My Brother's Keeper

By Nicole Rainear

John McKenzie was born and raised in the small town of Winslow, Kentucky. He and his family have lived their lives in a cloud of secrets. Now his secrets are coming back to haunt him. Its up to John, with the help of his friends, to look for the answers that have eluded him his entire life. But the answers he seeks lie within his family... both past and present. Can he get the anwswers he needs before the ghosts of his past com for them all?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 15, 2009
• ISBN: 9781469122441

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

In June of the year 1966, Winslow, Kentucky, was the typical small Middle American town. With its population of approximately 7,300, it was filled with little family communities, many of whom actually were related to one another. The residents of the town enjoyed the peacefulness of their neighborhood, rather than the busy metropolitan city located just twenty miles east of them. The seasons were perfect; summers were hot, winters were cold, and spring and fall were pleasant. Set in what was then the heart of the Bible Belt, it was sprinkled with small country churches of various denominations, as were most small towns in the state. The city park was well kept, thanks to the community recreation committees; and family reunions, church picnics, and birthday parties were held there in the warmer months. The city hall was situated in the center of the town square, surrounded by the local diner, Kirby’s combination drugstore and soda fountain, Meg’s Beauty Parlor, a nickel-and-dime variety store, the post office, and a grocery store. Baseball fields and playgrounds were scattered throughout the neighborhood, giving the children of Winslow a place to spend their energy while under the safety of their parents’ eyes. It served as a community gathering, the men and children playing ball well past sunset while the mothers cheered and the smaller kids caught lightning bugs and ate snow cones. Homeowners took pride in their neighborhood, keeping their lawns clean and tidy. Their yards were landscaped with shrubs and flowerbeds, and the great bluegrass that made the land so unique was keenly maintained. Huge pine and elm trees anchored the sidewalks, giving shade and color to each block. It was a neighborhood where everyone knew everyone, and each looked after the other. Neighbors would lend a hand to help the elderly members of their community with the more tedious and laborious tasks of groundskeeping. Children were raised with a fear of God and a strong moral standard. It was the kind of place where anyone would want to grow up. Oakwood Avenue was situated on the edge of the main town area. It was a picturesque street, lined on either side by the ideal white-picket-fenced homes of the citizen’s childhood dreams. In the center of Oakwood Avenue lived Jeanette and John McKenzie. They were newlyweds, married for just two months. John had joined the army three years before and had lived on post until Jeanette graduated from high school and agreed to marry him. They had found the quaint town during an afternoon drive. They immediately knew this was the place they wanted to raise their children and spend the rest of their lives. Jeanette had seen the sale sign on the front lawn and had instantly fallen in love with the home they now owned.

Only a short week after they’d moved in, John, sadly, had to inform his new bride that he was being sent to Vietnam. With only a day’s notice, they spent their short time together making plans for John’s return, bravely refusing to consider the possibility that he might not come back. At dawn the following day, John left, waving as he walked to his cab. He opened the cab door, turned around, and smiled, I’ll see ya later, honey. I love you. Don’t wait up. It was the same thing he’d been saying when he left for work every morning since they’d exchanged their vows. As Jeanette stood in the doorway, she watched the cab roll down the street and out of sight. With tears streaming, she turned and looked around her living room, still cluttered with boxes. She moved slowly to the center of the room and sank to her knees. Her body shook steadily as her mind raced. She didn’t have to be strong anymore; John was not here to see her. She curled up into a ball, amidst the papers and tissue, and sobbed until there were no more tears left. The shadows had grown long in the room when she finally composed herself. She stood, wiping her still-puffy face, and began the task of clearing away the packing debris.

