Independence Day

Independence Day part I

Independence Day part II

We did the best we could to make life normal after that day. Whatever that normal is. I now believe ‘normal’ is our modern El Dorado. People drive themselves crazy seeking after it. But grandma, Thomas and I did our best.   For different reasons, we didn’t talk about mama and papa much. We each held a secret. Perhaps we should have just shared what we knew with each other and let the healing and forgiveness begin. But we didn’t. We each held onto our secret as if it was our lifeline. Why does hindsight have to be so much clearer than foresight?

In those four years, I gave up being a tomboy and became interested in boys in a different way. And boys became interested in me. At least one did. One just like papa. I followed in mama’s footsteps and married before I finished school. Just like mama, I had to plan an escape years later. Unlike mama though, I succeeded.

Thomas started to run. He joined track in school and spent hours running in the hills surrounding grandma’s house. I asked him one time why he ran so much. He shrugged it off and replied, “I have nothing better to do.” To this day I don’t know if he was trying to run to something or run away from something. But his running allowed him to receive a scholarship and he was able to go to school where he became top in his class.

Mama always knew he was destined for better things than this town had to offer. That’s one reason she was so insistent on calling him Thomas instead of shortening it to Tommy. She named him an old man’s name and she wanted him to live up to it. Most people didn’t understand and would call him Tommy. But I agreed with mama. He had been born with an old man’s soul and Thomas seemed to fit him much better.

On July 3rd that year we walked home from town. Grandma was getting older and finding it harder to make the trip to town as often. Besides, it gave me a chance to visit my boyfriend and it gave Thomas a chance to be in town with other people. He thrived on social situations and loved to observe interactions between people. Rarely did he join in, he just liked to watch.

As soon as we turned onto the long drive to walk up to the house we saw a beat up old truck parked by the old barn. “Grandma has company?” it came out as a question.

“Looks like it,” Thomas replied and looked at me. “Who would be coming to visit grandma?”

I shrugged my shoulders and we quickened our pace to find out.

As soon as we approached the house a man in overalls stepped onto the porch.

“Papa?” I stopped in my tracks.

He looked at me then started to laugh. “No, I’m your Uncle Levi, remember?”

I didn’t but I nodded my head slowly anyway.

“Hello Tara,” he smiled and revealed his crooked, rotting teeth. “Hello Tommy.”

Thomas stepped back. “I go by Thomas.” Most people in town called him Tommy. I never heard him correct anyone before.

Uncle Levi licked his lips. “You sound like your mama,” he said and didn’t try to hide the contempt in his voice.

“Your Uncle Levi has come to spend time with you,” Grandma interrupted and stepped onto the porch behind him while wiping her hands on her apron. She tried to make her voice sound hopeful which gave it an unnatural tone and she did not make eye contact with either of us.

“How about us going fishing Saturday?” Uncle Levi asked Thomas.

Thomas looked at grandma then at me. He wanted a savior and neither of us could offer him one.

“You need a male influence in your life, Tommy,” Uncle Levi caught himself and lowered his voice in a mocking tone, “Thomas.”

Thomas knew there was no escape hatch for him. “Fine,” he said looking down at the ground.

For a year, Uncle Levi became part of our lives. At least one Saturday a month he sauntered into town and took Thomas fishing or some other manly excursion. The next day he’d sleep for most of the time then wake up in time to enjoy Sunday dinner with us. Then he’d disappear. I have no idea where he went or what he did when he wasn’t with us. But he made contact with us at least once a month.   It was probably the most reliable thing he ever did in his life.

A couple of times I caught him leering at me. Thankfully, grandma never let us be alone in a room together. She always made sure she was in there.   But she couldn’t do the same for Thomas and I think that year aged her quicker than normal.

The summer before I started my senior year in high school, I had plans to spend the 4th of July with my boyfriend. “Your uncle wants to take you both tonight,” grandma told us that morning while we ate breakfast.

