The Lockhart mystery

Chapter Five: Blood Is Remembrance.

 “How was first day at school?” my dad asked the second I had gotten home.

“Perfect, dad.” I answered, honest to the bone, because over all it really was perfect. Everything seemed perfect, just for a moment up there at Shaulene's, that I believed nothing would matter anymore.

“Really?” he turned on his sofa to smile at me. I was struggling to take my boots off.

“I met some really nice people and one of them told me to call them my friends, and everything went smoothly, so I guess everything is perfect.” I flashed him a smile of gratitude, because in the end it was thanks to my parents I had met these enigmatic friends, before I ran upstairs to get into some more comfortable clothes. I came to the living room in my sweater and shorts, relaxing myself on the single chair we had that was soft to sit on.

“Where's mom?”

Dad looked up from his book and his glasses slid down to the end of his nose before he saved them and pushed upwards.

“At Evelyn's, I guess.”

“How come I have never met grandma?”

Dad did not look up from his book this time. “The timing was never right.”

“Does she live far from here?” I stood up and then he was looking at me as if I had gone mad.

“No.”

“Then tell me where she lives. I'm sure I can get there safely.”

Dad sighed and I knew I was pushing his button because me wanting to visit my mysterious grandma was suddenly a nuisance. I crossed my arms.

“I haven't bothered you with questions of why we had to move. Least you could do is tell me where the woman who had given birth to you lives.”

Dad caved in and I hurriedly put some pants on before I went out the door. I had read some maps on the way here so I would not get lost, not that I usually wander around and get lost, but it was just in case. I was wise to do that because I had no problem finding the beat down yellow house at the end of our street, mere ten minutes away from our own house. Grandma Evelyn's house did not look any different from the other houses.

I knocked three times and when I saw my mother opening I had somehow forgotten my mother was there, so I almost asked 'Grandma, why do you look just like my mother?' but realization hit me quickly enough so I bit the words back.

“Cathen!” my mother gasped and then, she looked around. Yes, looked around as if there was a danger of me standing there, and she did not want anyone to see.

“Mom.” I addressed her. “May I say hi to my grandmother?”

My mother looked at me gravely. “Why, yes, but you should have called.”

Everything seemed very suspicious by that point, but so was the whole moving thing, so I shrugged it away and forced myself in.

The house on the inside was neat. Mahogany or some sort of dark wood dominated the space. I liked the earthly feeling, the plants that were randomly put everywhere, the curtains on the doors with those flimsy fabrics that are always a joy to touch, the low lights, the small aroma of tea and the jazz in the background. I really liked the house. I really liked the music, and the smell, and oh, the wood. I loved wood.

“Where's grandmother?” I asked and my mother led me further in to the house. We ended up in a dining room with a low table and even lower seats. Forget chairs, grandmother was sitting in one of the many pillow-like seats.

She looked up at me, her shimmery blue eyes met mine. I was taken back by her youthful expression, her rich light hair running down her back, and her clothes based on a tunic and those baggy pants. Grandmother seemed very healthy. She even stood then. Her feet did not seem to ache so I glanced at my mother quickly for a glance of annoyance, but she only looked away and left.