Our Town

Every town has a past, and every town has secrets. This town’s secrets had lain low for many years, and for a while, that was the way it was. In fact, this town’s secrets had been hidden for so long, that they were almost forgotten. Key word: almost. And while our inhabitants went about their business cutting their green grass, painting their town houses, or riding their bikes down to the 7 Eleven, this town remained ordinary, and the secrets were almost forgotten. That is, until she came to town. It was a wonderfully lazy summer day, and the heat was quelled by the winds that rolled off of the sea. Children licked their Popsicle sticks clean, and wiped their sticky hands all over their faces. Dogs rolled around lazing in the park instead of their usual barking frenzy. Old women sat on their porch and drank sweet iced tea, and old men sat on the porch taking long, slow drags of their cigarettes, leaving a sleepy haze in the air. Teenage boys sat at the creek, lying in the sun, not really expecting to have a catch. Mothers chatted softly at one another’s back porches, the ice in their lemonade glasses clinking satisfactorily. The alley cats were dozing, and the apple trees seemed to sway just a miniscule bit in the wind. At the far end of town, the Greyhound bus rolled to a stop, and only one passenger stepped off into the dust. As the bus rumbled away, she stood there on the empty street, squinting in the sun. Her hair was sun streaked, and her eyes were blue like the ocean water on a warm summer day. She held two bags. She carried a small duffel bag and a backpack that was slung over one shoulder. Though it wasn’t noticeable, the people’s eyes moved ever so slightly to the side, so they could see who this stranger was. She’d come from the highway, where it ran for miles and miles, and where the road met the sky. She had traveled far, and she probably came from the big city. She walked slowly, as if carefully analyzing her surroundings. To her right were a row of houses, and on her left were the shady trees of DuPont Park. The porch people’s eyes followed her, and even the ice clinking in their glasses ceased. 1

“She looks familiar, don’t you think?” 2

“But we’ve never even seen her before!” 3

That was the silent message that ran throughout the inhabitant’s minds. And so they continued to watch her from their shady corners in the porch, as she toiled on in the blazing sun. Only did she pause to check a scrap of paper in her hand. She reached the other end of the street and took a left onto Wistful Lane. She could feel the ocean breeze and a slight smile crept onto her face, as if she was visiting a dream she’d had a long time ago. At the end of the road there were only two houses; one yellow tall and skinny house, and another low and flat, white washed house with a screened in porch that wrapped around the whole house. Checking the wrinkled scrap of paper in her hand, she turned towards the yellow house. Vines wrapped around the porch, and weeds sprawled over each other throughout the yard. It looked as if a gardener hadn’t set foot there in years. She slowly climbed the stone steps, and knocked on the wooden door. 4

“Whadd’ya want? I’m doing work, I’ve no time to socialize.” Came a tired voice from within. Still the girl stood rigid as a post. A clean shaven man flung open the door and said, “Who in the world are you?” Then, before she could say anything he turned pale and sagged against the door frame. 5

“Emily?” he asked weakly.6

“No. It’s Rose. Who’s Emily? My…aunt died a few days ago. I found this in her hand, she told me to come here, where I would be safe.” The man was gripping the door frame so hard now that his knuckles were white and beads of sweat were forming on his face. 7

Sighing, he motioned for the girl to follow him inside. She did so without qualms. He poured them both some lemonade, and they sat down on the wicker chairs on the back porch. Papers were strewn all across the floor, table, TV, shelves, and kitchen counter. Many of them were crumpled. 8

“I’m a writer you know.” He laughed. “I don’t get very far though. Mostly I work at Neal’s Seafood Shack.” He turned to Rose. “So how’d you come to be here?” 9

And why do you look so much like Emily?! He thought. 10

“Really, I don’t know why I’m here. Well, except to escape my family’s wrath on trying to grab my inheritance…and me. Because as long as they have me, they get my inheritance.” Rose scratched her head. “Aunt Desiree said that I would find you here. And that you would keep me safer than any of my family.” 11

Desiree. That’s a familiar name…VERY familiar. Why can’t I remember?!12

“So who are your parents?” the man asked casually. “Oh and by the way, I’m Richard Jacobs.” He extended a calloused hand. “Nice to meet you.” 13