Three weeks later, Jeanette went to the local physician and received confirmation that she was pregnant. She had been suspecting that something was amiss for about a week. She knew her body, and things were just not quite right. Although she and John had always talked about children, it was quite a shock. Jeanette was both thrilled and saddened by the news, as she’d always imagined that John would be beside her when she learned she would be having their baby. She left the doctor’s office with a prescription for vitamins and a dietary and appointment schedule, and headed for home. After indulging in a few minutes of daydreaming, Jeanette sat down to write a letter to John, the third this week. She assumed it was too soon for him to have received even the first one, but she diligently wrote to him just the same. She smiled and spoke aloud to herself, Well, this will be a change from my usual rambling on about nothing, at least. She finished her letter, placed it in a stamped envelope, and walked down to the mailbox on the corner. She sighed as she dropped it into the slot. As she walked slowly toward home, Jeanette silently prayed for the hundredth time that day for a swift end to the war and for John’s safe return home. Unconsciously, she laid her hand over her abdomen, still flat and not yet showing the signs of the life that she carried within her.

Although Jeanette was small framed, she possessed a will much larger than her stature. Her dark hair and eyes matched her earthy persona. She loved the outdoors, watering the lawn, planting flowers, pulling weeds, and cutting the grass. Being soft-spoken and somewhat reserved, she hadn’t made any friends in the neighborhood yet. She looked around her quiet street, feeling more alone than ever. As she closed the gate to her yard, the elderly neighbor across the street waved pleasantly. Jeanette returned the wave and resignedly went back into the house alone.

Days passed and flowed into weeks without a reply to her letters. At times she was filled with a deep sense of foreboding, but she shrugged it off, refusing to give up hope. As she often did, she stroked her abdomen lovingly, talking to the child she carried. Calling it mother’s intuition, Jeanette had long since decided she was having a son, and had chosen to name the baby after his father. In an effort to dispel the loneliness and silent torture of not knowing, she had begun to talk to the baby, telling him what a brave and wonderful soldier his father was, reading the newspaper to him, and telling him fairy tales. One day soon, little John, Daddy will be coming home to us, and he’ll never leave us again. He’s going to love you so much, just like I do. And then we’ll all live happily ever after, just like in the fairy tales. She busied herself preparing the spare room with soft colors, adding pieces a little at a time, hoping John would somehow be back in time to help with the finishing touches.

As her stomach became bigger and more round, so did her fears. Although she tried to convince herself that mail delivery must be nearly impossible during a war, deep inside, she felt something was wrong. The weeks had turned into months without a word from John. At times when worry threatened to overcome her, she focused her mind instead on the baby and spoke to him as if he was already born. We’ve got to stop this worrying, little John. You’ll see, one of these days, we’ll get a whole bag of mail from your daddy, all the ones he’s sent and they didn’t get delivered to us yet.

On a cold and rainy morning in November, Jeanette received the first word of John since he’d left. The mailman didn’t deliver it as she’d anticipated, however. A man in an immaculate navy blue suit at her front door introduced himself as a messenger and asked if she was Jeanette McKenzie. She nodded as a cold chill blew past her. Her body shivered as he handed her an envelope. Her hands were trembling as she opened her telegram, praying it was a message saying he was coming home soon, but knowing in her dying heart that it didn’t. She took a deep breath as she began to read the words typed on the yellow paper.

Dear Mrs. McKenzie,

The United States Department of War regrets to inform you of the death of your husband, Lt. John James McKenzie, on the 30th of June 1966 while in active combat. All his personal belongings will be sent to you via messenger as soon as possible. The entire United States Department of War and the President of the United States, Richard M. Nixon sends you our deepest sympathies.

Unable to move, barely able to breathe, Jeanette stood and read the message over and over, hoping each time that she’d misread it or that it would somehow change. Wordlessly, she let the piece of paper float to the ground, never realizing it had left her fingers. It landed softly on the step at the messenger’s feet.

Ma’am? he asked softly. She stumbled backward, heaving sobs wracking her body as the realization that John wasn’t coming home finally struck her. She closed the door and made her way to the kitchen table and sat, head in hands, crying as the rain tapped against the kitchen window. She didn’t know how long she had sat there, her body shaking; every ounce of strength was gone from her. And when there were no more tears left, she stood and made her way to the bathroom. Jeanette leaned against the sink, her hands locked around the edge, and she looked in the mirror. John, what am I supposed to do now? As she looked at her reflection, another wave of tears rocked her body as she slumped to the floor and started over again.

