Chapter 45: Of Memories Lost and Made
Johnstown, Pennsylvania
June 1889
Corpses. Lifeless things. Pale. And cold.
Until then, the morning mist had wrapped the gruesome sights beneath its haze like a blanket. But when the sun emerged beyond the hills, the images were left naked for the eyes to behold. Yet another day in history chronicled how the selfishness of a few crooked men could lay waste to hundreds of innocent lives. Little cottages brought down, children wailing for their mothers, mothers mourning for their children- it was no less than a battlefront with the combats ceased. After all, the dams would never have submitted to the reigns of chaos and anarchy. But the influence of the rich was too powerful to resist, and they never once fretted about the feeble lives living underneath their citadels.
But no, they would still walk free. The rich neither had a penalty for the crime nor held the least of repentance. The lifeless forms could no longer be of protest, and their voices will never rise again. The lands were left barren to take over, and no hands would ever rise to prevent them. Their visions began here, but no one will ever know how many dreams laid six feet beneath, never to come true.
It was not that Frank Birchard Kincade had not seen deaths before. He had seen far more horrendous and terrifying seas of lifeless frames, but somehow, this particular day felt different. The clouds were constantly competing with the sun, striving to shield it from the horrors of humankind. The water had seeped down back into the streams, but the marshy terrains clung on to one's feet as if threatening to drag them into their darkness. The daybreak seemed like twilight, and the downpour waited, aching to uncover its grief over this forsaken land.
Frank stood there, feeling more and more hopeless every moment in finding another soul alive. His crew was the closest to the incident, and being trained for something contrary was not enough of a reason to keep them away. Lives needed saving, but they all purposefully forgot that they could have saved them when they were alive.
But Frank was feeling weaker the longer he stood. His eyes blinked faster; his breath felt louder; his knees felt heavier. He had questions that needed answering, but then, he could not recall the questions. He had tasks left to do, but then, he could not recount his instincts. He felt a void growing heavier and darker within his mind. Suddenly, a single puzzle arose in his mind, sweeping everything else off like a whirlwind, "Where am I?"
Frank glanced around, but he could not recollect where he was or how he arrived there. The uncertainty tore him apart from the insides. The wails of the children seemed to reverberate within the chambers of his mind. He sealed his ears with his palms, but the voices prevailed. The eyes of the dead pierced right into his soul and invaded his memories like a plague. How did I reach here? Where is this place? What happened to all these people?
"Captain! Captain, are you alright?" The voice took Frank back to his reality if there ever was one. Captain? He was gradually able to recollect bits of his past that were caught in the mist. Am I losing my memories like my mother? But he soon realised that he could not even remember her face.
Galena, Illinois
December 1889
"Seems like everyone wants a piece of this chap." William uttered as he abandoned the newspaper back on the couch. Cora had previously scanned through the articles that morning. Nearly all the states had raised demands for the remains of their late President, Jefferson Davis. She held neither love nor hatred towards that man, but she could not fathom why they were all so compulsive to have his remains.
"Cora, there is something in my mind. It might sound absurd, but it hurts me not to ask." Since the two was alone on the couch for what seemed like an eternity, Cora had no idea what her uncle yearned to know. They never shared such a close bond, but she could not even imagine making them upset on their visit after such a long time. And she had absolutely no idea where her brothers were in the midst of all this. And unsurprisingly, her husband was missing as well.
"Ask away, Uncle William. Why would you even hesitate?" Cora ensured that her grin covered most of her face and attempted her best not to make it feel artificial. Though she found her grin was quite reassuring, her uncle gazed away for a moment as if pondering how to present his dilemma in the best way he could, "What does the S stand for? Harry What Truman?"
Though she had no specific answer to the question, Cora felt relieved that the response was not something that she had to develop from scratch. It was not the first time she encountered this inquiry, but she did remember that she never could provide a satisfying reply until then, "Oh, it's complicated." Cora let out a little giggle before commencing her little monologue, "John fancied his middle name to be Schipp like his father. But I really coveted it to be Solomon."
"But who is Solomon?" Although Cora did notice that question approaching from a distance, somehow, she could never convince anyone with her justifications. How could she possibly say that she loved that name so much that she aspired her husband to be of that name? And when that ended up different, she ensured that her son will be of that name, but John's parents were so desperate to name him Harry. All I am asking is for, at least, a middle name. Don't I deserve that? I am his mother.