“What for?” I asked putting my breakfast dishes in the sink.

Grandma looked down, her voice became shaky, “He wants to ask you…” Quickly she walked out of the room. “I better start on those clothes.”

My eyebrows raised. “What’s with her?”

Thomas was too busy studying his breakfast to hear me. “I’m going running.” He said standing up and putting his dishes in the sink.

“But you haven’t eaten your breakfast,” I said.

“Not hungry,” he replied and bounded out the door.

He didn’t return until late that afternoon. I was in the barn looking for camping gear. We called it the barn but it was really an oversized shed that was slowly falling apart. It was drafty and I had to use a kerosene lamp to see inside.

“Hi,” Thomas said causing me to jump.

“Oh, why are you so quiet?” I complained. “You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days.”

He shrugged his shoulders and hopped onto an old counter. The whole building seemed to lean a bit with his weight.

“Be careful,” I said looking around. “I do not want this building to fall in on me. Especially with this lamp burning.”

“What are you even doing in here?” he asked smiling.

“Looking for camping gear. Uncle Levi wants to take us camping,” I rolled my eyes.

He did not move and his eyes became big. “What?”

“He wants to take us camping. Even I have to go this time. I don’t know why. I’m seventeen. I think I’m old enough to have some say in the matter.”

Thomas looked down at his feet. “I’m not going,” he said defiantly.

“You like to camp,” I said. “You’ve been going all year with him.”

He shook his head and swallowed hard.

“I know he is a boor and I don’t like to spend time with him but I thought you two got along alright,” I studied Thomas.

He shook his head again and clenched the counter with his hands until they turned white. “He’s going to make us go live with him.”

“What?” I asked.

“That’s what this is about, this trip. I heard grandma and him talking the other day,” he jumped off the counter and looked like he was in flight mode. “I am not going to live with that man,” his face softened. “I can’t.”

“What have you done on your outings?” I asked even though I already knew. I suppose I always knew I just didn’t want to think about it.

He looked away and my suspicions were confirmed.

“You wait here,” I said.

He grabbed my arm. “You don’t know what you’re dealing with.”

“I’ll tell him you’re sick and I’ll think of something for me. We’ll stay home this weekend. If we have time to talk to grandma about this she can help,” after all, she tried to help us before.

I walked out of the barn and headed to the house. My mind raced with possible excuses. Before I turned the corner I stopped when I heard voices. Uncle Levi and grandma were on the porch talking.

“He needs a man’s influence, ma,” he slurred loudly.

“They’re both happy here,” grandma pleaded.

“The decision is final. You have no say in this matter. It’s your fault and that woman’s,” he said with as much contempt as he could muster, “that boy is so soft.   He’s an embarrassment to this family.” I still felt anger toward mama, but I didn’t like the way he referred to her with so much disdain.

“But I’m getting old. I need their help,” I could tell she was grasping at straws trying anything.

“He is going to learn to be a man,” his voice boomed and I hoped Thomas couldn’t hear any of this.

“And what about her?” grandma asked. I forgot I was part of this deal. “We’ll need someone to do the woman chores. Cooking, cleaning,” his voice softened just a little.

A maid? He wanted me to be his maid.

“Women need to learn their place, too. Why is she wasting time in school anyway?”

“No, Levi,” I had never heard grandma sound so vulnerable before. “Please, don’t do this.”

Uncle Levi lost his patience. I heard his heavy steps stomp. “I don’t care what you think, woman.” His voice was filled with venom and my whole body tightened.

“Levi, please,” grandma sounded like a little girl.

Then I heard that familiar sound. The same sound Thomas and I heard over and over again. I knew what was happening. Even though I wanted to help grandma I knew I couldn’t at the moment. But I could still help Thomas.

I ran back to the barn and went straight for grandpa’s old gun cabinet. I pulled out the first rifle and forced my shaking hands to stuff a bullet into it.

