by J. L. Salter
“Yeah, I know it sounds goofy. And I don’t mean hearing like it comes through my ears. More like I hear it inside my brain.”
“Or, maybe you hear her voice in your heart.” He smiled, a bit self-consciously, it seemed. “So, anyway, what did your aunt reveal?”
Kelly thought for a moment. “Nothing specific. She just reassured me that, before long, I’d understand what Uncle Edgar wanted me to know.”
“Before how long?”
“Not clear, but I get the impression it’ll be soon.”
“Well, then, you’ll soon have all the info you need from your uncle and probably solve the mystery of why he’s contacting you… or whatever.”
Kelly didn’t reply.
“What’s wrong now?”
“Not sure. I still feel a bit unsettled, I guess you could call it. You know, about remembering these very specific experiences with Uncle Edgar… and wondering why they’re resurfacing now.”
Mitch interrupted. “And whether Edgar really is trying to convey something, versus you just having fond memories.”
She nodded.
Mitch tasted his coffee re-fill, added more sugar, took another sip, and finally placed the cup in the microwave for about ten seconds. Another loud sip and he leaned against the counter. “Mildred and Edgar were brother and sister, right? I mean, not married to each other.”
“Yeah, my Mom’s much older siblings.”
“Were they close? I mean, growing up and all?”
“Oh, yeah. Extremely close. Mom told me that her grandma said Edgar and Mildred — they weren’t even two years apart — had telepathic powers.”
“Wonder how she knew.”
“One of them would say something like, ‘Are you expecting a call?’ and then the house phone would ring. Or if one of them was sick, the other sibling knew it even if they were in different cities at the time.”
“Well, that kind of explains how they’re able to tag-team you now with these, um, notifications of some future insights on your project.” Briefly, Mitch stared through his window toward Fishing Creek. “Assuming, of course, that your two uncle flashbacks and your aunt’s pronouncement of a future revelation are even connected.”
“And if there’s more to reveal. Because, frankly, I don’t have anything yet to go on.”
“Kelly, if your mother’s two siblings were supposedly telepathic, was she also synced-in with them?”
She nodded. “She never talked to me about it, but after Mom died, Aunt Mildred said they were all three psychic in some way.”
“So, did you inherit that trait also?”
“Of course.” Sly grin. “That’s why I always know what you’re thinking.”
Chapter Three
October 10, 1987
[About six months before his death]
Anderson, SC
Milly poked a fat worm with a short crooked stick as she crouched near the freshly cut grass. She could always find worms somewhere on the Equinox Park grounds, especially near the curved walking path. The city had numerous parks and this was one of her favorites. Clusters of pecan trees were here and there and several oaks seemed haphazardly arrayed. Only about three acres of apple trees remained from the vast orchard that had grown for generations before it was converted to a park by the Civilian Conservation Corps in the late 1930s.
“Uncle Edgar, are you moving?”
Edgar studied her intently for a moment. “What do you mean, Milly?”
She abandoned the worm and dropped her stick like a dart lined up over a target. “Are you going back to Kentucky?”
“No-o-o.” He held the word for a long time. “Why on earth would you wonder about that?” He coughed raggedly.
“Well, when Aunt Mildred was visiting here last week, I heard you tell her you were ready to go home.”
There was a soft smile on Edgar’s face, but his eyes were sad. “Let’s sit down for a minute, Milly. Your ole uncle is tuckered out.”
Edgar exhaled with a loud wheeze as he slowly sat on the nearby wrought iron bench. An inquisitive squirrel looked to see whether the humans possessed any peanuts or other morsels. He cocked his head and twitched his bushy tail… then scampered away, obviously disappointed. “Milly, what I was telling my sis…, your aunt, was that I was tired from all these treatments…”
“You mean when you go the doctor’s office but you come back looking like you feel worse?” Milly’s thin shoulders shrugged. “I just figured you had a crummy doctor.”
Edgar started to chuckle, but it became another ragged coughing spell. “Well, he’s probably a good enough doctor, but maybe it’s just lousy medicine in his treatments.” The squirrel approached again tentatively, but Edgar held out empty hands, flat. “Milly, I was telling your aunt that I don’t want any more of that crummy medicine… those treatments are awful hard on me and make me feel, uh, real bad. I’m just plumb tuckered out.”
“So why are you going home? Does home have better doctors than South Carolina?”
Another soft smile played over his face but this time his eyes were bright. “Yeah. That’s pretty much it. At home is the master healer, Milly. He’s the doctor that all the other doctors go to. When I get there, I won’t hurt at all any more.”
She looked up at her sick uncle. “Well, why didn’t you just go see him first?”
His wrinkled face saddened again. “It’s hard to understand when you’re only ten, Milly.”
“I’ll be eleven next month.”
Her uncle sighed so heavily it almost became a cough. “Well, I’ll try to explain. You see this, doctor, well, He’s…” Edgar pointed upward.
Tears sprang into her eyes as they opened wide in comprehension. “Are you going to heaven, Uncle Edgar?”
