Family Inheritance (18 page)

“It's just so different with a man,” Alice said softly. “You just seem to put up
with stuff you'd never put up with from your friends. Dad used to tell me how worthless
I was and that I'd be lucky to get any man. I believed him. I think I still do. Now
that I'm fat and yucky, I believe him even more. If you've never been like that with
a man, Suzanne, it's hard to explain. I understand Helene. Don't push her. Just sorta
help her see that she is special and that she deserves better. Help her see that
the chances she has to take will be worth it in the long run.”

Helene quietly put the car in gear and steered the car toward their destination.
The sisters seemed to have run out of things to say and the nearness of their destination
drained all words and emotions out of them; they weren't sure which it was, but silence
permeated the car as their trip was coming to an end.

Helene pulled into the long driveway, then stopped the car and broke the stillness
as she turned to Alice. “Is that what you need, Alice? For us to help you see that
you're special?”

“Yeah.” Alice sighed.

“I've been trying to do that. I guess my words were just pushier than they needed
to be.” Helene examined the long curving driveway. “I'm scared,” she whispered. “There
are a lot of ghosts here for me.”

As Suzanne gazed toward the house, her face was pale. “I wish mine were just ghosts.
Mine are big, treacherous demons.”

Alice placed an arm on each of her sister's shoulders. Helene and Suzanne leaned
in together and the three women sat with their heads touching as they experienced
their pasts merging with their presents and futures.

After several moments of silence, Helene maneuvered the rest of the driveway, turned
off the car, leaned back in her seat, and stared at the house she had grown up in.
“It doesn't look as though the house has been painted since I left over twenty years
ago.”

The paint on the huge, old farmhouse was almost completely peeled away. The front
porch was sagging and screens were ripped at the corners. Grass was out of control
and working its way into the cracks on the porch steps. The outer buildings—the pump
house, the chicken coop, and the barn—were all in disrepair. The farm had the look
of abject poverty, and Helene cringed as she remembered it much the same when she
was growing up. Now she was seeing it as she imagined others saw it then, and an
embarrassment even worse than what she suffered as a child crept over her. “I can't
stand this place. Why did we come here anyway? What are we trying to prove? What
are we trying to accomplish?”

“Maybe we're searching for the missing link, like scientists.” A small, almost hysterical
chuckle escaped from Suzanne's lips. “The link that will tie what was in the past
to what we are now and show us the connection,” her voice wavered. “Maybe if we can
understand that connection, the forces that went into creating that beginning, maybe—just
maybe—we can understand where we are now and do something different to change the
future. Maybe that's why we're here.” She paused, seemingly lost in her thoughts,
then her voice was quieter as she continued, “I know it's why I'm here. I'm searching
for a clue as to what created me as I am. Because maybe then I can make some changes.”

Suzanne turned toward the barn. “He used to take me out there sometimes. When Mom
was in the house. He used to say I had to help him. I never understood why Mom didn't
know that Dad never did any work out in the barn. We didn't have cattle anymore.
I never understood why she didn't realize. I still don't.”

The three women were quiet. This was the first time that Suzanne had been willing
to talk about their father and her abuse since she had first told them about it.

Helene was the first to break the silence. “I just feel so sick, Suzanne. So sick
that our father was like that. It makes me feel dirty. It makes me want to hide my
family and my background even more.” A weight of sadness drifted over Helene. “I
want to race back to the hotel and take a hot bath. How could he have been so awful?
How could he have done that to you? How could we not have known?”

“If you think you feel dirty now, maybe you can understand how dirty and
ashamed
I've felt for years.” Suzanne bit her lip as she clenched and unclenched her hands.
“I went through a time when I couldn't bathe enough. I was fanatical about it.” She
sighed a deep, sad sigh. “I guess I dropped that compulsion for drinking.”

