I started this story quite a while ago.  It is a fan-fic from the short-lived, yet brilliant series American Gothic.  This is a story of one of the families that I made up  to live in the town of Trinity.

WHAT'S PAST IS PROLOGUE

By Sammantha Goode


FOREWARD

This story was something I started a while back as a means of
dealing with grief - it really helped me, it sounds crazy but it made
me feel not so alone. What really shaped it was Queri's excellent
story, "Red Roses for a Dead Lady." Nimbi's story "Push" also
added to it. The family I have created here are just some ordinary
residents of Trinity-sort of. They are the Manigault family: Celeste
(mama); Robinson (the eldest brother); Valentine, who is called
Val (an older sister); Calder (a younger brother); and Taylor (the
baby sister who is telling the story).


CHAPTER ONE: "He That Dies Pays All Debts"
-- Shakespeare: The Tempest


The year I turned twenty-seven my mother died. It had been long
in coming and not unexpected. She was a desperately unhappy
woman who had given up on living years ago. She had never left
Trinity, even for one day and I had always thought that odd, but
now I believe leaving Trinity was a thing beyond her imagining.
But not me. I got out; I got out as soon as I was handed that high
school diploma. Mama didn't want me to leave, didn't understand
really. I knew that if I stayed I'd turn out just like her and all the
other old women too afraid to live. I believe this is what really
killed my mother: fear. It wasn't her emphysema or the cuts on
her wrists, it was just the fear of facing yet another day.

These were my thoughts as I drove toward Trinity, not kind
thoughts or sweet childhood memories. I felt as if I was preparing
to do battle, and I didn't understand why I felt this way. My sister
and brother would both be there to meet me at the house, I knew
we'd all be feeling the shock of loss. I wondered who else might
be there. Loris would stop by with some wonderful steaming dish
of food, knowing there would be nothing she could say to make
anything better_and smart enough not to even try. Perhaps
Dr. Owen, mama's doc since she was a kid, would be there,
plus the neighborhood ladies brigade_they wouldn't miss this
for anything, a peek inside the house and a chance to see grief
close up. The church auxiliary probably had already been and
gone, bringing casseroles and pies that were never as good as
anything Loris made. And one other person. Oh, he may not be
there when I arrive, but he'll not forget to stop by and offer me
his . . . condolences.

I turned right down Dogwood Avenue. The houses here were
old cracker-box Victorians, just like my mama'' house. When I
was young and would walk home from school down this same
street I would often think that someday I'd have a house like
one of these: big and full of stained-glass windows, gables, and
trim as delicate as spun sugar. And at night when my brother
Calder and I would sneak out the upstairs window, shinny down
the tree and run laughing into the dark. We would stop in front of
different houses and look through the lighted windows. What we
saw, I realize now, was a world we did not know, but ached to
be a part. Calder and I were regular little peeping Toms, we
loved slinking up to a house, hiding in the bushes, and watching
the people inside. It didn't matter what they did: watching television;
talking; laughing; eating dinner. We loved it all. I'm sure our
neighbors must have known, we weren't the quietest or the
cleverest kids on the block, but no one seemed to care_or if
they did they never said anything about it.

It made me want to cry, thinking about all of those times with
Calder. He and I had a special bond. Our older siblings, Robinson
and Valentine seemed so removed from either Calder or myself.
Neither of them understood us, I don't know if it was because of
the age difference or something inherent in ourselves. Robinson
took his role as the eldest brother quite seriously. No surprise
really, it's the Southern way, the eldest male in the family became
the patriarch over the rest. Once daddy had gone Robinson
stepped right up and filled those shoes with barely a pause to
catch his breath. My older sister Valentine, or Val as she insists
on being called, is the typical Southern belle; she had a way of
being so warm and sweet the butter melted in its dish and the
honey dripped from the hive. Robinson and Val were storybook
children who grew up to live familiar lives. They fit in; their looks
and their likes were the same as all the other kids in Trinity.
Calder had always been very like me in both appearance and
actions. Where Robinson and Val had the mousy brown hair
and freckles like our mother, Calder and I had fine almost white
hair and our skin was always milky-colored, no matter how much
baby oil I slathered myself with or how long I baked in the sun. I
think daddy's was like that, but I was too young when he left to
remember much about him. I remembered him in dream-like
memories, as a large man with a resonant voice. Mama did not
keep any pictures of him out, and I wondered whether I might
find one when we went through her things. I suspect Robinson
had one, but if he did he kept it to himself. I do know, because
mama never ceased to tell me, that Calder and I had our father's
deep green eyes. Our looks were contradictory to say the least,
and they served only to alienate us that much more from our peers.
I was raised knowing that Calder and I somehow belonged to my
father's people. That's how they refer to it in Trinity; and daddy's
people had the Manigault bloodline pulsing through it. This made
us both special and frightening.

