They walked over to their Oldsmobile while his siblings were chauffeured back to their father’s house in a SUV provided by the funeral home. Earlier that morning, John, Belinda and Rachelle had all driven to their dad’s house, where the SUV had been waiting with two funeral employees seated up front. Since Toby lived much farther away, he and Jonie decided they’d drive on their own to the funeral.
After sitting behind the wheel of his car, Toby sighed heavily. Feeling his pain, Jonie leaned over from the passenger seat and gave him a hug. She knew he was hurting in more ways than one. As other vehicles pulled out of the graveyard, Toby slammed his hand onto the steering wheel, then lowered his head and cried.
“It’s okay, honey. Your dad’s in a much better place now,” Jonie said, tenderly.
For a while, Toby held her without saying a word. Her being there was enough.
“I’m okay,” he finally said, drying his face with his hands. “I just can’t believe he’s actually gone. He meant so much to me, Jonie.”
“I know that, honey.” She helped dry his tears. “And what’s even more important is he knows that and he’ll always be with you in spirit, looking out for you. He’s now your guardian angel.”
Embracing the idea, Toby nodded. He cleared his throat, determined to compose himself, then started the car.
As they headed onto the main road, Jonie shifted a little his way, “Could you believe Belinda? She could’ve dropped right in that grave along with your dad. I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.”
Toby shook his head. “You know, our good neighbor, Matt, across the street once told me that the one making the most noise at a funeral is usually the guiltiest. Don’t know if that’s true in all cases, but it sure as hell’s true in our case.”
Jonie crossed her legs. “She couldn’t stand your father and everyone knows it.”
“I can’t imagine why—other than the fact that he wasn’t the one to spoil her rotten and allow her to get her way when we were kids. Mom did a great job at that and filled her head with nonsense at the same time.”
“What kind of nonsense?”
“Well, Mom was like this—Belinda and John could commit murder and she’d expect Dad to turn a blind eye, but he wasn’t that type of person. You know how he was; he called a spade a spade and it didn’t matter what anyone thought about it.”
“That’s what I admired about him the most,” Jonie replied. “You couldn’t get more real than he was. Yet, he wasn’t nasty about it.”
The car crept up to a stoplight at an intersection. Toby would soon need to make a right turn toward Eagers Terrace where his dad’s house was.
Toby looked at his wife. “Sometimes when Dad disciplined Belinda and John, Mom would say some unkind things about him behind his back. I witnessed it quite a few times.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“From what I could tell, that’s why Belinda and John didn’t care for him that much. Seemed to me like Mom was happy as long as she got their affection all to herself. Seems crazy or psychotic, but…it’s true.”
“So, then why all the hollering at the funeral?” Jonie was perplexed. “You think Belinda might really feel guilty about how she treated your dad?”
“Nope. Belinda doesn’t have much of a conscience,” Toby replied. “It was all a show for our relatives who were in attendance.”
“Oh yeah. And John seemed quite calm, cool and collected the whole while.”
“Are you surprised about that?”
The light turned green and Toby made the turn toward Eagers Terrace.
“I just know that if my dad died—any of my parents for that matter—I won’t be standing around the grave looking like I’d rather be somewhere else more fun,” Jonie remarked.
“That one’s cold as ice.”
“Yeah. I know.”
Minutes later, Toby pulled in front of his parents’ home—a light yellow house with white trimming. John’s brand-new Mercedes Benz CLS was on the carport and Belinda’s BMW was parked behind it. He didn’t see any sign of Rachelle’s sedan, but other vehicles were already there as well and some were pulling up behind Toby’s.
“I imagine by now they’ve all been dropped off by the SUV,” Jonie said as she unbuckled her seatbelt.
“Guess so.”
Toby got out of the car, walked around to his wife’s side and opened her door.
“Thank you, honey.” She took his hand with a brief smile. “Some people don’t believe you still open the car door for me after all these years.”
“Really? Who are these people?” He smirked.
“No one special.”
“Toby!” he heard someone call behind them.
A heavyset woman hurried over and embraced him.
“Aunt Nadine,” Toby replied. “How are you holding up?”
“Not so good. You know Harvey was my last living sibling, so it’s just me now.”
Toby saw the sadness in her eyes. Nadine and his father had a bond even though over the years they hadn’t seen very much of each other. Nevertheless, they did communicate by phone a couple of times each week.
“I know,” Toby answered. He noticed his cousins Marty and Sylvester, Nadine’s twenty-year-old twin sons, slowly heading their way.
“How are you doing?” Nadine asked Toby.
“I’m all right,” he said.
“Are you sure, honey?” She was earnestly concerned.
“Yes, ma’am. I’m sure.”
“I know one thing—you did everything you could for Harvey even before he got sick and you’re gonna get your blessings for that, ya hear?”
Jonie nodded in agreement, although Nadine had failed to acknowledge her.
“Yes, ma’am,” Toby replied, softly.
Suddenly, Nadine took notice. “Jonie! My goodness! Please pardon my horrible manners. Give Aunt Nadine a big hug!”