“Maybe we just need to go inside and find some of those answers. Maybe they're hiding
in there. Mom kept it pretty much like it was when we were growing up.” Alice gulped.
“You know, I've been in this house lotsa times, but today I'm scared. I didn't know
all that happened, even to me, but now I'm having to look at it.”

Alice gripped the back of the front seat, her eyes large and round. “I'm scared.
I feel as though Dad is in one of those rooms. Like he's gonna be mad at us and get
into one of his rages. You remember how mad he used to get when we stood up to him?”
She gently touched Helene's shoulder. “Especially with you, Helene. Remember when
he used to whip you when we were little? Until that day when you told him you'd kill
him.” A small smile touched her lips as her eyes focused on the past. “I used to
think you were so brave. I used to want your courage. I used to envy you. I still
do. You ain't afraid of nothing.”

Helene uttered a frantic chuckle. “Well, I'm scared
to death right now. I don't know what you'd call that if it's not being afraid.”
She took a deep breath. “I don't think it will ever get easier though, so I guess
we might as well tackle this together. We just have to remember that we are here
for each other, and I'm just beginning to realize how good that can be. We can handle
it.” She smiled weakly at her sisters. “We can get our answers, Suzanne. We can find
that missing link. I know we can.” But she wasn't feeling as strong as she tried
to sound.

They got out of the car and stood together staring at the house, willing themselves
to make that first step. A small whirlwind gathered in front of them in a mighty
puff, spitting sand against their skin.

“Do you think that's Dad?” Alice whispered.

“That's ridiculous,” Helene answered, but the three women sidestepped the spot where
the whirlwind appeared as they carefully made their way toward the house.

Chapter 21

Northern Minnesota

The squeaking of the back screen door made them all jump. As children, they always
entered the house through the back porch, so today they did the same. They entered
where coats were still hung and boots still sat on the shelves. “For God's sake,
those look like Dad's boots,” Helene exclaimed.

“They are,” Alice countered. “I told you Mom didn't change much after Dad died.”
Alice picked up one of the shoes, held it for a moment, then roughly threw it back
onto the shelf. “She used to bitch like hell about how he treated her, and then she'd
tell me she missed him. I never could understand that before. Now maybe I think I
do.”

Suzanne spun toward her. “Don't tell me you miss Jake.”

“I don't, and I do.” Alice shrugged her shoulders, and Suzanne shook her head, then
they turned back into the room.

Helene walked ahead into the kitchen and ran her hand over the old gas stove. “Do
you remember the cookies and breads Mom used to make? I can almost smell them cooking.”
She surveyed the kitchen, with its old appliances and linoleum-covered floor. “This
room has good memories for me. And that surprises me. I couldn't remember having
any good memories about this place or about my childhood, but the minute I walked
in, I could almost smell that fresh bread coming out of the oven. And do you remember
the fry cakes?
When Mom would take a ball of the bread dough and stretch it into
an oval, then deep fry it? I used to sprinkle sugar on the warm cake before eating
it. I still remember how delicious they were.”

She glanced at Suzanne and Alice. “Why didn't I remember that before? Why did it
take coming into this room to remember that? In fact, it rattles the heck out of
me to realize what a good memory that is. I didn't think I had good memories about
this place, about my childhood, about them. But this kitchen has good memories.”

Her eyes wandered around the room as a small smile touched her lips. “I remember
sitting at that big oak table when Dad was gone and you two were sleeping. I'd be
working on my homework and Mom would be puttering by the stove. It was a quiet time.”
Helene sighed. “Mom never talked much. I don't think she knew what to say to me.
But I remember one time when I read her a poem I wrote for English. She pulled out
a chair and sat down by me. Then she took my hand and said, ‘You're gonna be something,
Helene. I just feel it in my heart.'” Helene's eyes began to mist over, and she turned
away from her sisters as embarrassment overtook her.

Alice gently stroked Helene's back. Helene turned toward her. “I've hated her all
these years. She disgusted me because she didn't do better for us. Then I come in
here and remember a soft moment like that and guilt takes over. She wasn't all bad.
Why haven't I been able to see that before? Why did I only remember the bad?”