I slowed the car as I approached mama's house. All the lights
were on, every single one. Mama would've had a conniption. I
pulled up to the curb in front of the house; I noticed my sibling's
cars in the driveway and realized I really didn't want to see them;
what could I say that wouldn't come out as being melodramatic
and maudlin? I got out, unlocked the trunk and began pulling my
old leather bags out. I heard someone shout "hello" and looked
up in time to see my brother headed down the walk toward me.
Other than his hair, which he grown long enough to pull back into
a ponytail, Calder had not changed. He was as tall and broad-
shouldered as he'd been in high school, and time had not left
any traces on his face.

"Hey you, little sister."

I let the bags fall to the ground and allowed myself to be
enveloped in my brother's arms. It felt good to be the baby again,
to let someone else hold me for a change. In the real world I'm
a physical therapist, stress on the therapist. I see so many mangled
people who need to lean on me emotionally as well as physically
that I often go home at night completely drained. I have many
opportunities to be the "strong one," I am good at it. Growing
up in this town and with this mother I had to be. My daddy was
long gone, only wrote once to let my mama know she could keep
the house; a fine man. My brother Calder, Lord bless him, is
nothing like my father. He is totally laid-back but he has a sense
of loyalty to the family, which is ferocious. I don't think he ever
got over daddy leaving us like he did. Calder has always been
my favorite sibling, he understands me like no one else in the
family does. Maybe it's because we're closer in age; he's only
thirty-three. And there are a few other "traits" or "secrets" we
share that no one else knows about or would really understand.

"Hey Bubba, how you doin'?" He may be only thirty-three, but
he'll always be "Bubba" to me. Before I could say his name,
before I could even say "brother," I came out with Bubba. Now
of course it's generally a derogatory name, but not for Calder and
me.

"Been better, been better . . .Val is here."

"Ah, I thought I saw the `Mail Truck.'" This was a joke between
and Calder and I alone, because my sister has six children she
delivers from activity to activity through sun, rain, or hurricane.
God knows why, but she is always talking about having another.
"How is she?"

"Well you know Val, falls to pieces. I don't think she's holding
up very well."

"Hhmm. I was afraid of that. Where is she?"

"Upstairs. Aunt Louise is with her and Mrs. Dobson from next
door. Richard's up there with her, too. They're huddled in mama's
room."

We stood apart a bit, looking up at the big white house. Calder
turned to me with a mischievous smile.

"How `bout you and I take a little walk?" he asked.

"They won't care?" I nodded toward the house.

"Well, I don't think they even know you've arrived. I was kind
of keeping an eye out." He winked at me and I smiled at him.

"Always the Southern gentleman, taking care of things for your
poor little sister!"

He grabbed my hand and pulled me along after him. We headed
down the darkened street; we lived just far enough on the edge
of town not to have regular streetlights, so the eerie blue from
television sets up and down the street lighted the sidewalk. We
walked in silence for a couple of blocks, both of us kicking and
crunching the dead leaves along the sidewalk. Calder reached
inside his brown leather jacket bringing out a small hand-rolled
cigarette and offering it to me.

"How you feeling, girl?" he smiled wickedly at me.

"Calder! You really are too much! Of all days." I said as I took
it from him.

