Genevieve rolled her shoulders and fluttered her hands as though Jane's question was an affront to her heritage. "Lands yes, he's my great-grandson! Did you think he was some stranger off the street?"

"But what about Prett? And Val? Are they your great-grandsons?"

Genevieve laughed. "Of course they are! Why else would they spend so much time here? It's not due to my alluring presence."

"But Prett said you weren't his grandmother. He said—" Jane frowned. "He said you knew his grandmother."

"Prettamin is always so literal. Of course I knew his grandmother! She was my daughter." Genevieve tapped the stack of photos Jane held. "Meg."

"Yes, I see that now."

Genevieve leaned back in her chair. "That's why they call me G.G. For Great-Grandmother."

Jane shook her head as she processed this. "I don't know what to say."

Why did Prett mislead me?

Genevieve waved her hand. "I'm not surprised he didn't tell you. He's always been secretive. And withdrawn. Some days I'd poke him to see if he was still alive." Her blue eyes brightened. "You woke him out of his decade-long slumber."

"Wha—I—"

"That's why you should know more about him." She flipped through the box and chose another photo. "He won't like it one bit. But what can he do? Growl and fuss." She added with a mutter, "Or hide away." Genevieve placed the new photo in Jane's hand. "These are the boys."

In this Polaroid, a raven-haired woman crouched on a dirt driveway, one hand pointing to the camera and the other on a dark-haired boy's shoulder. 

Danny. 

Arms crossed, he stared at the ground in a pout. 

Two feet away stood a taller brown-haired boy with a wary expression and defiant stance. His skinny arm was wrapped around an equally gaunt younger boy. The latter's face was half-buried in the taller boy's shirt, one fist pressed tight to his mouth as if in fear.

Jane blinked at the photo. "This is Prett and Val?"

"Yes."

"They look so..." The word Cadence had once used came to mind.

Traumatized.

"Thin," Jane said instead.

"That was the day Tommy came to live with them. He was a shy little one." Genevieve chuckled. "He's not so little anymore."

"Tommy? Who's Tommy?"

"Valentine." Genevieve pointed a gnarled finger at the half-hidden boy.

"Val's name was Tommy?"

"Yes." Genevieve fluttered her hand. "Lands, those boys change their names every five minutes! I can't keep track who they are from day to day!"

"But I thought...how do you get 'Tommy'? I thought his name was Valentine Daniel."

"Oh, it is. Such a twisted-up mess that was." She paused, as if not intending to say more, but Jane stared at her, so she continued. "After Jimmy remarried, SueAnn took up with a cousin of Louise's. Let's see...his first name was Thomas. Thomas...Slough. Yes, that's it. Thomas Slough, Jr. Everyone called him 'Junior'. He and Jimmy had been friends from childhood. But Junior got shipped off to Vietnam, and Jimmy said he wasn't the same when he came back. Took to drinking and brawling. Spent frequent nights in jail."

Genevieve waved her hand. "SueAnn should've stayed away from him! But she got pregnant and gave birth to Tommy just three months after Louise had Danny. She told everyone the baby's name was Thomas Slough the Third. But when Jimmy and Louise went to adopt him, they discovered his birth certificate read 'Valentine Daniel Marvel.' The same as little Danny. At the adoption they added 'Thomas' to his name so they could still call him 'Tommy'."

Jane sat still, her face scrunched in confusion and disquiet. "So...she named her baby after her ex-husband's new son?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

Genevieve shrugged. "Jimmy said it was plain vindictiveness. She'd never gotten over the divorce. Accused him of all sorts of vile things. Kept little Jamey from him."

"Jamey?"

"Eh? Oh. Prettamin."

Prettamin? Ah, of course. Prettyman James.

"I see why you said he had a tangled family tree," Jane said.

Genevieve chuckled.

Jane sorted through the photos and found the one of Jimmy tossing the sandy-haired toddler. She turned it for Genevieve to see. "Is this Prett—Jamey?"

"Yes."

"So Jimmy is Prett and Danny's dad."

"Yes."

"And Prett and Val's mom is..."

"SueAnn."

Jane pulled out the photo of Jimmy with the pixie-faced blonde and Genevieve nodded. "And this is Louise..." Jane held up the wedding photo with the black-haired beauty.

Again Genevieve nodded.

"Prett called her LuLu," Jane said.

"Louise Lucille."

"Why did they adopt Val? What happened to SueAnn?"

"She was killed."

"How?"

Genevieve hesitated. "Junior...went out of his mind. He should never have been let out of prison that last time. Or had access to a gun." She pursed her lips and said no more.

"Oh," Jane said, guessing at the truth. "How awful."