Jeanette had no family; her parents had died in a car crash when she was in high school. She was an only child and had made no friends since she’d moved here. For the rest of the night, she silently sat on her bed and rubbed her stomach, reassuring herself and the only living part of John that she had left.

In the days that followed, the neighbors that she had begun to wonder even existed came and introduced themselves to her, offering her assistance should she find herself in need. She numbly acknowledged their offers and thanked them. Despite their reassurances that they were there for her, she felt isolated and very much alone, and clung to the only person she had left in the world, little John. With desperation, she clung mentally and emotionally to her baby, the one thing the ravages of war hadn’t taken from her. Gradually, she withdrew from the world around her, effectively isolating herself from those who reminded her, constantly though unintentionally, of her loss. Day by day, she receded into a world where only she and little John existed. Eventually, the neighbors stopped coming, and she was at last left alone with her baby.

CHAPTER 2

On a crisp, cold morning in late February, Jeanette awoke early as usual. The bright pinks, oranges, and yellows of dawn were painting the sky with the sun’s first rays. She swung her swollen feet over the side of her bed, which made a popping sound as she lifted her weight, and slid them into her slippers. Her back ached from the pressure, but Jeanette wouldn’t complain. She silently thanked God for her condition, lovingly sliding her palm over her now-immense belly. Speaking in the soft and loving tone she always used when talking to little John, she said, Good morning, little man. How are you today? She chided him for not kicking her and saying hello to Momma as he usually did. Are you still sleeping, little one? Or just giving Momma a hard time? She gave him a gentle pat on what she assumed was his tiny bottom and leaned forward to rise to a standing position. The instant she stood upright, she felt the rush of water down her legs to her feet, instantly accompanied by the first of many contractions in her abdomen.

For a fleeting moment, she was euphoric, thinking that soon she would at last hold little John in her arms. Then it was quickly replaced with a feeling panic. It’s too soon! The baby isn’t due for another month yet, she said to herself. Fearing that she was about to lose little John, she decided to call the ambulance and get to the hospital right away. Making her way slowly to the telephone, she had to stop once along the way to wait for the passing of another contraction. Jeanette tried not to panic as she called the hospital and told them she was in premature labor. They assured her that an ambulance was on the way. The neighbors peered out their windows and stood on their frosted lawns as the stretcher carrying Jeanette McKenzie was wheeled into the ambulance and she was whisked away.

Eleven hours later at Sudbury Memorial Hospital, alone, frightened, and exhausted, Jeanette McKenzie gave birth to John Joseph and, to the amazement of the doctors and herself, James Matthew. As she looked down at her two tiny blessings, she smiled and whispered, Thank you, God. And thank you, John. I know you had something to do with this too. Painstakingly counting tiny fingers and toes and finding all was as they should be, she gazed lovingly at the babies, mirror images of one another right down to a tiny crescent-shaped birthmark on their right shoulder. Over the five days they were in the hospital, the nurses fussed over the babies constantly. They brought the twins to her daily and would tell her, You know, Momma, your boys will not sleep unless they are in the same crib. They really keep us hopping. As tiny as they are, they seem to know when the other one isn’t there. We even have to feed them at the same time. To the astonishment of everyone, mother included, it was obvious that the twins cried if they were separated at all. If their diapers weren’t changed simultaneously, they both cried until they were once again placed side by side. During their time in the hospital nursery, the staff placed them both in the same bassinet, letting them sleep cuddled together as seemed to be their preference. Everyone, doctors and nurses included, cheered and clapped as they watched Jeanette leave the hospital to return home with her identical bundles of joy.

As the weeks passed, Jeanette watched the boys develop nearly identical personalities, smiling in their sleep, both clinging to the other and to the identical little blue teddy bears given to them by the nurses in the hospital. Wanting them to always have each other but also to be free to develop traits of their own, she watched them, studying them and talking to them for hours. She was learning everything about them and noting their very few differences. She had in no way expected to be bringing home two little blond angels, so dressing them identically was not possible. This would make it easier to tell them apart, she thought.

