“When I was ten, my mom told me that my brother Mike and I were what had kept her sane after the deaths of my four siblings. She put all her focus on properly caring for Mike and me during the day, and then cried herself to sleep at night over the lost of my siblings. I’m like my mom in that way. My only thoughts after Mike’s and Tanya’s deaths were on being with and caring for Sonya. However, being that Sonya was a premature newborn she had to stay in the hospital for about eight days, so I couldn’t care for her as I wanted to during those eight days.”
“So what did you do during those eight days?”
Ellen chose her words before saying, “After Mike and Tanya’s accident, I learned that my ancestors and Tanya’s ancestors had shared a common history. Tanya’s family kept diaries that sporadically spanned hundreds of years, and Harry had given me permission to read those diaries. So that’s what I had done, and by learning about Harris’s ancestors, I felt more connected to mine.”
Dr. Pendell nodded before asking, “And like your mom, did you cry yourself to sleep at night?”
Ellen nodded before saying, “For the first three nights.”
Dr. Pendell made another notation in his notes before asking his next question.
Ellen and Dr. Pendell talked for thirty more minutes before ending the session. Dr. Pendell then spoke to Ellen and Lance together for five minutes before Ellen, Everett and Lance left Dr. Pendell’s office.
As Ellen, Everett and Lance were walking into the hall, Lance told Ellen, “Kristen had called while you were talking to Dr. Pendell. Megan fell and scraped her knee, and there’s no peroxide at the house. So before I take you home, Ellen, I’m going to stop off and get some peroxide.”
“That’s fine,” Ellen assured him. “In fact, I need to get something anyway. And I do have money.”
“What do you need?” Everett quickly asked.
“A box of tampons if you must know,” Ellen told him. “I have one left and I need more before I start up again, which will be in a couple of days.”
“Okay, that was more information than I had wanted to know,” Everett told her.
“Well you asked,” Ellen said with a grin.
“And you couldn’t have said feminine products?” Everett questioned.
“I’m not embarrassed over it,” Ellen retorted.
“So who do you look more like?” Everett asked. Lance just amusingly grinned. Ellen gave Everett a curious look as Everett continued with, “Your mom or your dad?”
“Where did that question come from?” Ellen quickly asked.
“I’m just changing the subject from tampons and I am curious to know,” Everett replied.
Ellen shook off the abrupt subject change before saying, “I look very much like my mom… except for my eyes and ears. My eyes and ears I got from my dad. Oh, and I’m currently the same height as my mom was.”
“Short,” Everett playfully said in a joshing tone.
“Five-five isn’t all that short,” Ellen defended. Everett and Lance grinned. “Also reaching full height at sixteen is just an average age for girls. Girls can stop growing at fifteen or continue to grow until they reach eighteen—it just depends on the girl, and my mom didn’t reach her full height until just after her seventeenth birthday. So I just might become five-six or taller before I stop growing.”
“Okay,” Everett said in an appeasing tone.
“And you’re only five-nine,” Ellen continued. “So you’re not exactly towering over me.”
“Okay,” Everett said with a slight laugh. “I was just messing with you.”
“Sure you were,” Ellen playfully retorted before shooting him a delightful grin. She then took and held Everett’s hand before continuing on with another topic.
Chapter Four
The conversation from Dr. Pendell’s office to a twenty-four-hour drugstore had remained casual. Their time within the drugstore was short before reaching the moderate size checkout line with their items to be purchased.
Lance glanced at the box of tampons before saying, “So not to give the cashier double work, we’ll combine our purchases. So let me have your money.”
“Alright,” Ellen said before pulling out her money from her front pocket and handing it to Lance.
When Everett saw beef jerky on one of the shelves at the checkout line, he grabbed a few bags to be purchased. He then saw that Ellen was looking at the bags in his hands.
“There’s a lot of protein in beef jerky,” Everett supplied.
Ellen amusingly grinned before saying, “I just assumed you just like beef jerky.”
“I do actually, but I mainly get them for the protein.”
“Okay,” Ellen said in an appeasing tone as a muscular twenty-something-year-old man with a full beard stepped in line behind her group. Ellen glanced at the man and saw that he was carrying shaving supplies. After seeing what the man was carrying, Ellen faced forward.
Once Ellen, Everett and Lance had finally reached the cashier, the cashier stared puzzlingly into Ellen’s face.
As Ellen was returning the puzzled look that she was receiving, Lance asked the cashier, “Is there anything wrong?”
The cashier broke his stare, and as he went to scan the first item, he said, “There’s nothing wrong.”
Ellen shook off the incident, and as she glanced down at the item that was being scanned, she noticed a thorn vine tattoo that encircled the cashier’s right wrist. Ellen then noticed that the tattoo was tattooed over a thick scar that also encircled the wrist.
Ellen quickly grabbed the cashier’s right hand and flipped it over in order to see the opposite side of his wrist.
As the cashier pulled his hand from Ellen’s grasp, he uttered, “Excuse me!”
Ellen locked eyes with the cashier before saying, “I know you.”
“I have been working here for six years, so…” the cashier was only able to get out.
Everett and Lance had confused expressions on their faces as Ellen interrupted with, “You’re Tucker Wiley.”
Lance saw the fear in the cashier’s face before he told Ellen, “You-you’re mistaken. My name is David Robinson.”
“You weren’t killed thirty-two years ago,” Ellen continued as if the cashier didn’t speak.
“Kid, you have me confused with someone else,” the cashier told Ellen.
“My name is Ellen, and I’m your sister’s daughter,” Ellen informed.
An acknowledging expression, that Lance saw, came across the cashier’s face before the cashier said, “I’m not your uncle, Ellen…”
“She died back in June from a brain tumor,” Ellen informed.
“Ellen, stop,” the cashier demanded. “I’m not Tucker Wiley. I’m not your mom’s brother.”
Ellen glanced at the cashier’s right wrist before saying, “You were twelve when your right hand was severed off after my mom had accidentally shoved you into a large glass window. She shoved you to keep you from accidentally stepping on your pet hamster. She prayed from the time when your hand was severed off to the time that it was reattached that you wouldn’t lose your hand. And even after learning that you would recover full use of your hand, she felt so guilty for what had happened to you that she had done your chores for two years.”
The