Bequeathed: A Family’s Tale Featuring Elle

By ShaynaJay

Every family passes something on. What did you inherit? After a series of unfortunate family tragedies, three young siblings find themselves in a new home, being raised by their wealthy maternal grandparents. All three have different experiences growing up in the household that eventually shapes the way they live their lives as adults.

When their grandparents die, the estranged trio is forced to come together for the transition of the estate. The revelation of their family’s history, explanation of misfortune, and discovery about the true nature of their inheritance send the three on a jarring trip to hell and back.

Most of the secrets, lies, and sinister acts within a family stay hidden and locked away, but the consequences and repercussions of this family’s sordid past is unleashed onto Timothy, Kimberly, and Anthony. This is their family’s tale of eerie parallels, with a sprinkle of America’s cruel racial history and a supernatural entity, desperate to capitalize on it all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Jul 14, 2022
• ISBN: 9781663221568

ShaynaJay

ShaynaJay was born in Washington, D.C. and has lived in the surrounding area her entire life. When not writing, she can be found at home being an introvert, obsessing over her three children and manifesting a beautiful, healthy life. This is her debut novel. Learn more at www.mindseyemediallc.com.

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Copyright © 2022 Mind’s Eye Media LLC.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-6632-2157-5 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6632-2156-8 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022910025

iUniverse rev. date: 07/14/2022

CONTENTS

Acknowledgement

Prologue

Chapter 1: The Inevitable

Chapter 2: How to Break the Broken

Chapter 3: Lillianna Martine, Age 15

Chapter 4: When Worlds Collide

Chapter 5: Unholy Matrimony

Chapter 6: Madness, Malice, and Mayhem

Chapter 7: Madness, Malice, and Mayhem…continued.

Interlude to the Other Side

Chapter 8: Only the Lonely

Chapter 9: More Than Meets the Eye

Chapter 10: Unholy Matrimony Pt. II

Chapter 11: Mr. Fix-It

Chapter 12: Three’s Company

Chapter 13: Welcome to Elle

Chapter 14: How Did I Get Here?

The End: Rumplestiltskin?

Epilogue

Dedicated to all who are prepared to shed

the ingrained trauma of the past in order

to discover their true superpowers.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

Gratitude and appreciation to God and the Universe for providing the time, means, and opportunity for me to fully execute this project, I am immensely grateful! Special thanks to my Taylor baby for listening to my countless story ideas. For always being the first one ready to read, or listen to, anything I write. To my Nana, forever making me think outside of the box and to push myself to reach my full potential.

My tribe, I thank you for your support, for the encouragement and motivation I needed to nix my self-doubt and do what I do best, which just so happens to be any and everything I put my mind to. Finally, to all that have ever told me they love the way my creepy ass mind works, for years telling me I needed to write a book, well, I did it!

PROLOGUE

It was an overcast October evening in New Orleans, 1937. Noticing the darkening sky, if the young teenage girl did not get a move on, she would miss the last ferry from Algiers. The boarding house she snuck into to lay her head was a mile long walk away from the Canal Street port on the other side of the water. If she missed the ferry, she would be stuck in Algiers for the evening with nowhere to go. Actually, there was one place. She had a friend that stayed not too far away. This friend also happened to be a grown man. He was a struggling artist, musician, and photographer but she really did not want to bother him. She did not like the way he made her feel or the things he made her do, she had also taken something from him the last time she visited. Unsure if he was aware, there were just too many reasons why asking for his help was not an option.

With less than five minutes to reach the ferry port and a ten-minute route to get there, the girl made a run for it at top speed. Her long dark tresses blew in the wind while her knapsack smacked her back. Gunning it down the road to her destination she inescapably knew she would not make it on time but it was her small bit of faith that rationalized anything was possible. At last, she made it to the port just in time to see the ferry depart. Miscalculating how much time she had to panhandle left her officially stranded with nowhere to go. This was not the first time she had to find somewhere on the streets to hunker down in and, she was sure it would not be her last. What was worst was the cold rain that ensued right as the realization of her predicament set in.

