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Tales of Whisper Gap
Stories from the small
town of Whisper Gap where one
life, one tale invariably reaches out to touch the next.
by Jo Janoski.
Mother's Good Girl
 Gertrude Posey
smoothed her long skirt and shifted in the seat while the rickety
train pounded along the track as if determined to remain on schedule.
She hadn't been home in years, having married and moved to Philadelphia
when she was still a young woman.
"NEXT STOP WHISPER GAP!" The words blasted from the
conductor's lips as the train slowed. That aged conveyance wheezed
in exasperated gasps as it bumped and squeaked into the station.
Gertie spied her sister, Annalee, waiting in a queue of anxious
faces clustered along the track. Dear Lee! She hadn't changed
in all these years, still tall and stately, standing out from
the others in a gay white frock and feathered bonnet. Mother
had died and Gertie now came for the reading of the will.
"I'll carry your bag," Lee murmured as she hugged Gertie.
"The solicitor is at the house. He has to go out of town,
so he offered to read the will before he caught his train. Luckily,
it worked out with your schedule."
"Goodness! These are crazy times! People rushing about from
city to city! What did we do before trains?" Gertie replied,
standing back to examine her sister. "You look wonderful!"
"Thanks, dear! But we must walk fast to catch Mr. Devlin
before he leaves."
The old house on Cameron Street looked the same as the old days,
three-storied, elongated windows with lacy curtains peeking through.
An inviting porch wrapped around half of the first floor, its
ornate columns and deck all freshly painted white. The entire
area was surrounded by pink rhododendron flowers, their rosy
blooms mixing with the ivory-painted porch in a soothing display
of delicate hues. Stepping through the door, Gertie was surprised
by the cool, dark interior. The first item she spied was Mother's
old mirror, the one that hung in the vestibule. Circular, full
length and surrounded by a heavy gilt frame, an other-worldly
image of herself blinked back from the antique glass as she passed
by. She shuddered at the image. The glass had never flattered
her with its wavy distortions. Although Mother spent hours preening
in front of its shiny reflection. She always said the mirror
had magical qualities to make her look beautiful. Mother had
loved that mirror.
Mr. Devlin sat perched on the parlor sofa like a busy robin,
his foot tapping. "Come, come, Ladies! My train is due in
30 minutes!"
When the women had settled, he stated, "The will is really
very simple. Edna left everything to charity except for one item,
which she bequeathed to Gertrude, and that is the antique mirror
in the vestibule."
"What?" Gertie exclaimed, bolting from the chair. "I
traveled all these miles for a stupid mirror!"
"DAMN!" Lee chimed in."I don't believe it!"
"Edna offered absolutely no explanation!"
Mr. Devlin replied, shrugging and holding up the papers for all
to see.
Later, despite their anger, the ladies quibbled playfully over
the event. "So did you and Mother have some secret that
explains why she left you the mirror?" Lee asked.
"Certainly not! I think the two of you planned this just
to torment me, making me travel all this way for that god awful
thing!" Even as Gertie spoke, she noted Annalee's grimace
blew a chill wind through the room.
"You know. Gertie, perception is a crazy thing--there are
two ways to see everything. Mother and I saw that mirror as a
beautiful antique, unlike you, who hated it. Oddly, that's the
one thing we agreed on." Lee turned away, murmuring, "Wretched
old bat, I'm glad she's dead though."
Her animosity toward Mother was the one
dark feature of Lee's otherwise pleasant nature. The two battled
each other with a vehemence that often resulted in objects hurled
and threats made. And, in contrast, Mother always called Gertie
her "good girl"...to her sister's consternation.
Gertie knew there were times when Mother
would use her to unwittingly cause grief for Annalee, inspiring
her do things to make her sister angry or jealous. Ah, Mother
was a legend in her clever ploys!
That night, Gertie couldn't sleep. She blamed it on being in
a strange bed away from home. But the fact Mother left her only
the mirror was maddening. Perhaps it was worth a great deal of
money! Finally, she crept downstairs to look at the antique again.
But studying it only convinced her the ugly item was more likely
haunted than a thing of value.
"I always thought you liked me better than Annalee, Mother.
And yet all you left me is this piece of junk." Gertie studied
the mirror, remembering how her mother spent countless hours
admiring her own image in the glass. "Maybe you thought
I'd be pleased," she mused.
Running her fingers along the edges of the mirror's gaudy frame,
she sighed in distress. In the reflected image, she noticed the
empty parlor behind her in the dim light. All was quiet...until
a shadowy figure passed across the room! Gertie spun on her heel
to look. A woman hovered there, now out of the shadows and bathed
in light.
"I want the mirror, and you can't have it!"
Lee! The shadowy lady was Annalee, but instead of her usual white,
summery fashion, she wore dismal black. And her eyes were not
the dancing, friendly eyes of Lee; but rather, blazing orbs glared.
Gertie caught her breath in fearful hesitation before anger took
charge. "Mother left it to me. Why shouldn't I take it?"
she said. With a trembling heart, Gertie wondered why was she
defending her right to have that stupid mirror? But she couldn't
help herself. She was angry. Lee's resentment stirred her up.
"You hate it! You always have. You'll pack it up and take
it back to Philadelphia even though you hate it."
"Lee, what's wrong with you?" Gertie's blood ran hot.
Why was her sister acting like this over a simple mirror?
"YOU CAN'T HAVE IT! I want it!"
Lee's hand fumbled under the folds of her skirt, searching through
its deep pockets before dragging out a butcher knife.
Gertie saw the shiny blade glinting the instant before Lee plunged
it at her. Gritting her teeth, she pushed against Annalee's arm
to keep the weapon away. Lee fought back, grunting and groaning
while pushing the blade back again. Finally Gertie spied Lee's
grip loosen. She released her hold and with a deft motion reached
up and snatched the knife. With an oomph, she shoved the other
woman away. The colossal effort knocked her off balance and sent
Gertie's back slamming against the mirror. Opening her eyes,
she spied Lee hovering in front of her. Gertie, still clutching
the knife, struggled to her feet, and lunged at the other woman.
"Gertie! What are you doing?" Lee screeched as Gertie
raised the blade above her head.
"THE MIRROR IS MINE!" she screamed, plunging the knife
into her sister's chest again and again. A river of red spread
across the floor as that lady collapsed, gasping her last. Gertie
only knew anger. "The mirror is mine! The mirror is mine!"...the
words came out in an exhausted whimper. Gertie collapsed. She
wiped bloodied hands on her skirt. Lee's blood! What was happening
to her? She'd never known such anger. It was like when Mother...
"Good girl! She's gone! Just like I wanted. You'll always
be Mother's good girl."
Copyright 2008 JO Janoski
Jo Janoski is a poet, author,
and photographer from Pittsburgh, PA.
Send Jo a message either directly or using
the Word Catalyst feedback form. For more from Jo visit the
Word Catalyst archives or her online
home.
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