“You should know, you’ve known them longer than I have,” quipped Tristan.
Tristan flopped onto the plaid couch in the den as Cole flipped through TV channels. Tristan’s eyes danced across the wall of family photographs, many frames of varying sizes were scattered across the wall, but one caught her eye more than the others. In the center of the wall hung a frame that was larger than the rest. A dated family photograph from what appeared to be the early ‘80s that was clearly a picture of the Piedmonte’s.
"Is that your mother?" Tristan asked as she pointed up to the woman in the center of the portrait. Cole peered up at the photograph.
"Yes, that was taken a month before she died. I was just a baby.”
In the portrait a blond haired woman with straight locks and beautiful brown eyes glowed, surrounded by her family. Above her was a stout man with thick brown hair and mustache and a friendly face. Surrounding them were their four children: eldest daughter Joanna, age eight, Joe, Jr. age four, Cole fifteen months and Natalie who was sitting on her mother's lap was just two months old.
Cole sat down next to Tristan on the faded couch as she glanced over at him.
“This might be really out of line, but can you tell me what happened to your Mom?” asked Tristan. Cole laughed at Tristan’s question.
“You know you can ask me whatever you want,” said Cole.
“Wait here, I’ll be right back.” Cole jumped from his seat as he went into the next room. A moment later he returned with a cracked leather book that was filled with newspaper clippings and photographs.
“It’s easier to show you,” explained Cole.
He opened the worn cover of the scrap book and began to flip through the pages, his expression quite unreadable. Years of memories, achievements and milestones flashed before Tristan’s eyes as Cole looked for the right page.
“Here it is,” said Cole as he thumped the page. “Read this.”
Tristan grabbed the book carefully with both hands, and stared down at the page, an old age-stained newspaper clipping dated December 26, 1981 with the title “Covered Bridge Collapses in Elkhart during Devastating Blizzard Kills 3.” Tristan’s heart raced as she read the words on the page.
She touched the page and unclasped the edges of the clipping from the book. She unfolded the article as a gasp escaped from her lips. Along with several other stories, including an article about a woman’s body being found on the bank of Croft Lake, was a black and white photograph of the Elkhart Bridge in shambles. The roof of the covered bridge had completely caved in. Snow and ice covered the scene and amidst the calamity, a pair of glaring headlights shone out. Too shocked to read on, Tristan closed her eyes with a glint of hysteria on her face. Tristan looked somberly into Cole’s eyes and quietly said, “I see what you mean. Your mom died on my birthday, you know…” A knowing look grew across Cole’s face and he appeared to want to say something but looked away instead. It wasn’t his place.
Out of sheer curiosity, Tristan lifted the worn tape that was securing the newspaper clipping in the scrapbook and began to unfold it. Whoever had saved the newspaper article didn't bother clipping it out, but instead folded the entire news paper page. Tristan smoothed the edges of the page, only to find something even more disturbing. She thought it was her face at first; a smiling family photo of her mother plastered in the center of page two of the Elkhart Bugle. The title over the picture read “Fox Hollow Woman Found Dead at Croft Lake, Foul Play Suspected.”
Tristan felt dizzy.
All this time she thought that her mother had left... When in reality, she was dead. Dead on the same day she gave birth to Tristan.
"Are you okay?" asked Cole, deep concern present in his voice. "I didn't realize that was on the other side!"
Ignoring Cole's question, Tristan spoke, shocked and breathlessly, "He's being lying to me all this time. He's been lying to everyone!" Her eyes wide, her mouth gaping; rage quaked inside her like never before.
From downstairs, a booming voice yelled up, “Tristan! Let’s go!” Jack had arrived. Blake had probably called him, ready to get back to his video games. The call startled Tristan, unsure of what she would say to her father when she saw him. As Cole prepared to close the book and run downstairs, he grabbed Tristan’s hand.