Authors: Kathy Reinhart
I sat quietly, taking in my surroundings. On my lap sat the answers to all of my questions and now that I was so close to knowing the truth about the past, I couldn’t help but feel scared. Maybe it was the fact that the man I was expected to hate by birthright was the same man who gave me what I was looking for or maybe I was just afraid of what I would learn between the pages of the journal.
I stared at it for several minutes, contemplating the decision I already knew the answer to. I opened the journal to the first page, took a deep breath and began to read.
Written in a woman’s handwriting, it began,
June 27
th
, 1980...
Twenty-Eight
...He leaned back on the couch and I leaned into him. With my head snugly in the bend of his neck, I breathed in his scent, as he began to read a twenty-four-year-old confession...
With apprehension, I began to read of the past, penned in ink.
According to Jack, yesterday was not one of my better days. I wish so much I could remember what made it so dreadful, but as usual; I am left to sit alone and think about it. Jack has been very attentive today, so much as to plant the rose bush I asked for. Never has their been a more kind-hearted man. Thank you for the gift of a good day and I pray for another.
I stared out over the grounds. I realized this was Gayle’s journal, but couldn’t fathom how I would find the answers to my questions in it when the people who lived through it couldn’t help. I turned the page and continued.
July 2
nd
, 1980
This has made three good days in a row and I hold hope that there will be many more. When I stumble onto a bad day, I feel as though I am of no use to anyone. There is no feeling in the world as horrifying as the feeling of being useless. My concerns regarding Wesley are growing rapidly and I don’t know how to help him. Jack has given up all hope, but I continue to pray that he will find his way home from the bottle. Dear Father, I don’t know why you misdirected our boy, but it’s time for him to come home. He has lost his lovely wife and beautiful son, what else does he have to lose before he sees the self-destruction that lives inside of him? I will continue to pray for him and my return to health.
I assumed that she was referring to his drinking problem but still couldn’t see where any of this fit into my family, the feud or my questions. I crossed my legs Indian-style and flipped through several more pages, finding nothing of any real interest, until the middle of July.
July 12
th
, 1980
I have been a prisoner to my illness for many days in a row now and Jack said that it was a blessing in disguise. Something is terribly wrong, I can feel it. I’ve never seen Jack fret the way he has today. I see worry in the lines of his face and fear in his eyes. Please help him in his troubles for I am of little use anymore.
I felt a shiver run up my back. I didn’t know what the last entry was supposed to mean, but I sensed she was troubled at the time she wrote it. A part of me wanted to turn to the next page and then to the next in a race to the truth, but another part of me hesitated. After reading her secrets, there would be no turning back. They would live inside of me forever.
I thought for a long time and decided that I had already come too far. For me, there was no turning back. I found myself lost in Gayle’s world, and read through several more pages.
August 3
rd
, 1980
I write today with a burdened heart. I have just returned from Jack’s study where I overheard him on the phone. There has been an accident involving Wesley and it appears he has been arrested. I wish I knew more. Dear Father, I have prayed and prayed and to be honest, I don’t believe there is a prayer left in me for my troubled son. Why have you disregarded my prayers? What happened to my little boy? I do not know the man Jack now speaks of. Once my son, he now lives in the shadow of Satan and for that I am sorry. Please forgive me.
The breeze picked up and an eerie chill ran through me as I remembered the accident vividly. I found it almost ghostly, reading an outsiders account of what I had lived through so many years ago. Suddenly, I found myself eager to read on, eager to know the secrets buried between two families. Pushing my hair back, I continued.
September 5
th
, 1980
Dear Father in Heaven please hear my prayers. I have learned that in a senseless accident, Wesley has killed a man and his wife. To add offense to suffering, the life he took was that of Stewart’s only son. Why have you forsaken us? Stewart is a good man, why do you make him suffer yet another heartbreak? Give me the strength to understand and the power to heal, I beg of you.
I continued through several more pages without hesitation.
October 13
th
, 1980
My good days aren’t nearly as good as they once were but I thank you for the ones I do have. I heard your voice and have obeyed your wishes. I have sent my only son to your open arms, but with sadness in my heart. I look forward to seeing him again and pray that he can one day forgive me. I wish he had said something before I sent him, for his silence is something that will ring in my ears forever. Now, I will face my worldly punishment while I eagerly await your heavenly embrace.
I covered my mouth as one whimper escaped. Just as Con and Sally had said, Gayle killed her own son. But why? Because he had killed Donny or maybe because she thought she had heard the voice of God? What was wrong with her that she had so few ‘good days’? And where did all of this fit into the ongoing feud and my grandfather going to prison?
I closed the journal, stared past the serenity around me and lost myself, somewhere between the present and all those years ago.
I had no idea how much time had passed but there was no longer enough light to read by. I glanced down at the journal that lay in my lap, feeling sorrow as my thoughts returned to the present.
How terrible that must have been for everyone involved. Wesley Ellis’ death had been a thirty-year old secret only known by a handful of people and paid for by my grandfather. I still didn’t see a rational explanation for his involvement. He may have taken their brief relationship more seriously than Gayle did, but so much to give up over twenty years of his life? And poor Gram, to know that your husband loved another woman so deeply that he would be willing to pay such a high price for her crime. No wonder she drinks more than she should, she’s lived with her own heartache all of these years.
