Saturday Sample Blue 52

Welcome to Saturday Sample. I'm continuing today where I left off last week in Blue 52. If you'd like to read last week's post to refresh your memory, you can find it here. Basically, we've learned that Senator Lovinggood's son Richard was the President of the US. He and his wife are dead, and their bodies will have to be relocated because a high tech train line needs to go through the cemetery. We also learned that the senator has arthritis and that the president's son Hank has found another cemetery where he wants his parents buried. 

Hank shut his bedroom door behind him and threw himself down on the sofa that rested near the window. He had expected this news for some time. The Flash Train could transport both people and goods economically and quickly. Of course the state would move a cemetery to make room for the train.

The small picture of his mother and father that stood on the end table beside the sofa captured his attention and made him think of his grandfather’s study. Until a few months ago, pictures of his father filled every available inch of the study. It had reminded Hank of a shrine, a shrine his grandfather had created for his lost son.

The senator had removed most of the pictures after his grandmother threw a tremendous tantrum that sent her to the emergency room, but he still looked at them when she wasn’t around. I didn’t like looking at the pictures. Why be constantly reminded of all I’ve lost?

He had been three years old when his parents died, so he didn’t remember much about them, but he still felt their loss with every breath he took. Why wouldn’t he? That dreadful tragedy cast a long shadow. His jaw clenched. It hurt like hell to know that in his grandfather’s eyes, he couldn’t measure up to his father.

The senator had never even hinted that he believed such a thing, but he’d have to be brain dead not to pick up on it. On impulse, Hank wandered to the room next door and peered inside.

This room, which was decorated in an old-fashioned, traditional style, had belonged to his father. Naturally, his parents had had their own home, but the Lovinggoods had been a close family; his parents had often spent the night with his grandparents. They had always stayed in the room that his dad used before his marriage.

In spite of clichés and mental health issues, his grandfather refused to let anyone change the room. A hair brush filled with short, blond hair still lay on the bathroom vanity, and his father’s jacket still hung on the bedpost.

His grandmother had raised hell about it, but his grandfather had had his way. I agree with Grandma. When the house comes to me, I’ll clear everything from the room.

Maybe.

Hank turned around to go back to his own room, but instead he removed the jacket from the bedpost. Funny, but he’d lived in this house all of his life and never thought to try it on.

The jacket, a charcoal gray sports coat that smelled musty and felt too soft, fit perfectly. Hank flinched when he saw himself in the mirror; it almost looked as if his father had returned to change his clothes for dinner. Everyone said he resembled his dad, but until he saw himself in the mirror he usually didn’t think much about it. Jerking the jacket off, he hung it on the bedpost. He hated this room, this tribute to the past!

Slamming the door behind him, Hank returned to his own room where he belonged and hunted for a clean shirt. Not that I exactly need a clean shirt, but going to the cemetery made me feel dirty.
Now why would he feel dirty? His parents should rest easy in the peaceful, quiet cemetery. 

Blue 52 is available at http://www.whiskeycreekpress.com or at Amazon.