The House of Burgiss Part II

Beauty’s Winter

Grace’s room was rather plain. She was the sloppiest of the girls, but still compared to others it was tidy. She had her furniture arranged in the same fashion as everyone else, except that she didn’t have a desk. Instead she had brought from home her large vanity. It was filled with all assortments of makeup, moisturizers, and other beautification products. She would sit in front of the mirror for hours, brushing her hair or something like that. She was very proud of her beauty. In her closet she kept a small scrapbook that was filled with clippings from her pageant days. She was the stereotypical beautiful airhead by everyone’s opinion. Her friends knew that she did have a brain, though. She would never forget the night that she was crowned homecoming queen.

It was a particularly warm autumn night on the large football field. The court stood in its place with the four candidates in front. She stood in the very middle, with Rafe as her escort. She saw all of her friends standing near the bottom of the stands, all of them except Terry and Finn of course. She shouting around her seemed to die down as the principal walked to the makeshift announce system. He had in his hands a small red and blue envelope, which was the school’s color. Grace looked directly at Con as the man began to give his small speech. Con was sitting next to his shouting counterparts looking directly at Grace. He was smiling approvingly. Finally the man said it, her name. The crowd came rushing back in a deafening roar. She hugged Rafe as he dragged her towards the small stage. Her feet had turned to lead and she was crying. They put the small crown on her head and the flowers in her arms. She had never been happier.

It was the last thing that she had won, and not a single person she knew didn’t think she deserved it. Her boyfriend, Clark Vaiden, had been particularly boastful of dating the most beautiful and talented girl in the state. He was also quite the popular one. The school’s star football player, he had signed to play for a smaller college. The pair was the embodiment of high school life.

It was shocking for her to be taken out of that environment. She went from everyone knowing her to only a handful. Her boyfriend was gone to the other side of the state, and she was beginning college. She did know what she wanted to be though. Business Consultant had come into her head one day and just stuck. She did her schoolwork, showing little interest. She spent most of her time lying about the house watching television or calling Clark. She wasn’t as happy as she always had been, but she was content.

In October she was leaving one of her classes when the young man approached her. Will Ritter came loping across the lawn calling out her name. He was her age, but not nearly her equal she thought. He was tall and dressed rather cheaply. He was carrying a bag over his shoulder and had a goofy smile on his face as he reached her.

“Grace?” he said out of breath.

“Yes, do I know you?” she asked coldly.

“No, but we went to the same high school and we are in some of the same classes,” he said.

“That’s nice,” she mumbled still walking.

“I just wanted to tell you how ugly you are.”

She stopped dead in her tracks and turned to look at Will. Fury filled her eyes and if she could have ripped out his heart she would have done it.

“What did you say to me?” she asked trying to calm herself, perhaps she had misheard.

“Just that you’re ugly and now you are in a situation where that can’t help. You’ll fail college, because you have the capacity of a hag,” said the demonic looking man before her. He was laughing fitfully as he walked off. Grace was shaken, but shrugged it off as jealousy. She quickly walked home as if another person would come up to her and start laughing again. That laugh seemed to follow her. The mocking laugh surrounded her as she walked.

Later that evening she was on the phone with Clark. It was quite ordinary for her to stay on for hours, not really talking about anything.

“So what did you do today?” she said into the receiver.

“Nothing really how about you,” he replied with his coarse voice.

“Well, do you remember a Will Ritter?”

“Yeah, tall lanky guy. One of those weird smart ones wasn’t he?”

“That’s him. I saw him today.”

“What happened?”

“Oh, nothing, just thought I would mention it. I never really liked him.” She paused for a moment. “Clark you still think I’m beautiful don’t you?”

A pause, only an instant, but she heard it. Then he replied, “Yes.”

“Ok, I’m tired,” she said in an irritated tone, “I’m going to bed.”

She slammed the receiver down ignoring the loud objections from Clark. She went and sat in front of her vanity and looked in the mirror. Her cheekbones were perfect, her eyes, her chin, her lips---all perfect. She couldn’t find a flaw on her entire body. Why hadn’t he answered right away? Her thoughts trailed to Finn and his new girlfriend. They seemed to be getting all the attention lately. In high school, she and Clark were the couple people adored. She wished he hadn’t gone to some other school. They could have just kept going the way they always had been. It was different with him so far away. The first few weeks were hard on her, she had wanted to be with him, but now she didn’t care that she never saw him. It scared her. She suddenly felt separated from her friends. She never saw them except when she passed them in the hall or at a meal. Even now she was in her room while they were down below her laughing and having a good time. She didn’t feel like going down though. Finn and Cole were probably down there, and she didn’t want to see a happy couple right now. Cole was just so perfect. Beautiful, smart, funny, supportive---she was everything Grace was and more. The seeds of jealousy were planted that day. Grace cried herself to sleep. She didn’t know why she was crying, but it made her feel better.