"Trust me, you're going to need this before the night's over.
Robbie's on his way over." He said. `Robbie' was actually
Robinson, our eldest brother. Calder insisted on calling him
`Robbie' just to piss him off, which was really no challenge.
Maybe it was the generation gap, Robinson is twenty years my
senior, or maybe it's more ingrained than that, but none of us
kids got along with him. He was just too `good ole boy,' and
Calder could do a perfectly evil impression of him!

He took the joint from my hand and inhaled deeply.

"Mmm." I could feel the muscles in my jaw begin to loosen for
the first time in twenty-four hours. "Has Robinson been a perfect
ass?" I asked. Calder nodded, still holding his breath.

"Um. So, where is she? Down at the funeral home?" I asked
taking the cigarette away from him.

"No . . . Taylor, the death wasn't, um . . . well, natural causes."
Calder stopped walking and took my hand. "They have to check
everything out."

"Why?  She was unhappy woman who took advantage of the
razor blade. It's not that surprising; she'd tried it before. She
suffered from a chronic case of melancholy, to put it mildly. I
mean, how many times had she threatened to do it?"

Calder shrugged and looked away.

"Exactly; too many times to count. I'm not surprised at her death.
I am a little surprised at how ashamed I feel. I should have known,
or had a hint something was wrong." I began to cry. Calder put
his arms around me, holding and shushing me. A big Lincoln town
car pulled up along side of us. We stepped back and looked at
the man behind the wheel: Robinson. He opened the car door
and got out. Standing with his legs wide apart, hands on hips,
he was like a parody of the southern patriarch.

"So, there you two are. I might've known, off enjoyin' yourselves
while the rest of us are just tryin' to hold things together." He
hadn't changed, obviously.

"Well, it's good to see you, too." I said.

"How long have you been in town, Taylor? You could've
called and let somebody know." He scolded.

"She did let somebody know: me. Lay off, Robbie. I was
just preparing Taylor for what she's about to walk into." Calder
said.

"I bet you were. What's that smell?" Robinson looked around
angrily.

"Probably the joint we've been sharing." I said, just to tick him
off even more.

"Well, that's just dandy isn't it. My little sister is going to show
up at her deceased mother's house stoned out of her mind." His
voice taunted me.

"It's been really nice seeing you again, Robinson. Reminds me of
why I moved away in the first place." I retorted.

"Has `Mr. Responsibility' over there told you about the inquest?"
Robinson asked, gesturing toward Calder.

"We were just discussing that. Does this mean there has to be an
autopsy?" I asked.

"Yes. Things were . . . just not right."

"Yeah, she killed herself." I snapped.

"You don't have to get uppity! Let's just say that there are a few
things that don't quite add up." He said.

"Like what? Calder and I were just talking about how mama didn't
seem any more distraught than usual, neither one of us can think of
anything that's happened recently that would push her over the edge."
I said.

"Yeah, in fact, she seemed happier than usual. Which in itself should
have tipped me off." Calder said, squeezing my hand.

"Right. She seemed all right to me, too. And I saw her all the . . .
you know . . . on a regular basis." Robinson's voice became quiet.
I felt a sudden twinge of regret and guilt. Maybe I could've stayed
or visited. Something.

"No, now I know what you're thinking Taylor. You gotta cut that
out right now." Calder's voice was firm. "You paid most of the
expenses, you called and kept in touch. You were a good daughter,
Taylor." Calder put his arm around me and looked defiantly over
my shoulder at Robinson. I turned my face away from them both
as I began to cry again.

"Ah, Taylor." Calder turned me around and took hold of my
shoulders. "You were a good daughter, you were always the best.
If mama had had sense she would've told you that."

Even Robinson seemed contrite. "I didn't mean that I would've
had any greater insight into her motives just because I lived in the
same town." He said.

"Yeah, we know what you meant Robbie." Calder snapped.

"Calder, Robinson, just stop it, the both of you. I can't handle a
duel between the two of you right now." I said.

"All I meant," Robinson began, staring belligerently at Calder, "Is
that it just seems, I don't know, like it's wrong. Like there's
something more here. Look I don't have anything other than a
gut feeling, but . . . do you think mama might've had a little help
with that razor?"

