An Echo in Time

Chapter 8 THE BLACK SHEEP

Chapter 8

T HE B LACK S HEEP

Present Day

Charli spends the next two days in a state of awe and wonder. As she’s told Vivian and her father on the phone, this stuff can’t happen, but it does ... right in front of her, constellation after constellation. As if she needed any more confirmation, she witnesses seemingly impossible family dynamics come to life through the acting out of the sessions. People learn about kidnapped children, exiled uncles, and extramarital affairs that took place in the past.

For one constellation, Parker, the man who looked as if he’d been in boot camp, chose Charli to represent his dead grandfather. Apparently females could represent males and vice versa. She actually felt the grandfather’s disappointment when his son stole his money. Toward the end of the constellation, as the person who represented the thieving father finally got his chance to apologize, Charli had burst into tears. Afterward, Parker reported feeling lighter than he ever had in his life. He had no idea that his father had stolen money from his grandfather.

In almost every other case, the other constellations apparently revealed what was needed for the healing of the main participant, and Frances suggested afterward that the imbalance had been corrected. A woman from Virginia who’d been having chest pains reported after her session that she felt better than she had in her entire life.

It’s no surprise to Charli that her family has the one imbalance that a constellation can’t restore. When Charli says to Frances that her family should win a prize for being the worst of the sessions, Frances gives a brief laugh and then replies, “Don’t let doubt creep in. Don’t forget what you’ve seen here. Trust the process. And no, your family is not even close to the most imbalanced that I’ve come across.”

On the morning she is to return to Boston, Charli goes to say goodbye to Frances and asks, “Why me? Of all the people in the sessions, it seemed I was the only one who has to go play Sherlock Holmes.”

“I think the better way to think of it is ‘lucky me.’ Lucky you, Charli. You have been given a great responsibility.”

Frances takes a book from her bookshelf and opens to a dog-eared page. “Carl Jung writes, ‘It often seems as if there were an impersonal karma within a family, which passes on from parents to children. It has always seemed to me that I had to ... complete, or perhaps continue, things which previous ages had left unfinished.’”

Frances closes the book. “I think this is the case with you. I feel good about what happened during your family constellation. I feel good about you and your family, and I have hope for all of you. So much hope that it almost feels like a foregone conclusion, you finding your way. Finding your green lights.” She puts her hand on Charli’s shoulder. “Lucky you.”

Charli wonders on the plane if she’s been brainwashed. Those two days were magical, but what happened to her? What happened in that room? She wishes she’d recorded it or written it all down. She wishes she could recapture that feeling she had and bottle it and never let it go, because for a few moments there, she was a believer. She was sure that it was her calling to free her family of unhappiness and tragedy. Now, as the plane bounces in awful turbulence and the guy next to her crushes a burrito, she worries she might have been played. As much as she wants to be open to new possibilities, she’s being pulled back to her old self, complete with her mother’s voice in her head. No, there’s no explanation for their misfortune. There’s nothing Charli can do to bring a swath of light into her family’s life.

Still, she can’t shake the constellation from her mind as she takes the train from Logan and hops a cab to her house. It’s twenty-seven degrees and windy outside—a far cry from Tamarindo. People run down the sidewalks to avoid the cold winter wind blasting through.

The dog sitter dropped Tiny off earlier, and he’s waiting for her. He does what he always does, rushes to her for a kiss and then plops down on his back, begging for a scratch. She rubs his belly, and he groans with delight.

“I wish I could tell you what happened to me down there. But maybe it’s best you don’t know. I think I’m losing it.”

She says these words but is still so intrigued that she stays up late researching her family on Ancestry.com and Family Origins. She’s never spent a minute on these sites, never cared to look them up, but now she’s curious for answers. And she can’t deny that the part of her that loves to read mysteries is slightly enjoying the idea of falling into one herself.

That evening, she’s lying in bed with her computer on her lap. An episode of The Bachelor plays on the television, but she’s barely paying attention. She’s busy accepting hints and suggestions on Ancestry. After a long while, she’s successfully populated a lot of her family tree on both her mother’s and father’s sides going back several generations—all the way back to the seventeen hundreds in England and Ireland. Her father is who brings the Irish blood.

Staring at the names and reading obituaries and even discovering the occasional picture, she’s taken aback by the idea that these people not only make up who she is but might exist in her constellation. Though they are dead, they are here. She shivers at the notion.

