1501 Parcher Place

CHAPTER 1

"It is said that a spirit

will not rest or leave this earth

until its work here

is concluded or matters

of the heart are settled."

Birds chirped in their never-ending quest to ready themselves for their winter pilgrimage. Trish McGiven hurried down the street then quickly crossed to road to the high school a few blocks from her home. It was then she glanced down realizing all she had on was a slip that barely covered her body. Luckily she grabbed a jacket on her way out of the house. Strange as it seemed, no one appeared to take notice. Trish tried desperately to rummage through her backpack in the hopes of finding a sweatshirt, something more to cover her body, but nothing was found. Like other days when she had this dream her mother calling her for breakfast quickly awakened her. Lying there out of breath, she finally breathed a sigh of relief, thankful it was just a dream. But in the back of her mind hoped this wasn’t a forewarning of an event that was yet to happen.

This was the start of her senior year in high school. Summer vacation passed too quickly, working two part-time jobs to save money for college hadn’t allowed much time for the lazy days of summer. So much was riding on this year. But her standing in her senior class was pretty much cast in stone by now. Not being in the upper quarter meant prestigious colleges were out of the question, but would be no problem for the university system in her state. Trish didn’t have unrealistic aspirations, only to find a good job and have a better life than her parents who always struggled to pay the bills. And since her father passed away two years earlier, life had been hardly bearable. Like most men of that time, he wanted to provide for his family and insisted his wife be a stay at home mom. But since his death times were tough and the only job to be had for someone who never worked outside the home, was waiting tables, which brought hard times to those left behind.

Trish was a typical teenager living in Bakersville with a population of fifty-six thousand people. She stood all of five feet eight inches, towered over most of the boys in her senior class. She wore her blonde locks in a tight ponytail so as not to add height to her already towering frame. Her doe like eyes added to her beauty. Trish longed for the year to be over with and her future to start.

Bakersville was a midwestern town that boomed during the logging days a hundred years back. But since those days were long gone, it flourished under other industries. The city streets were tree lined. Well-manicured lawns dotted its suburbs. Churches were filled on Sunday’s, while children played in the streets till the wee hours on summer nights. It was a city where people still didn’t lock their doors at night. A place Norman Rockwell got most of his inspiration for his American family series.

Trish may have been a senior but was still undecided about her future or what it held for her. She had been accepted at the UW in Madison, but the money just wasn’t there, so her options were limited. Going to the UW Extension in town suited her finances, but lacked the college experience she was so desperately looking forward to. Life as she once knew it changed the day her father died. But she was strong willed and knew that hard work would get her what she wanted most in life. For now she searched for a way to accomplish that means.

The first day of school in the fall was always the most hectic, and being faced with no real options for college only made facing her friends not to her liking. It would be frustrating listening to everyone talking about the schools they would be going off to next year. Especially when all she could say was, that she would have to look for full time employment once she graduated if no scholarships materialized. It was a fate she wasn’t rejoicing in. But it was one she knew would have to be dealt with in the end.

Trish walked the short distance to school. She couldn’t stop thinking about her trip last month to the UW in Madison for a tour of the facility. Now Trish wished she hadn’t gone. At least she wouldn’t feel as bad about not being able to go next year when all her friends were off to start the path to their own futures.

Trish followed the long line of students entering the main entrance. Her locker strategically located on the second floor with other seniors. Students crammed the busy hall, rushing to get to their first period class. Trish quickly climbed the stairs and hurried down the long hall and once she found her locker she quickly opened it and threw in all her books but the English book she would need for class. As the warning buzzer sounded off, she knew there was only five minutes before the period started. Cathy Lindsay, Trish’s friend walked up behind Trish. She poked Trish to get her attention. Cathy hadn’t spent much time with Trish that summer. Maybe it was because that’s all she bragged about, was college and how her parents were footing the bill.

It was frustrating for Trish. Her father died early in her sophomore year and there were no thoughts to putting anything aside for college. Now her mother worked as a waitress and only got minimum wage. She depended on tips to carry her over to the next payday. That struggle went on week after week. Living that way was an incentive for Trish to further her education no matter what the cost. But the means to do that wasn’t at hand. She knew there were student loans she could apply for. But listening to the horror stories on the nightly news about huge debt students were undertaking to get their education only scared her.

Did you hear what happened to Sharon? Cathy asked startling Trish out of the morbid thoughts about her future.

Trish turned to her, while quickly shutting her locker. She just rolled her eyes. Trish wasn’t going to be late for the first class, not on the first day. She quickly gestured to Cathy as she turned and started walking down the hall.

I’m sure you’ll tell me, Trish replied while turning to her friend.

She’s two months along.

