Post by Adrienne Vance on Apr 28, 2015 22:53:53 GMT -8
Spring Brook had been a gift. An extremely generous gift. Mayor Latrobe had been so grateful for the years Amelia Black Vance had dedicated to his son's care and teaching that he felt obliged to bequeath the small plantation to her on her marriage. It had taken quite a bit of convincing for Marius Vance to accept the generous gift, but eventually it became the Vance family home and the birthplace of many of their children. Of course they couldn't live there forever; soon enough they had to relocate to avoid the suspicion of their neighbors. The family headed north to New York, staying together even though the boys were plenty old enough to be on their own. The plantation remained in their name, under the care of the Smith family.
It was Jasmine Smith that had texted Adrienne that night at the Grumpy Gator: Prodigal son. To anyone who read the text, it was simply a bible story, a fable. To Adrienne, it was a call to book the next available flight into Dulles International. From there she rented a small SUV to make the hour and a half drive to Somerset.
While Adrienne never grew up on the plantation like her brothers, it was still home. A staging point between moves, a designated rendezvous spot should the family separate unexpectedly, it was always there for her. Her family was always there.
Instead of pulling up to the house, Adrienne drove the SUV around the small pond on the property to a small graveyard. Surrounded by a low stone wall, the little cemetery contained nearly twenty headstones, chronicling the tragedies of the Vance family. It had been nearly thirty years since Adrienne came to pay a visit but the graveyard remained unchanged.
Except for a new addition of flowers at her mother's grave.
As Adrienne climbed out of the SUV, a small golf cart made its way down the hill and parked behind the rental. Driving it was a bronze-skinned woman in her mid-fifties, dressed in a plaid flannel shirt, jeans, and a pair of rain boots. Sitting beside her was a woman who surpassed the term ’elderly’ and bordered on ancient, her wrinkled skin even darker And covered in sun spots. The younger woman slid out of the cart and immediately gathered Adrienne into a hug.
“You made good time,” Jasmine said, letting go of her.
“I was able to catch the 12:30 flight,” Adrienne said with a shrug. “Was it actually him?” Her question was eager, both excited and fearful of the answer.
By this point the old woman had hobbled over to them, stooped so low over her cane that she barely came to Adrienne's elbow. “It was ’im all right,” she croaked. “I know dat jawline anywhere.”
“He also walked right through Nan’s barrier,” Jasmine pointed out, nodding toward the fresh flowers.
Adrienne's gaze followed Jasmine’s. “It isn't possible it's weakening, is it?” she asked. She wished she hadn't, since it earned her a rap of Nan’s cane against her shin.
“An’ when ’ave you seen dat ’appen?” Nan hissed. “Gone an’ blasted po’ Jose all da way to da pon’ las’ week when ’e tried t’pull out dat branch dat fell.”
Adrienne flinched at the thought. It was her father’s idea to have Nan perform a protective enchantment over the graveyard to avoid any unwanted tampering. For decades only those of Vance, Latrobe, and Smith blood could pass the small wooden gate without being forcibly ejected from the hollowed ground. Which meant that whoever was caught trespassing the previous evening was family.
“Did he say anything?” Adrienne asked.
Nan shook her head mournfully. “Not a t’ing,” she said. “I called to ’im, must’a spooked ’im somet’ing fierce. ’e shifted to somet’ing an’ was gone ’fore I could call Jasmine.”
Instead of wasting time with more questions, Adrienne shifted into a black Labrador and began sniffing around her mother's grave. She lingered particularly on the dogwood flowers, trying desperately to pick up a scent. Finally she found it, faint and somewhat different than she remembered, but no less telling. Joey was alive!
Adrienne threw her head back and howled, then continued to follow the scent out of the small graveyard and through the grounds, oblivious to whether or not Jasmine and her grandmother was following her. By the time she reached the main road, the scent grew faint and she eventually lost it. But she wouldn't give up. She would remain on the hunt and track her dearest brother until she collapsed with exhaustion if it came to it.
It was Jasmine Smith that had texted Adrienne that night at the Grumpy Gator: Prodigal son. To anyone who read the text, it was simply a bible story, a fable. To Adrienne, it was a call to book the next available flight into Dulles International. From there she rented a small SUV to make the hour and a half drive to Somerset.
While Adrienne never grew up on the plantation like her brothers, it was still home. A staging point between moves, a designated rendezvous spot should the family separate unexpectedly, it was always there for her. Her family was always there.
Instead of pulling up to the house, Adrienne drove the SUV around the small pond on the property to a small graveyard. Surrounded by a low stone wall, the little cemetery contained nearly twenty headstones, chronicling the tragedies of the Vance family. It had been nearly thirty years since Adrienne came to pay a visit but the graveyard remained unchanged.
Except for a new addition of flowers at her mother's grave.
As Adrienne climbed out of the SUV, a small golf cart made its way down the hill and parked behind the rental. Driving it was a bronze-skinned woman in her mid-fifties, dressed in a plaid flannel shirt, jeans, and a pair of rain boots. Sitting beside her was a woman who surpassed the term ’elderly’ and bordered on ancient, her wrinkled skin even darker And covered in sun spots. The younger woman slid out of the cart and immediately gathered Adrienne into a hug.
“You made good time,” Jasmine said, letting go of her.
“I was able to catch the 12:30 flight,” Adrienne said with a shrug. “Was it actually him?” Her question was eager, both excited and fearful of the answer.
By this point the old woman had hobbled over to them, stooped so low over her cane that she barely came to Adrienne's elbow. “It was ’im all right,” she croaked. “I know dat jawline anywhere.”
“He also walked right through Nan’s barrier,” Jasmine pointed out, nodding toward the fresh flowers.
Adrienne's gaze followed Jasmine’s. “It isn't possible it's weakening, is it?” she asked. She wished she hadn't, since it earned her a rap of Nan’s cane against her shin.
“An’ when ’ave you seen dat ’appen?” Nan hissed. “Gone an’ blasted po’ Jose all da way to da pon’ las’ week when ’e tried t’pull out dat branch dat fell.”
Adrienne flinched at the thought. It was her father’s idea to have Nan perform a protective enchantment over the graveyard to avoid any unwanted tampering. For decades only those of Vance, Latrobe, and Smith blood could pass the small wooden gate without being forcibly ejected from the hollowed ground. Which meant that whoever was caught trespassing the previous evening was family.
“Did he say anything?” Adrienne asked.
Nan shook her head mournfully. “Not a t’ing,” she said. “I called to ’im, must’a spooked ’im somet’ing fierce. ’e shifted to somet’ing an’ was gone ’fore I could call Jasmine.”
Instead of wasting time with more questions, Adrienne shifted into a black Labrador and began sniffing around her mother's grave. She lingered particularly on the dogwood flowers, trying desperately to pick up a scent. Finally she found it, faint and somewhat different than she remembered, but no less telling. Joey was alive!
Adrienne threw her head back and howled, then continued to follow the scent out of the small graveyard and through the grounds, oblivious to whether or not Jasmine and her grandmother was following her. By the time she reached the main road, the scent grew faint and she eventually lost it. But she wouldn't give up. She would remain on the hunt and track her dearest brother until she collapsed with exhaustion if it came to it.