Thomas looked at me wide eyed.

I cocked the gun then turned to him. “Run.”

He stood there.

I grabbed his arm and led him to the door. “Run and don’t turn back. Go on.”

He shook his head.

“RUN!” I commanded. “Get out of here, now!”

Finally, he backed up and started running toward the hills.

I took a deep breath and nodded. Outside offered no protection for me as I looked around. I decided my best bet would be to wait in the barn. My hands were sweaty but I clenched that rifle like it was my salvation. I backed up to the far wall and waited. He’d come looking and I’d be waiting.

The soft glow of the lamp illuminated just enough of the building for me to see.

It felt like forever before I heard him call out our names.

“In here,” I answered trying to make sure my voice didn’t sound as insecure as I felt.

He opened the door and his eyes scanned the building quickly. I could tell it took a moment for him to adjust to the dim light. “There you are,” he said laughing and stopped short when he noticed the gun. “What is this?”

“Uncle Levi,” I said while holding the gun pointed at him. “I think it’s best you leave.”

He opened the door all the way and I could only see his silhouette. “Girl, I don’t have time for this.”

“Please leave. Leave us alone. Don’t come back,” I said as evenly as possible.

He laughed again. But it was an irritated laugh and I knew I was at the point of no return. He started walking toward me. “You gonna shoot me?” he asked. “Your own kin?”

“Please,” I begged. “Please just leave.”

“No, I’m not gonna leave. And you’re not gonna shoot,” he licked his dry lips and took another step closer. “You are gonna put the gun down and we are gonna go home where you will learn some manners.”

“Please,” I couldn’t help it the tears started to come.

He laughed again and relaxed. Another step closer.

I panicked and squeezed the trigger. The shock of the gun pushed me back into the wall and I hit my head. The next thing I remember, grandma was helping me up and the barn was on fire.

She helped me out of the building to safety. We sat on the ground and watched the building burn with Uncle Levi inside.

“What happened?” I asked.

“You shot your Uncle Levi,” she said. “But don’t you give it a second thought. It was self-defense. You did what you had to do. You protected yourself and your brother.”

“I shot him?” I asked. I remembered the gun going off but didn’t see if I hit him or not.

“You did. You did what you had to do.” She kept repeating it as if to console me.

“What about the fire?” I asked.

“Well, he must have knocked the lamp down when he fell.”

I admit it. I was on the edge of my seat as Tara finished her story. I licked my lips. “So, you killed your Uncle Levi?” I asked. I wasn’t sure if admitting to murder would have an effect on her Citizen of the Year Award. As far as I knew, there had been no precedent in the matter. She was just supposed to be some boring, nice old lady.

“Well,” she said slowly.   I could tell this story was not finished yet. “That is what went into the official police record. But,” she looked at my tape recorder, “if you want to go off the record, I’ll tell you what really happened.”

My eyes followed hers to the tape recorder and I leaned over and turned it off. I set my pen and paper down and just listened.

“I need to back up a little,” she said.

I stood there with gun in hand begging him to just leave. He didn’t listen and kept coming closer and closer. I panicked and squeezed the trigger. The bullet missed him completely and hit the lantern.

The truth is, the kickback did cause me to hit my head and I was knocked unconscious for a moment. When I came to, the barn was on fire and I was lying in a pool of blood.

I sat up quickly and looked at the blood on my hands and felt my body. It wasn’t mine. I looked over and Uncle Levi lay contorted on the ground.

“C’mon,” I heard grandma’s voice in the smoke. Quickly I followed.

We stood there watching the barn burn down with Uncle Levi inside.

“He was going to hurt you,” she said with a weak voice.   “I did what I had to do,” she threw a blunt metal pipe she had been clutching into the fire.

“Grandma?” I asked.

“You’re safe now,” she mumbled.

That day added about twenty years onto grandma and she never quite recovered. None of us did, really.

