© 2011 Zoe Taylor
Ten long years since her grandfather passed away,
a stranger comes home to walk old, familiar paths
and finds someone she didn't expect...
The dust of disuse and time’s cruel abandon layered everything as heavy-soled boots, given a light step only by their owner’s feminine grace, touched down inside the cabin. Emily hugged her hands to herself, tens of hundreds of summer memories flooding to mind as she cast her gentle gaze upon the forgotten dwelling.
Outside, thick grass had grown up around the house. A tree she and her cousins had planted when she was six had grown mighty and tall in the back yard to replace the long-rotted stump where lightning took its toll, a stark reminder how fragile life could be.
Grandpa moved to a nursing home long before he passed ten years ago, and Grandma had gone on to be with the Lord five years earlier. Even so, through the heavy patina, she could still remember. There, in that corner, was where Grandma made Timmy sit and stare at the wall for uttering his first, and last swear word. And there, on the rotted remains of what once was a sofa, Jessie dared her to wear a dress for the first time.
She smiled fondly. How exhilarating it felt, the first time cousin Emily came for a visit. In time “Emily” came out to play more and more often. Grandma thought it was adorable, and a harmless children’s game. Mom and Dad disagreed. They forbade Jessie and Emily from being alone together anymore, but it didn’t stop them.
“You’re not s’posta be here lady,” a gruff voice called, startling Emily from her thoughts. She spun about to see an older man who, for just a moment, reminded her so much of Grandpa; too much. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared. The man wrinkled his brow.
“Oh, it’s you,” he muttered.
“Hi, Uncle Nate,” the startled dove cooed.
Tired eyes cast downward; he hadn’t spoken to his nephew since the big announcement. Like most of the family, he cut his ties when the black sheep decided to cut his bits off and pretend to be a woman.
“What you doin’ here, boy,” he answered neutrally as he turned his gaze away.
“I wanted to see the old place,” Emily answered. She didn’t challenge his calling her ‘boy’. After all, that was just his way of letting her know he knew her, even after ten years. It had been an inside joke amongst all the male cousins after a fashion, growing up. “Haven’t been here since Mom caught me and Jessie playin’ that one time.”
He choked back a bitter laugh. “Your Mom howled like a banshee at Darla and me over that. Even more when you went and cut off your-” he trailed off. Even now, he couldn’t utter those words. How could any man do that to himself willingly?
But Emily smiled as she turned to step closer. She placed her hand on his shoulder, and he flinched, but he didn’t pull away.
“Why you dressed like that anyway? Thought you wanted to be all girlie,” he added, referencing her heavy flannel shirt and thick denim jeans, to say nothing of her work boots.
“Uncle Nate, I AM a woman. Always have been. Clothes don’t change that — they’re just the camouflage that helps others see me for who I really am.”
She knew she’d struck a nerve with that one. Nate fought in Vietnam. He knew too well the importance of hiding from ‘the enemy’. When he turned about to face her though, she smiled.
“I’m dressed like this ‘cause I came to assess the damage. Y’know how you used to say — right tool for the right job? I can’t wander around what could well be a dilapidated wreck dressed like I’m going to Sunday dinner.”
He cracked a smile, but only for a moment. “Your Ma know you’re back?”
“Nobody does. Mom still blames me for Daddy’s stroke,” she answered simply. She turned from him, her footfalls leading slowly into the tiny kitchen. She closed her eyes for a moment. “I could almost smell the cookies baking. God, I loved helping Gram bake, even though Jessie hated it.”
Nate let out a deep, guttural belly laugh. “She still does. Poor Robbie does all the cooking in their house.”
“I guess I should go though. I was thinkin’ about fixing this place up, maybe making something of a summer home here, but now I ain’t so sure.” She cringed at that word. Ain’t. Ten years on the east coast let her shed most of her Southern twang, yet she’d been back less than an hour and picked up as though she’d never left.
“Well, now hold on a minute,” he argued as he followed her. He paused to cough deeply, though not because of the dust the two had stirred up. “Foundation’s solid. Old house just needs a little love and a good scrub down.”
She smiled sadly as she turned back to face him. “I’m not talkin’ about the house. Bein’ back here just hurts too much.”
“Why don’t you come to dinner, and we can talk about it. Jessie and Robbie are comin’ over tonight, bringin’ the twins.” He paused, his gnarled hand, aged prematurely, reaching up to remove his faded hat as he lowered his gaze again. “When I first heard what you were doin’, I thought you’d plum lost your mind, but seein’ you now I,” he paused, his weathered lips smacking together once as he swallowed a heavy lump. “Well, anyway, you know where to find us, darlin’.”
“Uncle Nate?” she called after him. He paused, turning back to glance at her. “Why’d you come here?”
“You wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” he answered simply, but her pleading gaze urged him to answer anyway. “I just had a feelin’ I needed to be here, like that time Pa got up in the middle of the night ‘cause he had a feelin’, and found the barn on fire.”
