The Country Cabin part two of two
Posted: Wednesday, April 22, 2009
by Nila Smith
Fact and Fiction
Sydney always considered herself to be closer to her father than her mother. The two shared more common interests, saw life as an adventure to be enjoyed rather than an entitlement to be endured.
Her mother, raised in wealth, stoic in nature, and sophisticated in the ways of the world, had been drawn to a man who was out of her league, beneath her so to speak.
First of all, she had grown to love this person who was nothing like her papa. Secondly he had grown to love her, and had proven that he was willing to do whatever it took to keep her in his life.
Then, when she had in an act of defiance announced to papa that she loved this country bumpkin and intended to marry him, her papa had blessed the union, and took her new fiance under his wing, giving him a job in the company, buying them a lovely large home in the suburbs, and financing a wedding that would be the envy of the entire city for years to come.
And, Sydney 's father had accepted the blessing, taken the job, and moved into the home, knowing these were the things that would keep his young bride happy.
When the plane landed in Chicago that first day after her fathers passing, Sydney hailed a cab and went straight to her mother.
As she entered the large home that her granddad had bought for them, she knew she'd find her mother in the sitting room, in proper mourning attire.
She sat, dressed in black and clasping a snow white hanky, in a large wing back chair, while others coddled her and catered to her, bringing her hot tea and crackers to calm her edgy nerves.
With the hanky in her well manicured diamond clad hand, she dabbed daintily at her tear welled eyes.
It was exactly what Sydney expected, until the moment that her mother realized she had entered the room. At that point the dainty tears turned to wails of grief, and she rose and nearly ran to grab hold of her daughter, embracing her so tightly that Sydney felt the breath leaving her body with no ability to return.
As they hung on to one another, their tears mingling on each other's shoulders, Sydney was awakened to the thought, for perhaps the first time in her life, that her parents truly did love one another, in spite of their differences.
Her mothers mourning was real, there was no act involved in the shuddering of her grief stricken body. As the moments passed like hours, Sydney felt something for her mother that she had never felt before, a bond, closeness, and oneness of heart and soul.
It moved her, and soon her tears were not only for the loss of her father, but also for the finding of her mother.
Her emotions were mixed as she grieved and rejoiced in one breath.
But the moment passed, not to return again. As her mother resumed her stoic demeanor, she carried herself back to the wingback chair, and once again began dapping away her little tears.
In the days that passed, Sydney felt as though she were on a stage, a sideline character in a finely choreographed play.
A friend of her mothers arrived with an array of black garments in Sydney's size, an order from her mother on the sly, demanding that Sydney be properly attired, and act the part of a mourning daughter.
Donned in black heals, black stockings, and black dress, she too sat in the room with her mother, holding a delicate snow white hanky as those who chose to pay their respect came and went.
As she watched her mother dabbing at tiny tears that were no longer there, Sydney saw that her mother had hardened herself into the person that this society demanded. She also realized that she was playing the part along with her mother, just as her father had for so many years.
There were no more poignant moments between Sydney and her mother, no moments of total release save for the hours before dawn, when Sydney would rise from her bed, look out the window at the rising sun, and wish for the safe harbor of the cabin.
In those moments she mourned alone, tears flowing down her cheeks, as she wished he had waited to the end of one last summer to leave her.
In the days that followed the funeral there was much to be attended to.
With her mother's papa long being deceased, and Sydney being an only child and wanting no part of it, or having no experience in it, the future of the company was at jeopardy. There was a board of director's to answer to, a new CEO to hire, lawyers by the troves to deal with and talk to, a will to be read, and in the end some property to be disposed of.
When the will was read, her mother was found to be the owner of all things including the cabin. Sydney felt it was just that her mother should be left taken care of as she had never been on her own, and had no means of supporting herself, while Sydney on the other hand had a career and a healthy income.
However, she did wish that father had given her the cabin.
As they rode away from the attorney's office that day, she asked her mother what she would do with the cabin, and her answer was as expected; "sell it, although I can't imagine who would buy such a place, so far removed from the world. I don't really care what I get out of it though, so perhaps someone will pay a few dollars for it as a camping ground or something."
Without a blink, Sydney said; "I'll buy it, name your price, I'll pay it."
Her mother laughed out loud, as she chided; "and what will you do with it? You live in New York; in one of the finest penthouses your fathers' money could buy I might add. That was where he wanted you dear, believe me, you wouldn't be there had he not."