He coughed — quite roughly — for several moments, then was able to settle back down. “I’m sorry, Milly. That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”
She shook her head slowly, tears still falling. “But you’re not old enough yet!”
He coughed again, hard, but a shorter spell this time. “Apparently I am.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
“My lungs, Milly. Bad lungs kind of run in our family. Some was from coal mining and I don’t know what else. But I didn’t help things any by smoking cigarettes all those years I was in the service.”
“What kind of service?”
“I was serving our country.”
She didn’t understand what that meant, but did not inquire further. Milly was more concerned about her uncle’s future than his past.
A bird landed nearby and hopped over toward the bench. It cast its head both ways to see what might be edible.
Milly sniffled noisily. “When do you think you’re going home?”
“I don’t suppose it will be too long, now.”
“Are you sad to go?”
He thought a moment. “Yeah, I’m going to miss some friends and my family… especially my favorite niece.” He hugged her sideways. “But not really sad, because I can reach my real home at last and finally rest. That will be nice… I’m looking forward to it.”
She was quiet for so long that Edgar inquired, “Are you okay, Milly?”
It took a moment for her to respond. “I don’t want you to go home, Uncle Edgar. I’m afraid… afraid that I’ll be all alone after you leave.” More young tears.
He hugged her again. “You see that willow over there?” He pointed to a spot near the pond.
Milly just nodded.
“They grow real fast, but don’t live as long as most trees. They love water. Some of the best and strongest — and most beautiful — willows stand alone. Now, some trees do okay in a cluster — like those oaks or pecans… or the apples over there. But most willows just won’t thrive when they’re hemmed in. They need some space. And it doesn’t hurt the willows any to be by themselves.”
“Is that why willows weep?”
Edgar tried to explain that willows don’t actually cry, but Milly had tune
d him out.
“I don’t want to be all alone, Uncle Edgar.”
He reached his arm around her thin shoulders again. “Oh, Milly, you shouldn’t worry about that. After I’m gone, you’ll still have your Aunt Mildred and you’ve got your parents…”
Milly shook her head sadly. “They’re never home. And besides, I think they’re gonna leave too.”
“What do you mean… leave?”
She answered his question with a question. “What do you call it when you can see into the future… or it seems like you can?”
“Well, maybe premonition, I suppose.” He looked at her intently before he spoke again. “Milly, what do you think you see in the future?”
Her face was surprisingly without emotion as she replied; she’d had this vision quite often. “In the future, I don’t see my parents at all.”
The old man hugged her again. “Oh, I don’t think you should worry. They’re both young and healthy. And they love you a lot, even when they can’t be home. I’m sure they’ll be around for a long time. Long enough to see your children born… and growing up.”
“The thing is, when I look at my future, I don’t see any children either. I think I’m gonna be like that tree.” Milly pointed toward the willow. “Alone for the rest of my life.”
****
Kelly’s premonition about her parents had been correct: they’d both died in a terrible car accident just a few years later, in the late spring of 1995, right before she graduated from high school. She’d finished out the term in Anderson and then moved to Somerset to stay with Aunt Mildred, through that summer until her college term began. That was when she dropped her shortened middle name, Milly, and became Kelly. It had been the abrupt end of her childhood and a very jolting start for her adult life.
****
October 6 2007 — [Saturday]
Somerset, KY
Though neither Kelly nor Mitch were particularly “morning people”, occasionally one would have an early appointment and invite the other to hook up for an early breakfast. Not all that often, but since Kelly’s morning fare was typically cold cereal during warm months and oatmeal in the cold season, it was a welcome change to go somewhere with eggs or pancakes and breakfast meats.
On the current occasion, Mitch had the early interview for his long-term series on lake recreation. They met at one of their favorite spots, very near the intersection for the hospital.
After they’d ordered and while they awaited the food’s delivery at their selected booth, Kelly related to Mitch the content of her most recent flashback with Uncle Edgar in the park.
Mitch looked over his shoulder, evidently believing his scrutiny could hurry the food preparation. “So how many of those, um, recollections have you had?”
“Counting the one I just told you about, it’s a total of three so far.” She extracted a small notepad from her purse.
“And they always seem to come early in the mornings?”
She nodded. “Before I even get up. I’ve just been laying in bed and not much more than half awake.”
“Hmm. But you’re sure they’re not dreams?”
“Not unless I dream when I’m awake. No, I’m awake, aware of my surroundings, know what day it is, et cetera. Plus one of the critters is often up on the bed to hurry me into feeding them.”
“Okay, so you’re not dreaming and not hallucinating.” He poked his own head with a forefinger. “It sounds like your brain is retrieving short chapters of your life experiences with Edgar.”
She nodded. “Seems like it.”
“I know you and your uncle only had a few years together…”
“Right. After he moved from Somerset to Anderson. Then until he died about six years later.”
“How many encounters did you have with him, altogether? I mean, over those half dozen years?”
Kelly had to squeeze her eyes shut to estimate. “I don’t really recall how many times I saw him, but it wasn’t all that often. It’s not like I could drive in grade school, you know.”
Mitch smiled. At nearly the same instant, their food arrived. “Finally.” He dug in without ceremony.
