Chapter 2 - THE STORY THEY BURIED
I had spent twelve years believing the fire was the worst thing that ever happened to my family.
Standing inside that church, I began to realize the fire might have only been the beginning.
“I don’t want to do this here.”
My voice sounded smaller than I wanted.
Margaret walked toward me.
“You don’t have to.”
My father stepped into the aisle.
“Exactly.”
He looked relieved.
“Claire is emotional.”
I turned toward him.
“Emotional?”
Mark’s expression tightened.
“You know what I mean.”
Unfortunately, I did.
For years, whenever I questioned something, I was emotional.
Whenever I objected, I was confused.
Whenever I remembered events differently from my parents, I was traumatized.
It was an effective way to make everyone stop listening.
Daniel apparently noticed.
“What happened after the fire?”
My mother answered before I could.
“Claire spent months in hospitals.”
“Fourteen months.”
Margaret corrected her.
Linda stared at Margaret.
“How would you know that?”
Margaret reached into the small green handbag beside her seat.
She removed a folded piece of paper.
“I recognized Claire’s name three months ago.”
My pulse changed.
Margaret looked at me.
“The Callahan Foundation supported the South Carolina Burn Recovery Center for almost twenty years.”
I knew the name immediately.
I had spent eight months there after leaving the hospital.
Margaret continued.
“I was reviewing archived beneficiary files for an anniversary project.”
She unfolded the page.
“And I found yours.”
My father’s face changed.
It happened quickly.
A tightening around his mouth.
A flicker in his eyes.
But I saw it.
Margaret saw it too.
“What exactly was in the file?”
I asked.
“Medical summaries.”
She hesitated.
“And financial records.”
My father stepped forward.
“Those records are confidential.”
Margaret looked at him.
“That is an interesting thing to be concerned about.”
Daniel moved between them.
“Mom, what financial records?”
Margaret handed the page to him.
“The foundation contributed eighty-four thousand dollars toward Claire’s rehabilitation after her family requested hardship assistance.”
I stared at her.
“That can’t be right.”
Margaret looked at me.
“Why?”
“Because my parents received an insurance settlement.”
Nobody spoke.
I continued.
“It was supposed to cover my treatment.”
Margaret’s expression changed.
“How much?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
My mother whispered,
“Claire.”
I looked at her.
“How much?”
She lowered her eyes.
My father answered.
“That is ancient history.”
Margaret’s voice hardened.
“No.”
She pointed at my wheelchair.
“Ancient history is dead.”
Her eyes moved toward my father.
“The consequences are sitting in front of you.”
Emily suddenly threw her bouquet onto a pew.
“This is insane.”
Daniel turned.
“Did you know about any of this?”
“No.”
“Did you know Claire saved you?”
Emily hesitated.
That hesitation destroyed whatever answer she planned to give.
Daniel stared at her.
“You knew.”
“I was ten.”
“You are twenty-two now.”
Tears appeared in her eyes.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it.”
Emily looked at me.
There was something almost desperate in her expression now.
“Claire knows why we don’t talk about that night.”
I felt cold.
“What are you talking about?”
My mother whispered,
“Emily, stop.”
But Emily didn’t stop.
She looked directly at me.
“Tell them what happened before the fire started.”
My heart began pounding.
“I was downstairs.”
Emily shook her head.
“No.”
I stared at her.
She swallowed.
“You were upstairs.”
May you like
And in one sentence, my sister placed a memory into my past that I did not recognize.
---
