Tailspin Part 1 is here
“You ‘usband…gold mine …Mon Dieu…accident…”
The words were muffled. Not an accident like Smitty’s daddy. No. Not my daddy. Please God.
“My Everett? Where he is per favore?”
“Médecin d’examiner… I go home, wait news.…”
“Grazie. grazie.” My mother’s voice cracked.
Mrs. Fournier flung the bedroom door hard in her haste towards the front door. I don’t believe she saw me. I reared back though my legs were leaden.
“Ma, Daddy’s going to be okay, right?”
“Shhh, Bella. No worry. Want nice glass milk? Where Caterina?”
“She’s—in bed—still sleeping. Mrs. Fournier put her down for her nap.”
Ma paced from kitchen to living-room to bedroom and back. Over and over again. I leaned on the windowsill, with one eye on the clock and the other on the road. I peeked at Ma now and again. Smitty and Franco were nowhere in sight. The floor creaked and complained in various spots beneath Ma’s endless wandering. I already knew each one by heart.
Twenty-eight stomach-churning minutes later, a taxi pulled up in front of our house. I’d only seen one once before. “Ma, why is a taxi here? Aren’t they for rich people?”
She made an awful noise. And then, I saw him.
“Ma’s forehead glistened; her face white as my sister’s new diapers. She grabbed my hand, a strangled cry lodged in her throat. She stumbled for the door like Frankenstein tugging at my arm, but I let go and rushed ahead. I dashed outside and down the stairs. A soon as he unfolded himself from the backseat, I exploded into his arms and almost knocked him over. He swayed against the car to catch his balance. I noticed the cane but it didn’t register. “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy…”
“I’m fine. See. Just a limp and a scratch.” He withdrew his bruised arm from the sling. With the other, he leaned the cane against his hip and reached into his pants pocket. I’d forgotten about the taxi.
“Nien. No pay, Ev-rrett. We drink some beer soon, yah?” Mr. Schmitt, the driver, winked at me before he coaxed the taxi up the dusty street and out of sight.
Daddy hobbled towards Ma. I hung onto his jacket sleeve as if he’d vanish. Ma sagged against the doorway framework and slid down in slow motion, into a heap of clothing and useless limbs. She might have been a rag doll left propped against the doorjamb.
Her eyes fluttered. Claw-like hands covered her face and she began to wail, the sound sorrowful and lost. It reminded me of the loon’s cry on our lake: eerie and mournful; haunting and tragic. It was the kind of wail that made me feel helpless and more scared than I’d ever been in my whole life.
Daddy patted my shoulder and leaned over Ma. I let go of his sleeve. “Olivia, come inside. I. Am. All. Right.” He leaned hard on his new cane and extended the bruised hand. His voice came out in a hoarse whisper like he’d swallowed sandpaper, each word enunciated the way a person would with a mouthful of cotton. He cleared his throat several times. He reached for Ma’s lifeless hand and tugged. Rivers of tears zigzagged her cheeks; eyes staring, forgetting to blink. Her mouth quivered; hungry eyes devouring every inch of his face.
Caterina began to bawl. What timing. She was the baby and knew nothing about the accident. I knew a little and I wanted to shriek too.
I couldn’t leave yet. “Daddy?” My throat hurt to talk. “You won’t ever go back to that mine again, will you?” I committed to memory this tower of a man with a greed new to me. I don’t think he heard me. I wanted to stay, but my sister now howled. I rushed in to calm her though I had more important worries. I felt older than the eight-year-old girl I had been earlier in the day.
My Daddy had made it home—home in one piece. This time.
Smitty’s Daddy would never come home again. My Daddy made it home. Today, we were lucky.
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© 2015 All Rights Reserved Tess @ How the Cookie Crumbles
March 4, 2015 at 7:37 pm
Well done.
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March 4, 2015 at 8:24 pm
Thank you for your kind words. I do appreciate your kind support. ❤
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March 4, 2015 at 7:44 pm
Whew! I’m happy for her.
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March 4, 2015 at 8:25 pm
Thank you, Rebecca. Glad you’re happy for her. 🙂 ❤
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March 4, 2015 at 7:46 pm
Brilliant – powerful emotions with which we can all identify!
