Please sign my

This story is based on a true story. It actually happened to a friend of

 mines mother. He told me the story, I brought it to life.  Sharon

SILENT LOVE

By

Sharon Kizziah-Holmes

    It was a beautiful spring morning.  The doors and windows of the Victorian style house stood open, and the sounds of nature were music to Lois' ears.  She inhaled, enjoying the light aroma of lilac's that drifted in the breeze. 

    Her husband Charles had gone fishing and she'd decided to do some light house work, but the ringing of the phone interrupted the peaceful morning. She dried her hands on a dish towel then picked up the receiver of the phone mounted on the kitchen wall.  "Hello," she said, replacing the towel on its rack.

    "Hello, is this Mrs. Collins?"

    She didn't recognize the professional sounding man's voice.   "Yes, it is."

    "Mrs. Lois Collins?"

    She walked to the kitchen table and reached for a chair. "Yes." Who was this person?  Probably someone selling something. After she pulled the chair out, she sat down. "May I ask who's calling?"

    "Yes, ma 'am, this is Officer Riley from the city police department."

    Her heart skipped a beat and she wondered if something had happened to her husband. He hadn't been feeling well, and that day no one went with him to the lake.  She held her breath and prayed he was okay.

    "Mrs. Collins, are you there?"

    The man's deep voice forced her thoughts back to the conversation.  "Yes, yes, I'm here.  What's wrong?  Has something happened to my husband?  Is he all right?" Her stomach churned, she was on the verge of hysteria.

    "No, ma 'am, nothing's happened to your husband."

    She sighed with great relief, thankful for Charles' safety. Then panic-struck again.  "Oh my God, is it my son Pete?  Has something happened to him?"

    "No, ma' am, it's not your son either," Riley replied.

    Happy her family was safe, she sat back in the chair.  "Thank God," she whispered.  Knowing her immediate family was okay she became confused.         "Then, why are you calling me?"

    "Well, Mrs. Collins, are you familiar with a man by the name of Art Benson?"

    It took only a moment for her to place the name. "Yes, I know Art."  Art was the man her deceased sister, Helen, had lived with for over fifteen years.  "I haven't heard from him in ages.  Why?"

    Officer Riley cleared his throat. "Mrs. Collins, I have some bad news.  Mr. Benson has passed away."

    Her mind spun.  Aware that Art had children on the West Coast, she wondered why the police weren't calling them. "Oh my, I'm sorry to hear that, but what does it have to do with me?"

    "Ma'am, he left an envelope taped to the wall.  The message written on the outside of it says that in the event of his death, to contact you.  We are at his apartment now.  We need you to come over before we can go any further."

    What?  They needed her?  Going to the dead man's apartment was the last thing she wanted to do.  She fought to control the unsteadiness of her voice.  "If I give you permission, can't you just open the envelope and see what's inside without me coming over?" 

    "No, ma 'am, I'm sorry we can't.  It has your name on it and we can't touch it without you being here."

    What was she going to do?  She couldn't go over there alone.  She'd never seen a dead body and she didn't want to see one now.  "I have no way of getting there.  My husband isn't I home to bring me."

    "I'm really sorry to have to put you through this, Mrs. Collins, but we need you as soon as possible.  The paramedics are here, and the Coroner is on his way," he paused for a moment, "Would you like us to send a squad car for you?  If you want, I'll come after you myself."

    Lois couldn't believe what was happening.  She knew it was wrong, but found herself angry with Charles for picking that particular morning to go off gallivanting at the lake.

    Tears welled in her eyes.  Tears of confusion, fear, shock, and embarrassment.  "No," she answered, feeling her voice shrink, at the realization of what she had to do, "Don't send anyone after me.  I'll see if I can get my son to bring me over.  If I can't get him, I'll try someone else.  I'll be there as soon as I can."

    "Okay, Mrs. Collins, we'll be looking for you."

    The click came over the line telling her the officer had hung up.  When she pushed up from the table, her knees were weak and she found herself leaning  against the kitchen cabinet for added support while she called her son.

    His phone rang once, twice, three times.  A soft prayer crossed her lips, "Oh God please let him answer.  I need him."  On the fourth ring her prayer was answered.