Genevieve nodded. "Such a tragedy. I regret to say I voiced my doubts about them taking Tommy, but Jimmy always did have a forgiving heart. And Louise...well, she plain loved children. And it's a good thing. Poor Tommy didn't speak at all those first two years. Jamey had to interpret until he learned enough sign language to communicate on his own. I thought Louise should push him to speak, but Jimmy said to me, 'She can't hear him anyway, Grandmama. We'll let him be. He'll speak when he's ready.' And he did. But he had such a terrible stutter that—"

Holly knocked on the door before opening it. "It's three o'clock, Nana."

Genevieve quivered with an incredulous, affronted laugh. "Are you the clock herald now?"

"Cady said it's time for your nap."

Genevieve squared her shoulders. "What am I? A toddler that needs to be sent to bed? I'm not through speaking with Jane Elizabeth." She shooed Holly away. "Now," she said to Jane, "where were we?"

"Tommy had a stutter."

"Why, yes. Terrible stutter. Louise couldn't help him with that. And then she took ill..." Genevieve looked through her box of photos again. "And Jimmy worked himself into an early grave right after." She handed another photo to Jane. "Meg and Wiley tried helping Tommy with his speech, but he didn't show much improvement."

In this photo, a silver-haired couple stood with three teenage boys. Meg had plumped out, but still retained her lovely face. Wiley had lost much of his hair. His nose seemed to have expanded. Prett still had his wary expression, but now there was a tinge of anger behind it. Val had grown taller and wider. He now reached his eldest brother's height and had his face turned to him instead of the camera. Danny stared at the ground, looking as forlorn back then as when Cadence had rejected his apology.

Jane studied them, noting their dark suits. "Was this after Louise died?"

"No. Jimmy."

The door opened once more. Cadence led Holly in.

Genevieve fluttered with exasperated indignation. "Now what!"

"It's after three," Cadence said. "If you don't take your rest you'll want to sleep all day tomorrow and you'll miss women's Bible study."

"Oh, lands. You'd think I was two and not a hundred and two." Genevieve plopped the box on the table and leaned over to grasp Jane's hand. "We'll have to continue this some other day, dear. My nursemaid is packing me off to nappy time."

She refused Cadence's help in transferring to the wheelchair and didn't wait for the latter to put down the footrest. Genevieve pushed the buttons on the control panel. Grabbing the joystick, she hurtled towards the open door, Holly rushing after, crying, "Nana! Turtle! Not rabbit!"

Cadence stayed behind. She ran her eyes over the shoeboxes. "Did she find the photos she was looking for?"

"I think so." Jane held the funeral photo out for Cadence. "This is the brothers with their grandparents."

Cadence nodded. "I've seen it. And the letters, too."

"Letters?"

"That they sent to Genevieve. And the ones they wrote during the war." She gave a weak smile. "Those are romantic."

Jane returned the photo with the others in her hand. "I didn't know the guys were Genevieve's great-grandsons. Prett made me think they weren't related to her."

"That's not all," Cadence muttered.

"What?"

Cadence rubbed her fingers on the chair's finial. She glanced at Jane, but didn't answer.

Jane noted the redness around her eyes. "Are you okay?"

Cadence shrugged.

"Danny didn't insult you again, did he?"

Cadence scoffed. "No."

"What did he say? I mean, I heard him apologize, but...I don't know what he said...after."

Cadence turned away. She lined up the stapler and pencil holder with the paper tray on the desk. "He said he loved me."

Jane smiled.

"But he doesn't know me. I'm not..." Cadence scowled. "He shouldn't have waited so long to apologize. And he shouldn't think a few extra words will...make up for it." She crossed her arms and stepped away towards the porch doors.

"What do you want him to do, Cady?"

Cadence shook her head and stared out the glass. "Just..." Her brow furrowed. She dropped her arms to her side. "What is he doing!"

Jane joined her. Danny was standing over the snow blower with a red gas can. "He's clearing a path to the quonset."

With an exasperated breath, Cadence said, "I said I would do it."

As she turned and strode out of the room, Jane called after her, "He's trying to be nice, Cady!"

Because he loves you!

The front door slammed in response. Jane shook her head, watching Cadence pass the office window, jamming her arms in her coat. The latter rounded the corner of the house before trotting down the side porch steps. She marched down the path Danny had cleared.

He was screwing on the gas cap as Cadence drew close. Her arms alternately gestured and crossed over her chest. Danny straightened, shaking his head and pointing to himself. Cadence repeated her gestures, her voice carrying over the distance to the house. Her tone was clear if not her words.