Though familiar with the area, she still was clueless where to go. After years on the streets alone, she made it a habit to remain vigilant with her time no matter where she went. This was the first time in a long time she slipped up and now the negative thoughts that often plagued her crept into the mix. The toxicity she spoke into herself was a learned behavior. No matter how positive she tried to stay, her mother’s voice still rang loudly within. She was a mistake and because of this her life would never amount to anything, she would face nothing but turmoil no matter what she did because God did not favor mistakes. She did not want it to be true but it seemed her entire young life was in shambles, she could never catch a break.

The girl tried to shake the doom and gloom that threatened to consume her while briskly traveling the rainy, darkening streets. As her mind willed to concentrate on the task at hand, there was an evil lurking about. In every shadow, the same dark cloaked figure was lurking and observing the young, orphaned, teenager, waiting on the opportunity to corner her. After days of stalking the oblivious girl, the figure that stayed a few steps behind would finally confront her.

On the backside of a butcher’s shop there were two tall, aluminum, trash receptacles cattycornered in a way that left a small diamond shaped space open for the girl to fit into. It wasn’t ideal but the spot was mostly covered by an awning over the back door of the shop. After squeezing into the hiding spot, she stooped down and held her knapsack over her head to help shield her partially exposed left side from the cold drizzle. The cloaked being stood in the shadows watching as she settled in attempting to make herself as hidden and comfortable as the situation would allow.

Between her awkward crouched down position and the extremely strong odor of rotting animal innards, it was not too hard for her stay alert in the unfavorable circumstances but she eventually dozed off. Moments later a loud thud on one of the aluminum trashcans left her jarred. Her eyes popped open just in time to see two rats running across the barrier in front of her. Disgusted, she let out a shriek and immediately covered her mouth.

The jig is up missy! I know you are back there. Come on out! The figure in the shadows commanded in a calm but intimidating voice. Shaking with a hand covering her mouth, she tried to keep quiet but the voice called out to her again. Come now girl, I won’t bite. Not tonight anyway! Tears began to stream down the teenager’s frightened face. The knapsack she used as a makeshift umbrella was no longer effectively shielding her from the rain, the combination of the two left her face dripping wet. Come! The sooner you show yourself the sooner we can be out of this rain and onto somewhere much more suitable I assure you. Please do not make me ask again!

Literally backed into a corner, she took in a gulp before slowly rising from her hiding place, standing, and preparing to greet whomever was calling out to her, but saw no one. She frantically looked around while shivering in the cold and steady drizzle. Slowly emerging from the dark shadows directly in front of her was a tall being face unseen, cloaked in a red, hooded robe with long, finely manicured nails. Mouth agape, the young girl quivered in fear not knowing what to expect next.

BEQUEATHED

be·queath

/bəˈkwēT͟H, bəˈkwiTH/

verb

leave (a personal estate or one’s body) to a person or other beneficiary by a will.

pass (something) on or leave (something) to someone else.

ONE

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The Inevitable

KIMBERLY MITCHELL WAS mid-jog when she received the untimely news. Having ignored the first three unknown calls, she finally answered the relentless ringing. Who is this? she asked, panting.

The caller’s voice was stern and unfamiliar. Hello, yes, this is Mr. Edward Lezaza. I’m calling to speak with Ms. Kimberly Mitchell.

Still jogging in place to maintain her heart rate, she was ready to end the call. She hated interruptions during her morning run. The day never seemed to go favorably whenever she was unable to get her goal mileage in. Uh, yeah, this is she. Is it possible for me to give you a call back? I’m kinda in the middle of something.

As agitated as Kimberly was, Mr. Lezaza was that times three. No, I’d actually like to proceed with these matters as quickly as possible. I’m the attorney in charge of the estate left by your grandmother, Mrs. Lillianna Guidry, and I wo—

Wait! What? Her estate? Where is she? What do you mean?