He seemed to have a hint of a twinkle in his eye as he turned to leave again. Emily stood, silently staring at nothing in particular for the better part of thirty minutes. Finally, she exhaled, slowly and carefully making her way back out of the old building.
She pulled into the only gas station in her small hometown, next to the only working traffic light, across from the only movie theatre, a single-screen affair where she and Jessie had gone to see many an awful movie together, six months past their “in theater” release dates. She sat, and she pondered where to go from here. She could turn left and pull out onto the highway, returning her to the hotel the next town over, civilization, safety, and security.
On the other hand, she could turn right, follow the old, familiar city road, and eventually find her way to Nate’s. As she struggled with her thoughts, someone gently tapped on the driver’s side window to get her attention. She jumped with a start, and Nate smiled back at her as she rolled down her window.
“Forgot to mention yer Ma will be comin’ over too. Y’don’t need directions do ya?”
“I still remember. I could walk it blindfolded. I guess I better go back to my hotel and change though.”
He gave a quiet, but at least genuine, chuckle. “S’pose you’re right. Wouldn’t want anyone thinkin’ you’re onna them whatsits that likes other girls, hey?”
Emily’s cheeks burned as she glanced away. “I would hate to have to drag John all the way out here to defend my honor, at that. One step at a time though. We’ll see how Jessie and Mom take to my bein’ here, then … we can talk about other stuff if they don’t run me right outta town.”
Maybe her Mother still blamed her. Maybe Jessie would still refuse to speak to her even though Emily suspected Jessie’s silence was more out of peer pressure from the rest of the family, and maybe she was walking right into another family feud, but at least she could always return to her friends and fiancé, her fancy job at the radio station, but this could be her last chance to come home, and she wouldn’t throw that away.
Comments
God Zoe
I'm actually stunned at the fact I felt like I was actually right there watching Emily and Nate talking. Very evocative, I've the feeling this is a stand alone but I'd really love to see this go on though.
I loved this and the soft intensity of it.
More please.
Bailey Summers
100%
Agreement...
JC
The Legendary Lost Ninja
*grin* Yup
I left myself enough leads to be able to write a sequel if the inspiration ever hits to do so, but I tried to close it off enough that it still works as a standalone story for now. :-D
In a way it's kind of a road not traveled story for me. Even though the characters and the town are completely fictional, there are elements of truth buried deep below the surface, too.
Become a Patron for early access ♥
the best stories have truth in them
however its disguised. I curtsy to "the Queen of Sweetness", and ask Her Majesty to please continue this story.
"Let me succeed. If I cannot succeed let me be brave in the attempt." Pledge of the Special Olympics.
dorothycolleen
A good story
A good story shows you truth form another perspective, it may be a somewhat familiar perspective or quite alien one. A good writer draws the picture with words and lets you step in to that perspective. And the story touches your heart.
Good story!
.
PS.
I'd love to see a follow up but this stands great on its own.
Grandpa's Cabin
I can see several possible stories that can come from this story. Will be fun to see what happens.
May Your Light Forever Shine
May Your Light Forever Shine
I could feel it, see it and smell it
The dust of disuse and time's cruel abandon layered everything as heavy-soled boots, given a light step only by their owner's feminine grace, touched down inside the cabin
What a picture in words you paint.
S.
I agree, a luscious word picture
Intense, to the point.
Every word counts.
Well done.
John in Wauwatosa
John in Wauwatosa
Really Beautiful
I could see it, too. Maybe somewhere to the south of Green Forest.
Portia
Portia
I very much appreciated your wordscape.
As I read, I felt as if I had picked up what I thought would be a bran muffin but after taking a bite found it to be a rich blueberry, moist with butter and hints of several wonderful spices! The story surprised me, how complete the picture was to me. I could almost taste the dust in the back of my throat, and see the gloomy light filtered by the grime on the windows. Perhaps a layer of pine pollen over everything inside...
The story left me hoping that Emily finds that "while you can't go home again," perhaps with the passage of time, she can find a place for herself in the old familiar surroundings, and that her family, is now more willing to see the real her.
There is much sadness in this story but it is left mostly unspoken, only hinted at, evidenced by Emily's attempt to return to her place of childhood acceptance and happiness. I think we all long to return to that place where we felt unconditional love.
There seems to always be pressure to turn every story into a serial, but I would not do that to this one. A sequel, perhaps. But this one is complete and well crafted as is. That is a feat, Zoe, well done!
Three thumbs up! Oh wait, I only have two...
Hugs
Carla Ann
Painting Pictures
I have to agree with Susan. Your style of painting a picture with words allows the reader to create their own scene.While my cabin might not look exactly like yours, I envision it from many years ago. I can also picture myself dressed in my father's oversized workboots and flannel shirt while cleaning the garage, yet wearing my "frillies" underneath.