But none of her outcries made it out of her mind, and her uncle remained in his uncertain posture. In the end, Cora gave up seeking to obtain a more plausible reason and chose to let out what she felt, "I really love that name." But before William could laugh out loud or fill the upcoming silence, she went on to describe the rest of the events, "But John and I ended up disagreeing, and it was so difficult to find common ground. So,"
From his face, it was evident that William was not impressed- not in the least- with her defence. But he did succeed in concealing his laughter and presented her with a much comforting response, "That's great! You are leaving him the privilege of choosing his own identity! He can name himself anything he wants with a S, like,"
"Shit!" It was John who proclaimed the wrong thing at the wrong time right then. He appeared at the doorway, drenched, "I am sorry. It was Harry. He made a bit of a mess." John must be feeling embarrassed from every single thing that is going on, Cora chuckled. But she never skipped her duties as a partner, though her health was not at its very best. Yes, it had been a month since Harry came out to the world, but the causes of her sickness were not solely physical.
Cora rose up from the couch, ready to take her turn in managing the infant. But before she could make it all the way to her room, inaudibly mocking her husband with her cutest gestures, her beloved uncle stood up to the cause, "Cora, you deserve a rest. I can handle one of these. I have a fair share of experience." William winked, assuring his niece that he was capable of the task.
As the two left their separate ways, Cora, once again, found herself all alone in a house that brimmed with people. The loneliness shook her every once in a while. Spending a whole forenoon on the couch beside her uncle with little to no talking helped her preserve her sanity, but the moment no one was around, Cora discovered herself beneath the dark clouds again. Ever since Harry's birth, the clouds pursued her like prey.
At times, Cora wondered why she held no intimacy with her son as any mother should. Even when she attempted to stay closer to him, she sensed a distance from her lifeblood. John might have discerned that from the beginning. He regularly found more time with his son whenever he caught Cora lost in her thoughts. She was unaware of anything that transpired around her.
As Cora made her way upstairs, she could still hear the heavy rain pattering against the weak ceiling. She needed some space, or so she believed. Cora hopelessly wanted someone to hold on to, but something told her that it was absurd, even though she was surrounded by souls who sincerely cared about her. But when she arrived at the garden on the terrace to take in a splendid view of the downpour, she noticed something way more beautiful.
Cora could see, at the other end, her mother and adopted brother sharing a tranquil moment. The two relaxed there, watching the rain- Jeremy on the rug with his mother conveniently lying back on her wooden chair. He was not even her real son, yet, he was always there for Azalea when she needed a shoulder. He dropped his Masters in Science solely because he knew his mother would feel alone with the loss of her husband. He deserved her more than any of them did.
"He does a better job than the both of us, doesn't he?" Cora was startled by the voice behind her. In such a climate when the lunchtime resembled a dreary night, her fears were not misplaced. The blues of the hanging clouds blended right in with the greens of nature- the sight beyond them was as artistic as someone could ask for. But none of it hindered her from being brought back to reality with a jumpscare from her twisted sibling, "A thousand times have I told you not to, and yet, you never change." Cora embraced her elder brother in a tight hug that prolonged forever. She could feel the void inside her shrinking the longer she squished her brother within her arms.
"Hasn't Randy returned from the stores yet?" Charles stretched himself out of the hug since there was no other way it could have come to an end. He must have very well known that Randolph might not have carried an umbrella with him and might have been waiting somewhere for the rains to come to a halt. And though she realised, Cora returned him with the exact response that he had on his mind. They stood there by the window, ensuring that their sounds never bothered the ones on the terrace.
It was only later that Cora noticed Uncle William and her husband involved in a conversation near the entrance. Storms had a peculiar way of bringing people together. John had reacquired his authority over Harry. He held him in his arms, patting his back in a way that would even shove the viewers to sleep. "What do you think those two are doing down below?" Cora asked her brother, breaking the momentary silence between them.
"Ah, it gives me enough reasons to believe that your uncle is assessing your husband." Charles replied with a giggle, impressed by his own retort. And Cora kept no reluctance at the moment to admit that his joke was not that poor, unlike their usual sibling melodrama, "Ooh, what do you think happens if he fails?" She returned with a playful smirk, one that she had not worn for a while.
"I don't know. Are you satisfied with your married life, Ms Cora? Because if you aren't, I could totally use an extra hand with chores." Charles' raised eyebrows and convincing posture precisely represented what he intended to do, and Cora was not a fool not to realise it. He had done the same ever since she could remember, and Cora was not planning to fall for his trick this time around, "Chores? I am sincerely satisfied with his care!"
The two burst out into laughter that drowned in the loudness of the rain, but the growing graveness that occupied her brother's features was something he failed to conceal, "Are you, Cora," Charles waited for a moment before proceeding, "satisfied with his care?" Having seen her brother for years on end, Cora knew in an instant that he was not joking around anymore. Did he notice what I am feeling too? But this was never about John. Even I am unable to understand what this is about.
"I am. John understands. And he loves me. Like a lot!" Cora beamed at her elder brother, and soon enough, she could perceive that he was still concerned about her. She wanted to make him feel better as much as she desired to open up, but she was still uncertain what was altered within her, "You know, if it wasn't for the rains, I would have loved to visit all our old places." She gazed away into the woods, memorising all the fun times they had together with Jeremy.