I dropped out of school around Christmas time to marry my boyfriend. It is one of my biggest regrets mainly because grandma sacrificed everything to keep us safe and I jumped right back into danger.   I left my husband in the middle of the night the day after I turned 29. Luckily, we didn’t have any children.  Of course, he always blamed me for the fact we didn’t have kids but I didn’t have any trouble with my next two husbands.  At any rate, I didn’t have the extra baggage when I fled like mama did.

Thomas received a scholarship and went to school. He was named one of the “Brightest and Best” when he graduated from college. But he couldn’t escape the vices of this family. He was dragged into the bottle just like papa and lost everything by the time he turned thirty. A week before his 32nd birthday I buried him in the town’s cemetery. To his credit, he never started a family. He said he didn’t trust himself and he wanted the cycle to end with him.

Grandma died twelve years after this incident. I was living with her then. She spent a lot of time staring out the window lost in thought. The last few years of her life she indulged in many delusions that involved the men in her life chasing after her.

Tara finished her narrative and sat back in her seat. A semblance of peace rested on her.

“So,” I said collecting my thoughts, “your grandma killed your Uncle Levi with the pipe?”

“Actually, we both killed him in the fire. We could hear him scream when he came to. But, uh, that’s off the record.”

I didn’t know what to say. “Well, uh,” I said nervously. “I think I have enough for the article in the paper. Congratulations on your award.” There was no way I was going to use any of this.

We walked to the door and I stopped. “You never mentioned your grandpa in the story.”

She opened the door for me. “He died before I was born.”

I narrowed my eyes. “How did he die?”

She looked me in the eyes and replied, “In a fire.”

“That’s an amazing coincidence,” I said the word even though I didn’t believe it.

She took my hand, “Coincidences are for fools.”

I swallowed and left her little home.

Tara Snellfield died a week after the interview and never received her award. Instead of the write up I had planned to do a small one column obituary took its place. I attended her funeral with her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. That’s the downside to living to be the oldest citizen in town. She outlived her grandma, parents, brother, two ex-husbands, one husband, all her children, a few grandchildren, and even one great-grandchild.

I even went to the cemetery and watched her casket lowered into the ground. On her right, her third husband is buried. On her left is Thomas. “Still watching out for Thomas,” I said and placed some flowers on her headstone.

All of this family’s secrets were finally buried and could be forgotten. Perhaps now, they could find some peace.

THE END

Independence Day

To get caught up: Part I

Part II

“My family moved around a bit when I was a young girl. It was during the Great Depression. Work was hard to come by. It probably didn’t help matters when the bread winner of the house spent more time in the bars than looking for work,” she let out a deep sigh. “But we come into this world hardwired to love our papas and our mamas and to respect them. It isn’t until we’re older that we realize or even see their imperfections…” she paused and her eyes stared through me.

“Ms. Snellfield?” I asked. Really, all I needed was a few quotes for the paper. I didn’t come looking for any kind of confession to a deep hidden family secret.

“It is time,” she said. “It is time.” And she continued her story.

We moved to Wyoming a year before I turned twelve. Both my parents were from here originally but had moved around to find work. To find a better life. Always in search of something better. My grandma had been instrumental in getting my papa a job in a mine here. I suppose she wanted to keep an eye on her son and his family.

Mama hated coming back though. The high mountain desert makes for tough people. I think mama wanted to be cultured and live the city life. She had many dreams that life took her away from like a boat adrift at sea. She could see the horizon but had no means of getting to where she needed to be. To where she belonged.

Since we had moved around so much, I felt obligated to watch after and take care of my younger brother Thomas. He was only eight but carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. It seemed like he felt things so deeply. More so than I ever did.

The two of us had to be there for each other. Especially when papa would stop at the bar before coming home from work. We would huddle together under the covers when he’d come home and take out his frustrations on mama. I just thought that’s what men did. But Thomas, Thomas knew better. He’d be the one to help mama afterward by cleaning her face and trying to ease her pain. I don’t know why he felt like he needed to pick up the pieces.