But Kelly was still distracted “I guess the times I remember best are when my folks were both on the road and Uncle Edgar would come over and stay at our house. We had a spare room that I called his room — don’t believe anybody else ever slept there.” Kelly shrugged. “It’s funny, I can’t even recall why my folks were traveling or where they went. It must have been overnight, or only a couple of days each time, because I don’t remember Uncle Edgar doing much cooking.”
Having already downed nearly half of his meal, Mitch sipped coffee pensively, as though he were calculating a complex problem. “Those three episodes so far — I mean, the ones you’ve told me about — did you realize they’re sequential?”
“Huh? What do you mean?”
“Think about it. The first one you remembered was his funeral.”
Kelly’s eyes grew moist. “Yeah, the last time I saw Uncle Edgar.”
“And the next flashback was…”
“The hospital! When we visited about a month before he died. And he looked like a completely different person.”
“In the one you just mentioned, number three, y’all were talking about willow trees…”
“The park. We spent an afternoon at Equinox Park.” She looked up at the restaurant ceiling as though the date were inscribed there. “That was the autumn before he went to the hospital — in March the next year.”
“Sequential.” Mitch held up three fingers. “Three episodes, in reverse order.”
Kelly stared blankly and then scribbled a few notes on her tablet.
“Any idea why you’re recalling them backwards?”
“Not a clue. Didn’t even realize it.” She took a small bite of her egg sandwich. “I don’t guess you have some psychoanalytical reasoning to explain it.”
“Nope.” It was Mitch’s turn to shrug. “You seem to have had a very special connection to your uncle, even though it’s based on so few years. And since your aunt’s death, you seem extra, uh, connected to her in some way. Between the two of them, I guess they’ll get through somehow. Especially if they did have actual telepathic powers during their lifetimes.” He pointed to Kelly’s notepad. “And evidently they’ve decided to use reverse chronology.”
“I don’t get it. Aunt Mildred gave me the impression that Uncle Edgar wanted to tell me something that would help me with my special section for Veterans Day.” Kelly dabbed her lips with a thin paper napkin. “Other than the old guys in uniform at his funeral, there’s been nothing about veterans.”
Mitch cleared his throat softly and reached across the table for her hand. “But when you were zoned out with your aunt’s stale tea brew, she also gave you the understanding that you’d soon find out. Right?”
Kelly nodded slowly. Mitch didn’t usually grab her hand in public.
“So maybe there are a few more of these flashbacks in your near future.”
“Well, Uncle Edgar is going to have to be a lot less vague if he really wants me to interview him.”
Chapter Four
November 11, 1986
[About seventeen months before his death]
Anderson, SC
Small American flags were everywhere. At the head of the Veterans Day parade, the largest ceremonial flag approached and Uncle Edgar, with some difficulty, stood.
“Stand up, Milly. Our flag is passing.” He took off his faded olive drab garrison cap. In place of a unit patch, it had a single pin: a chevron with seven stripes. Senior master sergeant.
She rose but didn’t understand why. Hardly anybody else in that seated section stood for the flag. Just Milly and her uncle, and a few other old men wearing pieces of uniforms. To see the moistness in Edgar’s eyes gave her goose bumps.
“We could see better if we moved up to the edge of the street.” Milly looked expectantly at his face.
“Sorry, Milly. I need to
stay near these seats.” Scores of folding chairs lined on the sidewalk.
“Okay.” She sighed.
“You know, people used to come out in droves for these parades.” They were near a prominent and busy intersection. Edgar pointed in the direction of the top of North Main and his hand swept past the Whitner Street junction all the way in the opposite direction, to the bottom of South Main. “From beginning to end it took nearly an hour to see all the military units and marching bands… plus the horses and vehicles. Why, sometimes there were bicycle riders at the end and I’ve even seen people walking their leashed dogs with red, white, and blue ribbons.” It was obviously a pleasant memory.
“Have they always had parades on this day?”
“Well, it used to be a day to celebrate the end of the Great War. Later it was changed to honor all veterans.” He shook his head. “But I think it’s headed to become just a holiday from work and a big retail advertising theme.” He could likely tell Milly didn’t comprehend his musing. “You know, there was a period when lots of towns stopped having these events. In the late 1960s some veteran parades would bring out more protesters than spectators.”
“Did they hate the old soldiers in those parades?”
Edgar thought for a moment. “Well, they claimed they opposed American involvement in the Vietnam Conflict. But if you were a veteran marching in those parades, it sure felt like they hated you.”
“I don’t see anybody protesting today.”
He nodded. “The country is healing. And we’re at peace… for the most part. President Reagan has been a real good leader and our nation is prospering.”
Milly rolled her eyes.
“What I’m saying is, when we feel better as a nation, most of us feel better as people. Not as much to protest about… not as many protesters.” Edgar evidently decided to change the subject from political science and sociology. “When I was about seven, I remember seeing a few old Civil War veterans still marching. Well, walking really… and pretty slow at that. Most in Rebel gray, but some in Yankee blue. All long dead now, of course. In 1925 I guess they would have been about eighty.”
