Chapter One - The Father
The rain came down in sheets as we watched the casket that encased our mother being lowered into the ground. I felt my father's hand rest on my shoulder, slowly tightening around it until it became unbearably painful. Wincing I looked up into his face, a face I had never seen before.
"Let's go," he said gruffly turning us towards a waiting car. We slid into the backseat, exchanging worried glances.
"Buckle up," he commanded, doing so at once. The first thing I had noticed was that he was inexplicably neat. His hair was perfectly straight and his face held not one wrinkle. I had noticed instantly that both Jake and I had inherited his blue eyes but beyond that our features were that of our mother's.
"Did you hear me Meagan?"
"Yes sir," I said quietly, quickly fumbling for the buckle.
He sat there for minutes, his hands on the wheel, staring out at the sheets of rain pounding down upon the windshield. Jake let out a quiet cough of nervousness. I felt his hand grab mine, something he hadn't done for years but it was a comfort and I squeezed his fingers to tell him so.
"We need to get some things straight," our father paused, licking his lips nervously. "I am sure you are not aware of the fact that I am currently married and the father of five year old twins. You need to know that they are and will continue to be the most important people in my life. The death of your mother has come at a very…inopportune time but I am willing to make the most out of the unfortunate circumstances."
I couldn't help but flinch as he slowly looked back on us. The way he made it sound it was almost as if we were nothing but an inconvenience. Where was the support? The love?
"Uhm," he let out a Jake-like cough. "Meagan how old are you?"
Had I heard correctly? Did he not know how old I was?
"You don't know?"
I watched his jaw tighten and only then did I see tiny lines appear around his eyes almost as if it pained him to think of such a thing.
"I believe my question was asked first."
"Thirteen," I mumbled, looking down.
"What about you J---"
"You didn't answer her question."
I glanced quickly over at Jake. His face was tense, his hold on my hand becoming tighter with anger.
"No," a chilly pause filled the car. "I do not remember how old either of you are. It has been a long time. Your mother and I ended all contact right after Meagan was born. But, since Meagan is thirteen I assume you are fourteen, if my memory serves me right. Am I correct?"
"Yes."
"Very well."
Without another word the engine was sparked to life and as we rolled away Jake and I turned, watching the grave site disappear from view. Tears spilled down my cheeks to think of our mother, our protector, being gone. I could tell Jake shared my sentiment because he jabbed me in the side with his free hand, his way of showing affection.
I was never more grateful for him than at that very moment.