By the time Annie and her dad returned to the house, the children were gone and Adi had a delicious hot meal on the table. Annie's mood had swung from gloomy to cheery. Tomorrow, she would be fourteen. And this evening she and her sisters would hear a story they had never heard.

Settled in his Lazy-Boy chair, with Lily snuggled in beside him, Edwin picked up the envelope from Granny "Annie, here is a birthday cheque for you. You will be fourteen on December 14th --ten dollars for each year. You are to spend it on YOURSELF, for whatever you want."

The rest of the note contained instructions to her son about her arrival in a few days. Granny didn't own a phone. She refused to get one. "Brings nothing but bad news!" she declared when her son offered to get her one. So in the letter she gave details of her arrival, and in a demanding manner, instructed Edwin to pick her up at the station.

"Dad, I don't want her money." Annie ran to her dad's side and snatched at the letter. "N-not if she's gonna' shut the rest of the family out. We're a family, and we're gonna' stick together. Isn't that what we vowed in July, just after Mama died?" Annie checked the tears that were threatening to burst afresh from her eyes.

"Hold on, my little Chickadee." Edwin reached for his middle daughter's hand, gently caressing it. "Wait 'til I tell you my story. Then maybe we'll all understand why Granny is like she is. And after you've heard the whole story, maybe we can ALL work together to make this a great Christmas for us all. Maybe we can help Granny to come "out of the shadows" and into the Light. But first, let me dispel some mists from the past." Ed rubbed his hands across his head of curly black hair, into which a stand or two of silver had found their way.

Dad begins his story:

He swallowed, and then began. "You see, your daddy was a twin."

Annie's mouth dropped open. Both of the girls let out a gasp. "But..." Vaguely, in a deep corner of Adi's mind, she recalled her mom having mentioned something about twins. But it seemed like such a long time ago that she had heard it that until now she had forgotten.

Ed held up his hand. "No questions. It will all come out in the story. My dad was a wonderful dad. But wait. I'm getting ahead of myself. Mom and Dad, Eliza and Erwin, were married at 23. They were extremely happy, so I am told, and even more so when Mom gave birth to a baby girl. They named her Annie." He gave Annie's hand a squeeze. "But two weeks later the baby died. Mom went into deep depression and stayed that way for a year. Dad did everything he could to cheer her up. Then, according to Dad's report, almost suddenly she started to get back some of her cheerfulness. (The girls looked at each other quizzically--Granny cheerful? ) She found out that she was pregnant again. And when she found out that she was going to have twins, she was beside herself with happiness.

"Mom and Dad had been regular church goers, but after Mom lost the baby, Dad told me, she became bitter and depressed. She stopped going to church. When she found out that she was pregnant again, she and Dad started back to church. Then Alvin and I were born. We couldn't have been more different, had we come from two different mothers. I was like my dad, sturdy, dark curly hair, and boisterous. Alvin was blonde, pallid, and very quiet. Mom fussed over Alvin, pampering him and protecting him. She treated Alvin as if he were her special angel.

"As we grew older and started school, the differences became more apparent. Alvin was an indoor person, his nose forever in a book. In school he was very bright--almost a child prodigy--so far ahead of the rest of the kids in our class that the teacher advanced him to a higher grade. That was okay by me. We no longer had to compete with each other. Mom couldn't bring up to me how much better Alvin's grades were than mine. I was a plodder. I disliked school. I would rather be outdoors, playing football or hockey, or going hunting with my dad."

Edwin looked down at Lily, snuggled beside him. "Hey! Look at this! Our little angel has fallen asleep. Let's take a break. Annie, you and I will go put together the snacks your sister prepared, while Adi puts Lily to bed."

***

Settled once more in their chairs in the living room, the girls sipping cocoa and munching snacks, Dad continued his story.

"When we were 12 or so, Dad made a large outdoor skating rink, with an electric light dangling in the middle, for us and a couple of neighbour kids. Dad would come out with us in the evenings and coach us as we had a friendly game of hockey. Mom protested about Alvin going out in the night air, but Dad insisted that the fresh air would do him good. And Alvin wanted to be a boy amongst the boys. Because of his asthma we let him be goalie. That way he could be part of the game but not have so much activity. I still remember how like a little man from the moon he looked with all the goalie gear he had on.