    "Hello."     

    At the sound of Pete's voice, she began to cry, "Pete, this is Mom.  Son, the police just called and told me Art Benson died.  They want me to come over there, something about a note with my name on it.  I don't understand it, but the policeman said they can't move the body until I get there."  She knew she was overreacting but she couldn't help herself and tried not to sob into the phone.

    "Mom, try to calm down.  Calm down, and tell me what I need to do."

    "Son, I hate to ask, but I need you to come get me and take me over there.  Your father went fishing this morning so I don't have the car, and anyway, I don't think I could go by myself." It pleased her that her tears began to subside, but the butterflies inside her flitted wildly.

    "Sure, Mom, that's no problem.  I'll be there in ten minutes. Do me a favor, sit down and relax until I get there.  Okay?"        

    "Okay, Pete, but please, hurry."  She wanted to get this over with as soon as possible."

    "I will, Mom."

    Sit down and relax was easily said, but she just couldn't do it.  She went into her bedroom, grabbed her purse, then went back into the living room, shut and locked all the windows and doors, then stood in front of the picture window fitfully awaiting Pete's arrival.

* * *

     "This has to be it, Mom."

    Lois swallowed hard at the site of the police cars and ambulance that were parked in front of one of the small apartment units.  She could tell Pete was worried about her.  He'd never seen her like this. 

    "Mom, your eyes are all red a puffy."

    She welcomed the warmth of his touch as he took hold of her fisted hand.

    "Are you going to be all right?  If you'd rather, I'll talk to the police officer and see if we can take care of this business from out here."

    It was sweet of him to want to protect her, but she had to deal with the situation.  "No, Son, I'll be okay.  Let's go in and get it over with."

    Following Pete's lead, she got out of the car and walked toward the apartment.  Ducking under the yellow tape surrounding the small area, she entered the yard.

    Glancing up, she noticed a young woman sat on the porch of Art's apartment, head in hands, sobbing.  It was easy to see the poor thing was distressed over Art's death.  She had no idea who the girl was, nor did she know the three men that stood close by.

    Pete led her up the steps and around the distraught young lady.  When they reached the door, she was met by a police officer with friendly eyes.

"You must be, Mrs. Collins.  I'm Officer Riley, I spoke to you on the phone."

    "Yes, Officer Riley, and this is my son, Pete," she said, glancing in Pete's direction and was thankful he was there.

    The officer offered Pete a handshake.  "I'm sorry we have to meet under these circumstances, Mr. Collins, but these things are out of our control.  I regret having to put your Mother through this ordeal."

    "She'd like to get it over with as soon as possible," Pete informed him.

    "Follow me," he replied.        

    Glancing back over her shoulder, through the front door screen she saw the young woman still seated on the porch.  She touched the officer's arm.  "Sir, who is that lady?"

    "Her name is Connie.  Apparently, Mrs. Collins, she was a close friend of Mr. Benson's.  She's the one that found the body this morning."

    "0h my goodness, that must have been awful for her."

    "Yes, ma'am, I guess it was.  Those other folks out there were friends of his, too.  They all live in the apartment complex.  According to Mr. Hughes," he nodded his head toward the door, "he's the gentleman in the red shirt, Mr. Benson was up earlier this morning carrying on his daily routine.  He told us Mr. Benson would gather his newspaper and deliver it to him in person, and this morning was no different. 

    "Connie had seen Mr. Benson earlier, also.  Later, when she tried repeatedly to get in touch with him by phone and he didn't answer, she got worried.  That's when she came over to check on him.  The door was unlocked so she came inside.  You know the rest."

   "Unfortunately, I wish I didn't."  A paramedic brushed past and went out the front door to greet the arriving Coroner.

   "Mrs. Collins, if you don't mind, we need to find out what's in that envelope.  You have to witness its removal from the wall."

Her heart threatened to stop beating at the thought, but she couldn't turn back. "Of course."

    "This way."

    She followed the officer down the hallway to Art's bedroom, and wondered why Pete stayed behind for a few short moments.

    Her pulse quickened and she was afraid she would fall apart at seeing Art's body, but to her surprise, she didn't.  Matter of fact, she was amazed that she didn't have much of a reaction at all.