As of September 17, 2017, Mrs. Guidry has passed on. Several calls have been placed to the number on file as well as a few postings in the local paper but to no avail. My assistant happened to find your current number through several alternative searches. We decided to give that a try, and well, here we are, Ms. Mitchell. As I was saying, I need to meet with you and the remaining living members mentioned in the will. It looks like Mr. Timothy and Mr. Anthony Mitchell. To your knowledge, are they living?

Kimberly was no longer jogging or pacing; she was stunned in place. She had not seen or spoken to her grandnana in what felt like a lifetime. The last she remembered, the woman was certainly aging and fading having turned ninety-five that year. Her death really should not have been too much of a shock; it was more guilt that blew Kimberly away.

Yes, they’re alive, but wait! Where is she? Was she buried? Can I see her?

Mr. Lezaza was quick to advise that the trio could pick up their grandmother’s ashes at his office Monday morning. He said that Azealia, his assistant, would be in contact the day prior to the hearing to coordinate the pickup of her and her brothers. The last detail he provided before rudely disconnecting was that the three surviving individuals of sound mind, body, and soul named in the will had to be present for the hearing to take place.

The run that Kimberly looked forward to and desperately needed every morning to clear her head turned into a slow, solemn walk filled with grief and guilt. It had been more than three years since she had been in contact with her grandnana. She left her alone in her massive home to be taken care of by live-in assistants. The staff had done an exceptional job, and the woman had her wits about her, but Kimberly was sure the woman died lonely and afraid. It was inevitable; Father Time had caught up with the matriarch of the family, and she was gone. With still over a mile to go, Kimberly decided to walk it out, processing an array of emotions along the way.

She remembered being a happy, loving, six-year-old when her parents were taken away from her in a car accident. With not much family around, the only living relatives suitable and available were her grandnana Lilly and g-pop Hayward. Besides their grandparents, the children had a suicidal aunt no one had seen in years and a wayward uncle she never recalled meeting. At ages sixty-eight and seventy-five, the couple had taken in Kimberly and her brothers, Timothy, eleven, and Anthony, three.

Timothy never liked the rules of the household. Transitioning into the home was way too much for him to handle. With Timothy—Tim, being the outcast, Anthony—Tone—and Kimberly—Kim, or Mickey as her g-pop affectionately named her as a child due to her high-pitched voice, were much easier to handle. Prior to moving in, the children did not have much of a relationship with their grandparents. What they knew of the pair came in the form of birthday and Christmas gifts they sent; at times, they received gifts for no reason. Tim, the oldest of the three, was actually the most familiar with them, and he oddly had a few vague but blissful memories of times spent with the entire family during holidays, but things started to change when he was around eight.

Tim and Kim grew up around Alex, an older cousin, their Aunt Jeanine’s son. He was older than Tim by six years, but Kim remembered him a bit. He and Tim were like brothers for the years Tim had him until out of nowhere Alex began to get sick and his younger cousins saw less and less of him. He died in his sleep on his fifteenth birthday. No one ever said what he had died from, and Tim did not like to talk about it, so he never asked. Shortly after Alex’s passing, his mother was committed to a mental institution. Most assumed she’d lost her mind, unable to handle the loss of her adored only child.

Two and a half years later, tragedy struck the family again. That time, the children lost their parents in a terrible car accident. It was said that their father, Isaiah, had been the cause. After drinking excessively at a dinner party and getting behind the wheel alongside his wife, Jennifer, the two met their end when their car veered into oncoming traffic and collided head-on with a sixteen-wheeler. The accident was horrific, so much so that the couple’s remains were cremated as there was not much left of them for a casket burial.

So there the three children were, moving in with their elderly grandparents whom they barely knew in an oversized home they were unfamiliar with. Kim and Tone took to their grandparents immediately, especially Kim to her grandnana Lilly. She remembered every interaction she had with her from the time she was welcomed into their residence. Showered with love and whatever else she wanted and needed, Kim quickly became the favorite. The valuable life lessons taught by her grandnana were greatly appreciated, but knowing was half the battle; applying that knowledge had her stumbling from the time she hit adulthood.