A week or so later she, Rafe, and Belle decided to have dinner together. The rest had gone off to a movie. The two future lawyers didn’t get done with their schoolwork until late and the others didn’t want to wait on them. They went to eat a steakhouse not far from their home. Grace picked at her food unconsciously; the other two ate ravenously, never having time to eat with their busy schedule.

“Guys, we should try to spend more time with the others,” Grace said twirling her potatoes around with a fork.

“Why, don’t we see enough of them,” said Rafe who had finished eating and was sipping on some alcoholic beverage.

“Shut up, don’t mind him he is just grumpy because of that paper he made a “B” on,” said Belle. “I agree though, it seems like ages since we have all just sat together and had a laugh.”

“Why don’t we all go to the coast for a weekend or something,” suggested Rafe. “I could use a little break from this madness.”

“I doubt there is a time when all of us are free,” said Grace as she shoved her plate aside. “Everyone’s doing all sorts of weird things. Finn is constantly fawning over that Cole, Karen spends all of her time in a coffee shop, Kat is outside digging around in the dirt lately, Terry goes down to Solomon Street every second he is out of class.”

“Oh, don’t you like Cole,” said Belle
with disappointment. “I do. I think she is just the thing for Finn.”

Rafe sneered and downed the rest of his drink. “If we did go somewhere we would have to drag her along with us. She is probably out with them right now.”

“She is no different than Clark,” said Belle causing Grace to move uneasily.

“Yes she is,” Rafe insisted. “I don’t know anything about her except that she has Finn wound completely around her finger. Mark my word, she is going to really break his heart before it is over with. Clark grew up with us. I’ve known him since I was five.”

Grace smiled devilishly, “ Remember the time that you and Con broke that couple up just to be mean. What were their names Ben and Julie?”

Rafe laughed demonically, “Ah, the carefree days of high school. That stupid fool cried for weeks. ‘The love of my life has left me for another.’ I remember him reciting a poem that started like that. Too bad we didn’t tell him that I was the person she left him for.”
The three let out an evil laugh.

“I still think that was taking things too far,” said Belle regaining her straight face.

An expression of eagerness came over Grace, “Do you think we could do it again?”

“We should have grown up by now,” said Rafe with a sour look in his face.

“Certainly right, it was childish then,” said Belle disapprovingly, “Besides Con would never do anything like that now. I never really understood why he did it then.”

The three ended the night in quite conversation. Grace was eventually left out, because the topics strayed to the other’s classes. They walked home and found the house already dark except for the light in the office. Grace went to her room quietly, she noticed Terry wasn’t in his room.

Thanksgiving came quickly and with it parties and celebration. Grace’s mood didn’t improve much between the time of the dinner and the Thanksgiving party. She still doubted her relationship with Clark, and still regretted not spending much time with the others. Clark had come though, and for a moment it seemed as if they could simply go back to the way it always had been. That feeling had faded fast. She was in the kitchen assisting Kat in preparing the supper, and Clark was in the den with Finn and the others.

“So how are you and Clark?” asked Belle as she chopped up potatoes.

“Well,” said Grace uninterested, “he’s here isn’t he.”

“That isn’t a very positive attitude.”

“Well, compare us to Finn and Cole. They simply shine when they are in the room together. We used to be like that, and now we just look at each other.”
“Maybe you should do something romantic.”
Kat came over and took the potatoes away from Belle saying she was cutting them wrong.

“Maybe he should do something romantic,” said Grace.

Cole walked into the kitchen and Grace ignored her. She offered to help with something, but Kat told her that she had all the help she could manage. Cole left for the den and Grace began to put the food on the platters.

“I’m better than you, slut,” she mumbled menacingly under her breath.

Grace returned home for the Christmas holidays and spent the time with her family. They certainly didn’t help her problem much. They were all in a tizzy over the engagement of her older sister to a rich doctor. After two days of planning a wedding she decided to drive to Clark’s house where he was also spending the holidays. He answered the door and was obviously surprised to see her.

“Grace, what are you doing here?”

“Well, I just came to see you, can I come in?”

“No, no, because my parents are asleep and they wouldn’t like you disturbing them.”

“Oh, ok, can you come out and talk for a minute then?”

“Um, no I can’t, I’m very busy.”

She was furious, “I am tired of being treated like a little dog that comes when you call it and is kicked away when you get tired of it.” She stormed off cursing her boyfriend under her breath.

