A time when the nuclei of three generations unraveled, exploded, and tragically, changed their lives forever.

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CHAPTER 1

Words loosely wrapped in a bitter mixture of hysteria, confusion, and fear erupted from Natasha's sixteen-year-old mouth, creating a chaotic explosion akin to a spectacular array of fireworks. Little of it was comprehendible, but, except for the distraught teenager and the motionless body lying on the floor, no one was there to hear it.  

The hands on the antique clock met in a prayer-like gesture, tolling twelve times. Pale streams of moonlight filtered through the lace curtains, creating shadows on the walls. Sirens screamed and flashing lights cut through the darkness as a fire truck, an ambulance, and a police car raced through the streets toward 1804 Hudson Street, Isabella Mancuso's domain, her family home for the past seventy-five years. 

“Don’t you die, you ugly senile old bitch. You hear me? I’m not taking the blame for this. You’re the one — always meddling in someone else’s business.” Natasha pounded her fist against the wall, knocking one of the many family photos off its hook. It clattered to the floor, shattering the glass. "Great! Now I'll have to listen to you moan and groan about respecting our ancestors. When will you learn nobody cares? They're dead!"

She stepped closer to the window, staring out into the night, terrified to move closer to her grandmother’s lifeless body. She couldn't stop babbling. Random thoughts rolled off her tongue. "Where's that damn ambulance? I could have driven to the hospital faster than waiting for them." She looked outside, willing someone to arrive.

Her angry eyes were dark, smoldering coals as she glanced toward Isabella and spun back around. Her chin jutted upward. She felt on solid ground when she wasn't looking at Isabella.

Nat spat the words into the air, “Hope you're satisfied!" She inhaled and let her ragged breath escape. "You better know I'm not taking the blame for what happened. Why couldn't you just leave it be?"

Bitterness dripped from her mouth, yet a lone tear glistened from the corner of her eye. She picked up one of Isabella's crocheted blankets and tossed it across her grandmother's legs. "Can't have you saying I let you catch a cold." 

The sharp ring of her cell interrupted the ongoing battle between her and her silent grandmother. The teenager grabbed the “lifeline” and answered, “Becky?”  

“Girl, who else did you expect at this hour?” Irritated, Natasha’s best friend growled. “This better be good. Jeremy’s over, and we’re kinda busy.”  

“Forget about him. He just wants to get between your legs.” Natasha rolled her eyes at the thought. He wasn't her type.

“Shut up, Nat! That’s my concern, not yours. Besides, you’re no goodie two shoes, now are you?” Becky's sharp retort put an immediate clamp on Natasha's mouth, rattling her.

“Sorry, Beck." She stammered, "It’s just — I need you.” Natasha looked at the poor woman lying on the cold floor and shivered. “Something terrible happened — and it’s just going to get worse.” Without warning, the floodgates opened, and waves of angry tears poured down Natasha’s face. Gulping for air, she sputtered, “Grandma knows.” She gulped again. “She threatened to tell —” 

“Get a hold of yourself, Nat. Stop your screeching. She’s an old lady. She can threaten all she wants. We can talk our way out of anything she says. We’ve done it before, and we can do it again. You know your mom will believe you.” 

Natasha struggled to control her breathing. Between gulps, she whined, “You don't get it. She — she collapsed. She’s not moving, Beck." Nat swallowed hard before trying again. Her bravado dissipated. "I can't do this. I called 911. They're on their way.”  

As the seriousness of the situation settled in, Becky's voice cracked, “Oh my God! Is she — is she dead?"

"Who's dead?" A muffled male voice inquired.

"Can you shut up, Jeremy?" Becky returned to her cell, and asked, "Nat, you didn’t knock her down or anything, did you?”  

Becky's questions made Natasha's heart pound harder, and she fell to her knees. Icy fingers of fear strummed her spine and across her head. Heat spread across her cheeks. “I might have — pushed her away, but I didn’t mean to — It’s not my fault. She kept talking — doing her preacher thing." She swallowed, "Beck, I — don’t — know — if she’s breathing.”   

Becky gasped, “Why didn't you say that in the first place? I’m on my way.” The call disconnected, leaving Natasha crumpled on the floor, alone and afraid.

Across the room, Isabella’s body lay motionless, yet her mind was moving like the five o’clock freight train that rumbled across the open field every night. Clickety click — Clickety click!  Its destination unclear except to the engineer.  

She could hear her granddaughter’s hysteria, but she felt disconnected from it. A sense of peace touched her body. She could see people standing in the distance, surrounded by a brilliant light, yet she heard loud voices calling and heavy footsteps pounding against wooden stairs. Everything was so unclear. 

As she drifted into unconsciousness, her last thoughts were with the Lord. “Oh, Father in Heaven, is this how my journey ends?”  

Becky raced up the stairs, followed by the fire department and EMTs. As she entered the attic bedroom, she rushed to Natasha’s side, folding her friend into her arms. “It’s okay, Nat. Help is here now.” She glanced sideways at the group surrounding Isabella and purposely raised her voice before she continued, “It’s not your fault. Be thankful you got home in time to call for help.” 

Total confusion registered in Natasha’s bloodshot eyes as she stared at her friend. “But —” 

“Shh, we've got this. I told them I dropped you off at your grandmother’s and heard your scream as I was leaving. I rushed back to find you hysterical and trying to wake her.” Becky glanced at the men frantically working on Isabella. She stood and meekly asked, “Is she going to be okay?” 

Natasha pulled herself to her feet and moved closer to the men, leaning against her friend. “She’s not g—” Choking on the bile rising in her throat, Natasha turned her head away, finishing her question, “g — gone, is she?” 

