An Inheritance

Chapter 17

Lauren’s mother straightened up.  “Your father … uh, he’s been having a really rough time at work, so ...  Come on, let’s just have some of that cake, there’s still a present or two to be opened.”  She ushered her daughters to the table and sat them down.

Neither Lauren nor Danielle could eat much of anything and after a few minutes of making some small talk, their mother got up and walked slowly back into the house.  The girls gathered everything up and then they too went back in.

Later that night while they were in bed, the girls heard their father come back; drunk and ready to fight. They were used to his nasty comments, his snide remarks and violent outbursts; even his drunkenness was something they had become accustomed to.  But this was wildly outside of the norm; usually when he got back from drinking, he’d have a tirade, then calm down and sometimes even apologize.  But not that night.

The battle between her parents seemed to go on endlessly. Although they couldn’t hear the actual words from their upstairs bedroom, Lauren and Danielle were really frightened for the first time.  Danielle even allowed Lauren to climb into her bed, something she hadn’t allowed for years.    When things finally calmed down in the early morning, the girls fell into an exhausted sleep.

They woke up the next morning to find their father had already gone to work.  Their mother was fixing breakfast; pale and drawn.  “Go sit down, I’ll have your eggs ready in a minute.”

As the plate was placed in front of her, Lauren looked at her mother’s wrists and saw a dull red imprint already starting to bruise.  Glancing quickly to her mother’s face she saw shame and for the first time, defeat, reflected there.  Her mother adjusted the sleeve of her light sweater and hurriedly turned away.

Both of the girls had talked about their parents fights and wondered if he had gotten physical, but neither had wanted to believe it.  Lauren looked over at Danielle.  From the look on her face and the tears that were staring to spill down her cheeks, she knew she had seen it too.

Knowing there wasn’t anything they could do, Danielle and Lauren finished their breakfast and headed off to school together.

“If only I had blown out all of the candles, I know this never would have happened.”

Danielle looked at her with disgust.  “Stop acting like a child.  Candles or no candles, Daddy’s a mean bastard and I hate him!  And don’t look at me like that.  You know it too.  He’s never gonna change, NEVER!”  With that final statement,  Danielle hurried ahead of Lauren towards some friends.

“It’s always because of me, always.”  Lauren muttered, then  inhaled deeply and added, “being twelve is no better than being eleven.”  

The next week her mother had ordered Lauren and Danielle to pack a few things and they left the house in the middle of the night when their father was away drinking.  They went to the house of the Judge where he and his wife welcomed them into their home.

They never saw their father again;  the Judge made sure of that.

Right after putting the pictures away, Lauren had retreated to the green house where she had found solace in the smell of the plants and the feel of the dirt.  But even that had not shaken the uneasiness she felt.  Returning to the cottage, she made Abby and herself some dinner, then went to bed early with some of the plant ledgers and reference books.  Abby stayed near her side and often crept up and rubbed her face against Lauren’s neck; a soothing and welcoming motion.

Even though emotionally exhausted, sleep had not come easily but when it finally did, the first night of the dreams started.  Lauren relived that one terrible birthday as though on a revolving stage; as soon as the dream calmed down with the escape to the Judge’s, it would start up again with the taking of the picture.  Lauren’s sleep was not very deep, and her mind kept nudging at her that these images she was seeing were all in the past; there was nothing to be frightened about.  However, the dream was so vivid, so painful, that Lauren felt she was right there.  When she woke, she could almost recite what each of her family had said verbatim on the days leading up to their leaving their father.  But there was also something just outside of her reach that she knew was important, but for some reason could not bring it to the front.

Getting up, Lauren dressed and headed to the kitchen for an early quick breakfast.  She was resolved, she had to start in on the letters from her mother.  She had been avoiding them up until now, partially because she didn’t want to intrude on her mother’s inner-most thoughts but primarily she had been afraid.  Afraid of what, she wasn’t quite sure.  But maybe somewhere in those letters she could find something to better understand her parent’s relationship and what had gone so terribly wrong.  And maybe, just maybe there would be clues to what happened between her mother and grandmother.  

With these thoughts in mind, Lauren went to the front bedroom, opened the first drawer, pulled out a fistful of letters and settled on the cot.  She began at the beginning, just like she had with the letters from both of her mother’s siblings.