Joker had given me part of what I asked for, but there had to be more to the story and I was hoping to find the answers in the remainder of Gayle’s journal.
~ ~ ~
My apartment was in total darkness when I returned except for the blinking, red light on the answering machine. Hitting a button on the machine, I let it play while I put away groceries I bought on the way home from Willoughby.
...Hello, Meg, it’s Ron Anderson at the bank. I wanted to let you know that everything is in place and we can set up a closing anytime now. If you want to get back to me with your schedule, my number is 555-1336. Talk to you soon... ‘Beep’
...Meg, it’s me... I tried you at work and on your cell. What’s up? I thought you might be playing kissy-face with Mr. Muscle, but I ran into him at the airport, so-o give me a call when you come out of hiding... ‘Beep’
...Hey, beautiful. I hope you’re having a great day. I’ll be in this evening and wouldn’t mind seeing you if you’re not busy. I’ll try calling again later. Bye... ‘Beep’
I was anxious to continue where I left off in Gayle’s journal and at the same time, I wanted to share what I learned with Con. It had been a long day and as the hour grew late, I hoped I had enough energy to hold out for either one.
My head jerked up from the couch as the knocks on the door came loud and heavy. Rubbing my face with my hands, I shook off a lethargic feeling and made my way to the door.
I was certain that the smile that stretched across my face was as broad as the one that greeted me at the open door.
“I was going to call first but thought I’d surprise you.”
Moving into his open arms, I murmured, “Hmm, I love surprises.”
He bent to place a quick kiss on my lips while he closed the door behind him.
“Something to drink,” I asked.
“Anything cold, thanks.” His brow creased and he spoke more seriously, as he asked, “Everything go alright today?”
I noted the concern in his voice. Leaving him standing in the living room, I went to the kitchen for the drinks.
Raising my voice, I casually replied, “Yeah, fine. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know, Cory said she couldn’t reach you... did you make it out to see my grandfather?”
Putting his question off for the time being, I said, “You sit and I’ll get the drinks." I quickly added, "I got a call from Ron at the bank. We’re all set to close on the property.”
“That’s great. I know how much it means to you.”
“Yeah, it’s been along time coming. Hey, did your mother tell you she wants to talk to me about servicing the café? That would be a good size contract...”
Carrying the drinks into the living room, I stopped abruptly, feeling a pang of embarrassment and waited for him to speak. He stared at the journal he was turning over in his hands.
His blue eyes clouded in confusion. He said, “This is my grandmother’s diary.”
I nodded.
“Meg, where did you... how did you get it?”
I set the drinks down and led him to the couch. Rubbing my hands over the front of my thighs several times, I sat and faced him.
“I went to see your grandfather today.” I searched his eyes for a reaction. “He said I’d find all my answers in it.”
His eyes grew as big as silver dollars and he shook his head as he stood.
“How did you get him to give you... you know, it isn’t important. What is important is getting to the truth.”
“Con, I didn’t steal it and he didn’t just hand it to me... It was... he was kind and helpful, he was sad talking about your grandmother and I don’t get the feeling he hates my grandfather.”
“My grandfather?”
“I know, I’m still a little in shock myself, but yes, he has another side.” In an attempt to lighten the conversation, I added, “And, he likes your mother, but I’m not supposed to tell her that.”
Rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and still shaking his head, he mumbled, “Stranger things...”
Returning to the couch, he asked, “Have you read it yet?”
“Some.”
There was no need for words, his eyes asking a million questions.
I thought about where to begin and decided that letting him read what I had read would answer more questions faster than having me relay each entry.
“How about you read to where I left off and then we can finish it together from there. It would probably take less time and I wouldn’t explain it as well. Besides, you should really hear it in your grandmother’s words.”
He leaned back on the couch and I leaned into him. With my head snugly in the bend of his neck, I breathed in his scent, as he began to read the penned confession.
Using his arm to prop myself up, I winced even before my eyes opened and then blinked several times, trying to focus on the man sound asleep next to me.
I smiled and ran a finger lightly across the square jaw that added strength to his confident aura. His masculine face looked almost angelic as he slept, his breaths slow and even. His lips were parted slightly and I couldn’t resist brushing mine across them while my fingers snuck into the top of his shirt to run through the hair on his chest. I gazed at him for several seconds in the dim light and whispered, “I love you,” into his ear before kissing his temple.
I hated to disturb him, he looked so peaceful but I knew first hand the effect of too many hours spent sleeping in a seated position.
Leaning into him, I quietly said, “Con... Con, why don’t you lie down? You’ll sleep better.”
His eyelids remained half-closed over his dreamy blue eyes, as he looked in my direction and replied, “If you’ll lay with me.”
I slipped the journal from underneath his hands and set it on the table. I considered reading more while he slept, but his offer was one I couldn’t refuse. Like my questions, the journal would be there to greet me in the morning.
Following the smell of onion bagels and coffee into the kitchen, I pulled out a chair and sat, watching Con awkwardly attempt to prepare a simple meal.