my words
jalangrey...
- griffith, in 46319
- 28Sep2002 1:44 PM
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#III/VIII
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HILLARY’S TREE
As the morning sun rose on the autumn mown greens of the Lancaster Arms Country Club, Hillary sat, overlooking her children at play, in the shadows of the old oak tree in her backyard. This tree was special to Hillary, and the fact that her children seemed protected by its shadows, touched her greatly. Her father had planted the tree when she was born and it had grown up with her. Hillary’s only wish in life was for her children to feel the warmth and strength of her old tree. Sadly, she was given her chance, when her parents were killed in a violently horrific, head-on collision, at the hands of a drunken driver.
The tree looked sad, sadder than ever, this year and for Hillary, this was very troubling. It was on the day that she lost her parents that she had stood, at this exact time of year, fourteen years ago, as the call came. She had looked up at the tree and noticed its sadness. For Hillary, this was a sign of an event that had not yet happened. She knew that whatever event might occur, it would affect her greatly, just as it had those few years ago.
It was the morning sometime in October, as Dr. and Mrs. James D. Fallon set out for their morning drive to the old restaurant down the road from their modest looking, fourteen room home, which overlooked a grassy but barren 4oo acres of land. They were, at the time, the only people to live at this location, with the exception of their sixteen-year-old daughter, Hillary. It was this morning that the young girl had decided to tell her parents about that which was less than nine months away. But sadly, she woke up late and seeing as her school was between sessions, her parents had let her over sleep. To Hillary’s dismay, she had missed her parents and would now be forced to tell her news upon their return. This did trouble her some, but she had gathered her strength and would be ready. She walked to the back patio and stood looking at her tree. It was her tree and there, hanging from a lower branch, was her swing. She pictured herself, swinging as her mother pushed. It was there that they had talked about the typical “girl” things in Hillary’s life. She had decided that this should be the place that she tells her mother about the baby, that she would soon have.
As Hillary gazed out upon the green grass of the adjacent property, she could almost see herself playing with her daughter or son as her parents had played with her. She was so distracted that she almost didn’t hear the phone ringing.
“Hello”, said Hillary, waiting with sheer disgust, for this caller had distracted her from her vision. “Is this the residence of Dr. and Mrs. James D. Fallon?”
“Yes, but the doctor is not in at the moment.” After a long pause and Hillary’s repetition of her earlier greeting, the man’s voice on the other end of the phone, continued. “…Uh yes, this is…I mean is this the daughter of…” “Who is this?” asked Hillary in an overly annoyed voice. “I’m sorry”, continued the man, “this is Sergeant Willis of the
Lancaster County police, I was calling for the daughter of the doctor, is this her, please?” Hillary paused for a moment and thought to herself, searching for a reason for this call, and said, “yes, this is Hillary!” “Miss Fallon, I am very sorry to tell you this, but an officer is or rather should be there soon to bring you to the station…” “Why,” interrupted Hillary, “tell me why!” “yes ma’am, it’s your parents, they have been killed in an accident on old route 52, about one half hour ago, and we need you to officially identify the bodies…ma’am, I hear the door bell, that would be my officer.” In her amazement, Hillary had all but ignored the door, which had been ringing for some time. She hung up the phone and stepped toward the door and fainted.
When Hillary came to, she was in an unfamiliar location and things were somewhat blurry. She began to look around and noticed as she began to see things more clearly, that she was inside a room with two windows and she was seated in a chair at a table for four. The door directly across from her opened and in walked a man who identified himself as Sergeant Willis. “Are you alright, sweetheart, you gave us quite a scare?” At that moment, Hillary began to cry. It was for the most part, because she had remembered why she is where she is and quite possible because her father had, for her whole life called her sweetheart. She jumped to her feet and with broken voice and tear filled eyes, screamed, “my parents are dead, oh my god, no…” the Sergeant tried to comfort her and she once again fell to the ground. The Sergeant opened the door and called for help, but Hillary stopped him and said, “wait, I am alright, but I am alone now, and I am pregnant.” The Sergeant stood there in disbelief, as he could not believe that someone so young could be in such a state.
So, as Hillary stood these many years later, in the same place in the home of her deceased parents, overlooking what once was the grassy but barren 400 acres, now a golf course, she began to cry as she starred at her old friend, the old oak tree of her youth. She wanted to run out and hug her children, and as she stepped forward to descend the stairs, the phone rang. Hillary just stopped and smiled. She knew that whatever might happen now, she would handle with her strength and love from the protection of her old friend.
The end! 10122000
© 2000 GreyShortsandStories by J. Alan Grey. All Rights Reserved.
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