Trish stopped for a moment with her mouth open. Sharon was class valedictorian, the most likely to succeed in their senior class. Of all her classmates through the years, Trish envied her most. But all Trish managed to do was a little sigh of disappointment while hearing the bad news of her fellow student. Trish was never one to take pleasure in bad news about anyone. It just wasn’t in her nature to be that cynical.

How do you get privy to all this gossip?

That’s all everyone is talking about.

As they hurried down the hall Trish glanced up at the hall clock. There were just two more minutes before class started.

I got to go, Trish said.

You going to Paul’s tonight? Cathy asked.

I’ve got work. Besides it’s a school night.

It’s your senior year. A year for fun.

Maybe for you. I’ve got a full load. And a part-time job, Trish replied while shaking her head.

It was always frustrating to remind Cathy that she worked. But even having a job wasn’t enough for her to save for college. Trish found herself helping her mother more with the bills than anything else. It worried her if she went away to school, how her mother would ever pay the bills with the waitress job she had.

So that’s a no?

Trish turned with a frown and just shook her head. She hurried off and then glanced back at Cathy and shrugged. I guess so.

As Trish entered her English class the buzzer sounded. Mr. Coyle, one of Bakersville’s oldest teachers was busy at his desk talking to a student. He turned to Trish with raised eyebrows after glancing at the clock on the wall.

So glad you could join us Ms. McGiven.

Trish smiled sheepishly as she slithered to the nearest empty desk. She never liked calling attention to herself and certainly not on the first day of class. She had had Mr. Coyle for English in her sophomore year and knew he didn’t tolerate much in class.

Once the class was settled and everyone seated, Mr. Coyle cleared his throat. He then got up and walked over to the front of the class. Mr. Coyle picked up the marker and started writing on the pristine white board. He quickly scribbled out the words, Bakersville History. Then with a dash next to those words in capital letters he wrote the word TERM PAPER. Once he finished those words he underlined them as if to emphasize the importance of the assignment.

For your term paper this year, I’d like to try something different, he said.

Trish quickly got out a pencil. It caught the edge of her desk and dropped to the floor hitting it like a teeter-totter it danced on the floor in front of her. Trish had tried catching it as everyone turned to her.

Sorry, Trish whispered, face red with embarrassment.

The students laughed and snickered as Mr. Coyle cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention again.

I’d like you to focus your story on a family in our community.

The moans and groans could be heard throughout the room as Mr. Coyle then looked sternly at the classroom full of students. He walked over to his desk. Then reached for the bowl that was filled with little pieces of paper all folded to conceal what was written on each. With a smug look on his face he turned to face the classroom. As a teacher he had so much control over them and he enjoyed watching them squirm with his last big assignment. He knew a lot of them hoped they would just slide through their senior year. In most cases, their standing in the class was cast in stone already when it came to college applications.

I’ve written names down. The name you pick will be the family you do your paper on. Remember, your paper will be one half of your final grade.

The bowl was quickly given to the first row. One by one the students picked a piece of paper from the bowl and passed it on to the next student in the row. When it came to Trish, she picked her name and quickly opened the paper. ‘Parcher’ was the name on her slip of paper. She said the name aloud. Mr. Coyle glanced at her with a frown.

Some of you may not be happy with the name you picked. He started to say as he glanced at Trish and then smiled for a moment before continuing. These were prominent families earlier in the century. I want your paper to be informative, factual, and give me an insightful feel for what life was like back then along with the present day.

Once that part of the class was over, they were given a reading assignment. Trish couldn’t concentrate on the story, all she could think about was Sharon and what Cathy had said earlier. Everyone looked up to Sharon. They envied her because she was a straight A student and could go to any college of her choice. Now she was faced with motherhood before her senior year was over with, unless she chose to abort or to give the unwanted blessing away. Either way, she faced being stigmatized for eternity. Trish didn’t know Sharon well, only had her in a few classes. She came from the upper crust in the community and didn’t mix well with the middle class. Trish was always on the outer edge of that group. That’s why the assignment that Mr. Coyle had given them didn’t set well with her. It was bad enough to be raised in a community where there was wealth and a separation of classes. It was another thing to be given an assignment to research them further and bring home the inequity of their lifestyle from hers. But it was half her English grade so she knew she would have to suck it up and give it her all on the off chance one of her scholarship applications panned out for her.

Once the buzzer sounded, Trish’s thoughts about Sharon dissipated. This was Sharon’s problem, thank goodness not hers. Trish quickly got up and started walking out of class when Mr. Coyle turned to her.

Try not to be tardy again, he said sternly while looking up at her.

I won’t, was all Trish could muster up to say.