I have mixed feelings about continuing the story. On the one hand, I would worry about the reunion going too well, and becoming a syrupy mess. On the other hand, I would be pained if after ten years she was rejected by her mother, aunt and maybe even Jessie. Whether you choose to write a sequel, or which direction to go if you do, I am confident that you will keep it true to life.
An awkward but earnest welcome...
...When I first heard what you were doin', I thought you'd plum lost your mind, but seein' you now I, he paused, his weathered lips smacking together once as he swallowed a heavy lump. Well, anyway, you know where to find us, darlin'.
There may yet be hope for the rest of the family. Great story. Thank you.
Dio vi benedica tutti
Con grande amore e di affetto
Andrea Lena
Love, Andrea Lena
Wow! I like this a lot!
I was right there with you, and the ending took me by some surprise! I want to read more! I was anticipating the meeting with Jessie, maybe some revelations that perhaps might bring the family together, and then all of sudden, stop!
This is a great story, and I can't believe how it dragged me in! Wow! You have to do something with this, it's just too good to leave there. There is a lot of material, already revealed, that you can use to further this beautiful story. Please, Zoe?
Hoping for more (but don't stop Robin-I can wait!)
Wren
Ah another wonderful story zoe :)
W00t! another wonderful story Zoe,I really enjoyed this short little story. I swear you must have magic powers because I can just about always picture the chars an places in your stories. I do hope that you make a few more chapters to this but no hurry just keep on writing Robins wonderful story an if you find yourself with a bit of free time an inspiration for this story then please do continue it.
Thanks again Zoe,
ALISON
'and don't you dare stop writing this gem.
ALISON
This hit hard
I've just returned from visiting the old place where I grew up. After years of neglect they finally bulldozed it. Nothing is left now but those memories you spoke of. Everyone has childhood memories, but somehow it seems for us they are more intense. Perhaps it the additional stress and unhappiness of dealing with something most folks can't understand. I do know your story bought me to tears remembering my own clumsy discoveries.
Hugs!
Grover
A darling little story. I do
A darling little story. I do love how it leaves the reader to ponder in their own mind, what will Emily find when she shows up at her Uncle's home. Acceptance?, Love?, Hatred?, Rejection?
Hit me hard too
I feel for you, Grover! I've seen my mothers house fall into ruin after my brother died too. I expect that when I'm back for my high school reunion this summer that it too will have been bulldozed
It feels almost as though your childhood, and by extension part of you, doesn't exist anymore. As though part of you had been erased.
Liz
lovely
those little glimpses of history and current reality that we fill in with a lot more, like finishing a painting and smiling. Broad strokes that when you stand back show surprising detail. You could go further as others have said but it stands very well right here.
Kristina
A thoughtful relative
RAMI
Uncle Nate, made a profound discovery, and acted on it accepting his niece for what she is now, while still fondly remebering his nephew and the boy that he was.
Emily's reaction, when Nate asked, "What you doin here boy", showed her maturity. She could have gotten on her high horse and chatised him for calling her a boy, but she knew, what her uncle meant, and that confronting him over the use of those words, would have just caused a fight and an end to a possible reconciliation. The same applied when she turned the tables on him, when questioning her about her clothing. Instead of being offened, she used one of his catch phrases to make him see clearly and lighten any friction.
To write a continuation is difficult. The next story can end in rejection or could be too mushy. Perhaps, you can write one of each and see how the audience feels.
RAMI
RAMI
Different. Evocative.
Different. Evocative of a small town world I don't know but can feel through the words.
I loved the touch about her accent reverting to reflect her surroundings which reminded me of how my own accent reverted back to 'normal' when I returned home from university.
I'm intrigued to see where you go with this Zoe. Very promising start if you decide to go on with it but stands alone well.
"Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."
This is an Ok story hun
This story is diffrent Zoe I like it but wish it was longer hun to say what happned at uncle Nate's it would be very intresting to see how her cousin & mother accept her.
Love Samantha Renee Heart
Love Samantha Renee Heart
Seems just a small bit strange
That the house was in this exact state. I've envisioned it as abandoned, forlorn and closed off, but not touched upon in all the years. Not only it was left unattended, it apparently wasn't even... well I wanted to say 'ransacked', but how do you put it on gentler terms when it's family taking valuables away from an old place?
Well, it was left on hold, like, perhaps, Emily's own past. Not thrown away like a venomous snake, not shut off like with a slamming door, but left alone. Until other times.
It's a really thoughtful piece here Zoe, I liked it.
Faraway
Big Closet Top Shelf
Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!
Faraway
Big Closet Top Shelf
Where you can fool around like you want to and most you get is some bemused good ribbing!
For what my humble opinion is worth -
I agree with everyone else, this story has the foundation for a beautiful tale.
I have it bookmarked and wait in eager anticipation Zoe.
Also nicely introduced Zoe.
LoL
Rita
Age is an issue of mind over matter.
If you don't mind, it doesn't matter!
(Mark Twain)
LoL
Rita