She didn’t speak to him again until the New Year’s Eve party that Rafe had put together. He showed up not long after it started, but made no move to speak to Grace. She saw him; his pitiful look touched her heart and she decided to forgive him. She wanted to start over. She walked slowly over to him and when he saw her his face filled with sadness.

“Grace, I’m cheating on you.”

She hadn’t had a chance to say anything. The world around her went silent. Hundreds of images floated past her. All the happy times they had spent together. She and Clark at the prom, she and Clark after football games, she and Clark at parties-----all of it for nothing. Hate filled her. She didn’t slap him, but she punched in directly in the face.

“Get out of my house, and never come back.”

She turned and ran out of the room as tears filled her eyes. She ran up to her room and slammed the door behind her. She went to her window and slunk down next to it. She cried. She was in her own world. She heard the muffled shout of someone on the lawn. Then the people below counting and the ringing in of the New Year. She was alone. Despair was her only company. Everything she had accomplished was for nothing. What good did any ribbons or awards do her now? She had no future? She was on the verge of failing college. Her friends were slowly deserting her.

There is no point. Why should I keep living? Who would miss me? Stupid, ugly me?

A voice suddenly rang out very clear. A wholesome friendly voice she had heard many times.

“Wonderful thing the new year, everything bad just washes away and everything begins new.”
She stopped crying.

In the following months Grace became a completely new person. Her desk became cluttered with her schoolwork, which she spent much more time on. She made great efforts to spend time with her friends and even became close to Cole. She didn’t stay in her room much, she enjoyed studying in Kat’s garden. Life improved very much in the course of those months. She never saw or spoke to Clark again, and never explained their separation to the others. Rafe seemed to know though. Any time the subject was brought up he would laugh at Grace much to her dislike. She was happy with those memories locked away. She didn’t want to dwell on the past. In early March the past would catch up with her.

She was having dinner outside a small deli with Rafe. He had been distancing himself from the others for quite some time and Grace was trying to draw him back into the fold. The conversation was kept on Rafe for the most part. Grace made large efforts to show interest in his talk about lawyer things, but was failing miserably. The conversation lulled and Rafe immediately turned it to her.

“So what did happen with old Clark?” he asked smartly.

“You know I don’t like talking about it,” she said.

“Well, it’s none of my business, but you do know he was cheating on you.”

She was quickly becoming angry, “Yes it is none of your business.”

“Still, don’t you want to know who it was with?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on I’ll give you a hint.”

“Rafe, please…”

“Do you remember the one time you lost a beauty contest?”

She did, vividly. It was to Patricia Martin, a decent looking girl who had gone to great efforts to win. Grace never begrudged her for it, the girl simply worked harder.

“Yes.”

“Hmm….that doesn’t shock you? Well then how about when it happened?”

Grace was irate, “Be quiet Rafe.”

“Let’s see there was before the Thanksgiving dinner, and then at his house at Christmas, and even the night he told you, not to mention the other times with the other girls. I guess you just weren’t enough for him.”

She stood up and threw her the table over against Rafe. He fell back in his chair with a loud crash. She walked out of the enclosed area not looking back. When had Rafe become so mean? She didn’t have time to think about it. She had a class in ten minutes.

After she escaped the class most of her anger had left, but not all of it. She simmered in that classroom for two hours and now she wanted to get rid of the pent up energy. Then, of all people, she saw Will Ritter walking up to her. She quickly tried to think of some incredibly nasty thing to say to him. She watched him coming towards her, and noticed someone sitting on a bench behind him dressed in all black. He was on her fairly quickly, being so tall his strides cover long distances fast.

“Hi, remember me?” he said innocently.

“Of course I remember you. My second week here you told me how ugly I was.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I came to apologize for it. You really are very beautiful. You see, back in high school I had an enormous crush on you and then one day I mustered up the courage to act on it. When I asked you to go out you didn’t even look at me and you said ‘too ugly’. I just wanted to get you back for it. I’m really sorry.”
She could tell he was sincere. She nodded her head as he backed cautiously away, as if she would explode in any moment. This seems like just an odd occurrence that no one would think that much of. Yet, to Grace this small apology from someone she had long felt insignificant was the world’s difference. It didn’t enlighten her to Rafe’s motives or take away what he said, but it made her forget for a while. She remembered instead the tall Will Ritter’s words, “You really are very beautiful.”