"Jesus, Robinson! That's patently ridiculous. Why would she?
How would she? She just wouldn't." I was so angry I was shaking
and very nearly speechless.

"Calm down, now just calm down. I told you, I don't have any
solid reason to believe she could've been pushed. All's I'm saying
is . . ." Robinson's voice trailed off.

"All you're saying is that `someone' manipulated mama into killing
herself, and we all know who the only person in town with the
capabilities of that is. Why don't you just say it? Lucas killed
mama. All right mastermind, why would he do that? What could
he possibly gain?" Mama had nothing he'd want, not enough
money, just the house, no power. And frankly, I can't see him
being all that interested in Calder, Val, or even you. None of
you are really the Trinity movers and shakers." I spat the words
at him.

"Right. None of us here would interest Lucas." Robinson's
expression turned solemn as he gazed steadily at me. My mind
wasn't functioning fast enough. I tried to shake clear of the
drugged fog that surrounded me. I looked back at him evenly.
Then it struck me what he was intimating.

"I see. Me.  You think I had something to do with this."

"Not directly, no. Tell me the truth Taylor, have you talked to
Lucas lately?" Robinson's left eyebrow rose with the question.

"Christ! No!  I swear Robinson, you are like a dog with a bone.
I was eighteen and I was na‹ve." "I had nothing that Lucas found
anywhere else in Trinity on any given day."

"Okay, you two, that's enough." Calder stepped between us.
"This is hard enough, let's not start casting stones."

"I'm sorry, Taylor." Robinson said. "I just, well it just seems so
crazy."

"Well, wake up Robinson, mama was a crazy woman." I said to him
as he dropped his gaze to the ground.

"I'm sorry Taylor, forgive me?" He was almost whispering. I was
still too angry to forgive him.

"Look, why don't you and Calder head back to the house and I'll
be along in a little while." I said without looking at either of them.

"Yeah, okay. Um. You're alright out here by yourself?" Angry or
not he was still my big brother, my protector.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Y'all go on, don't tell anyone I'm here yet, okay?
Unless they saw us or something." I said.

Calder gave me a quick hug, sneaking another joint into my hand.
He whispered into my ear: "I can't believe you're sending me off
with him." I smiled evilly at him.

"I really am sorry Taylor." Robinson wasn't going to let it drop.

"I know you are, and I'll probably accept that apology when I
calm down." I smiled slightly at him. "Off you go, now." I said,
winking at Calder who was mouthing the words "I'll get you for
this."

The night had gotten a bit cool; it'd be winter soon. I walked a
little further on until I reached the schoolyard. I sat on one of the
old red canvas swings and took the joint out, lit it and inhaled
deeply. I began to push myself forward then back. I remembered
this yard, these swings. I'd fallen out of one once and had almost
broken my arm.

"I could arrest you for that." The voice came suddenly from
behind me. A voice I'd heard over the last eight years only in
dreams. Lucas caught the swing from behind and held me
suspended in the air. "Looks like a full moon." He whispered
into my ear.

"Yeah, funny that. It says in the tourist brochure that Trinity's
known for it's full moons and stupid men." I tried to twist
around to look at him, but he was in shadow. Typical. I heard
him laugh softly.

"Well, yah gotta have a gimmick if you want to bring in those
tourist dollars." He rattled the chains of the swing, but continued
to hold me in mid-air. "I hope you weren't referring to me." I
could feel his body against my back.

"Oh, no sheriff. I'd never say anything like that about you. I
just had a run-in with Robinson." I confided to him.

"Ah, how is ole Robbie? Business good?" He asked.

"Why do you ask?" His questions made me suspicious.

"No reason." He said. "I heard about your mama Taylor, I'm
real sorry."

"Uh huh, duly noted, Lucas. Let me down." I said. He let go
of the chains and I was suddenly propelled forward in the swing.
I held my legs out and dragged them along the uneven dirt until
the movement slowed and I was finally still. Lucas sat in the
swing next to me.