Tiny snores on the floor beside her. She drops her hand down to touch him, and he goes quiet. The drama on The Bachelor is amping up, two of the contestants yelling at each other. She can’t help but watch for a little while, glad to not be caught up in such lunacy over a man, but then she’s back to work.

The only piece that isn’t falling into place is one particular branch of the tree on her mother’s side. Whereas she can trace back centuries with most branches, one line stops with her great-great-great-grandfather, Samuel Hall. Ancestry.com doesn’t offer any hints to further populate the tree. In all the other cases, the website had suggested a Potential Mother and Potential Father , allowing her to extend several more generations with nearly every other family member.

Not with Samuel. What could that mean? Another oddity that strikes her is that, unlike most of her other relatives, he doesn’t even have a middle name.

She clicks on his profile. Born in London in 1863, married Margaret Taylor in 1900, and died in Boston in 1925. That was it, the sum of the man.

Clicking back out, she sees that Samuel and Margaret had two children, including Charli’s second great-grandfather, Jeremiah Hall, who then had a son named Henry. Henry married Susannah Clemons and had Georgina’s father, Barrett Hall. It’s Barrett who shot himself.

If ... if Frances isn’t a kook and Charli is willing to keep her mind open, it doesn’t take being Philip Marlowe for Charli to make an assumption here.

“Follow the pain,” she says out loud. What caused Barrett to shoot himself? Was it his generation that committed a crime? A murder? Was he a murderer? Did he shoot himself out of guilt? Or was it further back? Why are there no records past Samuel?

Though her mother married a Thurman, Charli knows she’s still a Hall through and through. These are her people, the people who have likely been suffering for a long time.

A thought occurs to her. She should go to Lowell to see her mother’s sister, Kay. Though it’s been a while since they’ve spoken, Kay always sends a piece of her pottery to Charli for her birthday, a gesture that reminds Charli how much she likes her aunt.

On Saturday morning, Charli braves a wintry mix and drives to Lowell to visit Aunt Kay, who said she’d be thrilled to see Charli after all these years. From the stories she remembers growing up, Aunt Kay was the black sheep for whatever reason, so Charli wasn’t around her much and only knows that she’s a pharmacist, never married, no kids. Seemed to avoid family get-togethers when she could. Looking at it with fresh eyes now, it seems apparent that Aunt Kay was quite possibly distancing herself from the wreckage that was the Hall family.

Charli parks and climbs out of her car in front of a turn-of-the-century Victorian that’s due for a new coat of paint. An old yellow Mercedes is parked in the driveway. A colorful bottle tree stands in the lawn. An owl made of tin hangs from the portico roof.

Aunt Kay bursts out of the purple front door and runs down the steps in her clogs, a splash of sunlight. If there are two sides of the family, Charli wants to be on Team Kay.

As she gets close, her eyebrows arch tall with excitement. Her aquamarine eyes remind Charli of the sea glass she used to collect as a kid out on the Cape. “I’m so glad you called!”

“Me too.” Though Charli certainly can’t match the woman’s enthusiasm, she’s slightly pleased to see someone in the family not withering away from depression. Maybe there’s hope yet.

Kay spreads her arms. As usual, Charli gets hugged without doing much hugging herself. She wishes she weren’t that way, especially around her aunt, but she’s doing the best she can.

Once she’s set free, Charli says, “I’m sorry it took me this long.”

Kay waves a hand loaded with costume jewels. “No, stop right there. I’m your aunt. I should have stayed in touch.”

Charli waves her off. “You do. You share your art with me every year. I treasure them, really. You’re so talented.”

“Thank you,” Kay says. “I do enjoy my little hobby.”

“Do you have your own wheel?”

“Oh, yeah. In the basement. Which I would show you, but it’s a mess. Come inside, though. Let’s get out of this cold. I picked up Thai takeout, in case you’re hungry.”

“Oh, fun. You lived in Bangkok for a while, right?” Charli is reminded of how cool her aunt is. Georgina would often spin tales of Kay in a way where it sounded like her sister was always wasting her time trying to find herself, but Charli saw it differently, knowing that Kay was actually just taking life by the tail.

“Good memory, yes. Ages ago. Before I decided to come back home and get a real job.”

