Home From Within by Jennifer McCartney, Lisa Maggiore Page A

rain that hit the windows in little splats. While Jessica sat in silence, she continued to decipher the family tree. It appeared his parents died at the same time. She knew they were dead but the story attached to their death was never told.
    “As you know, I grew up on a farm, in the UP,” her father began, still looking out the window. “We had livestock, mostly dairy. Some bean and corn crops. Lodi and I worked hard; you had no choice on a farm. My parents were good people, strong morals and values, church-going folks. Everybody knew everybody where we grew up. It was supposed to be a safe place to live.” He turned and looked at her. “But no place is safe.” He folded his arms tight in front of him. “My parents were killed in a car accident, ol’ Buddy Akers on that whiskey. You know where Buddy Akers is?”
    Jessica reluctantly shook her head, afraid her father might reveal too much.
    “Living in a nursing home in the UP, letting taxpayers foot the bill for his murdering ass.” Her father hesitated for a few seconds. “But you know who is
not
in that nursing home?” She watched as her father grew agitated. His face shrouded in hate and his arm muscles flexed. “Ermaline and Walker.”
    Who were Ermaline and Walker? Those were not the names of his parents.
    “Are those relatives?” Jessica asked out of curiosity.
    Her father suddenly sat down in his office chair and put his fists against his forehead and slowly began to bang them against his head. After a minute had passed, her father spoke in a voice that cracked, “I hate everything about Ermaline and Walker. Even their names leave a foul taste in my mouth. I can still see it. I can still see too much.”
    Jessica’s eyes were firmly planted on her father because she had never witnessed him being in pain. It was hard to tell, because his fists covered his face, but she was pretty sure a tear fell from his eye.
    “Dad, are you ok?” Jessica asked. She was about to move off the couch to be closer to him, but then he slammed his fists on the desk and stood up tall. If his eyes did shed a tear, they were all dried up now.
    “Look around this room. See all these weapons,” he said, then walked toward a bayonet and ripped it off the wall. He held it up for Jessica to see. “They can only serve you to a point. It’s up to you to keep yourself safe, no matter what.”
    Jessica fixed her eyes on the closed door, hoping to telepathically beckon her mother.
    “Your job is to keep guard of yourself at all times. Know who is around your space; everyone can be an enemy.”
    Like a gift from God, the phone rang in the office. Jessica stared at her father, but he acted like he didn’t even notice.
    “The phone is ringing,” Jessica whispered.
    From the kitchen, her mother yelled for her father to answer it. Instead of picking it up, he lifted the bayonet high above his head and brought it down point first on top of the phone. It looked like he was spearing a shark. Jessica jumped at the sound as little pieces of plastic went flying all over the room. She crouched down on the side of the leather sofa, and peeked at her father, feeling shocked at his lack of control. He was staring at the bayonet while his hand trembled. Even though she felt protected by her father, she feared his rage made his vision blurry. She would have to take his advice and keep herself safe. Before she could make a move toward the door, her mother came lunging into the office with her apron on, batter all over her hands.
    “Jim, have you lost your mind?”
    He stared at her as if he had never seen her before.
    “Jim, this is your wife, remember, your family, the people you love and are to protect.”
    He glared at his wife, bayonet still in hand. Jason came running into the room and stopped just past the threshold.
    “Jessica, I want you and Jason to go upstairs, please,” her mother said with a mixture of fear and firmness in her tone.
    Jessica stared at her father, not sure if she