Tag: family

Fiction: An Ever-Present Day in the Woods

Posted on by bryon

“You have come at an excellent time, Mr. Geduld, as I am about to complete this painting.” He shook hands with the writer. “Please have a seat and you may observe. I trust that will be useful for your book.”

“Indeed it will, Mr. Truitt, and let me thank you again for this opportunity.”

Truitt smiled. “The opportunity is mine, Mr. Geduld. To be included in a book about the great painters of our day will be quite the honor.”

“I believe the chapter about the life and work of Peter Bascomb Truitt will be of the greatest interest, sir. Are you painting this still life with your particular method of merely glancing at the canvas?”

“I am, as I will now demonstrate.”

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Fiction: A Glass of Water

Posted on by bryon

A tall, shapely woman walked up the three flights of outdoor stairs and turned right, approaching the apartment she was looking for. She was reasonably well dressed and wore a matching set of 12-carat earrings, necklace, and bracelet. She made three sharp, short knocks on the door.

Another woman opened the door. She was a few years older than the one outside. She was not well dressed, she was not wearing jewelry, and her figure was settling.

“I’m Yolanda,” the younger woman said. “Mrs. Cates, I want you to let Horace go so he and I can be together.”

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Fiction: From This Valley

Posted on by bryon

“Where’s Lornia?”

“Where she always is, Father,” Samm said. “Out on the boulder, staring off into space.”

“Still,” Mother said. “How long is she going to pine for that boy?”

Father shrugged. “The heart wants what the heart wants.”

“Oh,” Mother said, “so your heart wanted me?”

Father smiled fondly at her. “I’ll go talk to her. Samm, round up your other brothers and sisters for dinner.”

“Yes, Father.”

Father walked out of the house and toward his heartsick eldest child. She reclined on the big red boulder and looked into the darkening sky. He stood next to her in silence for a while.

“Do you think he’s ever coming back, Father?”

He pretended to ponder the question. “You never know what might happen, Daughter. But … you know a place like this can’t hold him. Not even with your boundless love. He’s got to be off doing whatever it is he’s doing. And your place is here.”

Lornia’s heart broke again because she knew her father was right.

“I know it’s hard,” he said, “but the sooner you can accept the way things are, the sooner you quit looking for him to come back, the easier it will be on you.” He kissed her cheek. “Come in for dinner.”

“I’ll be in soon, Father.”

As he walked back toward the house, he heard her singing; it was the same song she had sung to the young man she loved on their last day together.

“From this valley they say you are leaving.

“We will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile.

“But remember the Mariner Valley,

“And the Martian who loved you so true.”

Fiction: Sock Hop

Posted on by bryon

Kevin swallowed a mouthful of potato and said, “So, Dad, how was work today?”

Hugh Nelson stopped scooping up his peas and sighed. “Y’know, Son, I don’t really want to talk about it tonight. It’s just the same old nonsense from the same people. Tell me about your day instead.”

“Well, Mr. Mackenzie told me that when Vernon Morgan retires next month, he’s moving Pete Cooper up to the number two spot.” He looked around the table at his family and grinned. “And I will be the new paint department manager.”

“Oh, how wonderful,” Kevin’s mother, Betty, said.

“Good for you, Kevin,” said sister Karen.

Hugh nodded. “Now that’s the kind of office talk I want to hear around this dinner table. Congratulations, Kevin. That’s a quick promotion as young as you are, but I know you’ve earned it. You’ve proved your work ethic at the hardware store, and it’s paying off.”

“It sure is,” Kevin agreed. “With the raise I’m going to get, I can afford to buy a nice little house and start out on my own now.”

“Well, that’s just fine,” Hugh said. “Start living the American dream.”

Karen eyed her brother mischievously across the table. “And does that dream include Tina?”

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Fiction: Prisoners

Posted on by bryon

Horace knew he was being a coward and berated himself for it. But the thought of what he was leaving behind set his feet moving toward London’s navy docks.

“An’ where are you going at this early hour, young man?” a man’s voice boomed.

Horace spun to his right.

“Shush, Evan! People are trying to sleep.”