One of the EMTs offered the girls a sympathetic look. “It’s a touch-and-go situation. She was mighty lucky you found her when you did.” The men placed Isabella’s body on the stretcher and prepared to remove her from the bedroom. “We’ll know more when we get her to the hospital. In the meantime, Officer Lakewood will need to get your statements. Should we notify your parents for you?” 

“My parents?" Nat's eyes darted toward her friend. "Umm, my mom —” 

Becky interrupted, “Her mom’s already on her way. Natasha called her right after she called you.” 

“Oh, okay.” Satisfied, he returned to the other men and Isabella. 

Officer Lakewood moved closer to the girls, allowing room for the stretcher to be removed from the room. “So, you’ve notified your mom already. That’s good. Is she coming here or the hospital?” 

Nervous and uncertain what to reply, Nat stammered, “I'm — I'm not sure.” 

Once again, Becky came to her friend’s rescue. “Nat was so upset she probably didn’t even hear what her mom said. We can call her again if she doesn’t arrive soon.” 

“That would be a good idea. You girls have been in a very traumatic situation tonight and it would be better if an adult were with you.” Officer Lakewood pulled a small notebook from her jacket pocket and flipped it open. “Okay, Natasha, call your mom again and I’ll get the details from your friend.” The officer turned to face Becky. “Sorry, I don’t think I caught your name.” 

“It’s Becky. Becky Caldwell. I’m Natasha’s best friend. I live just down the street. Nat and I hang out at her grandmother’s house all the time. She’s so loving to all of us. Baking cookies and all that special stuff.” Becky paused as if thinking about Isabella, then with a subdued tone she added, “I sure hope she makes it. I can’t imagine what could have happened to her.” 

“Sometimes these things just happen, especially when we get old. No rhyme or reason to it. Just the Lord calls us home.” 

“S’pose you’re right. She was 75. That’s pretty old. Forgive me for sayin’, but she was getting mighty forgetful lately. Even imagining things that just weren’t there.” 

“Hmm, that’s too bad. Happens too often.” Officer Lakewood shook her head before turning to the report. “Okay, let’s start from the beginning. I believe you told the EMT that you had brought your friend home and as you were leaving, you heard her scream. Is that correct?” 

“Yes — yes, it is. I rushed back into the house, yelling for Nat. She was crying and screaming, so I hurried upstairs and found her kneeling by her grandmother. She grabbed her phone and called 911, then her mom. Nat was hysterical. I’ve never seen my friend so upset.” 

“I’m sure she was. I know I’d be pretty upset if I found my grandmother unconscious. She was unconscious when you girls found her, right?” 

“Unconscious?” Becky bit the inside of her lower lip. “Umm, I think so. She wasn’t moving or saying anything when I ran into the room. Nat said she found her lying there.” 

Across the room with her back turned toward her best friend and Officer Lakewood, Natasha coached herself and called her mom. 

A sleep-filled voice muttered, “This better be damn important, Nat. You know I have to get up early for work.” 

On command, a water faucet of tears poured out of Natasha’s eyes as she choked and struggled to speak to her mother. “Mom, it’s hor-r-i-ble! They’ve taken Grandma to the hospital.” 

The once sleepy voice turned into a shrill scream, “What? Oh my God. Nat, what happened? Is she okay?” 

“It’s — it’s bad. The EMT said she was unconscious. She wasn’t moving, Mom. I thought she was — you know, gone.” Nat paused, choosing her words carefully. “She went to bed. Becky and I were outside, talking and goofing around. I — I went to check on her. She wasn’t in her bed, then I saw her on the floor by the dresser.” 

“Okay, I’ve got to get to the hospital. Are you okay there by yourself, or do I need to pick you up?” 

“No, go to grandma. Becky’s here and an officer is taking a report.” 

“Report? For what?” A string of curse words erupted at the other end of the phone, causing Natasha to muffle the receiver.  

“Mom, everyone can hear you.” She glanced toward the officer.

“You think I care? My mother might be dead, my teenage daughter found her, and they’re worried about some stupid report.” 

“Mom — Mom quit screaming. Go to the hospital and be with grandma. I’ll be here with Becky.” Natasha lowered her voice, whispering into the phone, “Mom, it’s not my fault.” 

“Your fault? Of course, it’s not your fault. She’s old and set in her ways. She probably tripped over something. Nobody thinks it was your fault, sweetie.” 

“I guess I was afraid someone might blame me since I was here.” 

“You found her and hopefully, saved her life. No matter what happens, it’s not your fault. Anyone who says it was, well, they can go to hell.” 

“Thanks, Mom.” The teenager sighed, relieved she’d locked her mother into her corner. “Love you.” 

“I love you, too. Now, I’ve got to get to the hospital and see what’s going on with my senile mother. Don’t let anyone bully you around, Nat. Just because they wear a badge doesn’t make them God.” 

“I know. Talk to you later.” Natasha disconnected the call. She stared out the window for a moment before whispering under her breath, “Stupid old lady should have minded her own business.” 

She returned to stand by Becky, squeezing her best friend’s hand. She winked, knowing they’d get through this together. Lies and all! 

CHARACTERS:

Isabella Mancuso    --   Family Matriarch, Natasha's grandmother

Natasha Stanton      --   defiant sixteen-year-old granddaughter

Becky Caldwell        --    Natasha's best friend and partner in crime

Jeremy                     --    Becky's current boy-toy

Marie Stanton          --    Isabella's daughter, Natasha's mother

Officer Lakewood    --    official responding to 911 call