    Pete approached, and while they waited for the officer to retrieve the envelope, she took her son's hand, and stepped inside the room. 

    Art's body was lying on the bed; the covers were pulled up to his chest.  His skin was ashen.  One arm lay straight out to the side, the hand not covered by the sheet was relaxed, palm up.  His head was turned toward her, his jaw appeared out of joint, his mouth was open, his eyes, closed.  She was glad Helen wasn't here to see him.  However, she wished she weren't here either.

     She did her duty and watched Riley take the envelope from the wall. Still holding Pete's hand, she led the way back to the living room.  The sight of Art saddened her and made her think of her deceased sister as well as her own age.  Soon she would be going to the hereafter.  She glanced at her son and pushed the thoughts from her mind.

    Moments later the officer followed envelop in hand.  "Mrs. Collins, would you open this and read it for me, please?"

    Her hands trembled slightly, and she felt as if the blood rushed from her face.  When she opened the envelope, a small key fell out. Pete picked it up and handed it to her.  It was cool to the touch as she placed it in her shirt pocket.  She let the stale air she'd been holding in her lungs escape, then read the note aloud.

    "If you are reading this letter, it mains I'm gone.  I hope you don't mind taking care of things for me, but I didn't know who else I could count on to get it done.

    Anything I have is yours if you want it, including my money.  You will have to use some of it to pay for my burial I'm sure, but what is left is all yours. 

    As far as the furniture goes, if you don't want it, maybe you know someone who does.  If not, give everything to Goodwill or something.  It doesn't matter to me now.

    In the spare bedroom there's a brown file cabinet with a padlock on it.  Inside the cabinet you'll find a metal lock box.  In the box are insurance policies you will need.  You'll also find savings bonds and some personal things.

    The key to the padlock is on my key ring.  The key to the metal box you have probably already found, as it was in the envelope with this note.

    I'm retired military and would like to be buried in the National Cemetery.

Art"

    She gladly allowed her son to take the note from her trembling hands, and that's the first time she really looked at the paper itself.  Apparently the words had been written years ago.  The envelope was discolored, while the paper inside had yellow around the edges.        

    Pete pointed to the page.  "It says the key to the padlock is on his key ring."  He glanced around the room.  "I wonder where that could be."

    "I know where his keys are, Mr. Collins," Riley said,  "They're on his dresser next to his wallet.  You folks go on into the spare bedroom, I'll get them and be right there."

    Lois hadn't noticed the people bustling in and out of the apartment until she followed Pete down the hall and saw the Coroner and his crew examining Art's body.  She hurried past and entered the dingy second bedroom.

    Glancing around the room she noticed a picture of two young women.  She went over to the dresser and picked up the photo.        

    "Isn't that you and Aunt Helen?" Pete asked as he peered over her shoulder.

    "Yes.  My gosh," she said with a slight smile, "that was a hundred years ago."  Memories of her sister flooded her mind and as she placed the photo back on the dresser she realized how much she missed her.

    Pete hesitated before he asked the next question. "Mom, did you see all the pictures in the living room?"

    Why would she have noticed the pictures?  She had other things on her mind.  "I guess I wasn't paying any attention.  Why?"

    "Well . . . they're all pictures of you.  Four or five of them."

    She lifted her hand to her mouth.  It couldn't be.  "What in the world would Art want with so many pictures of me?"

     "I don't know, Mom."

    "When did you see these pictures?"

    "A few minutes ago.  Remember when you and Officer Riley went to get the envelope and I stayed behind?"

    "Yes.

    "Well, I was looking around the living room.  On the table by the couch was a heart shaped frame, the picture inside it was of you."

     "Me?"

     "I was kind of startled so I walked over and picked it up, and when I put it back down I noticed three more photos of you placed around the room.  One is of you and Art standing in front of a Christmas tree.  I think he had that one blown up and cut your face out to fit the little heart frame.  It looks like the same picture to me."

    Pete shifted uncomfortably.  "They were all taken a long time ago.  I studied the one of you and him then remembered something granddad said when I was a kid."

    "And what was that, son?"

