Property of C. B. Conrad (cont'd, part 2)

"Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning." ~Winston Churchill 

     I looked the boy up and down, trying to determine what explanation would appropriate my presence in my grandmother's house when I hadn't spoken with her in so many years. His hair was light brown but the summer sun had streaked its bright rays through it, making parts look almost golden. His skin was tanned and his green eyes were shielded behind aviator sunglasses. He must have been close to six feet, if not a bit taller and he looked like he had played rugby for a time, having strong arms and broad shoulders.

     I tried desperately not to stumble over my words but all I could manage because my heart was pounding from excitement and fear was a shaky "Hi, I'm Liz Conrad, Charlotte's granddaughter."

      The boy removed his glasses and put them on top of his head. He eyed me questioningly, then stuck out his hand. "Alec," he said shortly.

     "Alec... who?" I inquired.

     "Lane," he said. "I was Charlie's care taker- house and health. I have a nursing degree as well as a vacuum cleaner."

     I chuckled and the boy put his glasses back on, turned and went back down the stairs.

     "Wait," I said, following him. "What are you still doing here? You know she died right"

     "No, I live under a rock," he said sarcastically. "Yeah, I know she died but she paid me through the end of the summer and I will be here helping the family take care of her stuff because that was the last thing she asked of me. Also, I'm contractually obligated."

     "How noble," I said. "So wait, how old are you?"

     "Just turned twenty-two, yourself?"

     "Eighteen."

     "It's a fun age," he told me. "Barely legal and all that."
     My heart jumped into my throat when he said that and I tried to figure out what he meant. Alec brushed into the parlor and poured himself a drink. He looked up at me and narrowed his eyes. 

     "I don't serve minors."

     "I wasn't going to ask."

     "Oh wait, you said your name is Liz right? Short for Elizabeth?"

     Now it was my turn to narrow my eyes. "Yes," I said slowly. "Why?"

     "Your Grandma Charlie left something for you. She left letters for a lot of people and was always writing in her last days. She wanted to make it up to people she had hurt and all but she left you something else. Wait here."

     Alec put his drink down on the wood table and ran upstairs. I stared at the glass dripping condensation onto the antique piece of furniture. Looking around, I found a coaster and put the glass on top of that instead of the beautiful furniture. I didn't know if he was just careless or simply had that much disregard.

     I heard his feet thunder back down the oak steps and he rounded the corner into the parlor with a journal in his hands. It looked old but the cover was beautiful and as I looked over the first page, my grandmothers cursive was the same as I had always remembered it, but I was not about to read it in front of this boy who was still eyeing me questionably. I knew whatever she had to tell me was something I should read in private because her words would move me to tears.

     "So are you going to her funeral tonight?" I asked Alec.

     "Figured it was more a family thing. Should I take it you're not going either?"

     I looked down at the ground in silence for a moment before answering, "I had planned on just hiding here the rest of summer but I think my dad still has a final say on that, especially if I'd be staying in the same house with some guy."

     "Guest house," he said. "I don't stay here. So if you wanna hide and throw ragers, smoke, I don't care- it's not my house. I have the lease until the end of August then I'm out."

     And for whatever reason, I was sold on staying here. It would take a lot more than my dad driving down here and hauling my sorry-behind home to make me leave, even if it meant getting cut off. It was only a few months, and I'm sure with my dad not being home all that much anyway, I could convince him to let me stay. There were so many secrets about my grandma that I wanted to uncover- like this one photo taped onto the inside cover of the journal. It was of a fountain in the yard and in red ink, she had written the word "here". I had no clue what it meant, but I'm sure reading the rest of the book would help me figure it out.

(to be continued)