Trish walked past him and hurried out of the classroom. The rest of her first day of school went uneventful. Trish only lived three blocks from school, so she walked most days. Her mother sometimes gave her rides because she didn’t have to be to work until a half hour after first period started. Life for her had always been hard. Trish’s father worked at the local car dealerships. She was sure the name McGiven wasn’t one of those in the bowl that day. Trish knew that her great grandparent’s family on her mother’s side had lived in the community almost from the start. That side of the family was considered prominent way back in the day, but that was a side a few times removed from Trish’s side of the family.

In reality, Trish came from a long line of worker bees who made the upper crust their millions. It wasn’t to say Trish’s family was poor. They lived a comfortable life, but just didn’t belong to the country club or were invited to the elite events of the community. When all was said and done, she would work hard on the assignment. Trish would have to put her prejudices aside because what mattered in the end was the final grade she would get. The assignment wasn’t about putting credence to why these people were better than she. It was just a history assignment on dead people who lived in Bakersville once, nothing more.

Chapter 2

Trish walked into the kitchen, grabbed a fresh baked cookie off the plate that sat on the counter. Her mother, April was standing at the stove sweating over the canner filled with jars of stewing tomatoes. Her short-cropped honey blonde hair matted in sweat on her forehead, her flushed cheeks highlighted her features and made her hazel eyes appear even bigger. She was an attractive woman in her late thirties, but was too busy raising Trish and mourning the loss of her mate to think about a social life.

April desperately hung onto the familiar tasks she did in the past. And this was a late summer ritual for her. Something Trish vowed never to do once she got married. It just made more sense and convenient to buy canned tomatoes at the store, but April grew up in the country and her parents had a large garden. It was standard practice to process all that you grew. In town they didn’t have room for a garden so the summer produce came from the local farmers market. There were strawberries in early July, then Alberta peaches and applesauce from apples her mother got from local farmers. Fall was a time for pickles and vegetables with tomatoes being the last she processed in the fall. By the end of the summer their fruit cellar was filled to capacity. But given there were just the two of them now. Trish wondered why her mother even bothered except out of old habits that were hard to break. Nonetheless, it was a tradition that her mother wasn’t giving up on anytime soon.

April wiped her brow and turned to Trish. How was school? she asked.

Good, except English.

Trish bit the cookie while opening the fridge and grabbed the two-quart milk jug. She quickly poured herself a glass of milk and then walked over to the table and plopped herself down dejectedly while sighing.

Would you believe I have to do a paper on the Parcher family, Trish said while shaking her head.

April turned to Trish with a look of surprise on her face. The name conjured up unpleasant memories of the past. It had been a distant relative who married one of the Parcher men. It was a scandalous affair, something never mentioned in polite society. Plus the fact Aprils’ family came from the poor side of that clan. So the true nature of the involvement with the Parcher’s were only rumors, and it was never clear what the whole hullabaloo was all about.

You know we’re related to the Parcher’s by way of marriage, but it was years ago.

I don’t think Mr. Coyle would appreciate that aspect of reporting on them. It’s more about what made them important in the community, how they made their money, and what they did to build Bakersville in to the community it is today.

The humid air from the water boiling in the canner made being in the kitchen uncomfortable, but the sweet smell of tomatoes made it tolerable. Once the buzzer went off, April quickly took the jars out of the canner and set them on the cupboard to cool. Within minutes a few of the lids popped loudly sounding the fact a proper seal was achieved.

April walked over to the table, sat down across from Trish while shaking her head. They caused a lot of hurt feelings in their time.

Yeah, but they were the founding fathers of our community. Trish said while taking a gulp of the milk. We’re to learn more about who built our community. I think that’s what Mr. Coyle is getting at.

They did do that, for all intense purposes.

I know what grandma said about them, and it wasn’t anything nice. But I want to graduate. And a ‘F’ in English wouldn’t look good for an English major in college.

April took hold of Trish’s hand. She had wanted to talk to her daughter for a long time now. And this was the perfect opportunity. She knew Trish was looking forward to going to college. But since Ed passed away, money had become tight and paying the bills was a major undertaking for her. April patted her daughter’s hand.

Trish, I really don’t know how I can swing it.

Trish knew for some time now there wasn’t going to be any money from her mother for college. It was a subject that neither wanted to discuss. That made applying for scholarships more urgent. Trish had only received a few small ones, not even enough for the first year, but it was a start. In reality, Trish knew time was running out. She turned to her mother and tried looking optimistic.

I’m not giving up on scholarships. If I don’t get what I need, I can always take out a loan or two.

And English will be your major, April asked.

Yeah.

April didn’t know what kind of job Trish could get with an English major. She hoped Trish would go