    "He said  'If you ask me, Art pays too much attention to Lois, her being a married woman and all.'  The rest of the family noticed the attraction, too. I never thought much about it then, but maybe they were right, Mom."

    What was he saying?  Disgusted with that idea she retorted, "That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard.  It's not true at all."  She sat on the twin bed.  "I just can't believe this is happening."  Tears rolled down her cheeks.  "My God, Pete, those pictures.  We can't leave them here for everyone to see, especially your father.  What would he think?"  She twisted her hands together, and looked at Pete as he sat on the bed next to her.  It seemed her heart would explode with all this turmoil.  "What am I going to do?"

    He put his arm around her.  "Calm down, Mom, we'll take care of it.  You've been doing so well today.  Now get a hold of yourself, I don't want anything happening to you over all this."

    Officer Riley entered the room.  "Are you all right, Mrs. Collins?" 

    She appreciated his genuine concern, sniffed, wiped the tears from her face and straightened.  "I'm sorry, I don't know what got into me.  I'm fine, really." She had to gain control, but the emotion was ready to spill at any time.

    Riley jingled the keys.  "Here they are.  Now all we have to do is figure out which one fits that padlock."

    As she watched the officer try the keys, she nestled deeper into her son's comforting embrace.  She loved him so much.  How would she ever be able to thank him for what he was doing for her today?

    "That's it."

    She heard Riley's words and simultaneously, the snap of the lock.  Funny how she didn't really care about what they'd find in the box.  She just wanted to go home and forget all of this.

    Riley opened the doors of the cabinet, removed the small metal lock box then handed the box to her as she stood.  Hands still shaking, she took the small key from the breast pocket of her shirt and placed it into the lock.  Her heartbeat quickened when the lid popped open.  Though she didn't really want to, she sat the box on top of the cabinet, and began to examine the contents.

    "Would you like me to do that, Mrs. Collins?"  Riley asked.

    Thankful for his offer she replied, "If you don't mind."  Then handed him the cold metal object.

    "I'd be glad to, ma am."  He moved past her, then pulled a bundle out of the box.  "It looks like this is Mr. Benson's discharge papers from the service."  He handed them to Pete.  "And this looks like a savings account pass book." 

    Riley opened the book and looked inside.  "Seventeen hundred and sixty five dollars is the balance according to this."  Again, he handed the article to Pete.  "Mr. Benson had a couple of hundred dollars in his wallet as well.

    She guessed the officer could tell she was uncomfortable with the situation and that's why he was focusing his attention on Pete.

    "It looks like these are the insurance papers." Riley studied them for a few moments.  "Yes, they are.  It says here, Mr. Collins, that your mother is beneficiary."

    She took a seat on the bed and watched as Pete took the papers.  "You'll find I'm probably on a few of those things.  You see, some years back, Art asked my husband and me if it would be all right for him to put my name on such things as that," she said, and paused for a moment, reflecting.  "I had forgotten all about it until this very moment."

    While she kept her seat, she watched and waited as the two men finished investigating the contents of the box.  It contained some personal things, such as cards he had received, a few old letters, and the remainder of an old coin collection.  She had no use for any of it, but figured his children might like to have it.

    Pleased that the contents of the metal box had been thoroughly investigated and that part was over, she began to relax a little.  Then they found one last thing, a notebook that had been beside the box inside the cabinet.

    "This must be a detailed index of everything Mr. Benson had."  Officer Riley began to read it.  "Well Mrs. Collins, it looks as though Mr. Benson really had feelings for you.  You're not just on a few of these things, you're on all but one."

    She took the book from him.  Beside each entry was written, Lois and me.  Each savings bond and at which bank it was located.  Each bank account, all insurance policies, and which companies, beside each of them was written Lois and me.  "I don't think it had anything to do with his liking me, Officer Riley."  She closed the book and handed it back to him wondering why the officer would make such a comment.  Then she remembered all the photographs Pete mentioned.  Surely the officer had seen them, too.  He probably though she and Art had some kind of relationship, but she refused to address the issue.

    Returning everything but the metal box to the cabinet, the officer re-locked it.  "It's obvious Mr. Benson wanted you to have this box and its contents, Mrs. Collins, so I think you should take it with you.  You'll need it for the insurance."