“Notably the people you’re sneaking away from,” the old man said.

Horace grimaced but didn’t contradict Evan Smith. “That’s none of your concern.” He started walking up the street again and wasn’t surprised to find Evan tagging along.

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Fiction: Some Slight Provision

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A uniformed officer backed through the door to the detective division. He turned around and everyone could see he was carrying a box.

“Detectives Okuno and Haycock?” he called. “Here’s that little present for you.”

“Presents are supposed to be wrapped, Pinkus,” Haycock said.

“Actually,” Pinkus said, “it’s a lot of presents. How many wallet snatchings are you working in the financial district?”

“Twenty-seven,” Okuno said.

The officer set the box on Haycock’s desk. “Well, here are twenty-seven wallets, so you’re covered.”

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Fiction: Released from the Morgue

Posted on by bryon

The seating hostess led Emily and her mother, Amelia, to a booth. In due course, a waiter took their luncheon order and delivered drinks and salads. When he disappeared again, Amelia opened the conversation.

“I am growing weary of that measured look you’ve been giving me since we met outside, Emily. You have something on your mind. May I know what it is?”

“Do you know what the Herald has been doing over the course of the last several years, Mother?”

“That’s a rather oblique answer to my question. No, I don’t believe I do know what the Herald has been doing. Does it have anything to do with your unusual mood?”

“Indeed it does,” Emily said. “The Herald, bless its editor, has been steadily working to put all its past issues – the newspaper’s morgue, as it’s called – online. They’ve gotten at least as far as 1957.”

Amelia swallowed a forkful of arugula dressed with raspberry vinaigrette. “Have they?” A silent moment passed, and Amelia sighed. “Dear, if there is some point to be made here, please make it. I’m too old to play guessing games.”

“Nothing about that year rings a bell?”

“That was the year the Russians launched their Sputnik, as I recall.”

“And you launched something else.”

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Fiction: Paying the Price

Posted on by bryon

Lon heard a knock on his door. That was cause for concern; he had no friends, and the Girl Scouts and Jehovah’s Witnesses had better sense than to visit his neighborhood.

Still, it was a knock; someone had manners enough for that rather than to knock down the door – or make a new one. So maybe this wouldn’t end fatally.

He threw back three deadbolts and opened the door. Sonia was there, and Jerzy loomed behind her. He stepped back to let them into his little house. Jerzy closed the door.

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Fiction: The Hope Chest

Posted on by bryon

“You have hope chests at this sale, is that correct?” Eloise asked.

“Oh, yes,” the auctioneer’s assistant said. “Right over there. We’ll probably get to them in about twenty minutes.”

“Thank you.” Eloise walked in the direction the man had pointed. She gave each chest only a quick once-over; the one she hoped to find was distinctive.

Eloise tried to tamp down the constant flare of anger she felt toward her late sister’s daughter and that rogue she was married to. After Marnie’s death, Junie – doubtless prodded by Fred – sold her mother’s hope chest at a yard sale. Fred had conned the buyer into thinking the chest was a valuable antique that the family ever so hated to let go, but you knew how it was.

Antique it may have been, but its value was primarily sentimental.

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Fiction: Tree House

Posted on by bryon

“Hi, Daddy!” Five-year-old Jana ran to her father and he scooped her up in a hug.

“Hi, Sweetheart. Did you have a good time at Grandpa and Grandma’s all week?”

“Yeah! We had lots of fun.”

“Good. I’ve been very busy while you’ve been gone. Want to see what I’ve been making?”

“Okay.”

Curtis returned Jana to the floor and led her into the back yard. She saw it instantly.

“A tree house!” She ran over to the tree and clambered up the ladder.

“Tree ‘house’ is right,” Helen said quietly, joining her husband. The new structure faced the family’s home. Part of it was built into the tree, but two sturdy poles provided much of the support.

“There has to be enough room if she ever invites me to a tea party up there,” he explained.

“Oh. Well, that makes perfect sense.” She shook her head and smiled at him. “But given your influence on her, I doubt there will be many tea parties.”

* * *

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