Marty and Sylvester shook Toby’s and Jonie’s hands and expressed their condolences.
Nadine’s sons, whom she gave birth to beyond what people thought were her childbearing years, were both in their freshman year at a local university and Toby had always thought well of them. They’d lost their dad six months after they were born and their Uncle Harvey had helped his sister financially throughout the years to care for them.
“I’m surely gonna miss Uncle Harvey,” Marty said.
“Me too,” Sylvester remarked.
“I know you will. He was so proud of how you guys turned out,” Toby assured them.
Nadine’s eyes welled with tears and Toby held her as they walked toward the front door with Jonie at his side.
When they entered the house, John and Belinda were sitting together on the sofa. Rachelle and her twenty-two-year-old son Steve were seated on the couch next to Susan Watling, a close family friend and her long-term beau, Tyler McMillan. Other relatives and friends were sitting or standing around the living room reminiscing about old times.
“You children have my deepest sympathy,” Nadine sadly uttered, as she went and sat in their dad’s favorite chair. “Your father was a special man and he will be greatly missed.” She caressed the arm of the chair; tears now streaming down her cheeks. Marty sat next to her while Sylvester went over and gave his cousin, Steve, a hail.
“Thanks, Aunt Nadine,” John said.
Rachelle and Belinda thanked her as well.
Shortly thereafter, both ladies got up and headed into the kitchen where several baking pans covered with aluminum foil and plastic food containers sat on the old beige Formica countertop. Toby could smell the tantalizing aroma of cooked food being warmed on the stove and inside the oven.
He and Jonie had taken a seat in a couple of empty chairs they’d found next to the sofa where John was.
“It’s finally said and done, huh?” John said quietly to Toby.
“Yep. Dad’s in a better place now.” He interlaced his fingers atop his lap.
John leaned over slightly. “Look…I wanna say wha
t you did for Dad over the past several months was commendable, you know?”
Toby nodded. “Thanks.”
“A pity he didn’t have any insurance like Mom did. The little life insurance she took out decades ago was a good help toward her funeral. Got her a nice headstone and everything,” John said.
“Yep.”
“Well—everyone pitched in to pull this off today, so…”
“Uh-huh.” Toby didn’t like the direction the conversation was headed and wondered why John had bothered to bring any of it up, especially right then and there. “Where’s Pam?” He sought to change the subject.
Pam was John’s wife. She’d kept herself distant from the family for the greater part of their marriage. Seemed sort of reclusive to everyone and Toby often wondered if the couple even slept in the same bed together. Pam did manage to show her face from time to time, such as whenever she and John hosted parties at their house. Then, she’d disappear again for most of the night.
“She’s a bit under the weather today,” John replied. “Sinus trouble.”
“I see.” Toby cleared his throat.
Sitting quietly next to her husband, Jonie felt that same chilly, uninviting atmosphere that greeted her each time they visited the Reed house. She surmised it felt even colder that day, for obvious reasons.
“I’ll go see if Belinda and Rachelle can use my help,” she said to Toby.
“Okay, honey.”
She got up and headed to the kitchen.
“So, I was thinking, we should probably sell the house,” John told his brother.
Toby looked at him incredulously. “Do you really think this is a good time to discuss that, John? Dad literally died four days ago and we just buried him.”
“I think this is as good a time as any,” John countered. “Not like he’s coming back to live here. It’s just good to get things out of the way instead of letting them linger.”
Toby shook his head. “Well, I’m not up to it right now. We can talk about it later.”
“He didn’t leave a will, so technically, we all own the house and when it comes to selling, we’ll all have to agree.”
“I know. Like I said though, I don’t wanna discuss that right now,” Toby said.
“Cool.” John got up and headed for the front porch. Outside, he yanked out a cigarette and lit it.
Toby remained agitated for a while by the conversation John couldn’t seem to resist at a time like this. “Dammit!” he muttered. “Can’t seem to get money off his mind for even a minute!”
John had escaped for a smoke, but Toby felt like he could use a stiff drink.
3
_________________
One month later…
“How’s Toby coping?” Kera Holmes asked her sister.
“Not so well, I’m afraid,” Jonie replied, rather sadly. She was sitting in the living room across from Kera with a large mug of coffee in hand. Kera, two years her senior, refused to drink coffee after having tried it in her early twenties and swore it completely dried out her otherwise flawless skin.
“Ever since Mr. Reed died, Toby has been somewhat reclusive and seems so depressed. I suppose that’s understandable since he loved his dad so much,” Jonie went on.
Kera crossed her legs. “Well, it’s a crying shame how his siblings treated the old man in his last days.”
“Unfortunately, neither Mr. or Mrs. Reed got any good treatment from that bunch of ungrateful brutes over the years.” Jonie sighed. “Toby and I are barely making ends meet around here and we still sacrificed to care for his father. You would’ve thought at least one of his other three children would’ve stopped by if only to drop off some food for the man to eat or a little something to get him his medication. Toby worked his fingers to the bone, grabbing as many jobs as he could to take care of his dad. The demand for carpenters around these parts over the past year hasn’t been that great and since Toby asked me to leave my job to stay here and look after his dad during the daytime…well—needless to say, more than a little income was taken out of our pockets.”
