BOOK ONE: DECEPTIONS
Chapters One to Twenty Six
Vignettes 1 - 140

BOOK TWO: YESTERDAY ECHOES
Chapters 27 to
Vignettes 141 -

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Vignette #191: Forgotten Changes

There was so much going on, but he refused to let it spoil the day. It was his first real Father’s Day. He didn’t expect much, but for the first time the day didn’t throw him head first into a fan. Ian looked at Billy. “Where did you put Aunt Hil’s pitcher?”

Billy turned a few shades in the crayon box. “The water pitcher?”

“Yes.” Ian almost laughed. “You said you found it and brought it back, didn’t you?”

“Umm…about that.” Billy gulped. “There’s something I forgot to tell you.”

Ian stopped rummaging around and leaned against the counter in the kitchen. “It’s okay, Billy. It’s ruined isn’t it?”

“No. It’s perfectly fine.”

“Then go get it for me. I want to use it for dinner today.” Ian smiled.

“Look…” Billy tried to explain.

“Bubba, just go get it for me. Please?” Ian turned back to the cabinets. “Nothing will spoil this day for any of us. I just want my Aunt Hil’s pitcher on the table, even if we have to stuff flowers in it and use it as a centerpiece.”

Billy nodded and headed to the garage. Ripley watched him go. “What was that all about?”

“Not sure, Ripley.” Ian said. “How are you doing?”

“Fine.” The man said as he poured a bag of chocolate chips into the batter. “Why do you ask?”

“You’ve been very quiet, not that you’re a powder keg of verbal energy, but you’ve been very silent since Kellen and I told you what was happening with Peyton Balouche and all.”

Ripley sighed. “I’m just watching every speck of dust hit the shelf, Ian. It’s my job to protect you and Ronnie. I promised you nothing else would happen on my watch, and I meant it.”

“I know.” Ian smiled and dripped a drop of water on the griddle. “Okay, I’m ready if you are.” He reached for the bowl.

“No.” Ripley pulled the bowl of batter out of Ian’s reach. “You go sit somewhere. It’s Father’s Day. Ronnie and I are making breakfast. Go play with the cat or something.”

“If you really wanted to make this a great Father’s Day, we’d be having the cat for breakfast.” Ian said. “So how can I ethically play with the cat knowing she’s going to end up wedged somewhere between my pancakes and bacon with syrup all over her?”

Ripley scowled. Ian smiled. “Fine. I’ll tinker around with some things for lunch. Just to be close if you guys need help.”

Billy emerged from the garage, pitcher in hand. “Here.”

“Thanks, Bill.” Ian inspected the pitcher. “This looks fine. I’ll pop it into the dishwasher with the breakfast dishes and it’ll be all ready for the family meal.” As Ian opened the dishwasher he added. “I don’t understand the big deal.”

“Look at the bottom, Ian.” Was all Billy said.

“Is there a hole?”

“Just look at it.” Billy said.

Ian pulled out the bottom panel of the dishwasher and flipped the silver pitcher to place it the rack. When he looked at the bottom, he gasped and dropped it.

The pitcher bounced off the plastic shelf and landed at Ronnie’s feet as he entered the kitchen. “Morning, Butter Fingers.” He giggled and picked up the pitcher. “Is this Aunt Hil’s special pitcher?”

Billy and Ian were silent. Ronnie shrugged and flipped it over to tuck it into the open rack of the dishwasher. He looked at the bottom. Immediately his head snapped up and locked eyes with his father. “Papa?”

“What’s going on, guys?” Ripley asked. Ronnie turned the bottom of the antique to Ripley so he could read it. “Ian…I thought you said that was…” Things registered in Ripley’s head. “Oh…”

“I’m sorry.” Billy turned to Ian. “I meant to tell you, but everything happened and frankly it slipped my mind until you asked where it was.”

“It’s fine, Billy, just a shock.” Ian took the pitcher, placed it on the rack and slid it in, closing the door with a click. “Aunt Hil, must have had that done. That’s all.”

“Of course.” Billy said. “It’s an awful expensive thing to do though. Sparky and I just wondered why she would do it after all these years.”

Ripley pulled a stepping stool over to the griddle and made sure Ronnie was secure before he let him start pouring pancake batter. “It’s not that expensive. Just three letters, probably cost her twenty dollars or so.”

“Not in Southwest, Virginia.” Billy told him to the sizzle. “She’d have to drive all the way to Johnson City or Kingsport to have that done. She rarely drove herself to the grocery store at the bottom of the mountain.”

“Sorry for reacting that way.” Ian distracted himself with puttering, any kind of puttering. “It was just a shock. Aunt Hil probably had it done.”

“Ian, I hate to say this but it really doesn’t look like it was done recently.” Billy finally said. “It’s too worn and uneven. It’s been there for years.”

Ian looked at Billy. “Then we just never noticed it before. I’m sure she had it done to make sure that whenever she passed it got to me. There is no other explanation.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re right. Just all the questions and mysteries.”

“We’re all seeing riddles where there are just nursery rhymes.” Ripley mentioned standing steadfastly behind Ronnie helping him with the pancakes.

Ian reached up into the cabinet to get settings for the table. One of the glasses tipped and crashed to the floor. “Butter fingers again.” Ian reached for his cane, Billy put his hand and his arm.

“I’ll get it. You go have a seat somewhere, let the morning meds kick in.” He smiled.

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have just one morning when I didn’t look forward to the fog?”

“Soon, Papa.” Ronnie flipped the first pancake on the plate. “Soon you’ll be all better and won’t need none of them pills at all.”

“You’re right.” Ian smiled. “I think I’ll go tinker at the piano a little while. That always relaxes me.”

The trio in the kitchen watched the man toddle out of the kitchen. He was getting stronger and better every day, but that knee still bothered him; more on wet days.

As soon as Ian was confidently out of sight, Ronnie handed Ripley the spatula. “Take over a minute.” Before anyone could blink an eye, Ronnie was off the stool, at the dishwasher and had the pitcher bottom up in his hand.

He looked up. “Uncle Billy, this is the same letters as on the locket.”

“I know, Ronnie. I know.”

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