She didn’t speak to Rafe after that day. She became deeply involved in her schoolwork, having to work twice as hard to make up for her first semester. It was just before spring break when she was sitting in the kitchen with a book in front of her and Con walked in. He got a piece of cake that Kat had made earlier and sat down at his spot at the table. She closed her book and looked at her oldest friend. They had known each other since they were newborns. Their mothers had been friends and that destined them to be friends as well. Throughout high school he was always her big brother, willing to stand up for her when no one else could. Since the beginning of the year, she noticed that he was much more distant than ever before. There were certainly times in the past in which he would recede into a depressive funk, but never before had he maintained this demeanor for such a long amount of time. She reached over and put her hand on his. He looked up at her immediately. His eyes were the same as ever. They had always seemed much older than they should be. Their light was a bit dim compared to hers, as if an old man was inside looking out. They reminded her very much of her father.

“How are things?” she said.

He looked back down at his plate, “As good as they could be.”

She thought for a moment before continuing, “I know it was you who arranged for Will to talk to me.”

He looked at her quickly and then smiled, “You figured that out did you? Well, I guess it was inevitable. Besides, you should have known that college would keep me away from looking after you?”

“On New Year’s night, you were near my window outside. How did you know that I needed to hear that?”

“I knew that Clark was there and that he had told you. I was upstairs when you came up, I heard you in your room. I decided the best way to comfort you was to give you the ability to comfort yourself.”

They sat there in silence as Con finished his cake. Grace stared down at her name on the table. It really was beautiful. She looked at each of the names in turn. She stared at Con’s elegant script comparing its similarity to Finn’s. She looked then at Rafe’s. It was more of a scribble than handwriting.

“Why did Rafe tell me all those things?” she asked.

Con looked at her for a moment, “Grace, he is not well these days, not well. I think its better to let time answer your question though I am tempted.” He stood and kissed her on the forehead as he walked by. “You should know, that I always have liked you the best.”
He walked out of the room leaving Grace sitting there. She dwelled only a moment on what he had said, but she knew that it would happen. He had never steered her wrong yet.




Love in the Woodshop on Solomon Street

Terry was to deliver the table and come straight home, but upon entering Mr. Robert’s small shop on Solomon Street his life completely changed course. The old smell of sawdust surrounded him taking him back to the days when his father built houses. As a young boy Terry would often help by carrying things, but was probably more of a burden than a help. Yet on the small construction sites he learned to hammer, level, measure, and many other skills of a carpenter. As he got older he was allowed to run the saws and other heavier equipment. “It was always in my blood,” he would say, “unavoidable.” Still, he had left it. Rather, he had been forced to leave it. His father didn’t like the idea of his son taking up the family business. “I worked out there so he didn’t have too,” his father would argue. Terry should be a lawyer or a stockbroker, something along those lines, was the general concesus of his family. Terry didn’t like the idea at all. He liked working with his hands to build things. There had been a large argument, but Terry had come to a compromise. He would be an architect. He didn’t like the math or the complicated physics. He would much rather just sketch something and build it.

Finn was choking on the thick air inside the little shop. Mr. Roberts was toddling around the frame of a wooden rocking chair. He saw the two young men and came over to assist them.
“Ah, you must be the two boys from Burgiss’s,” he said looking them up and down. They returned his look, trying to get an estimate of his character. He was a head shorter than Finn and slightly bent with age. He seemed to be in his late fifties, but his hair was already stark white. His eyes were a dull brown that seemed right at home in his little shop. Indeed, the owner seemed to be but just another piece of woodwork. He dressed in a small brown suit that complemented his eyes very well. He shook their hand, each in turn, with both of his. “Now where is that table?” They took him outside to where the table was strapped into the back of a truck. It had been very delicately shipped on orders from Con. The old man seemed to brighten up when he saw it. “I remember it perfectly, you know. He wanted it round like the room and I was happy to oblige. Have you seen the picture frames in that room. I made those as well; tricky bit of craftsmanship that. I hope they still look well.”

“Yes, they look as exceptional as ever,” said Terry with deep interest.

“I used a special type of wood to make them. Needed it to be bendable but strong. Nothing like that grows around here. Had to have it shipped in from some far off country. Don’t remember which now.”

“How long should it take then?” asked Finn impatiently.

“Can’t rush art son,” muttered the old man, “two weeks probably, want to be careful with it. You have the names?”