    "Okay."  She took the box and they left the room.

    Another officer handed Riley a clipboard as they entered the living area.  This time, she glanced around the room.  It wasn't messy or cluttered with a lot of things, but rather simple and dusty.  She sat down on the small olive green couch, Riley on the chair opposite her, and Pete paced.

    Her gaze was drawn to the pictures.  Some of them she'd never seen before.  She was embarrassed with their presence. Riley's voice brought her attention back from the photos.

    He inspected the clipboard.  "There are a couple of questions I need to ask you, Mrs. Collins."

    As he spoke, the paramedics, and people from the morgue, were busy readying Art's body for transport.  "Now, Mrs. Collins, were you kin to Mr. Benson?"

    "No, no kin."

    "There are some phone numbers on a piece of paper in the kitchen by the phone.  They belong to his children.  Do you know why he wanted you contacted in the event of his death, instead of his children?"

    "No.  I don't understand it.  This is really a terrible position to be in."  She turned her wedding ring round and round on her finger.

    "Mrs. Collins, if you don't mind me asking, how did you come to be acquainted with Mr. Benson."

    "Well, you see Art and my sister Helen met forty some years ago."  Feeling awkward, she cleared her throat.  "Sometimes I feel funny talking about this.  Anyway, Helen fell head over heels in love with Art, but he made it clear to her he wasn't interested in getting married.  He told her he'd been married before and had two daughters and that he'd made one mistake and didn't intend to make another.  That was early on in their relationship."

    She paused and looked at Pete.  He had stopped pacing and was listening to her words.

    "Go on, Mrs. Collins."        

    "Later he talked Helen into moving in with him.  In those days, that was unheard of, but she loved him in such a way she couldn't say no.  She hoped it would lead to marriage some day.  Of course, it didn't.

    "Art and Helen lived together several years, Officer Riley.  It took our family a while to accept the relationship, but eventually everyone did.  Except, of course, my father never did.  He disliked Art all along, and I never understood why."

    She struggled with her emotions.  Was it true that Art had an interest in her?  Is that why her father didn't like him?  She shook the thought and noted that Pete watched the expressions on her face as she told the story. Now and then she noticed him glancing around the room at Art's pictures of her.

     She focused her attention back to the officer.  "After about fifteen years of living together, it became apparent to Helen that Art wasn't going to marry her.  I don't know if that's the reason or not, but shortly after their sixteenth year together, Art moved out.

    "He moved to Maytown, where he met his second wife.  We never could figure out why he married the woman in Maytown.  They didn't stay together long.  Eight or nine months is all.  Then he was back, knocking on Helen's door."  On this note, she heard a bitterness in her own voice.  She never realized she was so disapproving in Helen's decision until that moment.

    "Everyone warned her not to, but she took him back anyway."  Her throat was scratchy and dry, so dry.  "Could I get a glass of water, please?"

    Officer Riley got the attention of one of the officers who had been working with the Coroner. He asked him to bring her a glass of water.

    The framed images of herself jumped out at her as she looked around the room.  Pete hadn't been exaggerating about their numbers.

    When the young man brought the water, she took a long drink before she could continue.  She swallowed hard and went on.  "I guess they were fairly happy.  They stayed together until my sister's death eight years ago.  A few weeks after Helen passed on is when Art called about putting me on his insurance policies."  She sipped the cold water once again.

    "Mrs. Collins, did Mr. Benson happen to mention why he wanted your name on everything and not his children's names?"

    "No, and it never crossed my mind.  I guess I was too upset about my sister to think about it at the time.  I'm sure thinking about it now."

    "Ma'am, I hate to ask this question, but I have to.  I've noticed the pictures," Riley said gesturing toward them.  "Were the two of you romantically involved?"

    "No!  Never!"  She was appalled at the officer's assumption that she might have been unfaithful to her husband.  "He lived with my sister.  They loved each other, and they had a good life together.  And I love my husband, Officer Riley.  Why would you even ask such a thing?"

    "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but these are routine questions."  He shot her a quick sympathetic smile, "Do you know why he had these pictures?"

