At the farm stand yesterday, she’d met Leddy Champion, a neighbor. She was set to meet her this afternoon, and she found herself eager to hear more stories, learn more about…
My father.
It had been so long since she’d allowed herself to think of Kurt as her dad. And to be perfectly honest, it wasn’t being in his home that enabled her to embrace it. It was the distance from her mum.
Not once in her life had she thought or spoken about Kurt without her mum’s voice issuing a put-down.
Crossing the expansive living room, she made her way to a wall of built-in bookcases. A Classics major at university, she loved old books with a passion, but what caught her attention were the drawers at the bottom of the shelves. Using her socked toe, she pulled one open to find a neat row of photo albums, spines up. Ooh.
Excitement had her setting the cracker box down and opening the next drawer and the one after that. Each was packed with albums. Her pulse quickened. This is either a photographic treasure trove or something stupid like hockey trading cards.
On closer look, though, they had dates handwritten on little white cards tucked into plastic windows. They seemed to be lined up by timeline, so she started with the oldest. Pulling it out, she sat on the rug.
The sepia-toned photographs were taken in the late eighteen-hundreds. The first was nothing but barren, rocky land and a stern-faced couple standing in front a log cabin. In the background, she recognized the same thrust of rugged mountains she saw every time she left the house.
A strange sensation crept across her skin.
This is my family.
No matter how she’d tried to convince everyone—including herself—that she had no ties to Kurt, the genetic connection to her ancestors beat in her bloodstream. Spreading the book across her lap, she immersed herself in the past. The men had black hats and bushy mustaches, and the women wore plain, high-collared dresses.
Each image had a handwritten description. Either a name or ??? and a “circa” year. She’d only turned a few pages before she’d moved up in time to the early nineteen-hundreds.
It all felt surreal because for so long she’d viewed herself as a Crutchley—though she shared no DNA with them—and the Pinfields on her mother’s side. She’d never had any connection to the Grevers, nor had she ever met any relatives when she’d come to see her father.
Why, though? If this land meant so much, where had everyone gone?
She pulled her phone out of the pocket of her leggings and called the one person in the world who held answers.
“Phinny?” Her mum sounded groggy. “Is everything all right?”
“I’m so sorry, Mummy. I wasn’t paying attention to the time. I’ll ring you back in the morning.”
“Nonsense. I’m up now. Let me leave the room so your father can sleep.” A few moments later, her mother came back sounding a bit breathless. “All right, then. What’s the matter, darling?”
“I’m looking at Kurt’s photo albums, and I don’t understand…where are his relatives?”
“I’ve no idea. They probably left him like everyone does because he was such a stubborn, hard-headed man.”
“Mum, stop it. I’m quite serious. I know your opinion of him, and he’s no longer a threat. I just want answers.”
“A threat? How can a man be a threat when he disappeared completely from our lives?”
She didn’t have the patience for this. “Can you just put aside your personal views and talk to me? I’m asking you about the facts of my father’s life.”
“Your father—”
“No, Mum. Let’s not play word games right now. I understand very well who raised me.”
“I should hope so. And I’ve only ever told you the truth about Kurt. I’ve respected you enough to not paint some false picture of the man. What good would it do to raise your hopes and expectations when he could never meet them?”
Clearly, she wasn’t going to get the answers she needed. “I’ll let you go back to bed.”
“Nonsense. I’ve been waiting to hear from you all day, and I’m wide awake now.” She released an exasperated huff. “All I know is that five brothers headed west in the late eighteen-hundreds to claim land the government was giving away. I’d imagine it was too hard to make a living, so most of the future generations must’ve left to make better lives for themselves.”
“Did he ever talk about aunts, uncles, or cousins? Did you meet his parents?”
“Briefly, yes. They were living on that godforsaken ranch. I don’t recall him mentioning other relatives, but of course, he wasn’t around much.”
Ignoring the jab, Phinny stayed focused. “So, when did his parents die?”
“His father died while we were at university. His mum died shortly after he’d installed me in that house and abandoned us. I had to care for a child and an aging stranger.”
“So, you spent time with my grandmother. What was she like?”
“She was…busy. She was old.” Her mum grew impatient. “I don’t know what you’re looking for here.”
“I’m looking for details. Something other than ‘she was old.’ Was she kind? Did she milk cows? Why is it so difficult to answer the question?”
“Because I was dumped in the middle of nowhere with a woman I barely knew. I had a baby, and I was left alone. I couldn’t remember what day of the week it was, let alone what his mum was like.”
“Did she cook for you?”
“Yes, of course, she did. Meat and potatoes. Rolls. Pie. There wasn’t a meal that didn’t have dessert. I must’ve gained ten pounds the first week.”
“It actually sounds lovely.” Homey.
“Well, it wasn’t. She got sick, and then I was caring for a baby and an elderly woman. And where was Kurt?”
“The house is quite grand. What was it like when you lived here?”
“It was old and broken down. And it sat in the middle of nowhere. His parents tried to make a go of a cattle ranch, but they had some very lean years.”
“If it was so rustic, why did he move you here? Why didn’t you live in Boston where he played?”
“Because he was a controlling bastard.” Her mum exhaled into the receiver. “Look, it’s impossible to give you an unbiased answer. It was my life. I can tell you what he told me, that he wanted to raise his children on his family’s land. He wanted me to have the support of his community in Calamity.”
Interest awakened in her. “And did you?”
“Yes, actually. After his mum died, they were quite lovely. They brought me food. They plowed the driveway in winter.”
“You never told me that.”
“Well, it wasn’t their help I wanted, now was it? I wanted Kurt’s. I was alone with a toddler in that rotten little house. Winters were unbearable. The cold seeped right through the walls, and we were stuck indoors for days at a time.”
“Then, why didn’t you move back to Boston?”
“He didn’t want us there. He wanted you to go to school in a safe town with good values. Besides, he wasn’t around for me there, either. Always traveling or filming commercials. He had time for everything but us.”