Finn went to the cab of the vehicle and rummaged around for a minute before producing a small manila folder. He passed it to the shopkeeper who took out several of the sheets inside. He examined them carefully, estimating just how each should be carved into the wood. “Have to practice a bit I suppose,” he said under his breath. “Two weeks, probably next Thursday. Now then lets get it inside.” The two young men began to remove the table from its bindings as the old man walked down a small alley to the side of his shop. With the table unfastened Finn and Terry went to see where he had gone too. There was a large garage door being opened on the back of the shop. They decided that was where the table was to be taken. With great effort and caution they lifted the heavy table and gently carried it to the opening. The old man was standing in a large work area where the ground had been cleared of debris. He ordered them to set the table there. They did so and were greatly relieved to be rid of it. The old man immediately began to examine the table and draw little marks on it with a piece of chalk. He seemed to forget that the others were there. As he walked to the other side of the table and continued his work he looked up and saw them again. “Oh, sorry, forgot about you there. I will call you when it is done.” With that he waved them off and they made their way back out through the store. Finn had some difficulty getting Terry, who wanted to admire every piece of work in the store, to come with him.
The two weeks passed quickly, what with everyone busy adjusting to their new home. Grace informed him on a Thursday that the old man had called and said the table was ready. Con said he would come this time since Finn had class. When the pair arrived at the store Terry immediately noticed the small sign in the window. “Assistant Needed” Con had already gone inside and was talking quietly with Mr. Roberts. Terry walked to the casing of a large grandfather clock and began to run his hands over the smooth wood.

“Terry, we need to get the table now,” Con said calmly.

They walked into the work area in the back of the store. The table was still sitting exactly where they put it, and it looked as if that had been the only work he had done since then. The names were carved beautifully into the fine wood. A new coat of finish had been put on, the other had began to wear with age. The old man stood solemnly as they lifted the table and walked it slowly out the large garage door. Mr. Roberts seemed sad to see it go. Con finished strapping the table in and looked over at Terry who was once again eyeing the small sign in the window.
“I think I’ll walk home,” said Con, “you just bring the table when you come. I have to talk to the baker anyway.” He began walking briskly down the street not waiting for Terry to answer. This action puzzled him for a minute before he realized what had happened. He went back into the shop where he found Mr. Roberts sitting behind the counter. The old man was slowly cleaning brushes. He looked up as Terry entered.

“Forget something?” he asked.

“The sign says you need an assistant. I used to work with my father’s construction company. I am fairly good with my hands, and I always loved working with wood the most.”

The old man looked at Terry’s excited expression, “I thought so, you’re hired.”

It struck Terry as too easy, but he wasn’t concerned with that. He had a job, one that he was sure he would love. He and Mr. Roberts discussed the finer points of his employment. He would work whenever he didn’t have class all throughout the day. Mr. Roberts was insistent on not interfering with the boy’s studies. It was agreed that he would receive a small salary, but Terry wasn’t concerned with money. The pair decided he would start to work the following Monday.

He returned home later that day to find Con, Kat, and Karen sitting in the den reading. Con had the evening paper spread out before him and to Terry strikingly resembled Terry’s father. Terry said his hellos as he threw his bag on the stairs. He moved to set down next to Kat, but he noticed Con’s look from behind the paper. Instead he chose a vacant area in between Karen and Con. Terry always kept his love for Kat a secret. Con was the only other living soul who knew. Con had never been much help in the matter. He had shown his disapproval when he found out, and had continued that trend.
One night after a small party, Terry had decided to act on this. He wrote a letter that confessed everything, down to the moment he met Kat. He was sure that was when his emphatuation began. He had finished the letter and was on his way to Kat to give it too her when the black shadowy figure cut him off. Con had seemed to know from the moment he saw him that Terry was up to something. Quick as lightning the envelope was out of Terry’s hands and being combed by Con’s eyes. Con muttered something under his breath as Terry tried to get the letter back. Then Con became very angry about the situation. He roughly threw Terry back, shocking Terry beyond belief. It wasn’t often that Terry could be thrown around. Con took a small lighter out of his jacket pocket, one of the odd items he carried around. He set fire to the envelope and threw it to the ground. “Have you gone insane? This is complete suicide. You should never ever tell anyone about this. It would ruin you and everyone else.” Terry never really understood why Con had become so upset, but the little fit had taken away Terry’s nerve. From then on it became very difficult for Terry to get close to Kat without Con eyeing him suspiciously.
He sat in the den with them trying to read a section of the paper. His mind was a bit too befuddled by the day for reading though. He decided to go take a small nap before supper. As he walked out Kat informed him of the night’s main course. Con quickly noted that they wouldn’t come wake him up. He took his bag up the stairs and into his small bedroom. He threw it in the desk chair and threw himself on the wide bed. Terry’s room resembled Karen’s the most. The large bed took up most of the room. He explained to everyone that he was a fitful sleeper and in a bed any smaller he was likely to roll off. His room was decorated in a dark green. Even his computer had green casing on it. He didn’t really like his computer, wasn’t very skilled with electronic machines. He could type and use the Internet, but beyond that the computer was a dangerous contraption. He did know how to work a television, and that was what he did best. He had a gaming system wired into his larger than average TV set. He enjoyed this more than anything else and would spend countless hours with the small controller in his hands. He often disturbed the others late at night by yelling at the screen thinking it had treated him unfairly. His desk was always cluttered, not because he did a lot of paperwork, but because he wasn’t very tidy. He laid on his bed trying to sleep, which never actually gets you to sleep.