    She felt bad that She'd been sharp.  He was only doing his job.  "I can't think of any reason."  She pointed to the photo of her and Art standing by the Christmas tree.  "That picture was taken at a family Christmas get together.  Helen took it for God sake.  I remember it well."  Her voice trembled.         "I don't know.  My goodness, this is a terrible situation to be in." Truly, she was relieved that Riley didn't ask any more questions at that time.

    A man dressed in white came out of Art's bedroom.  He pulled  a gurney with Art's body on it.  Another man helped to guide it.

    As they took the body out the front door, she and Pete sat quietly.  She stood and gazed out the picture window.  They rolled the sheet-covered body down the short sidewalk and loaded it into a white van.

    Connie still sat on the porch.  Her painful sobbing drifted through the open door and Lois felt sorrow in her heart for the young woman.

    The men closed the doors of the van.  Someone had taken away the yellow police tape posted around the yard when they had arrived.  Lois was unaware of Pete standing beside her until he asked Riley precisely the question she was about to ask.

    "Hey, why was the police tape around the yard when we came up?"

    "We weren't sure that Mr. Benson's death wasn't a homicide.  After his examination, the Coroner is sure he died from natural causes."

    Pete nodded, signaling he understood.

    "Mrs. Collins, that's all of my questions.  We should get in touch with Mr. Benson's children, so if you'll excuse me?"  Riley took his leave to the kitchen.

    She saw Pete pick up one of the photos and panic struck her.  "Pete, I want you to go through the house and gather those pictures of me.  I don't want your father to see them.  He and I will have to come over here to settle things."

    Pete started to leave the room when he turned to her.  "You're being really strong."

    Appreciation his kind, supportive words, she smiled, then sat quietly while her son went through the house and retrieved all the pictures he could find.  When he returned he took a seat on the couch and placed the photos in her lap then gathered the ones from the room in which she sat.  Tears threatened to spill as she went through them.

    "How many are there, Mom?"

    She placed the pictures beside her on the couch and blinked back the blurring in her eyes.  "I count eleven," she replied, studying them one by one.  "Are you sure this is all of them?"

    "Yes, but I can double check if you want me to."

    "No, that's not necessary."        

    "What are you going to do with them?"

    She didn't have to think before answering.  "I'm going to destroy them.  I've done nothing wrong, but I feel guilty about them being here."  She looked into his sympathetic eyes.  "Why, Pete, why would Art have pictures of me in his house?"  The question had gone over and over in her mind and she saw the wheels turning in his.

    "Could he have had a crush on you?'

    His voice was timid and she could tell he didn't really want to say the words, but she couldn't stop her sharp reply, "No!  I refuse to believe that!  I would have known.  And your father surely would have noticed.  No, no I won't hear it!  Art's dead and none of it matters.  Do you hear me?  None of it.  This is not to go any farther then the two of us, please."  He had already told her he would keep it between them.  She tried to soften the stern look on her face when she realized she was taking her frustrations out on him.        

    "Don't worry, Mom, I won't say anything.  I promise."

    Never before had she been filled with so many emotions at once.  "I'm sorry, honey.  I know you won't."        

    Officer Riley entered the room.  "Well, I got in touch with one of the daughters on the West Coast."  He removed his police cap, and scratched his head.  "She didn't seem concerned about her father's death.  She told me they'd never seen him much, and she really didn't know him."  He placed his cap back onto his head.  "I couldn't reach the other daughter, but I'll try again later."

    He leaned over the table to retrieve his clipboard.  "I think that's all for now.  I'm sure you folks will be glad to get out of here."

    Relief invaded every part of her body and she stood.   "I know I will."

    Pete asked Riley for something to put the pictures in. Riley left the room and returned with a plastic bag.  Pete carefully placed the pictures in it while she gathered her purse and the metal box.

    Officer Riley went through the house.  He put down open windows, and locked everything up.  He returned to the living room where she and Pete waited.  "Are you folks ready?"

    Pete answered, "Yes," and led the way out the front door. 

    Again, Connie sat on the step.  She turned and watched us come out of the apartment.  Her eyes were red and puffy.  I could see she had cried numerous tears over the tragedy.  I wished I could lend her some strength, but I needed it for myself.

    Riley secured the front door, then turned to me.  "i guess you will be needing these."  He held out Art's keys to me.        