“Maybe 'cause there was so much of it,” Alice gently soothed Helene.

“Maybe. But it doesn't seem okay. I wouldn't want Thomas to just remember the bad
about me. In fact, it often scares me that he might feel about me the way I feel
. . . felt . . . about Mom.” Helene's arms circled around herself as she shuddered
at the thought.

“Helene, can you honestly say that?” Suzanne pulled out a chair from the big wooden
table that sat in the middle of the kitchen. “Can't you see how much better you've
done than Mom did? Can't you give yourself credit for that? Thomas might not like
everything you do, but that's part of being a parent, isn't it?”

“I don't really know.” Helene's fingers ran patterns on the tabletop. “Maybe that's
why I'm so soft with him. Maybe that's why I've let him get away with so
much. Why
did I have to come here to really look at myself as a parent? Why did I have to see
both sides of Mom before I could look at me? It doesn't make any sense. We are all
mature, grown women. Why does the way our mother responded to us, or didn't respond
for that matter, affect us? Why does it take dealing with this for me to be able
to really look at my own parenting?”

“You don't really expect answers from us, I hope.” Suzanne smiled. “Of the three
of us, you've probably got your life most together. We certainly aren't going to
be able to give you answers.”

“But you have. Don't you see?” Helene sat down in a chair next to Suzanne, the wooden
slats of the chair gently pushing against her back. “In these last weeks, you've
given me a lot of answers. You've given me a glance at myself that I haven't had
before. You've opened up new worlds of thought. And it had to take you two to do
it, because you've lived where I've lived, you felt much of what I've felt. It's
like you touch a part of me that nobody else can ever touch. It's crazy.” She stretched
out her arms on the table and was silent for just a moment. “I've shut out my family—both
of you, Mom, Dad . . . I haven't wanted to need you. But yet it seems that's exactly
what I do need in order to get my head together.”

Helene sat up. “Don't you see? These weeks have just culminated in our visit here.
It all came together when I walked into this house, into this room.” Her eyes circled
the room, noticing the small rooster salt and pepper shakers on the stove, the dish
towel draped over the oven handle, and the metal canisters that held flour and sugar
on the countertop. “I've remembered that there were good times. They might have been
few in comparison to the bad times, but they existed. They were there all the time.
If I hadn't ostracized myself from all of you, maybe I would have remembered the
good sooner. I don't know. But I do know that I was kidding myself. You can't ignore
your past. You can't shut it away from you, because all you do is trap it deep within
yourself, not giving it room to grow or expand or touch your life.”

Helene's words were coming fast, as if she had so much to say and no time to say
it. “I've been living like I was caught on the middle step, never able to go forward
because I wasn't taking with me what I had learned from the first steps, so I didn't
know how to do it. But it makes sense now. I can't explain it. It feels eerie or
even weird, but I feel more complete now. I understand me better
and maybe even Bill
and Thomas. It's weird, but I really do.” Helene sighed with relief. She had not
expected that so many unresolved issues and feelings would seemingly melt away just
by stepping back into the house.

“I sure wish I felt like you do, Helene.” Suzanne's voice was sad. “I'm scared as
hell to leave this room. It certainly hasn't evoked any of those memories for me.
I remember the cookies and the bread, but they still don't take away the taste from
all the rest of it.”

Suzanne pushed her chair back from the table. “I don't know. Maybe I need to go beyond
this room. Maybe what I really need to do is to go back to my bedroom. I was going
to stay out of that room, but now I'm beginning to think that's the first place I
need to go.”

“Do you want us to come?” Helene asked.

“No.” Suzanne stared at the floor.

Helene lightly touched Suzanne's arm. “We'll wait for you here.”

“No, don't.” Suzanne pulled her arm away from Helene's touch. “Wait in the car.”