After his last class on the following Monday, he went eagerly to Solomon Street. Mr. Roberts was busy finishing the rocking chair.

“Ah, Terry, good to see you, good to see you,” said the old man not actually looking at Terry. “A Miss Weatherby came by this morning wanting a frame built. I thought it would be a good way for you to demonstrate your skills. The dimensions are on the board in the back, you’ll find all the supplies you need back there as well.” Terry eagerly went to the back of the small workshop causing a smile to spread across Mr. Roberts’s face. Soon Terry was deep in his own world as he worked on the frame. It was to be 17 inches tall and 26 inches across. He had finished the work in less than two hours and stood back to examine his handiwork. He soon felt Mr. Roberts standing behind him, and wondered how long he had been there. “I see you have finished. Very nice, very nice. Put the finish on it and then leave it there to dry. When you have finished that you may return home.” He was very careful with the finish as he was in no hurry. It took about three-quarters of an hour for him to reach a satisfactory state. He said goodbye to Mr. Roberts and went quickly home hoping to arrive in time for supper with everyone else.

The following months went by with the same routine. He worked diligently in both the classroom and in the small shop on Solomon Street. He was surprised at the amount of business Mr. Roberts got. He never went in without a task waiting to be done. Mr. Roberts allowed him to take care of most of the orders, but he insisted on making all the rockers himself. Terry had finally noticed that all of them were almost exactly the same, and they were everywhere. It seemed that one of Mr. Robert’s rockers was on every porch in the entire area, and that was nearly true. There was even a pair of them sitting on the porch at the Burgiss house. Terry also noticed that Mr. Roberts seemed to be working on something that he didn’t want to tell Terry about. Terry respected the old man’s privacy and didn’t pry in on his private affairs, but curiosity was brimming with him.

Thanksgiving came quickly. Terry was looking forward to the feast that Kat was preparing. Rafe offered for to take him along to see family, but Terry declined. He found out later that Kat’s brother was to be attending the small party. He knew that her brother didn’t like him. Terry believed that outside Con, her brother was the only one that suspected anything of him. Perhaps it was some family related protective instinct. Even if her brother knew nothing of his emphatuation with Kat, it was very obvious that he didn’t like Terry. With this new knowledge Terry reconsidered Rafe’s offer. He thought it would be good to see some of his old aunts and uncles again anyway. The pair set out on the morning before Thanksgiving Day, both in a particularly nasty mood.

“So why did you change your mind?” Rafe asked offhandedly.

“Oh, well, Kat’s brother was coming,” said Terry, “He doesn’t seem to like me much. I didn’t want to make any trouble.”

Rafe turned his eyes from the road to stare menacingly at Terry, “So big brother knows as well.”

Terry was made very nervous by the sound of his voice, “Knows what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me you overgrown oaf,” Rafe said sharply, “I know all about your dirty little secret. Have you been writing any more poetry for you beautiful Katherine?”

“How…how do you know,” he said confused and terrified. He hadn’t written his confession anywhere except that letter. He had seen that letter burn on the ground. He couldn’t have found out that way. Con must have told him. “That lying piece of garbage.”

“Oh no, not the noble Con. He would never tell a juicy secret like that. Unfortunately he likes to examine things in great detail. He didn’t burn the letter; he kept it. When you were on the ground he switched the letter for some flyer he had in his pocket. He set it on fire.”

Terry knew that Rafe was somewhere else that night. “You couldn’t have been spying on us. You were off gallivanting around the country that night.”

“Yes, but our dear Con writes everything down in that silly journal of him. I stole a peak at it when he first began. I found the letter and his entry that told of the night’s events. Haven’t been able to get my hands on it since.”

Terry had never seen any such journal and still doubted the validity of Rafe’s story. “Are you going to tell?”

“No, not yet anyway. If I had wanted to do it just to spite you I would have done it already, but maybe you should remember from now on that Con isn’t the only one who knows things.”

The two finished the drive in silence and then spent a rather unpleasant weekend together.