"You've no reason to be angry at me." He said without looking
at me.

"I'm not.  I just . . . It's been a long and difficult day and I think
it's just the first of many. I'm tired." I said. I put out the joint and
put the remainder into my pocket. I stood up abruptly, I had an
urge to get away from him, but before I could move he was
beside me holding onto my arm.

"What is it that you're thinking, girl?" he asked. "Has someone
told you something I should know about?" He tightened his grip
on my arm.

"Lucas, you know every Goddamned thing in this Goddamned
town, you don't need me as an informant." "Now, let go of my
arm." I said in the firmest voice possible. He ignored that and
said instead:

"I did not hurt or cause any harm to your mama. She was a sad
and bitter woman, but she meant well in most cases. And,
however she did it she turned out one hell of a daughter." He
was looking directly at me. I looked into his face. He was telling
the truth. I don't know how it was, but I have always been able
to tell when someone's lying to me. Falsity has a smell, it smells
differently on each person, but the odor is always present. It
sounds crazy, I know, but even Lucas had a scent when he
lied. A cloying sweet smell of faded and dying flowers, I did
not smell it now.

"Taylor, darlin', you know I'm telling you the truth." Lucas
held my face between his hands and tilted it up to him. I
searched his face for signs of duplicity; I breathed his smell
in deeply. Nothing.

"Yes, I know." I said at last. "It's just something Robinson
said . . ." I began.

"That I'd hurt your mama to get at you. Did he have some
reason behind this brilliant deduction?" Lucas' tone became
bitter.

"None. I shouldn't have listened to him. I told him mama had
nothing to offer you," I said frankly, watching his eyes for a
flicker of anger.

"Is that what you think of me? That I go around hurtin' people
to get what I want?" He sounded almost offended.

"Oh, I know that's what you do. You don't thrust that knife in,
but you tell them where to stick it and how hard to push. You
ever heard of the Hidden Hand of God theory of the universe,
Lucas? Well, except for the God part that's you and Trinity.
Trinity is your little universe. You control things here. I'd be a
fool not to know it."

"It didn't seem to bother you eight years ago," he smiled wickedly
at me. "In fact, now correct me if I'm wrong, but that was part
of my appeal." I realized he was still holding my face in his hands.

"I was eighteen, Lucas. Eighteen and I'd never been out of
Trinity. Hell yes, that was part of the appeal. You were the
most interesting man in the whole county. I bet you still are.
But I'm not fool enough to think you had any real feelings
for me, other than arousal, that is."

"Well, that's where you're wrong." He slid his hand along my
jawline and then up into my hair intertwining his fingers in it. "I
always knew your worth, even before you knew it yourself. I
could respect you without condition." He bent his head down
to mine, kissing my lips gently. Then his kiss turned deeper and
more insistent. I didn't even try to resist him. I returned his kiss.
God. After eight years away and half that time in therapy it felt
as good as it did when I was eighteen. Better. Damnit.

He slowly pulled back, resting his forehead on mine and
looking me straight in the eye. "Welcome home, darlin'" he
said.

"Lucas, I have just driven over five hundred miles to put my
mama in the ground. I have to meet and greet my `fellow'
mourners, attempt to keep my brothers from killing each other
and try and keep my sister from losing it altogether. My mama's
house is probably filled with people I don't even know but still
have to be friendly to. To top it all off my eldest brother thinks
I'm some kind of long-distance Dr. Kevorkian, not to mention
he's going to give me hell for seeing you. Did you really think
you could give me one good kiss, a "welcome home" and
everything was going to pick up right where we left it eight
years ago?  Go away Lucas, you are the last thing I need tonight."
I pulled away from him and stood looking at him directly.

"I'm not the person you're mad at, Taylor." He said.

"I know," I answered, "But you'll do for now."

He smiled slightly, turned and started to walk away, his long
black coat making soft rustling sounds as he moved. I'd be
damned if I was going to stand out here in the cold and watch
him go. I glanced up at the sky_at the beautiful full moon,
turning around I headed up the vacant street towards the
house.


END OF CHAPTER ONE