She had disconnected from her grandnana for two reasons. It was a lot for her to deal with, being around the aging woman while proving to be a failure in her own life. She attempted the task for years, trying to help care for her grandnana, and initially, all was well. Kim felt somewhat successful in her role as a caregiver, though there was not much to do in the beginning. Sure, she made appointments, provided pickups and drop-offs, completed medical paperwork, made a few calls, and filled a few prescriptions. But then the reality of caring for an aging loved one kicked in. Those appointments turned into hospital stays. Paperwork turned into sponge baths. Filling prescriptions turned into babysitting a stubborn old woman while she cooked because most times she did not want anyone else’s cooking.

Kim was beyond overwhelmed. Even with a full staff of hired help, she felt obligated to stay by her grandnana’s side daily, to nurture and take care of the woman who had been there for her when there was no one else to depend on.

Kim was not sure that the second reason was really a reason at all. She tried to pass it off as a tale heard from a sleepwalking elderly woman that she had allowed to get into her head. It was actually an entire day that weirded her out and pushed her away.

Kim came downstairs for breakfast around ten. Steps away from the kitchen door, she heard an argument going on between her grandnana and one of the staff. That was not unusual; Lilly despised the dietary restrictions imposed on her meals, and she felt the selections were far too meager. She claimed a woman of her caliber should have a spread to choose from even if most of it went to waste. The frail but firm woman hurled expletives at the man charged with making her meals and accused him of being someone else and trying to trick her.

Kim rolled her eyes and braced herself for the madness she was about to walk in on. Entering the kitchen, she ducked just in time to avoid being smacked in the face with a glass flying across the room. She was used to her grandnana’s venomous mouth, but throwing things and becoming physical were unlike her.

Oh no, Grandnana! What’s going on in here? Kim asked while hurrying to the woman.

Mais cher! the elderly woman said to her.

Kim stood in between the chef and her grandnana to prevent anything else from being thrown. The woman continued to scream and shout, refusing to calm down. Kim apologized to the man for the melee, excused him for the day, and assured him that her grandnana would be much more civil when he returned the following day.

Once he left the house, Grandnana Lilly calmed down. She was still agitated and kept saying she didn’t want to be in the house, but she no longer acted as if she were ready to participate in fisticuffs. She insisted that it, whomever it was, was still lurking around listening and watching. Kim finished making breakfast and tried her best to reassure her grandnana that everything was safe and sound in the home.

To soothe her further, Kim suggested they eat out on the terrace. It was a beautiful day, and she thought that some fresh Georgia air and a little conversation would take their minds off the eventful morning. Kim prepared the table, and they sat across from one another eating in silence. Kim’s grandnana spoke first.

Why are you always so sad, Mickey? You always look lost. I can tell you’re not getting any sleep. Those bags under your eyes and dry skin are a telltale sign, ya know. When you ain’t looking sad, you actin’ like ya got a bug in ya bonnet.

I’m not sad or mad about anything, Grandnana. I’m just trying to find my way. Some nights, my thoughts keep me up, but do you really think I’m sad? How can I be sad or worried when I get to spend every day right here with you?

Her grandnana was right. It was true; she was sad among an assortment of other depressing emotions. She thought the brave and pleasant face she put on daily for the woman hid her desolation. Obviously, she was wrong.

No spouse. No friends. No children. No career. No land or possessions of any real value. It’s like you’re a walking, talking, nothing, girly. You neva’ pass a good time. I see why you’re the way you are. It’s just you didn’t have to be. The woman placed her hand on Kim’s.

Kim stared out at the landscape not caring that the sun was in her eyes; she refused to look at her grandnana. This topic of talk was sure to bring her to tears if it didn’t change course quickly.