"I don't see why we still cannot." Cora had detected that tone in her brother's voice before, and it never ended up good for the siblings. But when she returned her glance towards him, she was already assured that the end of the day would be rather memorable, "You really are the worst brother." Together, they sneaked off through the kitchen doors, and sure, they required no umbrellas anymore.
Lander, Wyoming
July 1890
The storms never came to a halt that day, and the Kincades were equally turmoiled in their insides. Another Brimford will walk the Earth in no less than an hour, and the entire family anxiously anticipated the arrival of Arthur Jr. The pangs Fiona had passed through that day had no boundaries that even Arthur felt a bit abashed of his childish desperation. If it was not for his longing for a younger variant of himself, Fiona would not have to go through all these again. But again, no one could swim against the tides of time, and the greater purpose of a new life acquitted his mind off the guilt for then.
Soon, they heard footsteps from the space where Fiona was taken into. The clinic, though the single one in the region, never possessed an overflowing crowd. And in the middle of the night, the family was fortunate to find a physician down there. But when the female doctor in her whites emerged from the doorway, it gave birth to a second of excitement followed closely by a hush of anticipation, "It's a beautiful baby girl."
But the adorable chuckle of the gentlewoman was undermined by the tremendous roar of an aching father, "What?!" And hence, Arthur Brimford possibly declared the worst statement a father could likely deliver upon the most delightful moment of childbirth. No matter how many times Chadlynn replayed the incident in her mind, the end always made her laugh out loud wherever she was. History always tends to repeat itself, she thought to herself, recalling back to her time of birth.
"My dear cousin, are you losing your mind?" It was Fiona who appeared by the door, her entire frame leaning against the wall. It had been a few minutes since Chadlynn escaped the kitchenette, affirming Fiona of her immediate return. But here she was, laughing her brains out on the front porch with no apparent reason, "I am sure there must be a logical explanation behind that hysterical laughter, and I am more than willing to lend my ears for that." Fiona proceeded, a slight sneer then occupying her features.
However, before Fiona could sit down for once on that tiresome day, the latest entry in their family commenced her celebrations with a piercing shriek. They had all came to an agreement at the last supper that Little Artemis might be their fiercest symbol of girl power in their family, solely based on her determined outcries, "Sometimes, I just want to throw that little woman against a wall." Fiona winked, preparing for the conflict she was about to endure.
Dinners were often the times when the family embraced their love for each other. Their conversations would vary anywhere from the shallow neighbourhood gossips to enormous political controversies and philosophical confrontations. Chadlynn still remembered last night when the topics began with Artie's clamours to even the freshest Sherman Anti-Trust Act. None of them even had an actual comprehension of the subject, but the possibilities they went on to discuss seemed endless.
If Arthur and Sam returned home from their evening stroll along with all the little ones, they could have had their dinner by then. But again, Chadlynn suspected that it might have been their laziness to partake in the dinner preparations that made them late. These irresponsible men, she let out a big sigh just before she noticed her mother on the other end of their yard.
Chadlynn rose up from her father's old armchair and walked up to Etta. Her mother seemed to watch the sunset from the exterior, but Chadlynn very well knew when she looked like that- Something is troubling her mind, "I hate to break it to you, mother. But if you are staring to prevent the sun from going beneath the horizon, you probably won't be able to do that."
Etta gave out a little laughter, but Chadlynn knew that laugh very well too. "In a way, I am, Lynnie." Etta spoke after a while, "My life is approaching its sunset too." Chadlynn could see her smile, but every time she saw that smile on her mother's face, she knew that the forthcoming words could be hurtful. "And you are right. I can't stop the sun from going down its path, but if I could, I would love to revisit the best parts of the day once again."
Etta then looked at her daughter in the eyes. She told her everything she wanted to without telling her anything she prepared to. Chadlynn knew that her mother was not requesting her permission but rather letting her know her intentions. She was like the sunset- neither the words she could say nor the actions she could take would hinder her mother from going down the path. She was the most resolved lady that Chadlynn had ever come across in her life, "But mother, you are in no condition. Are you sure about this?"
Chadlynn knew her words were only worth a try, but it would have hurt her not to ask that one last time. Etta looked beautiful even at the dawn of her life; the evening sun seemed to enhance her youthfulness. The mother placed her hands below her daughter's ears, shoving her free strands of hair behind them. Etta came closer until their foreheads met each other, "You are a grown woman now. It's time to let me go. I have given you everything I can, and that part of me will always live through you. I will always be proud of you, my little fairy queen."
Chadlynn propelled herself tighter into her mother's arms, feeling her warmth as much as she could. Tears never ceased caressing her cheeks, but her arms clung around her mother like a toddler. She was never ready to let go of her, no matter how old she grew up to be. And now that she had to, she was not intending to regret any of the last moments she could spend with her. The two agreed on keeping this a secret and retired to the comfort of their home for one last supper.