Please read this! More of Burning Crosses ; - )

Who was this man? Whad did he want from my mother? Did she had another son kept secret somewhere? There was no way I could be his, for I was the son of Lance Tremaine. I was positive it was so. Angry at my mother, I went looking for her, hoping she wouldn't be too busy entertaining her guests to speak to me. Ever since the party began, she hasn't said a word to me except to ask me to get the sewing kit. I left the kit upstairs, thinking this to be much more important.

Mother was talking to her lady friends, sipping tea with them and eating little finger sandwiches. They had wandered into the parlor and were now gossiping about some of the other partygoers. I stormed into the room like an unexpected hurricane. "Mother! I have to ask something of you!" I said hotly. "What could it be, Shawn? Can't you see I'm busy with my friends?"

Mother gave me a gentle frown. She looked so innocent, so much like a child. I shattered her child=like image when I thrust the letters and pictures into her face. "Take a look at these."

Mother's eyes went wide as the color drained from her face. Gripping my elbow, she demanded, "You went snooping through the attic, didn't you? I only asked of you to bring down that sewing kit! Not to go poking your nose into everything!" she shrieked. the other women stared at her, taking in the scent. I could tell there was going to be some serious gossiping about her when she was scarce.

I was silent. I had nothing more to say about this except, "Talk to me tonight."

She let out a sigh of defeat. There were no opportunities for her left but to tell me what this was about. "Go find your father."

I nodded solemnly. "I will do that." She turned back to her lady friends and went back to talking cheerfully to them, as if what just happened never was.

Clutching the old artifcts in my hands, I wandered down the long, broad corridors to find my father. The only light was cast from the sconces on the walls, sending shadows dancing on the walls. My feet dragged across the velvet floor towards my father's study, where he'd gone to find somethig for a few moments. I wondered why my parents were abandoning their guest. I guess it didn't matter, for my grandparents were doing a fine enough job as it was.

I heard the sound of a young woman's flirtatious laughter. Curious and wondering whether someone was makin' whoopee, a small smile crossed my face. I stepped up to the door, enclosed the knob in my sweaty hand, and edge it open slgihtly. What I saw when I opened the door shocked me. There, standing right in the middle of the room, stood my fater with a young lady. The top of her bloudse was unbuttoned, revealing her cleavage and my father seemed to be getting a great joy out of what he was viewing. A queer smile played on the corners of his lips as he leaned in to kiss her.

I stood in the doorway, my mouth gaping open as I tried to cope with the fact that my father was betraying my mother. I must have done something to attract his attention, for, the next thing I knew, he was staring at me with vemon in his eyes. "Shawn! Get out of here!" He pointed in the direction of the party. The young lady turned around, revealing her beautiful fce and strawberrry blond curls. I knew her to be a girl a little older than me, Heidi Lancaster. It was like a stab in the chest to find out who she was, for I was one of the many admirers of her. Whether she knew it or not, it was I who stuffed the love poems in her locker back when I was a gawky preteen in seventh grade. I was the one who trailed after her, panting like a bunch of tomcats after a female in heat. I insisted that my father and mother invited her and her family to the party so that I could get to know her better. And now that she was here, I was shunted to the side like rotten fruit.

"Oh...hello, Shawn." Heidi smiled nervously at me, her hands flying up her blouse, shutting the shirt. My father gripped her thin upper arm tightly. "Shawn, I told you to go back to the party. I wanted you to stay there so I could conduct business without you nearby."

"First things first. I found these in the attic and I want to have a word with you about them." I said, my lips as taught as stretched rubber bands. I held out the papers. "Tell me about them."

Father stared at them, his chin lifted to show me his defiance. I could tell how reluctant he was to reveal what those letters meant. Knew that he was going to refuse to tell me. Instead, what he said surprised me: "I thought I told Caryn to burn that junk."

"What is it?" I frowned.

"I will have a word with you after the party." He gave me a meaningful glare. Fixing his attention back on Heidi, he added, "I have important business."