Well, at least you didn’t have to be. Lillianna paused drawing her hand back from Kim’s. She added a sugar cube to her tea, stirred it, and took a sip. All that studying and hard work all for naught. We had it all mapped out for you. Doors were opened for you that others would have killed for. All thrown away for a man! A man with nothing at that! And I told you time and time again take care of yourse—

I know, I know, I know. I could have been a very well-off woman by now between the trust and a medical practice. I could have many accolades under my belt and a loving husband and children. I could have had it all, I know. I still intend to have it … all. Just as soon as I shake this dark cloud that’s constantly looming over me.

Soc au’ lait! That is bull jive and you know it, girly. How old are you? If you’re gonna start from scratch, you need ta start now. That look you have. I know that look of despair. You can smile, laugh, and portray this kind, shy act as much as you want, girly girl, but it’s all in the eyes. The eyes are windows to the soul. I’ve told you that before, haven’t I? Lillianna said while burying her grits in salt and cayenne pepper.

Whoa, Grandnana! Would you like any food to go with your salt and pepper? She chuckled at the amount of seasoning the woman was putting on just about every piece of her breakfast including the fruit. Seriously, that’s way too much salt, Grandnana. Yo’ blood pressure finna’ be doing numbers for the rest of the week if you don’t cut that out. Kim was truly concerned with the woman’s sodium intake, but at the moment, she was trying to divert the topic of conversation away from her life.

Do you think I give a flying hootenanny about some damn blood pressure? Let me tell you something, girly. I’m ninety-two. For the first fifteen years of my life, I was deprived of a meal with a grain of salt and a speck of pepper! I’m fix’n to eat the way I wanna eat!

Kim laughed at the exaggeration. She was sure times had been tough for the woman growing up in the thirties and forties, but she actually had no knowledge of the life her grandnana had lived. The matriarch never shared any details of her upbringing or made any mention at all of her life prior to meeting Hayward.

That is not funny, girly. Don’t laugh at me. It’s not funny at all!

Kim was confused. The conversation was seemingly taking a turn for the worse, but she was unsure why. "Grandnana, I’m not laughing at you. Just at the words grain of salt and speck of pepper. Is everything okay with you today?"

"Well, I myself most certainly ain’t laughing, so it’s impossible for you to have been laughing with me. Which means you were laughing at me!"

Kim put her head down and sliced up the avocados and tomatoes on her plate. No longer enjoying her food, she was just pushing it around kind of nibbling here and there. The rest of breakfast continued in silence. She waited patiently for her grandnana to finish before clearing the table and offering to help the woman to her bedroom to prepare for her afternoon, but her help was declined. Instead, the elderly woman opted for one of the nursing assistants to aid her, and she canceled her Wednesday afternoon bridge game, which she had never done since the inception of the standing date three years earlier.

Of course, Kim felt some type of way. Her grandnana had chosen one of the staff over her. Not only that; she had talked down on her and basically called her a nothing, a failure. The very thing Kim suspected and feared was her grandnana’s disappointment in her, and after the conversation they just had, Kim felt it was confirmed. It was evident to her that the woman she loved unconditionally thought there was no redemption for her and that any chance to live a successful life had come and gone.

Her depression and anxiety tugged away at her causing her to overanalyze and replay the entire conversation over and over in her head. A dark cloud began to brew in her psyche, and she felt it. She wanted nothing more than to heavily medicate herself into a lethargic haze and curl up in bed with the covers over her head, but instead, she stepped out to get some fresh air. She ran some personal errands, filled a few prescriptions, and took the opportunity to breathe after her stifling morning. She spent a majority of the day out and about in no rush to get back to the animosity in the home.

By the time Kim returned home, it was close to nightfall. She let herself through the massive front doors and noticed something was off. It didn’t take long for her to realize it was the lack of delicious aromas coming from the kitchen. It was definitely dinnertime, and normally, the house would be filled with the smells of various dishes being prepared to create a spread for her grandnana’s evening meal. Oh, fuck! How could I have forgotten! Shit! Kim thought. She remembered that all meals were her responsibility since dismissing the chef for the day. That woman finna’ chew my head off! She’s definitely gon’ have something to say about this. Fuck!