Years later, he helped me and picked up my pieces after I married my first husband. A man just like papa.

I remember one day, just after I turned twelve, we visited grandma. She was as tall as she was round but solid. No one ever thought of messing with her. My grandma was well known in the community to be one tough broad. And that’s saying a lot because our community produced many tough people.

Mama sent Thomas and I out to play in the hills behind grandma’s house.

“Thomas,” I said running to our favorite rock, “you be the Indian and I’ll be the cowboy.” I never found any satisfaction in pretending to be a princess or other such nonsense. I always played the hero.

“How come I always have to be the Indian?” Thomas asked catching up with me.

“Because,” I gave my standard answer for any question he asked, “I’m older so I get to be the good guy.”

Unlike other times, Thomas paused. His silence caught my attention and I looked into his eyes. He had the most beautiful eyes next to mama. They were the same shape as mama’s with long eyelashes. This was unfortunate in his view because as papa often reminded him, ‘boys shouldn’t have girly eyes.’ The only difference was mama had light blue eyes and Thomas had dark brown eyes like papa.

“I don’t get it,” Thomas spoke softly. “Why are Indians always the bad guys?”

“Because that’s how it is in the movies,” I said losing patience.

Just then we heard mama calling us.

“See now?” I asked irritated. “Too many questions and no time to play.”

When we got back to the house mama was saying goodbye to grandma.

“It will be okay,” grandma told mama. We didn’t get to see a tender side to grandma too often but both Thomas and I could sense something different about this parting. “Everything will be okay soon enough.”

Mama nodded her head and told Thomas and I to get into the car.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Thomas asked while we watched them from the car.

I shrugged my shoulders. It was getting hot in the car and I just wished mama would hurry.

Mama walked to the car and climbed in.

“What were you and grandma talking about?” Thomas asked.

“Nothing,” she said and forced a smile. “But I want you to know how much I love you both and a mama’s job is to protect her cubs. And I will do anything to protect mine.” She looked at Thomas directly.

“I’m so hot,” I complained. The moment was missed on me. I took it for granted, a mama’s love. But the moment wasn’t intended for me anyway. I was an intruder on some inside secret between mama and Thomas.

She nodded. “Let’s get home and out of this car then.” And we drove home.

That night mama sent us out of the house before papa came home. I didn’t want to be around when he came home from work anyway. He worked a late shift that day and things were never pleasant at home when he came home from the late shift. I wanted to sleep in a cave behind our neighborhood that night. But Thomas insisted we go home and check on mama. We returned too early.

Trees were almost unheard of in our desert. But the previous owner to our house had taken the time and effort to not only plant a tree but to make sure it thrived. We were the only kids in the neighborhood who had a tree to climb and we often did. It was our spot to hide and wait things out. When we arrived home we climbed our tree and each stretched out on a branch.

“It’s taking longer than usual,” Thomas whispered tensely.

I nodded my head.

“What’s he sayin?” he asked.

“Shh, I can’t hear,” I lied. I could hear the exchange perfectly but didn’t want Thomas to know.

Both of our heads popped up when we heard a slap of leather.

“What is that?” I asked straining to hear.

Thomas nodded his head knowingly. “The belt.”

I looked at him doubtfully. But when his stare caught mine I could see his information wasn’t coming from an unexperienced 8 year old. Instead, it was a voice of knowledge.

“Thomas?” I asked unsure. His eyes lowered to the ground and confirmed my suspicions.

Our attention was drawn next to the back door slamming. We watched as papa stomped off toward town.

As I tucked Thomas into bed moments later, I looked into his brown eyes. I could see a new depth of pain I had never noticed before. I wiped a long strand of hair from his forehead. No eight year old should have to have that much pain behind his eyes, I thought. My eyes shifted to the door and what waited for me in the other room. Neither should a 31 year old.