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March 4, 2015 at 8:26 pm
Thanks so much, Clanmother. I’m glad I didn’t have to bring up my family in a mining town. The stress. . .
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March 4, 2015 at 8:00 pm
Very powerful Tess. I was on the edge waiting to understand what was about to appear from the taxi. A happier ending than I anticipated.
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March 4, 2015 at 8:29 pm
Thank you, Sue. I couldn’t let him die. I was interested in the intensity of near loss, the not knowing, and living everyday not knowing if your husband, brother, etc. will make it to the surface again in one piece.
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March 4, 2015 at 9:48 pm
It created amazing suspense. Good call!!
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March 4, 2015 at 10:21 pm
I know this isn’t a light piece, but hey, I had to follow the story as it evolved.
I remember having a story critiqued by a writers’ group and I heard one of the ladies in the group say to a guy, “This is a true story.”
If she felt that, I was thrilled. None of mine are, but I was still amazed anyone would think that. That is b.o.n.u.s. 🙂
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March 4, 2015 at 11:09 pm
Well deserved praise Tess. Well done!
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March 5, 2015 at 12:08 am
Thank you. A much more serious piece than I would ordinarily consider for the blog but I’m taking my ‘temperature’ to check which way the breeze is moving. 😮
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March 4, 2015 at 8:09 pm
Oh thank God, I need good endings right now. I Hope he doesn’t go back.
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March 4, 2015 at 8:32 pm
What if it’s a mining town, in the middle of nowhere and the only source of income? What did people do who had no other choice? Best paying and all that.
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March 4, 2015 at 9:24 pm
I know….. 😦 But the fear of it all. And the bravery it took for families who feared that to pack up and move to something unknown and far away…..
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March 4, 2015 at 10:13 pm
Indeed, that’s how life used to be–the better paying jobs. I don’t know how the men managed to overcome their fears to support their family. Underground. How far beneath the surface? And accidents happened.
Remember the news in recent years. OMG.
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March 5, 2015 at 7:34 pm
I remember. I live in an area where coal mining was a huge industry for many years. Accidents were terrifying. The fear of not being able to provide, the fear of not surviving….
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March 4, 2015 at 8:19 pm
What read. I sucked up the words trying so fast to get to the end. I was so happy he was alive. Damaged, but alive. I hope he never has to go back but I am afraid of that reality that he will have too. Simply wonderful.
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March 4, 2015 at 8:34 pm
Thank you. Thank you, Kansen. I wanted to explore the emotional cost of living in a mining town, where you have no possibility of other sources of income. ❤ ❤
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March 4, 2015 at 8:26 pm
I too was delighted to have the dad home. A powerful piece.
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March 4, 2015 at 8:37 pm
Thanks so much, John. ❤
I wanted to explore the emotional costs of living in a small mining community with no other alternatives for income.
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March 4, 2015 at 8:28 pm
I’m originally from a mining community so this story really strikes home.
Excellent. More, more, more! 🙂
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March 4, 2015 at 8:38 pm
Thank YOU, DP. I lived in a gold mining town. What kind did you live in?
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March 4, 2015 at 8:52 pm
One person’s happiness, another one’s sorrow. 😦
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March 4, 2015 at 8:54 pm
Oh my. The awful choices we’re forced to make in the name of survival. I’m going to assume ‘daddy’ doesn’t go back to the mine.
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March 4, 2015 at 8:57 pm
I was just thinking about this today and wondered if I had missed the second part. Great story!
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March 5, 2015 at 1:12 am
Couldn’t miss reading Part 2, loved the imagery which you are so good at Tess. The part where mum hung on like Frankenstein, that was brilliant, as I saw it. Life back then, working in the mines would have been stressful and hard. You depicted their story well darling. 💜💜
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March 5, 2015 at 2:04 am
Tess, you really need to write a book! You would need to let your readers know that once they start reading, they won’t be able to put it down until the last page!!
I so enjoyed this tale – thank you!
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March 5, 2015 at 3:00 am
Excellent Tess, I read it holding my breathe!