Charli feels a longing for seizing life like Kay. She wishes she’d done something so brave before adulthood caught up with her. But maybe that’s what she’s doing now.

Aunt Kay invites Charli inside, where she is assaulted by two tabby cats who weave around her legs. “Meet Larry Bird and Tom Brady.”

Having grown up watching sports with her father, Charli grins at their names and reaches down to pet them. “Hi, Larry and Tom.”

They sit in the sunroom facing windows that look out over several garden boxes that will surely be bursting with life soon. For now, they carry patches of recent snow. Between the two women, a small table holds a pot of tea and two gorgeous mugs giving off steam. Larry Bird and Tom Brady post themselves on top of the back of Kay’s chair.

“How’s work going?” Charli asks. Kind of hard to jump right into ... so I went to Costa Rica and did a séance with a woman who fell on the ground, and I think that person is a victim of a homicide. That’s why I think our whole family is completely screwed up ...

Kay sips her tea. “You know what. I adore it. We have a great team at the pharmacy; we’re helping people. What else matters? How about you? Your mom told me about the bookstore. I’m so sorry.”

Charli shrugs with embarrassment. “Yeah, that didn’t work out too well.”

“What are you doing now?”

Charli doesn’t want to tell her. Though they don’t stay in touch, she looks up to Kay, how her infectious positive attitude lightens every room. Why couldn’t it be Kay who was her mother? “Just an easy job now while I figure out my next move.”

They catch up for a few minutes, and then Charli seizes her chance. “I wanted to come see you, of course, but I have an ulterior motive.”

Kay sets her mug down and sits up, intrigued.

Charli smooths her hands together. “I’ve been in crisis mode lately. Well, since the bookstore. Or maybe before. And I’m just trying to ... I don’t know ... figure some things out. You’re gonna think I’m not right in the head for what I’m about to tell you, but I’m willing to take the risk, as I think you might be the only one who can help.”

“I’m on the edge of my seat, Charli. And I would never judge you. Try me. I’ve been on this earth a long time and have seen a lot. Nothing much shocks me anymore.”

“This one might stand out,” she says, her muscles relaxing. “About six weeks ago, I was hanging out with my best friend when ...”

Charli talks for a while, stopping short of talking about the constellation specifics. “I’m looking into it, you know?”

Aunt Kay nods. She hasn’t said much but doesn’t look like she’s judging.

“I do wonder why my mom’s side of the family—your side—struggles so much,” Charli says. “Well, everyone but you. You seem pretty great, actually. I’ve always admired you.”

Aunt Kay smiles. “That’s sweet of you, but trust me, I’m not without my problems.”

Viv had said something similar, and Charli scolds herself for pretending she’s the only one who struggles. “I guess we all have problems, but don’t you ever wonder ... like ... why us? Why did your father kill himself? Why is my mom so broken inside? Why did she lose my brother? Why did she make me feel like such a piece of shit? Forgive my language but ... not sure how else to say it. Why am I struggling to find my way? Why do I push away the men in my life? Not that it’s about me, but I guess what I’m saying ... is ... do you know any reason that there’s so much negatively charged energy in our family? I feel like my dad absorbed all his crap by marrying my mom.”

Kay sits back and studies the ceiling. “I knew,” she finally says. “I knew how bad it was at your house. I’m sorry I didn’t do anything.”

Some discomfort catches in her throat. No one did, Charli thinks.

“I had a feeling that you were having a rough go at things,” Kay says. “Your mom and I didn’t talk much, especially after she lost Jacob, but I knew what living with her could be like. Honey, if I could have, and maybe I should have, I would have intervened.”

Charli’s eyes glaze over as the past tugs her back. She’s ten years old again and playing with her American Girl dolls, her only friends who didn’t live in books. Her father is out of town. Her mother won’t let her play with the other kids in the neighborhood. She barely even let her go to Viv’s house. That kind of lonely is not something you can even describe.

If Kay knew, then why didn’t she get involved? Did Kay think that Charli was no better than the rest of the family, all people she needed to avoid? That line of thinking doesn’t ring true with Kay, though. She’d always been kind to Charli.

Kay reaches over and puts her hand on Charli’s knee. It’s a loving touch, a sincere one, which quells some of Charli’s frustration.