The next morning was the Fourth of July. Mama was already awake and slowly sipping her coffee at the kitchen table. Although by the looks of her, she probably never had gone to bed. She slowly rocked herself on the kitchen chair and barely seemed to notice us.

“Mama?” Thomas surprised us both.

“Hey there,” she smiled faintly and faced us. I grimaced at the sight of her swollen pink eye. “Listen,” her voice was shaky, “Tara I want you to take Thomas to town today. Your papa will be up soon and will be going into work. He is working a long shift today so he won’t be back until tonight. The fair’s in town, there is plenty to do. You stay in town today, alright?” She pushed two dollars to us and I had to blink my eyes a couple of times. I had never held so much money before. “That’s a gift from your grandma. You two go to town and have a nice day today and don’t come home. I want you to go to your grandma’s house at six, you hear? Do not come home. I will pick you up at from your grandma’s but you have to be there by six.”

I nodded my head and licked my lips. The thought of being responsible for so much money both excited me and made me nervous. I stuffed the money in my pocket. As we were leaving, Thomas ran back to mama and gave her a big hug.

“It will be okay, now,” she said. “Go have fun with your sister today.”

He nodded his head and we walked toward the crowded town streets. A parade was going to kick off the festivities and I wanted to see it.

But that’s the image I see in my mind of mama. Grandma had pictures of her in her wedding dress with her makeup done up and her hair just right, but it’s that image of my mama with dark rings under her eyes, a pink swollen cheek and eye, and looking like she was pushing fifty instead of not even 30, that is how I remember mama.

Thomas and I walked to town and watched the parade. I kept my right hand in my pocket holding onto the money because I didn’t want to lose it. After the parade, we stayed and watched some of the festivities. We ate lunch in a shop and for the first time, we ate until we were both full. That might not have been the best idea as our little stomachs didn’t know what to do with so much food. Thomas started complaining of not feeling well by the early afternoon. But I had promised mama to not return until six.

“Please,” Thomas begged. “I’m not feeling good.”

“Mama said we weren’t to come home until six,” I used my best big sister voice to reprimand him.

He held his stomach. “What time is it?”

I asked a man walking down the sidewalk and found out it was only 4:30. “Too soon,” I told Thomas.

He moaned.

Just then we heard the shrill sound of sirens. I stepped closer to the street to watch the fire truck speed by. There is no reasonable explanation but I suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of dread.

“Please,” Thomas cried.

I thought for a moment. Mama always slightly favored Thomas and rarely even yelled at him. As for me, I usually received the brunt of the discipline from her. Since I was the oldest and the girl, she always expected more from me.

“Tara, please,” Thomas pleaded.

I nodded my head slowly. “Okay,” suddenly I wanted to be home and I didn’t care if I would get a scolding for going home early.

We walked slowly in the hot sun. Thomas limped while holding his side. If I didn’t get in trouble for returning early, I was sure to be in trouble for returning Thomas in such poor condition.

“You’re okay, Thomas,” I tried to reason with him. “Don’t limp.”

He tried to walk straight but would always slouch after a few steps.

The closer we got to home, the more commotion was encountered.   When we turned onto our street, we could see the fire truck parked about half way up the hill. It looked like it was right in front of our house. We looked at each other and started running.

There was a crowd of people that had gathered and had tried to help. As we pushed our way through we met the eyes of the volunteers. As soon as they recognized us, they either looked away or nodded their heads. But nobody spoke. They just let us get to the front line.

The fire had been contained but still burned.

“Mama?” Thomas called.

I looked back at the crowd. Surely, she was there. We must have missed her as we walked through all the people. And papa, papa had to be nearby also.

“Papa?” I called. Where were they? Were they helping the firemen?