They had a pleasant disposition. Both boys slept well, and their eating habits were healthy. Their blue eyes were always smiling up at her with adoration and all the trust in the world.

Keeping up with two babies kept her moving and content, and she soon regained her figure and her strength. The gloss returned to her medium-length hair, and the spring in her step apparent. However, the small pension given to her by the army was barely enough for them to live on. As the twins’ third month was approaching, it was becoming all too clear that Jeanette was going to have to get a job in order to make ends meet. While it saddened her that she would have to leave them for a few hours each day to find a job and work, she knew that she had no other choice. She was blessed once again when the elderly lady across the street, Eloise Ford, started coming over every day to check on her and the boys and offered to watch them for her while she hunted for work. Eloise Ford was a kindly little Catholic woman, widowed years before and never having been blessed with a child of her own. She was small and frail in appearance, with gray hair always kept neatly in a tight little bun on the back of her head. She gave people the impression of a tiny mouse, but was tough as a pine knot and shrewd as an owl. Jeanette would giggle silently to herself, as Mrs. Ford would arrive wearing her usual loud Hawaiian-print muumuu and a white sweater, with her rosary beads pinned into the pocket. Her support hose were always wrinkled around her orthopedic shoes. Because Mrs. Ford found it impossible to tell the boys apart, even after having spent several hours a day talking and playing with them, guess the baby became their morning ritual. Every morning, she would attempt to guess which twin was which, only occasionally guessing correctly. In an effort to help Mrs. Ford, Jeanette dressed John in blue each day and James in yellow, for which the kind old lady was grateful. Thanks, Jeanette, that is so helpful, she would say. I just hate it when I call them by the wrong names.

Despite the fact that Jeanette loved the little woman dearly, it soon became clear to her that Mrs. Ford was somewhat of a superstitious person, always seeing the most mundane things as a sign or an omen and declaring anything she didn’t care for personally as evil or sinful. Jeanette often chuckled to herself, recalling the verbal repartee Mrs. Ford often exchanged with the two elderly gentlemen who sat outside the local diner and played checkers each day. As she and Mrs. Ford took the boys on a stroll on days when weather permitted it, they often walked along the main street of the little town of Winslow, speaking to people as they passed by. The two women beamed with pride when the townspeople showered affection on the boys, declaring that they doubted they would ever be able to tell them apart. Most days as they passed the diner, the two men, Sam and Lloyd, would issue a jolly greeting to Jeanette and a less pleasant one to Mrs. Ford in an attempt to get a rise out of her, which they were often rewarded with.

Good morning, young lady. You’re looking as pretty as ever. Then turning their gaze to Mrs. Ford, they would say, Hey, Eloise, we just saw a grasshopper with one blue leg. You think that’s some kind of omen? We was thinking maybe it meant some strange old woman was gonna walk up to us today, and there you came up the street.

They would chuckle when they saw her assume an irritated stance. Mrs. Ford, being the type not to ever let anyone get the better of her, would reply, You two old goats should spend a little less time gossiping like two old hens and put more of your time to good use by doing the Lord’s work. I’m sure Hades has a table set up with your names on place cards reserved just for you! she would say with a sneer. The gentlemen would smile and wink at Jeanette and chuckle as she ushered Mrs. Ford past them to continue their stroll.

For a month, Jeanette enjoyed Mrs. Ford’s company but had been unable to find a job thus far. On one particular Tuesday morning, Mrs. Ford noticed the worried frown on Jeanette’s face once more. Jeanette dear, why don’t you go put on something nice, and we’ll go for our walk downtown. As Jeanette started to decline, Mrs. Ford told her, It’ll do you good to get out, child. And the boys could use a little fresh air too. You know how they love to ride in their strollers. And besides, you never know where a little divine intervention will show up. Jeanette gave in, and they set out on their daily jaunt. As they approached the diner and the two mischievous checker players, Jeanette braced herself for the verbal exchange she knew would be forthcoming. Her eyes widened, however, when she noticed a Help Wanted sign in the front window of the diner. She ventured a glance at Mrs. Ford, seeing a look