“I should have gotten involved,” Kay admits. “But I was too weak, struggling with my own stuff. I get your point. Trust me. This family does feel damaged more than most. Losing Dad destroyed all of us, but your mom took it the worst. I tried to get through to her, but she was just ...”

“What?”

“It was like she was possessed. We had some good times growing up, but now I can barely talk to her without feeling disgusted and sad. Losing Jacob made it so much worse, but she was already a mess.”

Charli doesn’t remember seeing the mess of her mom before she lost the baby, but then again, she was so young.

“I get it,” Kay says, “and you know what ... I love the idea that maybe something did kick-start this domino fall. Why not try to figure it out? I’ll help any way I can, though I’m not sure how.”

Excitement shakes Charli’s fingers as she reaches into her purse, unfolding the family tree she printed out. “This is about all I have to go on.” She wants to tell Kay about the constellation, that there could have been a murder, but she resists.

Kay takes the paper and looks at it for a few moments. Charli gives her a tour, talking about some of the family members. She points at the end of Samuel’s line. “It’s weird to me that Samuel’s family tree stops here. Any idea why?”

Kay keeps her eyes on the tree. “It is a little weird, I guess. I don’t know much more than you.”

She must know something. “How about your dad? If you don’t mind me asking, why did he kill himself?”

Kay pauses. “I’ve spent a long time wondering, and I truly don’t know. His parents were good people, gave him a good upbringing. He seemed happy, and then one day he wasn’t. Kind of like your mom, suddenly someone I didn’t know.”

Tom Brady jumps up on Kay’s lap, as if he sensed her pain.

“I can’t imagine,” Charli murmurs, recalling how it had been both Kay and Georgina who’d found the body when they’d come home from school. “I’m sorry.”

Kay sighs. “We’re all dealt our blows. I wish I could help you more. I don’t know of any particular event or situation that might have unfolded.” Then a light bulb goes off in her eyes. “You know what, though,” Kay says, suddenly standing. “I do have some pictures. You can have them if you like. Maybe something to show your kids one day. I don’t know.”

Charli doesn’t mention that she’s not going to have kids. Instead, she says, “Sure, I’d love to take a look.”

Kay returns with a Tupperware container the size of two shoeboxes. “I haven’t looked in here in forever.” She sits and opens it up. A musty smell rises into the air, causing Charli’s excitement to bloom. Her aunt pulls out a stack of photos tarnished by years of fingerprints and humidity. She shows them to Charli, pointing out the names of the subjects.

Underneath some loose photos, she pulls out a few frames. “Ah, yes, I thought I had one. This is my great-grandfather with his sister and his parents, Samuel and Margaret.” She hands over the framed black-and-white photo, exposing some clay under her nails. “It’s the only one I have of them. I suppose Samuel’s your third great-grandfather.”

“Is that how you say it?” Charli asks.

“I think so.”

Charli carefully holds the faded photograph in her hands like she’s holding a relic from a museum. The chipped wooden frame is nothing special. The family stands in front of a single-story house in staged poses. The children are not quite teenagers.

“Where was this taken?” Charli asks.

“I have no idea.”

Charli examines the photo, thinking that the bad she’s experienced ran through all these people as well. The four of them aren’t exactly frowning, but not one looks happy.

She takes in Samuel and Margaret. They’re probably in their late thirties. Margaret’s not particularly attractive, looks like she doesn’t even know what a smile is. And Samuel ... he could be handsome, but he’s not, as if his life has been one long trial.

Charli smiles to herself as she hears a photographer say, Frown, everyone!

“What year would this be?” She looks at the back of the taped frame but doesn’t want to open it.

“Must have been over a hundred years ago,” Kay guesses.

They look through a few more photos, and Kay shares what she can before Charli finally stands and says she’s got to get back for Tiny.

“I’m so glad you came. We should spend more time together.”

“Please.” Charli really means it. She’s reminded that maybe she’s not all alone, fighting the battle of life. “Though I haven’t seen you in a long time, I always considered you the bright light in our family. Someone I’ve always looked up to, as you don’t seem bogged down by life like the rest of us.”

Kay bats her eyelashes. “I appreciate that. And I’ve always felt the same way about you. I’m so proud to be your aunt.”

“Thank you.” Her words are comforting in a way that Kay could never know, and if Charli’s not careful, she’s going to start bawling.