“Tara?” I heard someone say and I turned around expecting to see papa. It wasn’t him. It was the Police Chief, Mr. Wilson. “Tara and Thomas, I need to speak with you for a moment,” he led us away from the group and took us to a neighbor’s house, Mrs. Smith. She was standing in her kitchen and wiped the tears from her eyes as we entered.

“There you are,” she said. “Chief Wilson said he’d be bringing you over. Why don’t you have a seat and I’ll fix you some tea.” She looked at the Chief and he nodded his head. He slipped back out the door and we each took a seat.

“Now, there’s been an accident,” she explained as calmly as possible.   “Your parents,” her voice faltered, “your parents were in the house.” She paused. “They did not make it out.”

I looked at Thomas. He continued to look at Mrs. Smith.

“I’m so sorry, dears.   Your parents are gone.”

I didn’t want to hear anymore and decided to run out. There had to be some mistake. We just saw mama that morning. How could this happen?

I ran back to the house and watched the men as they finished putting out the fire. Surely, mama would come out any second now. She had to. I refused to believe she was gone.

She never came out.

I climbed the tree and watched the smoke reach to the sky. My life had just changed. I needed something, anything to hold onto that had not changed. I stretched out on a branch and watched the firemen finish their job and begin to leave. All of them left except for two. Chief Wilson and a younger fireman.

“Sir, I must speak to you,” the younger fireman said to Chief Wilson. “What is it, Doak?” the Chief asked.

“There is something strange about this whole thing, sir,” Doak said.

There was a slight pause and then they shifted their position slightly so that they were out of the way from everyone else. But they moved directly underneath my tree. I knew they didn’t know I was there so I made an effort not to move and listened intently.

“Go on, Doak,” Chief Wilson said.

“We found the bodies and to tell you the truth, I think we’re going the wrong way in this investigation.”

“I’m telling you, he came home early from work and passed out with a lit cigarette,” the Chief’s words caused me to almost fall out of the tree. It was papa’s fault?

“No sir, I think it was started intentionally,” Doak responded.

Intentional? Papa set the house on fire? I don’t know why I was so quick to blame papa but that’s the only thing that made sense. Even to my young mind.

“He didn’t start it,” Doak continued.

Chief Wilson looked at him. “I know him from school. It was him.”

“Consider this,” Doak pressed on, “he appears to have been lying on her feet.”

The Chief listened and nodded his head. “I’m sure he wasn’t helping her up. He was holding her down.”

It was Doak’s turn to nod his head. “Perhaps but…”

“There’s more?” Wilson asked.

“There was some residue of rope around his ankles. It also appears he had been tied up.”

Tied up?

“And we found suitcases in the bedroom on the bed.” Doak waited a minute for his words to sink in. “It’s my professional opinion that she was leaving him. I think she set the fire on purpose and he tried to stop her.”

Wilson paced back and forth and looked around to make sure nobody else had heard. “Did you tell anyone else this, Joe College?”

“No, sir,” Doak responded.

“Then don’t. This information stops right here. This fire was an accident. That is the official ruling.”

“But…”Doak tried to protest.

“You are not from here,” Wilson used his most authoritative voice. “I am. I went to school with both of them. Why she chose to tie her lot with him has always been a mystery. But she did. She was too good for him and didn’t deserve this. I will not let her name be dragged through this town’s mud. This fire was an accident, pure and simple. Case closed.”

Doak didn’t say a word.

“If I catch you saying otherwise, you will be transferred so quickly out of this town and I will make sure you will not set foot in any law enforcement jobs ever again. You may have your connections with the state but it will not help you to find a job in any town. This is how it works in the real world. All your fancy education will be a waste, do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” Doak said.

“Good,”Wilson relaxed a little bit. “Now go home, and enjoy your Fourth of July with your family.”

Doak nodded his head and turned and left. To his credit, he never uttered a word about what he had found in the house. The town from that day forward called the fire accidental although most were convinced papa had something to do with it. But nobody blamed mama and she became the town’s saint. A poor victim.