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March 5, 2015 at 4:24 am
I had been looking forward to part two and it didn’t disappoint.
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March 5, 2015 at 5:46 am
Awe inspiring Tess. You had me on the edge of my seat and holding my breath for the entire little family. Perfectly done, truly.
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March 5, 2015 at 7:24 am
It deosn’t matter whether it’s true or not, the story is well written, thriller but good ending.
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March 5, 2015 at 8:12 am
Thanks so much, Rosa. Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed the story, ❤ ❤ ❤
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March 5, 2015 at 8:01 am
Well written, Miss T… such a gripping story!
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March 5, 2015 at 8:15 am
Thank YOU, Loretta. It surprised me how much energy this sapped out of me. I do like to try different subjects. Glad you enjoyed this and thank you for your comment. ❤
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March 5, 2015 at 8:27 am
Beautiful
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March 5, 2015 at 12:47 pm
Thanks so much for your generous comment. I’m pleased you enjoyed it. ❤ ❤ Thank you for reading and for your comment. ❤
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March 5, 2015 at 9:14 am
Beautifully explored, Tess. Riveting.
> I agree — writing emotionally charged scenes saps the energy. Huge hugs my friend. ❤ 🙂
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March 5, 2015 at 12:49 pm
Thanks so much, Teagan. Thanks for your generous hugs, which I send back to you. ❤ ❤ ❤
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March 5, 2015 at 10:20 am
You have the rare and proficient knack of capturing your reader’s attention. I thoroughly enjoyed reading this. I thought, “I want to find a book the reads like this. I haven’t found piece of writing this good in years”. Please do write a book, you will be enriching the literary world.
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March 5, 2015 at 11:06 am
I love the tales of immigrants. They’re so much more interesting than the ones about those of us who are ‘locals’.
Do you know Italian? I don’t but I do know a tiny bit of German.
This scene was so well done, Tess. ❤
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March 5, 2015 at 2:53 pm
Excellent. The emotions are so real. Well done. 🙂
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March 5, 2015 at 3:44 pm
Thanks SO much, Darlene, for reading and for your generous comment. Glad you like my scribbles. ❤ ❤ ❤
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March 5, 2015 at 4:20 pm
Beautiful imagery….I could see it all happening as I read it. 🙂
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March 5, 2015 at 4:31 pm
Thanks so much, Brookie. How generous of you. I appreciate your reading and taking time to comment. I’m pleased you like this. ❤ ❤ ❤
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March 6, 2015 at 11:53 am
Marvelous writing, Tess. My eyes were glued to the monitor. So evocative, and your descriptions and word choice…perfectly precise. Brava!
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March 6, 2015 at 4:15 pm
Very powerful, I didn’t know what to expect. Great job ❤ 🙂
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March 6, 2015 at 4:22 pm
Stomach-churning minutes … that pretty well says it all, doesn’t it? We’ve all experienced them and that horrible suspension of time wondering what will happen on the other side. As you demonstrated, even relief has a measure of pain in equal proportions to the fear.
Great story, Tess!
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March 7, 2015 at 2:12 am
I enjoyed this Tess. You manage to hold the reader’s attention throughout, I was on the edge of my seat wanting to know what happened next. Kevin
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March 8, 2015 at 12:45 pm
Hi Tess. I have nominated you for an award. You can find the details here, (http://newauthoronline.com/2015/03/08/i-have-been-nominated-for-the-teen-daydreamer-award/). All the best. Kevin
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March 8, 2015 at 4:42 pm
Very strong writing, and I enjoyed it. Especially because even though it was heavy, it had a happy ending. Great posts!
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March 10, 2015 at 7:18 am
‘It was the kind of wail that made me feel helpless and more scared than I’d ever been in my whole life.’ Oh Tess, I lived this story through Bella’s eight year old eyes, I was hooked from the moment I began and to the very end, scanning every word until I reached the happy ending, phew!! Beautiful, powerful, strong writing, loved this. You take my breath away very talented lady that you are… ❤ ❤ ❤
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March 12, 2015 at 5:02 pm
Love your stories Tess, especially the way you build anticipation. 🙂
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