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Pap's Tell-Tale Heart

Marita never expected what she discovered in the old barn

By Judey Kalchik Published 3 years ago 5 min read
12
Pap's Tell-Tale Heart
Photo by Beth Macdonald on Unsplash

Marita set the boxes, bags, gloves, and brushes on the ground, grabbed the rope looped through the hole where the knob used to be, and pulled with all her might.

Nothing. Not even a shudder of movement from the spider webs hanging from the old door. Grabbing a questionably sturdy length of wood she tried to jam that through the hole in the door and lever it open.

With a brittle snap, it broke in two, half of it dropping inside the old barn with a dry rustle as Marita’s momentum barreled the side of her face against the unyielding door. Unyielding, that is, except for the paint flecks that ripped at her cheeks and lodged in her hair.

“Great”, she said to herself, “two minutes into the day and the barn had already drawn first blood.” Leaving the mess of packing and cleaning supplies on the ground she made her way around to the back of the building hoping she could get in through the broken slats by the back window the way she had when she was a child.

Pushing against the boards to test their soundness she could almost hear her grandfather cautioning her not to get a splinter; “Careful Mickey Mouse girl, those walls can bite!” She stopped abruptly, leaning her hand against the barn’s wall and willing herself not to cry. She wished for the dozenth time that day that she could hear her Pap call her ‘Mickey’ just one more time.

And with that, she could almost imagine her grandmother tutting at her and reminding everyone within earshot that “If wishes were horses, then beggars could ride. But they aren’t, so they don’t! Get a move on there, sister!” Gram always had the right saying for the right time. Just thinking about how Gram would react to Mickey’s lollygagging brought a smile to her lips and she pushed harder on the next board. It gave way with a groan and Mickey staggered through the space, flailing her arms to stay upright.

It was at least as bad as she had feared. It was that bad and fifty times worse.

When the old house had burned Pap had gone through the slats and boards looking for his past, trying to salvage everything that reminded him of his life with Gram. Anything that didn’t fit in the trailer he had hauled to the property made its way into the barn.

By Serge van Neck on Unsplash

“I wish you had stopped at just your and Gram’s stuff, Pap,” she said out loud, “but I guess that didn’t fill the hole in your heart, did it?” From the looks of things Andrew Berty’s heart had been bottomless- the barn was layered with multiple tins, sinks, stoves, engines, rakes, yardsticks, bicycles, pallets, and boxes.

The boxes! They were everywhere. Mickey had just two days to go through the barn before the new owners tore it down. Two days weren’t going to be nearly enough to get through even half of this on her own. Although from the smell of things she wasn’t truly alone. Mickey hoped the yard cats were keeping the mouse population under control.

What she needed was a plan, some light, and fresh air. A backhoe and a dumpster would come in handy, but she’d leave that to the new owners. As the oldest grandchild, it was her job to see if anything in here truly belonged to her grandparents or if it was all just secondhand dreams that Pap had gathered up to replace his own shattered ones.

By Nastya Kvokka on Unsplash

Not caring if she damaged the doors and boarded windows, Mickey used the old gardening rakes and hoes to smash out the old boards that closed out the world, letting in a spring breeze and sunlight. Starting where she’d found herself when the wallboard had given way, Mickey donned her gloves and made a path towards Pap’s workbench, clearing out the jumble in her way. It had been her destination since she’d found out the cousins had elected her for this trip.

Sure, she’d pack away some Depression glass for Scott’s wife, and she’d gather any vintage holiday ornaments for Deb, and look for those old metal general store signs for Michael, but she didn't need any collectibles for herself. She wanted to get to that workbench where she had spent so many Summer hours as Pap made his 'things'. She had perched on the green leather stool for hours watched Pap make frames, toys, and ‘bric a brac’ as Gram called it. Small little nothings that kept his hands busy while he told Mickey stories. Each visit meant a new story, one he made up just for her. She wanted to sit on that stool one more time and feel the connection with Pap again.

By Ariana Prestes on Unsplash

After five dusty and backbreaking hours, the pile outside the barn was four boxes tall and just as wide. If it was greasy, it was in one of those boxes, along with more springs, gears, and pots than she had imagined possible. Her hair was caught up in one of Pap’s old bandanas and she was ashy with dust and who-knows-what other powders were present. The effort paid off; she had made it to the workbench.

For all the chaos in the old barn the workbench was orderly; tools were placed just-so in the way Pap always favored. Power tools on the left, hand tools on the right, clamps and cords attached to the pegboard with metal wires and clips. A square-sided pencil sat atop a cube of wood in the center of the table. Although it was covered, as was everything in the place, with a thick layer of dust, it looked like Andrew had been getting ready to sketch out a shape for his next creation and stepped away for a moment.

Mickey picked up the pencil as she slid onto the stool. “Pap had been the last person to hold this”, she muttered as she twisted her hair into a knot and slid the pencil into place to hold her hair off her neck. Looking down as she did so she saw lines in the clean spot on the block that moving the pencil had removed.

Wondering what her grandfather’s last project had been, she wiped off the years of dust and dirt to reveal a simple penciled heart. Clear and sure, whole and bold. Tears filled her eyes as Mickey realized this was the priceless memory she had been seeking all day.

Written across it in Pap’s strong square printing was ‘Andy + Blanche’. He had left her one last story.

Short Story
12

About the Creator

Judey Kalchik

It's my time to find and use my voice.

Poetry, short stories, memories, and a lot of things I think and wish I'd known a long time ago.

You can also find me on Medium

And please follow me on Threads, too!

Reader insights

Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

Top insights

  1. Excellent storytelling

    Original narrative & well developed characters

  2. Heartfelt and relatable

    The story invoked strong personal emotions

  3. Compelling and original writing

    Creative use of language & vocab

  1. Easy to read and follow

    Well-structured & engaging content

  2. On-point and relevant

    Writing reflected the title & theme

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Comments (2)

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  • Dawn Salois2 years ago

    I love the ending. ❤️

  • J. Delaney-Howe2 years ago

    I hadn't read this one before. l Really sweet ending.

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