Page 32 of Home Tears

Oscar Bendsfield was Mrs. Bendsfield’s son. He went missing thirty years ago, and the story was that he fought with his mother over his absent father. He wanted to find him. She didn’t. But he swore he would and that night, he walked to the woods and never came back. The story was told over campfires and during sleepovers. The moral had been to avoid empty threats. Some argued he hadn’t made an empty threat. He was still searching for his vagabond father, but some thought he’d gotten snatched and murdered. Still, others always said Mrs. Bendsfield killed him in a rage because he dared defy her word.

Dani always rolled her eyes every time she heard the story. It was a stupid rumor created by mothers to scare their children from using emotional blackmail, but she found herself asking, “Did he love me?”

“Delusions are supposed to be all-knowing, not all-stupid,” Mrs. Bendsfield said matter-of-factly, dabbing away.

Dani held her breath. She waited a beat. “Did he father my children?”

Mrs. Bendsfield froze. Her hand stopped mid-motion and then, after a second, she stood slowly and rotated on her feet to stare at Dani. “Oscar Bendsfield was my son, and he was no father to any of your children. You get that in your head and stop showing up around these parts! I took a shovel to you thirty years ago, and I’ll take a shovel to you today.”

Dani stood slowly, hands fisted at her side. “Are you sure he wasn’t my father?”

Mrs. Bendsfield blinked, but remained in place. She shook her head and muttered, “Don’t need these headaches. Don’t need these delusions. Headaches and delusions. I have to lay off those mushrooms…”

“Did you hurt my mother?!” Dani’s voice rose, quaking just a bit.

“Stop playing with me. We both know what happened. Your mother’s been in the insane asylum since Oscar took off. You should’ve gone with her for all the foolhardy things you were saying. My Oscar would never touch a piece of filth like you. We both know that. Just get on raising those bastards of yours.”

Dani stepped forward. “Bastards? Bastards of whose? I want to know!”

“It was the other vagabond. Although he wasn’t no vagabond by my standards. Kept coming back to sire the last two, didn’t he? Vagabonds come and go. That’s how they do it. That’s how my Oscar was born.”

“You kept your son from being my father?”

Mrs. Bendsfield frowned and stepped back as Dani stalked forward. One step by one step. A slow and menacing game of cat and mouse.

“Where’s my grandmother?”

Confusion crossed the elder woman’s features a moment, and she answered, “Your grandmother’s in the grave, Daniella. You know that. You held my hand at her funeral.”

“Where’s my mother?” Dani asked instead.

“The asylum. I already told you, but you know that. You kept it from your two sisters, remember? A secret to the grave, that was our agreement.”

“What asylum? I don’t remember.”

“St. Francis over in Petersberg. You’ve been visiting her all your life. I don’t know why you forgot that. Don’t make no sense. Delusions don’t make no sense.” She bent back over her work, muttering to herself, “Subconscious, my ass.”

“Mrs. Bendsfield,” Dani said firmly.

The old lady turned back, slightly irritated at the intrusion.

“I am not a delusion, and I am not the Daniella O’Hara that you remember. I am her daughter, Danielle. I was named after my mom and I will be back. Be sober when I do. I want some answers.”

She knew Mrs. Bendsfield would just shake her head, convince herself it was a weird hallucination, and go back to painting. Dani didn’t care. She remembered her mother with dancing spices and magical powers. Mrs. Bendsfield remembered her mother with suspicion, hauntings, and secrets to the grave.

Dani didn’t like knowing that her mother would take a secret to the grave.

She drove until she found GoldenEye. As she drew closer, the cow didn’t move. She had a halter on with a strap attached, and didn’t bat an eye when Dani led the cow back down the road. A gate wasn’t too far away. Dani unlatched it, led the cow back inside. Once inside, she unclasped the halter and took it off, draping it over a post as she headed back to her car.

Just before she was about to get in, Dani turned and looked back toward Mrs. Bendsfield’s home.

She had walked this road many times, driven the same gravel, and she even cried here after a few fights with Jake. She never thought about the older woman, but she noticed now that the home lay underfoot of two massive oaks, as if protecting it with giant hands shielding the sun’s rays. It always had a peaceful air to the home.

Or she used to think.

Dani was on her dock that evening when Aunt Mae arrived. She didn’t have to look back to know who it was. Only one person could walk that irritated without sound.

“You need a damn cellphone.” Aunt Mae plopped beside her and tugged the afghan Dani had on her lap to cover her as well.

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