“I think John should hang his head in shame.” Kera stared blankly ahead at the television, the volume of which had been lowered. “The man’s an executive at a consulting firm that gets lucrative contracts with the government, so he’s raking in a ton of money. How could he treat his parents so coldly?”
“Because he’s spoiled, that’s why. According to Toby, Mrs. Reed saw to that. He was one of her favorites, you know?”
“Yep.”
“Mr. Reed was nothing of the sort. I’ve seen it for myself over the past fourteen years that Toby and I were married. He treated all four of his children the same.” Jonie took a sip of her coffee and kept the mug slightly above her lap. “I really admired Mr. Reed for the man he was. He reminded me of Dad, a little.”
Kera smiled at the mention of their father.
“No-nonsense, but kind and compassionate at the same time,” Jonie added.
“Yep.”
“Mrs. Reed, as you know, was a nice lady, but there was another side of her that a lot of people outside of the family didn’t see. She was a bit manipulative; pitted her kids against one another, particularly the ones she adored over the others. She always wanted to be the center of attention. For instance, if she saw John and Toby having any type of togetherness, she’d say something about Toby that would cause John to continue to be distant with him. Those two never hit it off as brothers.”
“John just thinks he’s better than everyone else!” Kera got up and headed to the kitchen where she poured herself a glass of orange juice.
She stood at five-feet-seven inches tall with a slender physique and her wavy, auburn hair fell an inch above her shoulders. She and Jonie could pass for twins, except that Jonie was a few inches taller. The girls were the only children of Randolph and Betty-Jean Fox who were alive and well and living in Hawaii where they were both natives. In their late teens, right after their wedding, they’d moved to Mizpah and raised a family with the agreement that Hawaii was where they’d return to spend their retirement years. Kera and Jonie adored their parents and went to visit them a few times each year.
“John is a special kind of cold,” Jonie told her sister. “Belinda and Rachelle are no better than he is, though. They’re all doing better than Toby financially, so they should’ve been more of a help to Mr. Reed when he was here wheelchair-bound and bedridden. Sure, they showed their faces every so often, but no one once offered to either take Mr. Reed to their house for a while to help out or even offered to assist in any other way.”
“Doesn’t Belinda own a six-unit apartment complex and brags about that fat bank account where she doesn’t even have to work anymore?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Rachelle at least has a steady job making good tips at the resort, so she should’ve been able to contribute something, even if it wasn’t that much. I swear they’re all gonna burn in Hell.” Kera stretched out her legs on the couch and rested her back against the arm of the chair. After downing half of the juice, she placed the glass on the side table.
“You know what I think would be ideal?” Jonie asked.
Kera looked her way. “What?”
“If they were made to experience hell on earth before they ever closed their eyes to this world. That’s how much I can’t stand them.”
Kera nodded. “I agree. Karma girl. You know what they say about it. It’s a—”
“I know... I know.”
* * * *
Toby headed to the work shed attached to his house after breakfast one Saturday morning. He’d brought along a hot cup of cocoa Jonie had made for him.
As he pushed open the wooden door, sunlight burst through the old shed—the contents of which were a long, wooden rectangular table, loose plywood everywhere, various tools and carpentry equipment. He walked in and opened two windows located on the southern side of the room, facing the road. Everything about the place reminded him of his father since it was Har
vey’s idea that Toby erect a shed in his yard to do woodwork when things got slow financially. It was exactly what Harvey had done to help his family get through “dry seasons” when he and Marry were still raising the kids. The income wasn’t always very attractive, but it managed to sustain the family.
Just like his father, Toby had built his house with his bare hands and with the help of a few guys he’d befriended in the construction industry. It was a small, two bedroom dwelling, with the white picket fence Jonie always wanted and a back patio where they’d spent many evenings relaxing together. Having carpentry skills had saved them more than half of what it would have taken to build otherwise, but they didn’t escape having a small mortgage.
Clearing off the dusty table, a feeling of guilt overwhelmed Toby and he began to weep silently. Shaking his head as if it would hold back the pain, he dried his tears and assembled the wood he intended to use that day.
“How’s it going?” A voice crept up behind him and he quickly turned around.
A tall, burly man in his forties stood in the doorway, blocking a good portion of the sunlight.
“Hey, Matt.” Toby cleared his throat. “How’s the family?”
Matt walked in. “Sandra and the li’l rascal are doing better than me.” He grinned. “How have you been?”
Toby reached for his saw and drill, and rested them on the table.
“I guess as good as can be expected.”
Matt approached the table next to Toby. “I miss the old guy; can only imagine how you miss him.”
“Yeah.”
“Those stories of his of days gone by are etched in my brain forever. I learned so much from him about this town and life in general—things I never learned from my own dad, especially since he was missing in action my entire life. I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but in a way old Harvey was like a father figure to me; I respected the man so much.”
The Cornelius Saga Series (All 15 Books): The Ultimate Adventure-packed Supernatural Thriller Collection Page 91
