.
The child support checks, which came regularly from Bill helped a bit, and on those two weekends a month when Cindy went to stay with Bill and his new wife, who Cindy liked to call "Jane the evil stepmother”, Stephanie spent her time trying to catch up on whatever housework she was not normally able to do. Still there was no time for writing, only dreaming about someday resuming that part of her life once again. Whenever the rare idea for a story would pop into her already busy mind, Stephanie would quickly jot it onto a piece of note paper or a napkin the put it into a shoebox filled with hundreds of similar scraps of ideas. Someday she hoped these notes would become the seeds of a new story or a new book, but for now they were just a mess of disjointed thoughts written on snippets of paper.
Stephanie had a friend from work named Cheryl who liked to go out to the local hot spots on the prowl for single men. Cheryl was always asking Stephanie to join her on one of her weekend expeditions. Stephanie and Cheryl's relationship was a case of opposites attracting. Stephanie was basically a quiet, reserved homebody, a conservative, and a mom with a young daughter and little if any time for going out on the town. She was not looking for either another husband or a boyfriend; she was simply too busy surviving.
Cheryl on the other hand, was a wild child. She would go out almost every weekend and was well known at all of the local dance clubs and restaurants. Like Stephanie, she was divorced, but Cheryl had no kids, no responsibilities, was very liberal, friendly, outgoing, dressed in provocative clothing and occasionally would end up spending the night with one of the men she happened to meet. The two women had almost nothing in common other than their place of employment, but somehow they had become the best of friends. Although Stephanie had no desire to live Cheryl's lifestyle or vice versa, they both seemed to fill a need for each other. Stephanie provided normalcy for Cheryl, and Cheryl provided a bit of insanity for Stephanie.
One night, while Cindy was spending the weekend with Bill, Stephanie had agreed to meet Cheryl at a local restaurant and dance club for happy hour. Stephanie got there about a half hour earlier than Cheryl and went to the bar to get a drink while she waited. As she stood at the bar, a slightly nerdy looking man about her age with brown hair and wire rimmed glasses walked up to the bar with a small plate of snacks from a nearby table and ordered a drink. He seemed out of place and a bit nervous standing with his polyester pants and rumpled dress shirt.
He glanced over at Stephanie and after a substantial gulp of liquid courage he said "Hi. I'm Jason Wright", and extended his right hand in a very business-like handshake gesture. Somehow, despite his unfashionable appearance, and clumsy social skills, Stephanie saw something very innocent and at the same time appealing in the awkward man. So smiling she replied, "Hi. I'm Stephanie," and she shook his hand. She could not help but feel an instant sense of comfort just being near them man, as if she might have known him all of her life.
Neither of them was skilled at small talk, but fortunately Cheryl arrived a few minutes later and with her flamboyant personality, she quickly took charge and kept the conversation going. She could see the immediate attraction between the couple and did all she could to help them learn more about each other.
Stephanie learned Jason was also divorced and had a young son named Jeremy, two years older than Cindy was. Unlike Stephanie, Jason had only been single for about two years and had full custody of his son. His ex-wife Sarah and her new husband, Brad now lived in Ohio. Stephanie and Jason were amazed at how they both immediately seemed to get along and how much they had in common. The learned they had both graduated from the same high school. Stephanie was two years behind Jason, but they had never met or even known of each other. This was likely because they were both so quiet and socially reserved.
Six months later, Stephanie and Jason were married and a little over a year later, they discovered she was pregnant with little Sammy. Stephanie often joked affectionately with Jason how when she met him she had finally found "Mr. Right", playing on her new family surname, Wright.
Financially, things were a bit tough for the young couple as they were rebuilding their new lives together. Fortunately, Jason earned enough money for them to afford to buy a small townhouse with room for both of the kids and a small nursery for the baby. This smaller house also meant Stephanie could quit her job and stay home. Then when Jason discovered one of Stephanie's earlier published books packed away in a storage box, he encouraged her to start up her writing once more. After some resistance brought on by her own apprehension and self-doubt, Stephanie resumed writing whenever she could find the time.
She had completed the story portion of her book before Samuel was born and was struggling to complete the illustrations. Her old publisher was so happy to learn she was back in the game he signed her to a contract without her even having to pitch the book. Stephanie had never made any significant money with her books but still got the occasional fifty or sixty-dollar royalty check from her earlier books. Her publisher believed she had what it took to create a best seller and hoped this latest book would be the one to make her a household name. Stephanie did not particularly care about wealth or fame but did hope her books might be successful. She didn't want to let her publisher or Jason down, so she worked whenever she could find time to complete what she hoped would be her best book yet...
...but not today. Today there would be no work done on this or any other book. Today she held the strange and baffling envelope in her hands. Her natural curiosity was getting the better of her. Stephanie always had a very inquisitive mind. Her mother would tell her about curiosity killing the cat when she was a young girl and although the expression often frightened her, she could not shut off her questioning mind. And now, with her mother more than fifteen years in her grave, Stephanie heard the woman's voice echoing in her head once again, speaking the words, "Remember, Stephanie, curiosity killed the cat."
But that was not exactly correct. She initially heard her mother's voice, that sweet, pleasant voice she had loved as a child. But then something frightening began to happen. The voice started out sounding like her mother's but then terrifyingly began to transform into something horrid, something evil sounding. The voice became that of a hideous old crone, cackling madly; as if to suggest in death, her mother had become some sort of hell-born demonic creature. "Curiosi
ty killed the cat, Stephanie, and it will kill you too." The horrid voice seemed to scream inside her skull.
For a moment Stephanie's breath caught in her throat and her chest hitched as if her heart skipped a beat. She sat silently, breathing deeply, allowing her mind to clear and her heart to resume its normal rhythm. Then she realized how foolish such a thought had been. In life, her mother had been a wonderful woman and if there was a heaven, and she believed there was, surely both of Stephanie's parents were enjoying the fruits of paradise. She had no idea where such a horrible nightmarish thought of her mother would have possibly come from, but it terrified her to the very center of her soul.
A strange tingle ran down her spine. She was unsure if it were brought on as a result of the horrible previous imagining or if it was because of the letter she held tightly in her hands. She looked down at the envelope and saw it was moist with the sweat from her fingers, which had held the envelope so tightly as to leave deep damp impressions on its face.
She knew now she had no choice, she had to find out what the letter meant and if it held good or bad news. She slowly slid her finger under the flap of the envelope and carefully tore it open, revealing a single, off-white sheet of paper adorned across the top with the letterhead of the lawyer, H. Mason Armstrong, in the same pretentious gold-leaf calligraphy as the envelope.
Stephanie held the letter in her now less-than-steady hands and gradually began reading it. After completing the three short paragraphs, she read it in its entirety once again; and then a third, then forth time. The first time she read it, she understood what she had read yet did not fully comprehend the personal ramifications of its meaning as if she had been reading a letter meant for someone else. The second time she read the letter was to make sure she truly read what she thought she had read the first time. The third time she read it to get all the facts straight and the last time was simply to read it calmly and to completely understand what its contents might mean to her and her family.
Fallen Stones Page 3