Christmas was in full swing at the small shop on Solomon Street. The rockers seemed to be in a greater demand than ever. They obviously made wonderful gifts for those far off who weren’t informed of their local reputation. Mr. Roberts was busier than ever, but didn’t seem wearied by it. If anything he seemed to rise to the challenge and take everything under his control. He became almost like a drill sergeant with Terry. Demanding that the large amount of orders be filled by the end of the week. He didn’t realize that he could work that fast, but he was soon churning out a steady supply of furniture. The tables and other things he helped construct were in high demand. Finally he and Mr. Roberts had filled every order and everything had been delivered accordingly. Mr. Roberts walked around the shop tidying things up for the Christmas holidays. Terry had tried to help, but was instructed to go to the kitchen and make some cocoa. Terry did as he was told and went back to the small area to prepare two steaming cups of hot chocolate. When he returned Mr. Roberts was sitting at the counter looking a bit flushed. Terry set the two mugs down as he pulled up one of the many chairs in the room. Mr. Roberts was fumbling with a brown bag under the counter. He twisted it so the bag wouldn’t open and then set it on the counter.

“Sorry, sorry about the wrapping,” said the kindly old man, “never was much good at wrapping. Go on open it.”

Terry stared at the mangled paper bag for a minute trying to determine what it could possibly contain. “Mr. Roberts, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Oh, go on and open it,” said the old man sternly.

Terry did as he was told. He slowly untwisted the bag and the reached his hand inside. He felt the familiar wood he had become so accustomed to. He withdrew the item and a smile immediately appeared on his face. In his hands he held a small figurine. It was his own self, bent over a worktable. He had a pencil in his left ear and an expression of thought on his face. He was working on a frame. The small figure had been painted and seemed as if any moment it would begin moving. The smaller version of him was almost a complete replica. Terry turned it over and looked at the bottom. “To Terry, from an old chair-maker.” Terry looked up at the smiling Mr. Roberts.

“Do you like it?” said the old man, “Not very good against today’s standards I’m afraid.”

“Mr. Roberts, it is better than any thing some oversized factory could produce.”

“Oh, you like it then? Carved it myself. That’s what I was always working on, you see. Made me feel horrible keeping it from you all the time.”

Terry was grinning from ear to ear, but suddenly a downcast look fell on his face. “Mr. Roberts, I didn’t get you anything.”

“Didn’t get me anything? Not so, not so, my boy. You gave an old man something better than a trinket or some technological wonder. I heard you once, talking to that young girl you walk home with, you said, ‘Mr. Roberts always says, You can always predict rain by the spiders, they won’t build a web if weather is coming.’ That’s what every old man wants, Terry. To be quoted.”

The old man seemed at that moment ancient. As if at any second he would tumble from his seat and die. He slowly lifted the mug from the table and took a long gulp. Terry did the same. “Merry Christmas Mr. Roberts.”

“Merry Christmas, young one.”

Terry went home for the holidays and had a simply wonderful time. He was constantly questioned about his college, and the activities he was involved in. His parents asked about his friends and things along that line. His father wasn’t too happy about Terry working in the wood shop, but he had brought home four A’s and one B so he had no real reason to complain. The holidays went by in a flurry of food and presents, all of which failed in comparison to the wonderful statue of himself.

His return to the house was a bit of a shock. It was late in the evening on New Year’s Day. People were all about the house, laughing and celebrating. He put his things upstairs and went to take a shower. When he was done he dressed and noted the time. It was about an hour before midnight. He glimpsed into Con’s room to see if he was there. He wasn’t. As he went downstairs he noticed several of the others milling about. He found Rafe in the kitchen emptying the cabinets.

“What’s going on?” asked Terry.

“Back are you,” he said with a quick look, “I suppose you’re next to last then.”

“Who are all these people?”

“Friends, I decided to have a little party.”

“Con isn’t going to be happy about it. He said that we should probably have a quiet evening at home for the first.”

“I don’t give a damn what that-----” He didn’t finish. At that moment Con came charging through the kitchen bellowing about the people being inside his house. He looked at Terry and then to Rafe.

“Terry, go join the others,” he said trying to subdue his anger. “I want a word with Rafe.” Con didn’t wait for Terry to leave; he grabbed Rafe and drug him to the back stairs. Terry grabbed some of the food and, spying Kat, went out to sit with her. Soon a drunk was raving about New Year’s Day coming twice a year. Then he realized it. In a few minutes everyone would be kissing someone. This couldn’t have worked better if he had planned it. She looked around trying to find someone else. It hurt his feelings in a small way. Still, in just a moment.

Three…two…one..