Kim ran up the winding staircase to her grandnana’s room to check on her and get her order for dinner. When she got to the door, she heard sobbing on the other side. Her heart sank thinking her grandnana was crying because she had forgotten about her. She burst into the room and saw the woman sitting in the middle of her bed, her face red and visibly upset. Photographs surrounded her, and balled-up tissues were piled next to her. Kim pleaded with the sad woman, assuring that she had not forgotten about her and made up lies about being stuck in traffic and the pharmacy having the prescriptions wrong, but Lillianna was oblivious to her granddaughter’s words.

Staring at the photos before her, Lilly blubbered on about missing Hayward, her husband. Kim looked at the pictures. Some were aged in a yellow hue, each capturing different moments of the couple’s life together over a vast stretch of time. The photo Lilly was holding was of them at the first Annual Hawkinsville Harness Festival in Atlanta in 1976. In it, she was wearing a white blouse with light-pink polka dots and a small, tan straw hat. Her hair was tied in a low, messy bun, and she was wearing sunshades. Hayward had donned a tan, linen button-up, linen khaki pants, and dark shades. The couple sat close; their body language suggested they were enjoying each other’s company.

"He wasn’t perfect, but he was my protector and provider! My fixer. And he loved me! He was the only man, the only person who never tried ta take from meeeee!" the woman cried out.

Kim did not know what to say. She’d never seen her grandnana in that much of an emotional state before even after her g-pop’s death seven years earlier. Sure, she had grieved; she was more of a walking shadow of herself not really speaking or interacting with anyone, but a week after the funeral, she appeared back to her normal sassy self.

Kim looked again at the sea of pictures and spotted the only black and white photo. She picked it up preparing to examine the baby-faced man and woman who sat shoulder to shoulder, but Lillianna swiftly snatched it from her leaving Kim disconcerted. Grandnana, why’d you snatch that from me?

The woman grabbed the photo box and put the black and white photo in it facedown along with another photo unseen by Kim. She began putting the other photos on top all without offering any explanation for snatching the photo from Kim. Kim thought that was weird but attributed it to her grandmother’s sorrow. She attempted to console her.

Grandnana, you know you’ll see him again someday. I know it hurts now, but one day, you two will be reunited in the kingdom of heaven and you’ll have your protect—

What happened next was more than shocking to Kim. The woman let out a horrific scream conjured from the depths of her core. She flung the box of pictures across the room with as much might as she could muster. Next went the pillows and everything else on the bed. She flung it all across the room in a frenzied fit.

Kim was horrified as she watched the small woman break down. Grandnana, stop! Oh my God, stop! What the hell! What’s going on with you?

Get out! Get out, girly! Kite m ’pou kont mwen! Leave me be! The woman screamed out in Haitian Creole, one of her three native languages.

Kim rushed out of the room. Her heart was pounding, each beat thumping loudly as she headed for the kitchen. It was just after seven, and Kim needed to get the woman fed, bathed, and in bed. Mentally drained by her grandnana’s bizarre behavior, she contemplated passing off the duties to the night nurse. There was still another hour or so before she and her assistant would arrive, so Kim sucked it up and began to rummage through the fridge for something quick to throw together.

She settled on salmon and broccoli. She stuck the salmon in the broiler and put the broccoli in the steamer. She rubbed her eyes while plopping on a chair. I hope this shit cooks quick. My damn head hurts. She folded her arms on the granite countertop and laid her head atop them. Closing her eyes, she told herself she was just going to rest them for a second hoping maybe it would help alleviate the tension building in her forehead.

Minutes later, Kim’s eyes opened to see her parents and grandparents standing over her. Their eyes were pitch-black and oozing a tar-like pus, and her parents and G-Pop were in a deep decomposed state with maggots and flesh falling from their decaying bodies. Grandnana moaned, The eyes are the windows to the soul! As g-pop opened his mouth, a humongous rat crawled out and fell onto Kim’s face. She screamed as she swatted away at her face and awakened to the sound of the stove timer going off. She rushed to the stove to turn it off. Breathing a heavy sigh of relief that what she’d seen was unreal, she took a minute to regroup.

