Family Secrets

Hope you all enjoyed a nice Easter Weekend. It was a lovely day here - we had a houseful for dinner. Our grands and their parents are here with us so it was hectic, noisy and lots of fun.  I hate going to a restaurant for holidays - usually not the best food or service, so I made an easy dinner at home. It's not very hard to throw a ham in the oven.

I'm starting a new story this week.  It will run over the next three weeks, maybe even four.  I'm off to help a sick friend for the next three weeks so I've written and set these up ahead of time.  If I get some time, I'll check in.  If not, oh well, I'll see you later.

Here is the first part of Family Secrets

Angela’s heart was broken.  Her precious Aunt Rose had passed and she was left entirely alone in the world.  She and her aunt had been inseparable, which seemed strange to outsiders, considering the difference in their ages.  Aunt Rose took over raising Angela when she lost her mother to cancer.  Her father had long been out of the picture so it was only natural that Aunt Rose, her mother’s only relative, would step in and raise Angela.

Aunt Rose was very much like Auntie Mame.  She was a flamboyant character and believed in living life to the fullest.  Luckily for her, her first husband was wealthy and although he died very young, he left her fixed for life (so to speak).  Until she took over raising Angela, she traveled the world on one long cruise after another. People who thought raising Angela would slow down Rose McCabe were wrong.  She simply took Angela along on her journeys.  It was her belief that traveling the world would give Angela as much education as sitting in a stodgy old school room and better prepare her for living in a world that was constantly changing.

Having a full-on pity party for herself, she slumped down on Aunt Rose’s bed.  When the doorbell rang, she simply ignored it.  However, the person at the other end was persistent and the bell rang again and again until Angela couldn’t stand it any longer.  She yanked open the door so hard, it banged against the wall. 

Standing there was Mr. Duvall, her aunt’s attorney.  “What can I do for you?” she said in her best snarly tone.

Angela had never like Mr. Duvall and was always amazed that Aunt Rose did.  He was a stodgy old curmudgeon and nothing like the people who usually took care of her affairs.

“I have here some letters and a video left for you by your aunt.  I was to deliver them to you personally.”

“Well, you did. Thank you.”  She tried to take the envelope but Mr. Duvall wouldn’t let go.

“According to your aunt’s instructions, I’m to be here with you for the watching of the video and the reading of the letters.”

“You want to do it now?”

“No time like the present,” he replied as he pushed past her and walked in the door.

“I know you never liked me much, but you’re going to learn some things today that might make a difference. Where’s your player?” holding the DVD in his hand.  She led him to the living room and asked if he wanted anything to drink.

“Yes, a stiff drink, gin if you have it.”  She looked surprised but when she returned she had a glass filled with two fingers of  gin and a separate glass filled with ice cubes.

“Didn’t know if you wanted these or a mixer of any kind,” she said handing him the glass with the ice cubes.

“This is good.  Thank you.  I’m going to put the video in first and then we’ll read the letter.  I will do my best to answer any questions.”

Angela sat back in the chair  as Aunt Rose’s image appeared on the screen.  She’d apparently done this recently because Angela recognized the sweater set they had purchased on their last shopping trip before she became too ill to leave the house.

The tears started coursing down her cheeks as she heard her aunt’s voice.  ‘These are answers to questions you’ve asked many times and although I never lied, I never told the truth either.’   Fifteen minutes later, Angela’s whole world was upside down.  She learned that Mr. Duvall was her uncle.  His brother Arthur and her mother had a torrid love affair when they were younger.  He was married at the time and never divulged the fact to her mother.  When her mother became pregnant and went to him, he denied her and she married the man Angela thought was her father.  Obviously, it was a loveless marriage and his leaving was the best thing for all.

Arthur Duvall confided in his brother that Angela was his child and arranged for care for her and her mother with the proviso that Angela never learn of his identity.  William Duvall became the go between and continued as such long after Arthur’s death.

Angela was stunned, she wasn’t capable of any words only tears that continued down to stream down her cheeks.  

“I’m sorry Angela.  I know this is a shock but after Arthur and your mother’s death, your Aunt saw no reason to burden you with things long past over.  Can you read the letter, or would you like me to read it to you?”

“You read it.”

He unfolded the letter and began.