"No mother, that was not where he wanted me, it was where he knew I had to be if I were going to succeed, just as the stone mansion you now live in is where he knew you needed to be if you were going to remain his wife. Had he lived life for himself, he would have lived in that cabin, and been very content there, and I will be as well."
"That is hardly a fair statement, your father loved our home in the city, and anyway it is beside the point. What about your career, you work for a magazine that sends you traipsing all over the earth, how are you going to keep that job when you are living in the woods in a hillbilly shack?"
"Living in the woods in a hillbilly shack as you call it, is not going to keep me from doing my job. If I am valuable to the magazine, they won't care where I live as long as I am on the job when they call me. If my work is not that important to them, then I'll go back to freelancing. I have a strong resume and I don't think I'll have any trouble supporting myself."
Her mother had sighed heavily; "I'm not going to sell you the cabin. If you want it you can have it, it means nothing to me one way or the other."
So it was that now two weeks after the death of her father, Sydney sat in front of the huge fireplace, watching the flames flicker as his memory filled her thoughts and took over a special place in her heart that would never be filled by anything other than him.
The cabin had been built to endure all things, and now as she sat in the warm glow of the fire a raging wind outside blew snow across the top of the hill. It whistled around the corners of the cabin in an eerie sound that Sydney had never heard before.
As a family, they never came to the cabin in the winter time, even though it was built to sustain them in the cold, Sydney 's schooling and her mothers social demands had always been given precedence at this time of year.
Sydney thought about how her father would have enjoyed the coziness of the room this night, with the angry wind outside and the flickering fire inside.
As she sipped on a large mug of coffee and watched the flames, she could feel him in the room with her. Her nose caught an imagined scent of cherry tobacco drifting to her in short buffs from the corn cob pipe.
As the wind swirled violently around the cabin, Sydney heard a banging at the door. It was fierce with demand, someone outside longing to enter into her safe sanctuary.
As she rose and scurried to answer the call she wondered who could be knocking. Who would traverse this weather to call on her?
When she opened the door, there was no disguising the shock that coursed through her as she saw it was her mother standing there.
She literally fell into Sydneys arms, sobbing out loud "I can't find him, he isn't there! I've searched every corner of that house, I look for pieces of him, and I find nothing, nothing that tells me he was ever there, ever a part of my life. Oh God Sydney, how I miss him, how I want to find a piece of him to hang on to!"
With tears coursing down her own cheeks, Sydney grasped her mother tightly, soothing and assuring her. And a moment that had passed weeks ago, now returned in full bloom. Yes her mother had loved her father in spite of herself.
And as she led her into the room, to face the warmth of the huge fireplace that her father had lovingly built, Sydney whispered in a broken and emotional voice, "don't cry mother, he's here. He's been here all along, waiting for you to love this place as much as he loved you."
"Love never stops being patient,
never stops believing, never stops hoping,
never gives up.
Love never comes to an end. "
1st Corinthians 13:7-8a
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Top-level comments on this article: (5 total)Good story, Nila. The first part could have stood alone but I like how you have finished Sydney's family's story.Thnak-you so much for your kind words.
Wow, what a tear jerker! Very deep and meaningful. Great job!Thanks so much for the wonderful comments!
Great story. Well done.What a way to finish. I look forward to reading more from you.Thank-you so much!I do plan to write more, but I have to be careful that my writing for SW doesn't interfer with my "real job".I usualy get insipration for articles at work. Though I like to think I do a good job at work too.
Nila, very gripping. I was very angry with this mother!! And I was grateful she broke and came to the realization that appearances mean nothing and without love, the big mansion was a cold, dark cave. Well done! I want more of your imagination! I am going to send you a little personal email.Blessings to you! TeresaHi Teresa, I got your email, thank-you!I believe building an array of emotions into a story is key to making it good.I appreciate you comments and your suggestions.There may be more in the future, I haven't decided for sure yet. I get to thinking that mother needs the opportunity to explain to Sydney who she is and how she grew up, but I've just not decided yet.Sometimes you can get "too much of a good thing", so it might be best to let them live in peace.
Nila,It feels as if I'm there in the story! Fabulous story, and thanks for sharing it with us. I know a great publisher, and reasonable, too!Thanks so much for your kind words!
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