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A Lifetime of Friends by goddess1871






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Table of Contents
- Text Size +
Story Notes:

Hope you like what will be a multi-chapter story. I'll try to continue as much as time allows. Comments are much appreciated!!

Twilighted Supervisory Beta: Admittedly Obsessed

Twilighted Validation Beta: helena_handbasket

Author's Chapter Notes:

The names (except for the vampires/vampires-to-be, of course) are real. John Allen and Vivena Jordan are my great-grandparents. Enjoy!

Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. Other characters I claim as flesh and blood!


EPOV

The sweat rolled from my face as I helped Mother beat the rugs outside on the clothesline. I couldn’t understand why – Father had the rugs cleaned before we packed them. We were just moved in from our native Chicago to this God-forsaken wasteland of eastern Kentucky so that my father could serve as the superintendant of the local school system. I certainly wasn’t sure what to expect: all my friends had giggled about how every girl from Kentucky was pregnant by age 12, that nobody wore shoes, that nobody even had teeth! Judging from what they told me, it sounded like I would easily be the most advanced student in the school I would attend. There would be no way that anyone could be smarter than I was.

 

“Keep beating the rugs, Edward, before we get too hot,” Mother panted at me as her skirts swished through the tall grass that surrounded our home. I noticed for the first time that her voice had to compete with the sounds of birds and bugs, and even the frogs were croaking merrily from the large lake that separated our house from that of the Story family. I wiped my forehead and looked up – the sun was directly overhead, but even though we had only been here for two days, I knew full well that the heat would not reach its peak until later in the afternoon. I returned to my task with renewed vigor, if it meant getting out of the sun and the heat.

 

I had already noticed so many differences in things here in Kentucky. Besides the obvious things like the heat and oppressive humidity, I was astounded by how, well, quiet everything was. In Chicago we had lived deep in the heart of the city, with access to street cars, and cars, period. I looked in every direction – horses and buggies could be seen in profile across the landscape. How primitive. I listened – the bugs and birds did seem to be the only things making noise besides the rhythmic shallow thump of Mother beating the rugs. The air certainly smelled different. At our old home in Chicago, the air smelled of gasoline from the Model-Ts that dotted the street; women cooking and the hot, baking smell of the bricks in the street filled my nose from dawn to dusk as my friends and I played on the walks in front of our homes. No such smells could be found here. There was an odd “green” smell from the grass mixed with some more, well, “natural” smells wafting in from nearby farms. How I wished I could go back to Chicago right this instant!

 

During my reverie while beating the rugs, I didn’t hear much more swishing of grass until I heard unfamiliar voices greeting my mother. “Mrs. Masen, I am Macy Story. We live in the house over yonder.” (Over yonder?)

 

“Edward! Come meet our neighbors!” I heard my mother command. I came around the corner of the rugs to see three women standing in a row, all wearing white cotton dresses, black boots, and their long blond hair braided and tucked neatly behind their heads. Evidently, the mother’s name was Macy. “This is my son, Edward,” my mother said proudly, and when the woman held out her hand to me, I took it and kissed it gracefully. The two younger girls giggled softly.

 

“These are my daughters, Carelou and Vivena,” Mrs. Story said, gesturing to each one. Carelou looked to be about twelve, while Vivena looked about my age – seven. She smiled at me – her two front baby teeth had already come out and the white caps of her adult teeth barely showed from under her gums. I smiled back at her with my own two missing teeth, although my adult teeth had not yet begun to come in. I kissed Vivena’s hand first, then Carelou’s. Carelou had lovely caramel-brown eyes, while Vivena’s were a bright blue, as blue as the sky above us.

 

“We’d love to have you over tonight,” Mrs. Story was telling Mother. “Saturday night is dance night for us. Uncle Wilmott comes over and plays, and we do have a grand time!”

 

“I will have to check with Edward Sr., of course, but I don’t see why not.”

 

“Yes, it would be delightful,” I automatically responded. I had been taught at an early age that if, when invited to something, you responded like it was the most wonderful thing in the world, even if you’d rather die than go to it. Mother nodded her head in agreement.

 

***

 

After the Story women had left us, Mother sent me straight to the blackberry patch for berries to make cobbler. Needless to say, I’d never been in a blackberry patch, and after getting caught in the thorns and tearing a small hole in my pants, I came home with just enough berries for Mother. She'd have enough time to make the cobbler before we went to the Storys' house at dusk.

 

We quickened our step, Mother and Father and I, as we heard a merry fiddle tune over the next hill where their house was. When we reached the top of the hill and started down, we quickly realized that this was more a community event than anything – there were so many people. They were socializing all over their front yard, illuminated by candles on poles all around. Someone was churning ice cream on the front porch. Mrs. Story came out the front door, looked in our direction, and waved. Suddenly I heard a child’s shrieking laughter, and a familiar face came barreling toward me.

 

“Edward! Edward!” Vivena shouted, grabbing my hand. “We’re playing Crack-the-Whip! Come on!” Before I could protest or ask permission from Father, Vivena had my hand and we went running at top speed down the little hill. I looked behind me and, surprisingly, Mother and Father were both smiling their approval. We reached the bottom of the hill and while the adults danced, we played Crack-the-Whip. If you were “whipped” off, it wasn’t so bad – Scotty, the Irish Setter that belonged to the Storys, came up each time and gave you a concerned sniff, then nudged you up, encouraging you to rejoin the game.

 

When the ice cream was ready, everyone sat in the grass. I had barely seated myself when Vivena came and sat next to me on my left. Her face was shining with sweat and she grinned her now-familiar toothless grin. On my right, John Allen, a tall friendly boy of nine, plopped down. For such a skinny boy, he was the winner of our previous game, since nobody seemed able to thrown him off. Behind us, my parents were talking to Emma Hale, who lived about a mile to the west.

 

“Yes, we've lived on this land since 1792, when Kentucky was declared a state,” she reported proudly. “It was originally settled by my grandfather and has passed through the family ever since. My father, Joseph, shared the acreage with his brother, my uncle Jasper, until he was killed in the war,” she said, her eyes misting up slightly. My mother patted her hand comfortingly. “I’m sorry,” she smiled, dabbing at her eyes. “They never found him – he was presumed dead.”

 

“I’m sure that must be difficult,” Father responded kindly.

 

About this time Uncle Wilmott tuned his violin yet again and called out “Vivena’s Reel!” Everyone let out a whoop and pairs quickly formed. “Come on, Edward!” Vivena cried excitedly, throwing her bowl aside. “It’s my dance!”

 

“I don’t know how to dance,” I said softly, terrified of the prospect of embarrassing myself in front of everyone. I looked back at Father, who was smiling approvingly but with a look in his eye that said “Boy, do this and don’t argue.” Reluctantly, I got to my feet and was dragged into line with Vivena. Thankfully, reels are easy dances, I found out. I quickly found myself enjoying this country dance much more than I thought I would. Right behind us were John Allen and Carelou. Before long, Mother was laughingly pulled into line by Emma’s husband Jacob, and Father was led by Emma herself.

 

***

 

That night while getting ready for prayers, Mother sat on my bed. “Did you have fun, Edward?”

 

“Yes,” I replied honestly. “John Allen invited me to go fishing tomorrow. I'll go, even though I have no idea how to fish.”

 

Mother laughed as she stroked the hair out of my eyes. “I think you will learn easily enough. You should enjoy the time getting to make friends, since school begins again next week.”

 

I said my prayers and lay in the bed, thinking of my new friends Vivena and John Allen, and before too long, it did not seem so bad that I was far away from Chicago.

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