Contest Entry and Winners : Breathe Again by Begin Again
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The early morning sun flooded the library. Jarrod stared across the estate gardens, admiring his roses, a hobby his father detested. Gardening was a woman's job, not a useful hobby for Jackson T. Cromwell's sons. Astute business dealings and greasing palms made the Cromwell Estate worth millions. Unfortunately, Jackson only lived long enough to see his eldest son assume his role. Eagerly, Taylor had picked up the gauntlet and charged forward; Jarrod preferred to study horticulture and produce prize-winning roses. "How can you be so callous? Our brother is lying in the morgue, shot between the eyes, and your unsympathetic response is he ruined your day." Jenny's outburst caught him off-guard, and he snapped his head around to look at her. Always a fragile child, she'd been protected from the outside world and rarely expressed her opinion. Now though, she had a defiant look in her eyes, waiting for some kind of an answer. "Sorry, Jenny." He slipped his arm around his sister's shoulder, giving her a quick hug. "You still have an emotional bond with him; I don't." "That was five years ago, haven't you moved on? Kathryn only married you for the fancy lifestyle you could give her. She never loved you, Jarrod. You should have seen it coming." Her snappy attitude amazed him this morning. She'd never voiced an opinion about Kathryn's affair with Taylor, not even a note of sympathy. The death of their brother was having quite an effect on her, one he wasn't sure how to address. "He offered her things you couldn't." "Why? Because Taylor inherited Mom's good looks and Dad's charm and I didn't, I'm supposed to understand that my wife preferred my brother. You're right. Kathryn didn't love me, but I should have been able to trust my flesh and blood. He didn't even want her, only the thrill of the chase. After the car accident, when she lay dying in the hospital, was he at her side? No, I was the one holding her hand when she took her last breath, not Taylor. He was plotting how to screw some other unsuspecting man out of his business." His angry words tumbled from his lips. He knew in his heart, he should be ashamed, but he wasn't. Taylor had always lorded his accomplishments over him, especially when he took Kathryn. "He's a Cromwell, regardless. The town will be expecting a big funeral for their fallen son, the town's philanthropist. " He'd disguised his business dealings very well over the years. No one suspected that he'd been draining the town dry, tossing crumbs of donations to the city council. Jackson Cromwell taught him to cover his tracks, a skill he'd perfected. "Sheriff says there'll be a thorough investigation. Wonder what he was doing in that back alley? I can’t imagine anyone being able to lure him there. It doesn't add up! Why would he secretly meet someone without one of his goon bodyguards?" Jarrod shook his head and stared out the window again. "You were in town; did you see him?" She leveled her eyes to meet his, watching him. "Me? Do you think I killed my brother? Okay, I admit the thought has crossed my mind, but it was only a thought. Besides, I have an airtight alibi. The Sherriff and I were sharing a cup of coffee at Annie's." "Then who? Someone hated him very much to shoot him between the eyes and leave him in that alley, a feast for the restaurant rats." She shivered, wrapping her arms across her chest. "No one could prove he was behind anything. A few thought it, but without proof, there wasn't much they could do. He paid his people well to keep his hands clean." "A mugging, then? He loved to flash a big roll of bills around. Maybe someone decided to take it off his hands. He wouldn't have gone peacefully, that's for sure." The telephone rang, and Jarrod answered, "Hello." He listened for a moment, "Okay, I understand. Give me about twenty minutes." Hanging up the receiver, he looked at Jenny, considering his words, before speaking, "They're moving the body to the funeral home. They want someone there." He paused, waiting for her reaction. When Jenny was ten years old, she'd been raped walking home after a school dance. Taylor found her, whimpering along the side of the road, and he'd carried her home. Regardless of everyone's pleading, she'd never told anyone what happened that night. She'd earned the nickname "Silent Jenny" because she seldom spoke at all, and she never left the farm. "I'll go now, but you'll have to attend his funeral, Jenny." He loved his sister dearly, and his heart ached because she was always so sad. "I know. When the time comes, I'll be there to tell him goodbye." A tear glimmered in the corner of her dark brown eyes. Kissing the top of her head, Jarrod grabbed the car keys off the desk, "I'll be back soon. Sure you'll be okay?" "Go, do what you have to do. I'll be fine." She patted his arm before continuing, "I'm stronger than you think." A tiny smile tugged at the corner of her lips. "Now, go and take care of our brother. Watching the car leave, Jenny went to her bedroom to get a heavy sweater. There was still a chill in the air, but a walk always made her feel better. Walking along the roadside, breathing in the fresh, crisp air, she picked a handful of wildflowers. As she neared the wooden bridge that stretched across Hanson Creek, she could hear the rushing water smashing against the rocky shore, racing toward the mouth of the Mississippi River. The heavy spring rains had gorged the creek, forcing it out of its banks. As she watched the swirling water, her mind drifted to Taylor's body, lying on a cold slab in the morgue. He'd hidden his cold-blooded heart so well, handsomely paying others to do his dirty work, expecting no trail ever to lead to him. She remembered all the beautiful books he'd brought her, telling her to savor the adventures because her skittish self would never venture there. Of course, delicate lingerie filled her bedroom drawers, underwear he'd given her. Laughing at his spinster sister's obvious embarrassment, he'd teased her unmercifully. Life was his playground and every one his toy. Nonchalantly, she pulled something from her sweater pocket. Shivering, she slowly ran her fingers along the cold steel barrel of the gun. Tossing it into the muddy brown water churning beneath the bridge, she smiled. "Who's laughing now, Taylor? You stole my innocence and mocked my silence. You'll not rape me ever again." Dropping the wildflowers off the edge of the bridge, she watched as the swift current carried them away. Taking a long cleansing breath, she started for home. After all, town's people would be stopping by to offer their condolences, and the grieving sister should be there.
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Begin Again
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