I shook my head and left to return to that silly party. But not before setting the papers down upon his desk in the private study. As I laid them down, I looked out the window overlooking the lake. Shuddering at the sight of it, I remembered my great fear of water. Ever since I nearly drowned at age seven, I never went anywhere near water except to take a shower. I wouldn't even take normal baths due to my fear. The lake wasn't beautiful to me and it never would be.

I returned to the party rather unwillingly. Sitting with my friends, I tried not to let my depression show as I sat in a corner, picking at the plate of food a servant got together for me. I usually loved to eat; I could eat quite a bit and not have to worry about gaining a pound. Today was different. Ever since I found all that stuff in the attic, I had very little appetite. I barely ate a thing and left practically a full plate. I went off to find my parents.

I moved around the corridors, wanting to find my parents and ask if I could retreat to my bedroom until the party was over. When I heard the sounds of low voices, I stopped dead in my tracks to listen, for they sounded awfully familiar. My Grandmother Tremaine, Father, and Mother were in my father's office, speaking in angry voices. Well, my grandmother sounded angry, but my father and mother spoke softly, like the gentle wind in summer.

"I think you should tell the boy the truth and send him off with his father. I've tried all these years to overcome the feelings I've felt whenever I was around him and I never got over the fact that he is not blood to me. Blood is what matters most in this family, Lance. If you don't tell him, I will," Grandmother whiplashed. I peered in the door crack at them to see Father with his head bowed and my mother crying gently. Five foot three, Grandmother Tremaine was more intimidating than my father, though he was a foot taller. He never stood up against her, which went to show how much of a Mama's boy he was. It was sick.

"Shouldn't we wait until he's eighteen?" Father asked tiredly.

"That's a year away! No! Tonight!" Grandmother screeched. "He is part hillbilly and I can't stand those slave-holding, filthy, tobacco-smoking yokels! All of them are the same: Ugly, fat, body odor, rotten teeth and breath odor, ragged clothes..."

"Not all of them are like that, Mother," Father groaned. I watched his shoulders slump downwards like two birds that had been shot. "Well...what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to tell Shawn the truth and send him to live with his kin! He's a hillbilly! He can't stay with this family!" she commanded.

"He's my son, though," Mother protested. "I'm the one who bore him."

"I don't care," she spoke through clenched teeth. "He's not my blood. I don't want to have to look at the son of the man whom you had an affair with. We don't want that in this family, Caryn. And if you don't send him away before the week is out, I'll be sure to do something about it!" she threatened. Her fist was raised, as if she was about to deliver a blow to my mother's face.

Mother moaned. In the gentle light, I could see the tears glittering on her soft face. I wanted to go in by her, wrap my arms around her, and hug her tightly. I longed to go off on Grandmother Tremaine. Chewing on my lower lip, I tried to contemplate what I was going to do.

"This party's over, Caryn. I will tell everybody to get out of here. And after that, we will talk more," Grandmother stated harshly. Using her wooden cane to support her frail frame, she pounded towards the door. I darted down the hallway. Fast. I didn't want to get caught by my shrew of a grandmother. I didn't want to fall victim to her meanness.

Getting a little bit of my appetite back, I wandered back into the giant dining room. Haunting the area around the dessert table, I shoved little cookies, pralines, and peanut brittles down my throat. Barely any of the guests were there anymore; the party was just about ending. As I finished off an oatmeal cookie, Grandmother Tremaine shooed the rest of the partygoers out of the house. "The party's ended, folks! You mgiht want to consider going home right now!"

She spotted me standing tall by the servind table. Giving me a falst smile, she asked, "Hello, Shawn. Are you feeling well? You looked sort of pale a few moments ago."

I didn't answer her. I paid more attention to the toffee chunk in my hand.

"You're as skinny as a rail, Shawn, but you should really watch what you eat. You could always suddenly become fat," Grandmother warned me in a sweet voice before pounding out of the room.

'What a liar,' I thought to myself, twisting my head around to watch her depart. I sucked on a piece of toffee, letting the buttery candy melt in my mouth.

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