number of times during the night I had wakened from
sleep, nudged by a troubling image or the memory of
harsh words. I would lie there staring into the darkness, listening to the creaks in the old house as the
wind blew in from the sea. Even on the brightest of
days, there were too many shadows in this home, I
thought, and the wind sounded more like whispers on
the stairs or just outside my door.
I wasn't the only one struggling with the past.
There was a silent war being conducted here, a war
with no guns, but fierce battles nevertheless, with the
casualties being truth, happiness, and contentment. "Don't want to talk about, it?" Kenneth finally
asked.
"I visited Grandma Belinda," I said.
"How did it go?"
"She said many things, some silly, I suppose,
but some that infuriated Grandma Olivia."
"I bet," he said with a smile.
"She said Grandpa Samuel liked her more and
she said your father was one of her boyfriends and
that made Grandma Olivia jealous," I blurted. His smile froze first and then metamorphosed
into a hard, deep expression of pain.
"That's why she's in a rest home," he mumbled. "She looks healthy and she's sweet, gentle,
childlike," I continued. He drove his face sullen. "I'm sorry about what she said about your
father."
"It doesn't surprise me," he replied. He turned
to me with a smirk on his face. "I've heard such talk
about him before. Dad was always what is euphemistically referred to as a ladies' man," he said, sarcastically. "He can be very charming," I admitted. Kenneth looked at me askance.
"You too?" He shook his head. "As long as it's
in a skirt, he can't resist, no matter what the age." "Is that why you don't get along?" I asked
quickly, trying not to be offended by his callous