    I took them and gazed into his caring eyes.'  "Thank you for being so kind, Officer Riley, I appreciate it.  You made this easier."

    Pete offered him a handshake.  "I have to thank you, also."    

    Riley clasped Pete's hand.  "You folks are welcome.  Again, sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.  Maybe we'll again at a better time."

    "I hope so," Pete said, then turned to go.  He took her by the hand and helped her down the porch steps.  The young woman stopped them.

    Connie stood.  "I don't mean to bother you, but can you tell me where the funeral's going to be?" 

    Lois noticed the young lady was pale.  Poor thing.

    Pete let go of her hand.  "We're not sure yet."

    Connie handed him a piece of paper.  "This is my name and phone number.  When you find out, will you call me?  Art had a lot of friends around here.  We'd all like to pay our respects."

    Lois felt the need to make introductions.  She stepped up beside Pete and smiled at the sad girl.  "This is Pete, and my name is Lois, Lois Collins."  She noted the way the woman seemed to studied her knowingly.

    "So you're Lois.  I'm Connie."

    "Yes, well, we'll let you know something, Connie," Pete said taking his mother by the elbow.  He led her to the car, opened the door and helped her in. "I'll be right back, Mom."

    "Where are you going?"        

    "I'm going to talk to Connie for a minute.  I won't be long."

    She sighed, weary and ready to return home.  "Hurry, please."

    "I will," he answered.        

    She watched him stroll back to the porch, and could see they were having a conversation, but couldn't hear.  She lay my head on the headrest and closed my eyes.  Why?  Why was this happening?

"Connie, I wonder if you could help me clear up a few things?

    "Sure, if I can."

    "How well did you know Art?"

    "Real well," she replied, "We were lovers."

    "I'm sorry, no wonder you're taking this so hard."        

    "Yeah," she said as she sat back down on the step.  I'm in love with him."

    Pete took a seat next to her.  "What?"

    "I said I'm in love with him.  I know he was a lot older than me, but I couldn't help myself."  She chuckled.  "He always told me not to fall for him because we'd never have a future together.  I stayed around anyway, hoping he'd change his mind."

    She looked at her hands, tangling her fingers together, then untangling them.  "I guess your aunt Helen went through about the same thing, huh?"

    "He told you about her?"        

    "Sure he did.  He loved her in his own way, but Art wasn't the marrying kind."

    "I wonder why he married that woman in Maytown," Pete said thoughtfully.        

    Connie inhaled deeply, then let the breath escape.  "He had to.  He got involved with her just before he and your aunt Helen broke up.  She got pregnant, so he ran off and married her.  He stuck around long enough for the baby to be born then went back to Helen.  He said he felt safe with her."

    Several moments of thoughtful silence passed.        

    "Yeah."

    "Do you know why Art had all the pictures of my mother?"

    Pete could see she fought back tears that welled in her eyes at the mention of me.

    For a few moments she said nothing, then simply answered, "I know."

    Pete waited for her to continue.  When she didn't he coaxed, "Connie?"

    As she spoke, she could tight no longer, twin tears rolled softly down her cheeks.  "He loved her."

    Pete told me his heart sank at that moment.  (Mine did to this morning when he repeated it to me.)

    Connie wiped her face with the back of her trembling hand. "He loved her.  With all his heart and soul he loved her, but he never told any one, but me.  That's why Helen nor I had a chance.  His heart was with your mom."  She wiped her face, and again tears came steadily.

    "Did Helen know about it?"        

    "No, I just told you he never told any one, but me," she said with impatience.  "I'm sorry.  After Helen died, he put out those pictures of Lois.  They were all old ones but he didn't care.  He said her beauty couldn't be matched."

    Pete touched her tear dampened hand.  "Connie, please, never say anything about this to my mother.  It would devastate her to think my father might find out.  I know she did nothing wrong, but she would feel like she did."

    I guess my son knows me better than I thought.

    Connie met Pete's gaze sincerely. "I would never do that. He loved her, and would never do anything to hurt her.  I loved and would never do anything to hurt him."

    He read truth in her eyes.  "No, I don't think you would."