Kim knocked on the woman’s bedroom door. When she didn’t get a response, she let herself in and saw that her grandnana was no longer in bed. She set the plate down while calling out, Grandnana Lilly! Where are you, love?

Still no response.

A half-empty bottle of brown liquor caught Kim’s eye as she stepped over the litter of pictures and bed linens thrown earlier and walked into the bathroom. There, her grandnana sat hunched over in the white porcelain claw-foot tub. Her long, grey hair was taken down from its normal pinup and was partially soaking in the tub with her.

Kim rushed to the woman’s side. Grandnana! You know you’re not supposed to bathe alone. What’s gotten into you today? How long have you been in here? Kim noted a strong smell of alcohol on her grandnana, but she’d never known the woman to be a drinker. How much have you had to drink, Grandnana? I don’t even think you’re ’posed to be drinking with all ya meds.

The older woman remained quiet.

Can you please tell me what’s wrong? You’ve been acting strange all day, and it’s throwing me off!

Still, her grandmother did not say a word.

Are you hungry? I made you some salmon and broccoli. I know you like a spread for meals, but I was in a rush trynna’ get you fed.

The trance her grandnana was in worried her. She still said nothing, not even a facial expression, just a stone-cold stare. Kim didn’t press. She grabbed the sponge and soap and began to wash the woman. She told her how beautiful she was and how lucky she was to have her. She thanked her for everything, for all her love and guidance throughout the years. Still, her grandnana said nothing. The only movement she made was in the direction Kim maneuvered her in.

Once done, she stood her grandnana up, wrapped a huge warm towel around her, and lifted her out of the tub as best she could. She struggled to carry her into the bedroom. Once Kim got her into her sleepwear, she brushed and pinned the woman’s hair up and hummed one of their favorite tunes from her childhood. Kim sang a bit of the Rod Stewart song aloud to the silent woman.

And have I told you lately that I love you

Have I told you there’s no one else above you

Lilly still did not say a word, but Kim noticed her eyes light up and her slight smile. Kim lovingly asked her grandnana, "Do you remember that song, love? Remember when you used to read Puff the Magic Dragon to me every night before bed? And then you’d sing me that song to sleep?"

The woman remained silent.

Kim kissed her cheek, placed a purple satin bonnet on her head, and tucked her in. She decided she’d clean up the mess of pictures in the morning, but before she cut off the light, her grandnana finally spoke. That food them peoples make really is the worst thing I have ever eat’n. Makes me feel like Im’ma little girl again. I hate it! And it makes me hate them!

Kim shook her head at the woman’s stubbornness before grabbing the bottle of liquor from the nightstand and cutting off the lamp. I love you too, Grandnana. Good night, and pleasant dreams. Before she could even exit the room, the small woman was snoring.

Mentally drained but unable to sleep, Kimberly poured herself a glass of the whiskey and roamed the halls and rooms of the gigantic home. She slipped into her g-pop’s study, where she sometimes sat because the room still smelled like him—leather, wood, and pine. It made her feel he was still there with her. Like she was still just a girl sitting in the room keeping the man company and asking him a million questions. As a teenager, she would come into the study to vent to him on the unfair ways of her grandnana while he listened and worked on his ships in a bottle.

On that particular night, she felt an urge to go through his desk drawers. There was not much in them, just some old financial records and paperwork. When she came to the last drawer, it was locked. Hmmm. This must be where G-Pop’s secrets are. Kim wanted to see what was in the bottom drawer. She first tried to use a letter opener, then a paper clip, but neither worked. So she crept off into her room in search of something she could pop the lock with. Having grabbed a few bobby pins off her dresser, she headed back down the hall.

When she returned to the study, she felt uneasy. Almost as if someone, not G-Pop, was in the room watching her every move. She briefly contemplated leaving out and calling it a night, but the drawer called to her. She knelt down behind the desk trying to remain out of sight of whoever’s roving eye and rigged the lock open using two bobby pins. There were several journals in the drawer. Kim took the one off the top and began to flip through it.