"One night--oh a glorious December night quite like this one--the moon smiled down on us and the stars glistened, we were out having a wonderful time, the two neighbour boys, Tom and Harry joining us, and Dad being a kid with us. We were skating around, laughing and shouting, scrambling for the puck. Suddenly Alvin threw off his goalie gear and skated into the middle of the rink to join us. We were delighted. Alvin didn't want to be treated differently. He wanted to be a normal boy. I glanced up at the living room window and saw Mom with her hands covering her mouth. I thought she was going to come out and rescue Alvin, but she didn't. She just stood there watching us shooting the puck from one end of the rink to the other. We were laughing and shouting and pushing each other, Dad joining in. Then suddenly the laughing stopped. There was dead silence. All eyes turned at once to where a body was stretched, face down on the ice. I'm not sure who reached Alvin first, me or Dad."

Edwin stopped in his story. He sat with his eyes closed, tears tricking from the corners. The girls both grabbed his hands. "Dad," Adelaide said, "don't go on if you don't want to."

Edwin pulled out his handkerchief and rubbed at his eyes. "Yes, girls, I must go on. You have to know the whole story. I should have shared this with you before. It will help you understand why your Granny is like she is." He took a gulp of his cold cocoa and continued his story.

"Dad rushed to the phone extension he'd put in the rink shelter, and called for an ambulance. Mom had run from the house without a coat and dropped to the ice beside Alvin...The next in my memory was a blur. I recall the sirens of the ambulance, of Mom climbing in behind the stretcher, of the squeeze of Dad's hand as he pulled me to the car, of us following the ambulance to the hospital. I remember my bewilderment. I didn't understand what was happening, or what had happened. I was twelve. But I remember the next few--I think it was two--years. I seldom saw Mom. She spent her days at the hospital. Even her nights. She had a cot brought in and she slept there by Alvin's bed. She wouldn't let me near him. I remember crying myself to sleep, night after night. I remember the dead feeling I had inside me, and the tenderness that Dad showed towards me. I do remember that one time--yes, only one time, Dad persuaded Mom to let me see Alvin. 'After all,' Dad said, 'Edwin is Alvin's twin. You have to let him see him.' So reluctantly Mom allowed me to go to Alvin's bedside. I remember the shock I had when I saw him attached to all kinds of tubes and machines that purred and made horrid noises. With tears streaming down my face, I went up to my twin brother and took his hand. I remember hearing Mom clear her throat as if she was going to say something, but Dad held his hand on her shoulder so that she couldn't get up from her chair. I bent down and kissed my brother on his pale cheek. He opened his eyes a wee bit and I remember him smiling--a weak smile--and I remember the slight movement of his hand in mine. Then...Mother pulled me away. That was the last time I saw my twin brother." Edwin gulped, swallowing the tears that had gathered in his throat, threatening to choke him. He coughed, swiped at his eyes with his shirt sleeve before continuing.

"Then another blur. Next thing I remember, I was put on a train, headed for Dad's Mother's place in Edmonton. For the next two years I had little news from my parents. Whatever news Grandma got, she kept to herself. Calgary seemed like it was on another planet.

"But I vividly recall my fourteenth birthday. Grandma took me to a restaurant and led me to a booth, somewhat secluded. I thought it was to be a very special birthday. After we had eaten, Grandma grabbed my hand and held it to her cheek. Then with tears in her eyes she told me that Alvin had died that day. I snatched my hand away and ran to the bathroom and threw up. I remember Grandma coming in quite a while later, after an attendant alerted her. I remember her arms around me, and my head buried in her bosom as we waited for a taxi to take us home. Poor Grandma. She had thought to soften the blow of Alvin's death by taking me to a restaurant for a special birthday meal. I don't recall what I had. So kind-hearted was she to me after that -- not that she hadn't always been.

"I was not allowed to go to Alvin's funeral. However, Grandma, in her tenderness, let me stay home from school for a whole week. I never liked school, but I did like books. Grandma had a huge library. She always knew where to find me if I disappeared for any length of time."

Continued in:
Story 6 - Mists From The Past -II

ADELAIDE SERIES:
Story 1 - An Abrupt Landing
Story 2 - Out of the Shadows
Story 3 - Heavenly Sunshine
Story 4 - Reflections
Story 5 - Mists From The Past -I
Story 6 - Mists From The Past -II
Story 7 - The Birthday Surprise
Story 8 - Dad's Big Surprise
Story 9 - Further Surprises
Story 10 - Into The Light

Watch for further stories in the ADELAIDE SERIES at a later date. hmd