"Nice to meet you too Mr. Jacobs.” Rose shook his hand. “Funny that your name is Jacobs. I’m Rose Jacobs.” Richard’s face turned pale again. 14

"I’m sorry, but you seemed…well, disturbed by me. Maybe I should be going.” Richard shook himself out of his startled state. 15

"You never answered my question. Who are your parents, and why are you here?” his hands trembled under the table.16

“My parents are dead Mr. Jacobs. Died in a car crash when I was a baby, 17 years ago. I was left with my Aunt Desiree until she died of cancer a few days ago.” Rose’s voice softened, and she seemed sad. 17

"I know my mother’s name was Emily. Did you know her? Do you think I look like her?” 18

My heart was beating a million miles per minute. My palms were sweating, and I felt faint. I knew what I had to do.19

“Yes, actually I did know her. But first I’d like you to meet someone.”20

If anyone can sort this out, it’s old Mrs. Winona.21

Silently, they stepped out of the house and crossed the street to the low and flat house with the wrap around screen porch. An elderly lady sat on a straight backed chair with a silky white cat in her lap. Her hair was silver, and her eyes were black like midnight. She wore a simple cotton dress, and her hands were petite and slender. In one hand she held a glass of lemonade. Her hair was pulled back in a tight bun, and her face was as wrinkled as could be. Only her hands weren’t wrinkly. 22

“Hello Mr. Jacobs! What a pleasant surprise. I haven’t seen you in a while.” Her voice was low and melodious, but it seemed to fill up the hazy atmosphere perfectly. 23

“Yes, good afternoon Mrs. Winona.” He turned to the cat. “And good afternoon to you too Sir Melvin.” “I’ve brought a visitor with me.” Richard stepped aside to reveal Rose.24

“And who might we have here? Very…interesting.” She dragged her words out ever so slowly. She stood up and took a long stride towards Rose. Her midnight sky eyes stared deep into Rose’s ocean eyes. Finally she broke her gaze away and turned to Mr. Jacobs. 25

“I have something for you Richard, if you’ll just follow me. And Rose? If you could keep Sir Melvin company, I am sure he will become your next best friend.” She gave a low laugh. Richard and Mrs. Winona walked into the dark house and into the kitchen.26

“Richard, I don’t need to tell you who she is! It’s clear as the sky who she is!” She threw her hands in the air. 27

“Yeah, I know, but I was scared. I mean, I nearly had a heart attack when I saw her on my porch. I thought she was Emily.” 28

“Well of COURSE she looks like Emily! She’s the spitting image of Emily! She’s her daughter, and any dunce head who knew Emily can see that.” Mrs. Winona sputtered. 29

“But if you don’t feel ready to tell her Mr. Richard Jacobs, I’ll wait. But you’re going to have to some time or other. And soon. She’s grown up. 18 years old. Only 17 years ago…” Mrs. Winona stared out of the kitchen window with a far away look in her eye.30

“Okay, okay. So I’m not ready to tell her just yet. It’s been too much of a shock for me. But I will be ready…and soon.” 31

I hope.32

Rose sat on the floor of the porch, stroking Sir Melvin’s silky white fur. He purred contentedly, and it gave her time to think. 33

Why does Mr. Jacobs act so—I don’t know, disturbed to see me? And I could feel the eyes of the people on the porches on Main Street watching me. And Mrs. Winona. What about her? She seemed to know who I was…which is a scary thought. Only I know who I am. Not even Aunt Desiree knew exactly, and she was so close to me. So close…34

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Mrs. Winona and Mr. Jacobs stepped out, and Mr. Jacobs was holding a package. 35

“Well Rose, let’s go have you situated in my house. It needs to feel like home.” He turned to the old lady in the doorway. 36

And thank you Mrs. Winona. For everything.” 37

“Oh, anytime. And as for you girl, you come visit me.” She looked kindly at Rose, her eyes sparkling. 38

“Thankyou.” Was all Rose whispered.39

Rose and Richard trudged off the screen porch and back to the other side of the street. As the door closed, the town returned to silence. Silence on the outside, but on the inside, secrets that had lain low for a while were beginning to stir. A sleepy town began to yawn. And no longer was it an ordinary town full of every day people. 40

It now had Rose Jacobs.41

And that’s when our town begins to pay attention. 42