The Recluse Storyteller by Mark W Sasse Page B

barely seeing. She felt confused and destitute. She fell to her knees and wailed in silence, unable to make a sound as tears streamed down her face. Gwen jutted around the trunk of the tree, baby in hand, hope in her heart, and nearly ran over Georgia, who knelt like a pilgrim at an altar or a widow at a funeral.
    “‘Papa? Where’s Papa?’ Gwen asked.
    “Georgia remained silent — tears in her eyes.
    “‘Georgia,’ Gwen voiced in a tone quickly becoming cynical. ‘Georgia, you evil girl. Papa isn’t here. How could you? How could you do this to me?’
    “Georgia stood up immediately and whirled around into Gwen’s face.
    “‘He was here,’ she yelled hoarsely. ‘He was here. There was a table, and two chairs, and he was here. Papa. Papa,’ she lapsed into a melancholy whisper.
    “‘You liar! How dare you! I hate you! I hate you!’ Gwen saw only red.
    “‘I’m not a liar. He was here,’ Georgia screamed right back.
    “The baby started crying.
    “‘I will never speak with you again,’ Gwen said with desperate tears on her cheeks, stabbing Georgia with heartbroken glances of betrayal. She knew of no one else on the entire earth who could be as cruel as Georgia.
    “Georgia’s temper rose quickly, having little patience with Gwen’s accusations.
    “‘I am not a liar. Papa was here. Right here.’
    “‘Stop it, Georgia. Stop it!’
    “‘I will not stop it.’
    “Georgia grasped Gwen’s arm and shook it up and down.
    “‘Stop it. You are just evil. You’re hurting Benjamin.’
    “Georgia, in a mindless rage that consumed every inch of her body, could only think about Papa and the table. She couldn’t accept being a liar. Not this time. Not with the stakes this high.
    “‘I’m not a liar. Papa was here!’
    “Georgia pushed back against Gwen. Gwen caught her clog on a crab apple root. Her knee buckled, and she slipped backwards, caught in gravity’s rapturous pull. With her hands spread wide, she tumbled over, counting every second, reaching and reaching and reaching for the baby, who flew headlong out of her grasp. Her arms, flung over her head, could not catch him as he plummeted toward the tree. Gwen landed hard, squarely on her back. Benjamin shrieked loudly and then fell silent. Georgia looked on, helpless, as the baby came to rest at the base of the tree. He lay lifeless, blood flowing slowly down his soft, white cheek. Georgia stood in a dream, unable to move, unable to react, unable to speak. Gwen bent her neck backwards as far as possible to view baby Benjamin. Pain ripped through her back as her motherly instincts longed to hold her precious bundle.”
     
    * * *
     
    The meeting dragged on into the realm of the inconsequential. Mrs. Johnson decided to stand up and clear her head a little bit by picking up everyone’s coffee cups and taking them into the kitchen. She rinsed them lightly in the sink and yelled into the twins’ room to see what they were up to. No answer. She yelled again. Silence. She walked down the hall and into the room only to find it empty. She quickly back-traced her steps into the bathroom. Nothing. She went across the living room as Mr. Tomsey and his booming tenor tried to make a convincing counter-point. She peeked into the the master bedroom. They were gone. She quickly ran out of the room and anxiously announced her discovery.
    “The twins. They’re not here.”
    Everyone turned on cue and looked at Mrs. Johnson, whose face had gone completely white.
    “They aren’t in their room?”
    “They’re gone. They’re not in the apartment,” she said as her voice faltered and quivered and her eyes welled up with moisture.
    Cheevers was the first one up. He was a decent man, who cracked jokes non-stop but had a tender side to him that made him very protective of everyone weaker than himself. This is why he had very little patience with Mrs. Trumble’s bullying.
    “Don’t worry, Mrs. Johnson. We’ll find them.”
    Cheevers barreled out the