Danny turned several knobs and levers on the motor. As soon as it puttered to life, Cadence grabbed the steering handles. Again Danny pointed to himself. He took hold of a handle but Cadence pushed him away. He held up both hands, shaking his head before picking up the gas can and stalking back to the house.

Jane sighed.

"Don't feel bad," Prett said behind her.

As she turned her head, he stepped up to her side.

"I've been trying, too." He gave a slight shake of his head as he watched Danny head towards the front of the house. "I suppose it was too much to expect. That one spoken apology would erase years of silence."

 Prett continued staring out the window. After a moment, Jane followed his gaze.

"Where's GiGi?" he asked.

Jane pressed her lips together before answering, "You mean your great-grandmother? She went down for a nap."

"Ah." He looked at her. "I suppose you're mad at me now."

"Why'd you tell me she wasn't your grandmother?"

"Because she isn't."

"You know what I mean."

"Wasn't something you needed to know right then."

"Were you afraid I'd steal from her? Like Gavin?"

Prett shrugged and returned his gaze to the glass door. "Didn't know you."

"You know me now. Were you ever going tell me?"

"The opportunity to tell you passed. And then...it became easier to stay silent."

Jane stared at him, but he didn't look at her. "And then years go by," she said. "And it becomes too late."

Prett gave a nod.

"Not a good strategy for any of you."

"No."

Jane turned her eyes outside. She barely registered Cadence struggling to push the snow blower, for her focus was on the photos still in her hand. She tapped them against her leg. Genevieve's words ran through her mind.

He won't like it one bit. But what can he do? Growl and fuss.

"She showed me photos of your family. Your parents."

Now Prett looked at her.

Jane lifted the photos and pulled off the top one. "This is you with your grandparents."

Prett took one step back as if scalded. He didn't look at the photo. Instead, he kept his eyes on Jane. He held the same wary expression she'd noted in the decades-old snapshots. But this time a different aspect underlay it. Fear.

With abruptness, he turned and walked out of the room. After a moment of surprise, Jane followed.

Prett grabbed his coat from the hall tree and exited the front door. Through the glass, Jane saw him go down the steps and turn to the left. Danny, who had been leaning against the truck and glaring in Cadence's direction, unfolded his arms and trailed after him.

Jane opened the door and ran down the porch steps. The men rounded the open garage. Jane hustled after them. When she reached the corner, the men were tramping through heavy snow, angling away from the house. A sharp whistle made them stop. Val stepped off the back porch. His brothers waited for him to catch up, then continued on their trajectory towards the tree line.

Walking in lockstep, they disappeared into the foliage.

On the other side of the house, the snow blower droned.

Jane stood alone, shivering in the icy breeze, the photos still in her hand.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please help me improve my writing by pointing out problems. And if you like what you read, please click the Vote button below. And comment! I love comments! 😊

Fun Fact: I picked New Year's Resolution by Camera Obscura for this chapter's theme song. Some of the lyrics:

You offer a friendship I can not reciprocate
So don't beg me, in a garden, for it not to end this way

I've been cool with you
I've been cool with you
I've been cool with you
The sooner you admit it I will too

New year's resolution - to kiss you like I mean it
With cheeks the color of rhubarb we'll be fine
Everybody's rushing around like they got a meeting
I just want to be here with a friend of mine  

Stay now
I wish that you would stay now
Stay now
You nearly went away now  

Fun Fact 2: I have photos of my family spanning from the 1860s to today. This has helped me know what photos would look like in any particular time period. My parents didn't have much money when I was young, but we had a Polaroid camera. I loved how the photos snapped out of the camera and the pictures slowly appeared. 😃

Likewise, Jimmy and LuLu didn't have much money in the early to late 80s, when their boys were young.  But I figured they would have a Polaroid. And Jimmy would make good use of it. 😁

I didn't have any particular photos as inspiration for ones Genevieve showed Jane in this chapter. So here's a couple random ones from my collection:

Brothers Paul, Robert, and Bruce Aurand circa 1923. This is the same Uncle Robert who married the Scottish bride. Uncle Paul and my dad, Bruce, were fraternal twins. Dad told me how they'd get into mischief when they lived in the Chapman Hotel. They're my inspiration for the "Hulit boys" breaking Genevieve's good mirror. 😄 Dad remembered the day this photo was taken because it was one the rare times Robert had time to play with them.  

This guy is my inspiration for Genevieve's first husband (though the photo was taken in an earlier time period.) I'm guessing it's the 1870s or 1880s. Look at those eyes! I don't know exactly who he is. I suspect he's my great-grandfather, Jacob Dean. Or one of his brothers. I will likely also use this photo as inspiration for Genevieve's father, a handsome but cruel man.   

Be sure to vote and comment! ⤵