            My sweet girl.  Don’t hate me.  I always planned on telling you face to face someday when you were older but never had the courage.  This really doesn’t change anything except that you now have answers to questions and know there is still family around.  I know how you feel about George, but he is your uncle and if you’re interested there are cousins. That’s between you and George.

            I want you to take one last trip with me.  I would like you to take my ashes to a little cottage in Hope Town. A lovely name, don’t you think?  Anyway, I digress.  Hope Town is a quaint village on the island of Elbow Key, Abaco, The Bahamas. Please                scatter them over the beach at rising tide so I can ride the waves one last time.

You’ve never been there I’ve always kept it to myself. Rory and I discovered it and bought it on our honeymoon.  It’s a place we always found peace and it’s the place I always felt the closest to him.  The cottage is now yours and I hope you find your love there as I found mine.

I love you girl as my own.

 Her uncle refolded the letter and handed it to Angela.  “Do you have any questions?”

“I’m too shocked to process it right now but I may in the future.  I’m sorry I’ve treated you poorly all these years.  It’s uncanny that subconsciously I transferred the feelings I had about my father onto you.”

“It’s okay, I understand and never took it personally.  What are your plans?”

“I guess I’m off to the Bahamas.  I assume you have the details.”

“I do, I’ll make arrangements to have the cottage aired out and prepared for your arrival.”

“Thank you…I’m not sure what to call you, are you Uncle William or still Mr. Duvall?”

“That’s your choice, Angela.” 

                             ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Angela flew into Marsh Harbor and took a cab to the dock where she boarded the ferry across to Elbow Key.  She stepped off the ferry and saw a man holding a sign with her name.

“Hello, I’m Micah Jameson, the caretaker of Winston Cottage,” all said in the melodious island lilt with a British accent. “Welcome to Elbow Key, Ms. Duncan. We will be at the cottage anon.”

She loved listening to him speak, he was so very formal.  He opened the back door of the vehicle and she climbed in the front.  She could see by his expression that it miffed him because it wasn’t proper.  “I can see you take after your Aunt, Ms. Duncan.” 

“What a lovely thing to say and please call me Angela or Abby, whichever you wish.”

“I prefer Ms. Duncan.”

“Well, don’t expect me to always respond.”  He huffed a little.  “Very well.”

They turned away from the dock area and drove down a street lined with trees, turned off onto a dirt road and stopped.  Winston Cottage was painted on the sign attached to a white picket fence.  “It’s how mail is addressed here.  Each place has it’s own name rather than numbers.”

“How lovely,” she replied.  The cottage was white-washed and stood out among the island greenery, dotted here and there with brilliant yellow and red hibiscus.  Two white wooden rockers, shaded by palmettos sat on the porch.  She walked into a large room, in the center stood a stone fireplace that obviously provided the only heat needed in this warm climate.  French doors led to a large deck that overlooked the ocean, with the harbor off in the distance to the left. 

She immediately felt in love with Winston Cottage and couldn’t see how she could ever leave. The doors were open and the white curtains billowed in the breeze bringing in the wonderful scent of the floral garden and the saltiness of the sea breeze.  As she breathed in the scents and sounds of the island, a peace settled over her.

“Where would you like me to put your things, Ms. Angela?”

“Ms. Angela, that’s a start.  Why not just set them down there and I’ll decide later. I want to see the rest of the cottage first. You don’t have to stick around, Micah. I can call you Micah, can’t I?”

“As you wish.” She gave him a salute and the look that was returned was anything but happy.

She watched him go and for the first time realized he was much younger than she originally thought.  His stodginess made him seem older than his years, perhaps it was his upbringing or his station in life.  As he retreated, she noticed his muscular, tanned calves and the way his well- tailored shorts hugged his backside, all tight and crisp, just like the rest of him.

‘hmphf’ she said to herself and swore she heard Aunt Rose chuckle. 

Turning to her right, she walked down the short hallway to the light and airy master suite. It too had French doors leading to the deck and off to the side a small bathroom with a large shower. She walked out onto the deck and dropped into one of the lounges.  She caught sight of Micah walking down the path and her mind began to conjure up all manner of scenarios all ending with their bodies melding together.

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See you later for more Aimless Ramblings.