They kissed. It was short, but she lingered. He was in pure bliss. This was it. The moment he had been waiting for, for the past five years. The drunk was wallowing in the flowerbeds. She was furious and the moment was lost. Kat ordered Terry to remove the man and then stormed away. Terry took out his rage on the poor man as he ejected him from the premises. He had never been so consumed with anger before. It had happened so quickly. It was as if fate had somehow slipped up in putting them together and was quick to fix the situation. Terry ended the night standing under the stars desperately trying to regain the past. He could still feel her on his lips. Only a phantom touch though, he must put it out of his mind. He turned just in time to see a shadow in one of the rooms upstairs. Rafe’s room.

He returned to work with Mr. Roberts that week, desperately trying to forget about the fleeting events of that night. He couldn’t decide which was haunting him more, the slight feeling of lips against his or the dark specter staring down at him from Rafe’s room. He slipped more than once during his work that week, causing him to start over several times. But once again Rafe seemed to hold his tongue. The weeks turned into months and soon spring break was coming. On the Friday morning before the holiday, Terry was lounging in the den. His class had been dismissed and Mr. Roberts had already let him off for the holidays. Rafe came down the stairs still half-asleep. He looked in the den and didn’t seem to notice Terry. He turned and went into the kitchen undoubtedly for something to eat. Since his first encounter with Rafe, Terry had become very nervous around him. He knew that he wasn’t dealing with the calm and collective Con, but the extremely rash and temperamental lawyer. Rafe soon returned with a bowl of cereal. He sat and stared blankly at the television.

“Change the channel,” said Rafe.

“I’m watching this,” replied Terry as calmly as possible.

“And I don’t care, now change the bloody channel or I’ll put an announcement of you and the bitch’s wedding in the paper.”

He took it too far. Terry was on him in a minute slamming his fist down. Rafe was quick to bring the empty bowl up against Terry’s head, knocking him back. Rafe stood and knocked Terry’s legs from under him. He slammed Terry’s head into the coffee table. He stood back and raised his foot to kick Terry in the face, but thought better of it. “Next time, you better not do that. You might get hurt.” He stormed upstairs leaving Terry lying on the ground. By the time he felt fit to get up, Rafe had already left for his class. He wrenched himself back up onto the couch and though he desperately tried not to he soon fell asleep.

When he woke he only thought to find Con. He got up and stumbled to the small office. He opened the door and looked into the lamplit office. He did notice a small leather bound book lying in the center of the desk. The chair swiveled to face him and the deep eyes of Con looked up at him.

“Rafe, he attacked me,” Terry said spitting the words out like venom.

“No, I believe you did the attacking. Rafe just defended himself, uh, vigorously. Please sit, I doubt you need to be on your feet.”

Terry moved to sit in the chair to his right, but then he remembered about the book. He almost fell, but caught himself on the desk. “You kept the letter, you didn’t burn it.”

“Yes, I felt that I needed to review it a bit more. It seems in retrospect that I should have burnt it immediately. It would have saved you a great deal of pain no doubt.”

“Let me have it.”

“What would you do with it? Give it to her now? That’s ridiculous.”

“Why! Why is that so ridiculous? She kissed me, if it hadn’t been for that blasted drunk.”

“What you two would have fallen deeply in love because of an old tradition. That is highly unlikely.”

“What difference does it make to you? Why do you care so much?”

Con went dead silent. He stared intently across at his friend. Terry tried to return his gaze, but the immense throbbing in his head wasn’t helping.

“Take it then,” said the solemn figure from the chair, “read it.” He pointed to the book that lay before him.

Terry reached out for the book, but drew his hand back slowly. “What is in it?”

“Dreadful, terrible, things. Think about what you already know is in it. That is the gist of it.” He remained stone faced and stared intently up at Terry.

Terry tried to think. Rafe acted as if he would give anything to read this book, and now he was being offered the chance. It wasn’t like Con to be so open with his writings. Terry fell back into the chair. “I don’t want to imagine what is in that book. I figure I’ll know soon enough. If you really wanted me to read it you would hand it to me. You told me that once, that if somebody really wanted you to have something they would put it in your hands.” With those words Terry smiled and fell back into his deep sleep.

That night he learned of the engagement. He couldn’t have been happier for the couple. He was consumed with finding the right wedding present immediately. Rather, he was consumed with making the right wedding present for the couple. He was sitting at the round table drumming over his thoughts. He vaguely remembered the confrontation between himself and Con. How silly it seemed to him now. Whether or not he should read a book didn’t seem to matter much now. Then staring pointlessly down at the table, he realized it. That would be the perfect gift. He would have Cole’s name added to the table just above Finn’s. It would be difficult sneaking it around, but he could manage. He was delighted at his own cleverness.