"Grandma," Elena walks to her bedside and takes her hand. The old woman, Margaret is her maternal grandmother and she's dying. She suspects that's why she was summoned although she was making plans to come home anyway. In the dark room, even the ticking clock has an edgy feeling, as if it's a heart-beat at rest. To Elena it feels as if the air moves like cool water and the aroma of her grandma's scented candles infuses her far more deeply than it would in the light of day. In the twilight the fabrics are muted hues, as if they too await dawn to ignite their colors.
She gazes at the old woman before her. The lines on her face are deep and saggy. Still it's her litheness and articulate speech that resemble the echo of youth in someone so old. Sometimes she imagines pulling away the mask of age to see the person inside, the girl she was all those years ago. Then she realizes she doesn't have to. If she listens to her words and pays attention to her smile, to her eyes, she's still in there as much as she ever was.
"Sit down, Elena," she gestures at a chair with her head.
"Daddy said you wanted to talk to me."
"I did dear, I have a story to tell you about my brother, your great uncle John."
"Was uncle John named after him?"
"Yes," she nods and points to photo album laying on her lap. Turning the pages, she pulls out a photograph and hands it to Elena. Her mouth drops slightly at the uncanny resemblance between her uncle and her great uncle.
"It's almost eerie how much they look alike," Elena looks up.
"Have you ever heard the word doppelganger?"
"Yes, I've heard the word, I've just never seen proof of it till now," her eyes drop back to the photo.
"It was just us."
"I don't know that I've ever heard dad talk about his uncle John."
"After he died, I didn't talk about him for a long time. It was too painful to remember... I had young children to raise," her eyes drift to the window for a moment.
"Dad said you had something specific you wanted to talk to me about?"
"Yes, there is. You're a reporter, Elena. You have sources, you know people. The reason I asked you here is that I want you to go to Georgia and find out who really killed Logan Fell. What I want more than anything is to clear John's name before I die. I know this is asking a lot and it won't be easy. The murder was 40 years ago. I will give you money and whatever resources you need, just please say yes, it's very important to me."
"Okay, can you tell me what happened?"
"Why don't you go get us each a glass of sweet tea and then I'll tell you," Margaret smiles and pats Elena's hand. Nodding, she stands up, leans over the bed and gives the old woman a kiss before leaving the room to get their drinks. When she returns, her grandma's eyes are closed so Elena turns to carefully back out of the room, but stops when she hears her name.
"I'm not sleeping, I just closed my eyes for a moment, now give you grandma a glass of that delicious tea," she takes a long swallow when Elena hands it to her. "In that top drawer is a file, it contains everything I could find out about the murder, the parties involved, newspaper clippings, I want you to have it, maybe it'll help? But first let me tell you what happened, climb up here," she pats the bed next to her and scoots over to give her granddaughter some room. Elena smiles and hops on the high four-poster canopy bed. Taking her hand, Margaret gives it a squeeze then settles back into her pillows, closes her eyes and begins to tell John's story.
Parking his car, John pulls up to Webb's for a drink after a two week trip to Candletop. His ass hurts after the long drive so he stands, resting his elbows on the bar top. Just as he lifts the tumbler to his mouth, Logan Fell slides onto the stool beside him.
"Hello, John," he signals the bartender for another beer.
"Logan, what's up?"
"Sit down, I got some bad news... It won't be pleasant."
A little concerned, he stares at Logan for a few moments before taking a seat.
"I'm your best friend, it's my job to tell you the truth... always, no matter the fallout."
"What are you talking about?" he signals the bartender to refill his bourbon.
"You have no one to go home to. Your young bride isn't there," he pauses to take a long pull from his cigarette and lights John's. "Since you've been gone, she's been seeing Seth Amos."
John's face fills with rage and he slams his glass against the bar top, shattering it.
"Don'tcha lose your head or do something stupid... As long as we're being honest here, I have to tell you, I've been with her myself."
John reels back, landing a hard punch to Logan's jaw. He drops like a sack of potatoes. Pulling him to his feet, John hits him again and again, leaving his face bloodied and raw before stomping out of the bar to confront his wife.
Scared, Logan picks himself up, buys a 6 pack and leaves the bar to go home. His place isn't far away. Wiping the blood off his split lip and nose, he could kick himself, he doesn't have many friends to begin with and now he lost one.
When John gets home, Isobel is nowhere to be found. Thinking she must've left town, he digs through his drawers, finding the only thing his papa left him... a gun. With it firmly in his hand, he goes to Logan's house, creeping through the backwoods as quietly as possible so as not to alert his prey. He's surprised to find some footprints. Stooping down, he runs his finger through one, it's obvious that they're not Logan's, they're too small. Peaking through the front door, he sees his former friend lying on the floor in a puddle of blood. He starts to shake and backs out of the house.
The Georgia Patrol is making their rounds so John raises his arm and fires a shot in the air to flag them down. Soon a patrol car pulls up. A big bellied sheriff steps out and ambles over to him.
"Logan's dead." John says matter-of-factly, but too slow to be normal. When he speaks his voice trails sluggishly.
The lawman walks inside and gives the body a cursory glance then grabs the gun from John's hand. "Why'd ya do it?"
The trial was a sham, John didn't even get a chance to defend himself. The judge declared him "Guilty!" after the jury deliberated for no more than a half hour. Pandemonium erupted in the courtroom but the Judge simply didn't care. He whispered something to the sheriff, slapped him on the back like a good ole boy and left the courtroom.
"They hung my brother without giving him the opportunity to defend himself. They didn't know whose footprints John saw that night outside of Logan's house. As far as I know, they didn't even make any casts of them. His cheating wife Isobel vanished, she wasn't at the trial."
"That sounds like a giant miscarriage of justice," Elena remarks incredulously.
"I know my brother was innocent, he was the most gentle man I've ever known. I laid my hand on his casket and promised myself, Elena, that I would get him justice. It's not that I haven't tried, I even hired a private detective but he was a local guy and got nowhere. When I was younger, I had my children to raise, a husband, my own life, and as the years passed, less and less people remembered, no one really cared anymore except me. But now, I don't know how much time I have left and so it's taken on a new urgency. So I'm asking you to help me keep that promise," her grasp on the younger woman's hand tightens as a tear slips from her eye.
"Of course I'll help you grandma."
"Thank you sweetheart, in that drawer over there is John's file. There's also a bank account number and a credit card to finance your travels."
"I don't want to take your money," Elena protests, shaking her head.
"I can't expect you to bankrupt yourself for me. Please take it," she reaches for a Kleenex to wipe her eyes.
"Alright Grandma," she slips off the bed and opens the file box, pulling out the one labeled John Anders, her grandma's maiden name. "You have quite a bit here," she mentions, skimming through it.
"I've spent 40 years collecting that, Elena," she covers her mouth to yawn.
"You're tired?" Elena closes the file and steps beside the bed. "I'll let you take a nap, I'll dig into this and we'll talk later. Okay?"
"That sounds good dear…" her voice trails off and she can see the woman's already asleep.
Elena leans over, wispily kisses her cheek, blows out the candle and then tiptoes out, the file safely in her arms.
I hope you liked the first chapter. Eva and I are working very hard and writing everyday.
We don't know how to properly thank you all. We're constantly amazed, humbled and deeply grateful for your enthusiasm and support for this and our other stories.
Thank you Eva. She's the best writing partner ever.
Thank you to all of you. You're the best of the DE fandom.
Have a terrific day. We'll see you next time with chapter two.