After reading a couple of pages and picking up a few other journals to browse through, she determined these were not her grandfather’s journals; they were all in her grandnana’s handwriting. There were a lot of ramblings of regret and wanting to make good on an agreement though there was never any explanation of what the agreement was.

In one of the earlier journals Kim came across were a few entries that interested her.

March 8, 1938

I was once told time wasn’t real. Just a made-up concept used to measure and control. After two months here in this hotel, I am starting to understand. Most days, I sit in this suite looking at the wall envisioning my life play out. I can sit for what feels like hours and watch each event unfold as I remember it, but when I go to look at the time, not even an hour has passed since I set the mental reel in motion. The days move slowly, my worries consume my thoughts, and my loneliness eats away at my heart.

April 2, 1938

I drink to help me sleep. To help me cope with the agreement. To help me make sense of the story I was told of my parents. I drink to help drown out the sounds of my conscience that has seemingly just arrived though it’s a little too late. What has been done is done, and what will be will be. So I drink so I can sleep.

June 12, 1938

I decided it is best if I do not show face about town. Certainly someone will notice me as I have noticed other familiar faces about. There would be questions for sure. Questions of my come up and current life, none of which I am prepared to speak on. I have yet to concoct a full proof cover story for the masses, therefore I must stay in hiding.

Continuing to flip through, Kim came across a poem. Assuming it was created by her grandnana, she read through the entry hoping for something a little more positive.

Can you imagine, not knowing who you are?

Not knowing where you come from,

Not knowing where you belong.

Can you imagine the solitude?

Can you imagine your mood?

Can you imagine the emptiness that insists on consuming you?

Can you imagine the questions?

Not knowing why you’re here.

Not knowing why life dealt a hand you can’t do nothing with.

If somehow you can imagine,

If somehow you can fathom,

If somehow you have wrapped your mind around the void and loss,

I beg of you to find me, to save me from my thoughts,

To teach me the sacred secret, of mending a broken heart.

Wow. These entries are depressing as shit. No wonder my mind ain’t right. It’s starting to look hereditary. Flipping through a few more pages, she wanted to know why her grandnana was so sad. Eventually swapping out to another journal, she continued to read through.

May 7, 1940

I met a man last evening. Well, more of a man child though he is rather handsome and just a few years older than I. He was with that white witch that is always lurking about when I leave my suite. He claimed she is a music or talent scout of sorts. I am sure he is lying. He claims she travels state to state, but there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t see her at the hotel. He claims to want to know me. Oh, no, he claims to already know me. Laughable. There is no one that knows me. Why, I hardly even know myself!

May 10, 1940

I caved in and accepted the offer of an outing with the man child. I must say it was the most fun I’ve ever had. I wasn’t sure about it at first. The club he took me to, a jazz club, well, it was a bit crowded, and the patrons were mouthy little cusses. Those broads had way too much to say about my looks, but I set them straight. I thought the man child would disapprove of my demeanor, especially in public, but he laughed, we laughed together. The night was special. He dedicated a song he’d written, playing the piano and singing to me in front of the entire club. Embarrassing initially, but he could sure carry a tune and made the instrument sound so angelic. I also got him to take his first drink. The face he made was priceless.

August 14, 1940

The last few months have been so much fun! My man child friend has taken me on the wildest of adventures. We took a train to Atlantic City for the carnival on the boardwalk, and the beach was amazing. So much water and so peaceful. He promised me we would come back. I cannot wait. We also visited the monument in Washington D.C. I got to see the White House too. The food where we traveled was okay. I like the cuisine back home much better, but the sights more than make up for it.

November 22, 1940

It is proper I presume, that I must marry this man child. Though his flaws are many, I simply cannot carry on in isolation. The last few months have been the best I’ve ever experienced, filling in bits of the emptiness that consumes me. Even with all of this money, I am