    Pete stood.  "Thank you.  I'll be in touch as soon as we know something for sure."  He stepped onto the grass and turned back to face her.  "Is there anything of his you want?"

    She pondered a moment.  "Only his love."

    Pete nodded, and left Connie to deal with her grief.

* * *

    It had now been seven months since Art's passing and Lois still didn't know what had transpired between Pete and Connie that day on the Porch. She glanced up when her son cam in the door, once again his father has gone fishing.  They went into the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

     "You know, Son, I've always wanted to know what you and Connie talked about that day." 

    Pete sat across from her at the table.  "I'll tell you if you want me to, Mom."

    "Please, I'd like to here it."  She listened intently as he recounted the conversation.

    Her heart went out to Connie.  "That poor girl."

    The young woman had been hurt deeply, however was hard for her to express her own emotions about Art's death because she don't have any.  She did worry about Charles and how he would feel if he found out about the pictures. 

    As she and Pete sat in compatible silence, her memories went back to that day, after she and Pete got home.

    She remembered being relieved to be home…

    She made a fresh pot of coffee and poured them each a cup.  "Pete get those pictures out, will you?"  She carried the cups of coffee to the table.

    Pete reached for the plastic sack.  He placed it on the table,  took the pictures out one at a time, and studied each of them carefully.

    Lois took a sip of coffee, she didn't want to view the papered images again.  "Take them out of the frames, would you?"  She wondered if Pete could tell she didn't want to touch them. 

    He removed them from the frames.  "What are you going to do now?"

    "I'm going to put them in the trash before your father gets home."  She gazed at him with pleading eyes.  "You understand don't you, Son?"  she asked, desperately needing  for him to know she didn't want his father to be hurt.

    "I guess I do, Mom, but are you going to tell him about them?"

    She glanced down at her hands for the second time that day. With the fingertips of her right hand, she turned the gold band that surrounded the third finger of her left.  Thoughtfully she replied, "I don't know, Pete.  I'm not going to tell him today.  Maybe in a few days, after the funeral's over and this mess is all cleared up."

    Pete placed the pictures on the table in front of her. Sighing loudly, she hesitated before picking them up.  She stood up and walked to the wastebasket.  Opening the lid she ripped the photos to shreds, dropped the pieces in and closed the lid then went back to the kitchen table.

    They sat in silence for a long while, just as they were doing now, before Pete spoke.

     "Will you be all right here by yourself if I go home?"

    She smiled.  Pete was such a thoughtful man, even if he wouldn't admit it.  "Yes, honey.  Thank you for everything."  She gave him a big hug.  "You've been great today, and I love you for it.  I couldn't have made it without you."

    He returned the hug.  "I'm glad to have been of some help, although I didn't do much."        

    "Believe me, your being there was more support than you can imagine.  I love you so much," I said, gazing into his eyes.  "You'll never know what a special child you've been, and what joy you have given your father and me."

    Sentiment always embarrasses Pete.  She never knew why, but it makes him feel shy.

    He turned to go.  "Thanks, Mom, I love you guys, too."

    She followed him to the door and stood in the doorway watching him walk away.  "Thanks again, Son, and tell my daughter-in-law hello for me."

    "I will," he said, getting into his car.

    They didn't see each other again until Art's funeral two days later.  He stood by her at the cemetery after the service.  Charles had gone to get the car.

    She told Pete the money from Art's insurance would be enough to cover the burial expense.  The rest of the money she intended to send to Art's children, along with anything else of value.  She wanted nothing to do with it.

    The arrangements had been made for the Christian Foundation to pick up Art's old furniture and clothing.  She hoped it would come of some use to a needy family somewhere.

    After the service was over, Charles pulled up in the car and stopped in the graveled cemetery road beside us.  Pete opened the car door and helped her inside.  As they left, she tried to put it all behind her.

    Pete's voice drew her from her memories.

    "Mom, I'd better go."

    "Okay, Son.  Thanks again for everything you did for me back then."

    "Let's try to forget it.  It's in the past and it's over."

    She hugged him and followed him to the door.  "That sounds like a deal to me."

    Closing the door behind her, she realized why she'd never told Charles about the photo's. Maybe someday she would feel comfortable with knowing Art was in love her; but she don't think her husband would.