At that moment, I, however, became very angry with mama. This was her fault that much I understood. Even though I loved her and I was loyal enough that I did not tell a single soul what I knew – not even Thomas – I felt a lot of resentment toward her. I carried that with me for many years until I fled in the middle of the night from my first husband. Then I understood. With understanding came the sweet release of forgiveness. I hold no grudge against my mama. She did what she needed to do.

Years later, I took care of grandma as she struggled with making peace before passing on. She slipped in and out of clarity. But most days she seemed to live in the past. One of those times, I listened to her almost incoherent conversation and pieced more of the picture together.

“They’ll be gone, they’ll be gone,” she mumbled.

“Who will be gone, grandma?” I asked while applying a damp washcloth to her forehead. “It’s a perfect plan, he will come home from work and they’ll be gone. “

I let her ramble for a moment.

Suddenly, she sat up in bed. “Luke is a good boy, he’s a good boy.” I stopped what I was doing and listened intently. She was talking about papa again. “He’s such a tender heart, a tender heart.” I had never heard papa described as a ‘tender heart’ before so I thought she was giving in to one of her delusions. “He’s such a tender heart,” her eyes narrowed, “but that monster beat it out of him. He beat it out of him until there was no more tenderness left. We were given two boys. One was his, an exact copy of the monster. The other was mine. Luke was supposed to be mine. I was supposed to protect him but I didn’t. I didn’t.” Grandma and grandpa had two boys. Levi, the oldest, had drifted from town to town causing trouble and usually ended up being run out of each town he entered. Luke, my papa, married mama in high school.

I rinsed the washcloth in a wash basin next to the bed. “Shh, grandma, it’s okay,” I put the washcloth back on her forehead.

She grabbed my hand rather strongly and looked into my eyes. “We must protect the boy. I didn’t protect my Luke. The boy, the boy is just like him. We must protect him.”

She was talking about Thomas.

“I will give you money to get away. When he is at work on the long shift, you pack your suitcases and get ready. Burn that house down. Burn it to the ground so that there is nothing left. Then leave. Leave town with those kids. Protect the boy like I should have protected mine. Let him think you were in the house. I have money saved up. Take that. Take the kids and get a fresh start.”

That was the plan. While papa was at work, burn the house down and slip quietly out of town for a fresh start.

“I let the monster turn my Luke into a monster.   I should have stopped him but I didn’t. It’s too late, too late. Protect the boy.” Grandma relaxed a bit and fell asleep.

The next day, I was picking up some dirty linen from the floor when I heard her mumble, “At least, my Luke died trying to be a hero.”

I realized she had no idea what had happened. None of us actually knew the truth but from what I pieced together I think I had the most complete picture. Grandma and mama had come up with some plan to get the three of us out of town. It involved staging an accident that looked like we had died in a house fire.

Mama sent Thomas and I to town so that she could pack. Papa was supposed to be working a long shift in the mine so he should have been out of the house and unreachable until late that night. But grandma didn’t know that he had been sent home early a few times that month due to inappropriate conduct at work. This must have been one of those times. At any rate, he came home early. Perhaps he saw the suitcases being filled. It wouldn’t surprise me if he tore into mama.

Afterward, he probably passed out and mama saw her chance to modify the plan. She tied him up. But he woke up and there was a struggle. If she started the fire or if the fire started because of the struggle that much I don’t know. But both perished in the fire.

Grandma must have thought the fire had already started when papa returned home. In her mind, or at least what she had convinced herself of to get some peace, he ran in to rescue us and instead, he and mama died. I don’t know if she actually believed it or if she just needed to so that she could distance herself from the part she played in the matter.

Grandma died with a smile on her lips thinking she was going to be reunited with her hero son. A smile on her lips but a fear in her eyes because of the reckoning that was coming due. We lived with grandma and in relative peace for four years. But four years to the day we had become orphans all that changed when the monster came home.

Independence Day part III