The Barn: Chapter Seven

By Doug Campbell and John Casey
Later, Keith and John decided to go for a stroll. Their grandparents’ was a rare property, prime real estate right at the edge of town proper; walking distance to downtown. Just five minutes down the road, they turned onto Main Street and passed by the Piggly Wiggly, the hardware store, and the town hall. There was nothing much for John to see, but Keith took it all in, noting every little change. The local real estate office was open as they walked by, and out popped Jane Cranmore, one of Clarkstown’s most colorful residents. At 75 years of age, she was still very active and never overlooked an opportunity to talk. If the town had a celebrity, it was her. She knew everyone, and everyone knew Jane. “Hi John!” she exclaimed with an over-eager vigor. “Is that who I think it is with you?” “Hi Jane, yes, it’s me Keith.” He smiled, holding out his hand cordially. “My goodness, I can’t remember the last time I saw you! So great you are back in town. Handsome as ever! How is your mom doing?” “Not too well, unfortunately.” Her expression changed drastically, dropping from a huge smile to an overstated frown.

“So sorry to hear that. My poor boys, I think your mom is such a great lady.” Her facial animations were perpetually distracting. She then reverted back to the smile. “But how are you doing, Jane? How is your father?” Keith asked. “I’ve been fine, running around town, selling this, selling that. You know, the usual! And good old dad, well he’s still kicking.” “What is he, 95 now?” “Yes, 96 actually. Amazing, isn’t it? It’s from healthy living, and good genes of course.” Impossibly, her eyes and smile grew wider and larger as she flicked her over-dyed hair to the side, put her hands on her waist and pushed out her hip. It was comical. John smiled as Keith went on. “Do you think I could talk to him? I’m looking into some of my grandfather’s history. I know they were

close.”

“Oh of course, he knew your grandfather well. He’d be delighted to talk with you. You should come over to my house in an hour or so, he’s there, probably napping right now but should be up soon. I baked a zucchini bread last night. Ooh, and I’ll make some lemonade! It’ll be fun. But first, I have to get some paperwork to the title company.”

Keith glanced at John, who shrugged. “Great, thanks Jane—we’ll be there.” “OK, perfect! See you boys in a few!” She waved goodbye and scampered across Main Street. John was worried about where this might be going but said nothing, deciding instead to let it play out. After walking home and resting up for a bit, they made the short drive to Jane’s house in Keith’s rental. Jane ceremoniously welcomed them inside, a large blue and white Polish pottery plate of sliced zucchini bread in hand. “Dad, our visitors are here!”

Tom was in his wheelchair, positioned next to an overstuffed, floral-patterned recliner. A fading framed wedding photo of Jane and her late husband Michael graced a side table to his right. Jane placed the platter carefully on the coffee table next to a set of glasses and pitcher of lemonade. “Go ahead boys, take a seat,” she said while sliding into the recliner next to her father. “Thank you, Jane, much appreciated. Hi Tom, you may or may not remember us, it’s been a long time. We were both much younger the last time you saw us, I think. Keith Conway and my brother John.” He extended his hand across the zucchini bread. “Hi Tom, good to see you again,” John followed. “Of course I remember, how are you two? What brings you to our house today?” He bent over and put a slice of bread on a small plate, his hand shaking visibly. Keith went on. “Well, I’ve been away in Texas for several years, and as you’ve probably heard, Mom isn’t doing so well. I came home to spend some time with her and John here. I’ve also been thinking about other family matters. I know you and my grandfather were close when you were younger. I thought maybe we could talk a bit about him.”

“Of course, Jim was a great man and a good friend. I remember him well,” said Tom. “What would you like to know?” “Being back home has led me to reflect a lot about my past. On my family. Our Mom never told us much about him, and she would never

speak of his death. I know it was pretty much an open and shut case back then, that he fell and it was an accident. But do you remember anything from that time, anything at all? Was he in trouble with anyone, was anyone upset with him back then?” Tom exhaled and gathered himself. Keith sensed there was something there, something Tom knew. “Gosh, Keith. Honestly, these days I don’t remember much about what I did yesterday, never mind what happened seventy-odd years ago. I do remember your grandfather as a very popular guy, though. Everyone liked him. I was a couple years younger than him, and he was more popular than me with the girls.” He chuckled. “In the end, it was Lydia who charmed him. I think I might still have a picture of us.”

“I’d love to see it,” Keith replied. “Jane, do you mind grabbing that photo, you know the one? I think it’s in the old hatbox, with all the others. Underneath the stairs.” “I don’t know about that photo in particular dad, but I’ll get the box. Hold on.” “Thanks sweetie.”

Jane got up and left the room. “Tom, do you remember, when he died, if there was anything suspicious about it or about the investigation? Anything at all?” Keith continued.

“Vaguely. I mean, I remember it happening, it was such a shock to me, we were such good friends. I just don’t remember the details. I know Lydia came home and found him there in the barn. They claimed that he fell down the stairs. I never believed that myself.” John and Keith exchanged glances. “What do you mean, you didn’t believe it? Why?” asked Keith. “Well, he was young, and a strong guy. He was athletic, not one to lose his balance. I just can’t see how that could have happened. There was something off about it, as I remember. It happened, then the next day it was in the paper, reported as an accident. The investigation was over before it even got started. Now, I’m not trying to say there was some kind of conspiracy, or that Sherriff Johnson was hiding something, not at all. It’s just my opinion. I don’t have any other information about it, just my gut talking.”

Just then Jane reentered the room holding the photo Tom mentioned. “Here you go,” she said, handing it to Keith. “Your grandfather is in the middle,” said Tom, pointing. A group of kids on the riverbank in swimsuits. Tom was on the end, the shortest. Jim Conway, in the middle, was flanked by two young girls. Two other skinny boys rounded out the photo. “I recognize my grandmother, on his left. Do you know who the other kids were?” asked Keith. “Let me see. On that day we all went swimming. One of the hottest summers ever, and one of those days I will always remember. That’s me, this guy was Greg, Greg something or other, I forgot his last name, but he wasn’t in our group for long. Chris Jones—he went on to play for the Sox, in the minors. And Lydia, Jim in the middle, and…I can’t

remember the other girl’s name. I want to say Margot or Melanie. She wasn’t really part of the group either; she was a troublemaker. It was the first and last time she did anything with us, I know that.”

“Are any of them still alive?” asked John. “Well, I’m alive!” he chuckled. “I don’t think so. I wish your grandmother were still here, she was always so kind to everyone.” “What about the troublemaker?” Keith pressed. “I just don’t know.” He paused in thought. Then he raised his eyebrows. “But I do remember she was trying to kiss your grandfather that day. Lydia was so mad. She pushed that girl in the water, and she hit her head on a rock.” Tom sighed. “Then we all scattered. We knew she’d be OK, but none of us wanted to get in trouble. We heard she ended up in the hospital. Ended up having stitches on her head and face. But she was fine. We didn’t see her at all after that.” “Grandma one, Margot zero,” John said kiddingly. “Yeah, right, Lydia could be a real firecracker. Crazy things happen in small towns,” said Tom. “You can keep the photo.” “Thanks so much, Tom. We’re grateful for your time, and for sharing your memories,” said Keith. “And thanks Jane for the wonderful zucchini bread.”

© John Casey & Doug Campbell 2022 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED; Published with permission (PHiR Publishing, San Antonio, TX)