The Picture In The Attic

Remy rolled over at 8 o' clock and opened his eyes to stare out the window of a gloomy but somewhat sunny morning. Hearing the air conditioner switch on and feeling the first breath of the cool air, he sat up and looked about. Clearing his throat and taking a deep breath before turning and sliding off the bed from the end, he found the picture of the soldier staring at him. "What am I gonna do wit' you?" He asked out loud, not expecting anyone to answer.

Standing up and making his way into the hallway, he quietly peeked into each of the bedrooms to find the children still asleep. Closing Alex's door he turned to go downstairs to call his office and tell them he had to stay home for the day. He stood in the kitchen, making coffee and phone calls to contractors and one more to his father. He was bound and determined to get to the bottom of the Jacques/Logan story if he had to search the family library himself.

"Remy, I told you las' night what happened, now please, let de story rest." Jean-Luc sighed as he sat at the great oak diningroom table and ate his breakfast. Taking a bite of a long, crisp piece of bacon and chewing slowly, he waited for Remy's rebuttal. He hadn't really been able to go back to sleep since Remy rang him at an ungodly hour, asking him about Jacques. He knew he was never to tell about his father, and he never had to until Remy found the blasted picture he was to destroy in the first place.

Pushing the button to the coffee maker, Remy started to phrase what he wanted to say. "Poppa, dis picture in my room ain't goin away. Is he de reason Jacques went crazy?"

Jean-Luc's bite caught in mid chew. He had barely known why his father was the way he was, growing up. "I don' know why you're asking me about him, Remy. Momma said that he was different after he came home. I don't know much about him. But, Remy, leave this be. Dat was a long time ago and Poppa....." His voice trailed off as childhood memories of a somewhat useless father came back to him. Jacques was a loving father and good husband to his mother but, he seemed quite distant to be around.

"War changes everyone, poppa." Remy stood there and watched the coffee drip into the pot as he spoke. He was still in his clothes from the day before and only noticed it when he reached for a glass mug above the coffee maker. The same yellow shirt he had on was wrinkled, as was his tan pants when he looked down.

"It wasn' de war that changed him. Not all." Jean-Luc sighed and lifted his eyes to the pastel painted ceiling. "Remy, get de children cleaned up, an' I'll be over in a bit. Might have somethin for you." He pushed the button on the small, black cordless phone and placed it beside him on the table while he finished his breakfast.

Remy set the phone down on the cupboard and finished his coffee before going back up to see if the children were awake. He found Alex awake and sitting on the floor of his darkened room, playing a video game on a small 12" television. "Alex, get dressed. Gran'pa be here in a bit."

"Kay." Was the zoned out reply.

Peeking into Roberta's room, Remy was a bit startled at not finding her anywhere in her room. Thinking she might be in the bathroom, he walked back into the hall and stopped as he caught her standing in his room. "What's doin, cherie?" A cheerful question as he walked into his room and stood besidde her.

Roberta stared at the painting of the man, on the floor, and pointed to it. "Poppie, who's dat?" She asked, not taking her eyes off of the man in the picture.

"Just a man, baby." Smiling and scooping her up into his arms, he kissed her cheek and hugged her good morning.

The little girl shivered as she stared at it. "Scary, no?" Turning to see Remy smiling at her, she smiled back and wrapped her arms about his neck. "Gran'pa's coming here?"

Remy nodded. "Go get dressed." He patted her back and set her down,listening to her run out of the room and back into hers and shutting her door. He stared at the painting for a moment before turning to go back downstairs to fix breakfast.

~~~~~~~~~~

Remy opened the front door just five minutes after 11, to greet his father who was just about to ring the doorbell. "Mornin. De kids been waitin for you." He smiled and stepped to the side so that Jean-Luc could come in. He had showered and changed clothes and was somewhat curious to see what Jean-Luc had for him.

"Grandpa!" Alex called happily as he leapt into Jean-Luc's arms from the last step as he came down stairs. He was lifted and hugged and set down so that his sister could push past him and receive her hug.

Both children were dressed warmly but since Roberta would sometimes get too cold, she already had her winter coat on. "Gran'pa! Poppie said you'd come!" She hugged him tightly and sat in his arms as he kissed her cheek and looked to Remy. She tugged on his shirt sleeve to tell him that she put her hair in a ponytail all by herself. Smiling brightly as he patted her head and told her to go watch television with her brother for a moment, she nodded and skipped away happily.

Jean-Luc refocused on Remy and waved him outside to his car. "Got somethin for ya. Need your help gettin it in de house." He paused on the front step to good-sized house, with circular driveway and nodded to the back end of his brand new Grand Marquise. Turning to Remy, he had a thought. "Why don't I take de kids for de weekend, an' let you have dis to rummage t'rough?"

Catching just what Jean-Luc was talking about, Remy's jaw dropped as his eyes stared at an enormous old, gray trunk, half hidden by the trunk lid and sitting very tall in the roomy space. "What is dat?" He asked, forgetting all about his small mystery he had placed on himself about his family's history. His feet took timed steps forward but he was oblivious to the trunk until he lift the trunk lid of the car.

"Dat's my poppa's trunk from de war. You said you wanted to know 'bout Jacques before me so, here it is." Grabbing one side's wooden handle and waiting for Remy to get the other side, Jean-Luc thought to himself of what might have been in the trunk that Remy was looking for. He counted down and they lift on the last number, swinging it carefully over the side and inching slowly back into the house, setting it down on the floor of the livingroom.

Alex leaned over the back of the plush peach sofa and wrinkled his nose at the trunk. "What is that? Some dusty piece of junk yer gonna sell, pop?" He glanced up at Remy and raised an eyebrow as Remy shook his head.

"Dis trunk belongs to your great gran'pa. S' jus' gonna sit here for a few days while your poppa goes t'rough it." Remy clapped his hands and told them to go upstairs and lay two pairs of clothing out on their beds and wait until he went up to help pack for the weekend. He waited until he could hear them running into their room and open and slam dresser drawers before he said anything. "Merci, poppa but, you sure you want to take dem for de whole weekend?

Jean-Luc nodded and stared at the trunk with an almost despising of it. "Oui. Dis trunk's been sittin in his room for nigh 60 years an' it's about time someone opened it. But, uh," He paused and changed his expression to a sullen look as he lightly moved his hand across the broad, hard and dusty top of it. "whatever ya find in there, I don't need to know. Was a good father but,......" His voice trailed off as his eyes focused on one spot. He stood there for a moment and when he spoke again, looking from the lid to Remy, his tone had changed into something of a warning. "Jacques never talked about de war, or before momma. In his eyes, dere was always something else he was seeing, and not us. He died when I was young and momma refused to hear anything about it. You can look in dere but, it stays in dere."

Remy nodded.

Roberta was the first one back down the stairs as she huddled ino Jean-Luc's side for a hug. Her brother was only a few steps behind her and came to stop in front of Jean-Luc and ask if they were spending the night at his house.

Leaving them alone to talk with him, Remy excused himself and climbed the stairs to pack their clothes and things they needed. Gathering her pink schoolbag and placing her things inside, he wondered what his father meant, and why he wasn't curious as well. Packing Alex's bag, who had tried to do it for Remy, his mind snapped at what Jean-Luc had said about Jacques, before he became a family man. When he returned downstairs, bags in hand, he smiled as Jean-Luc had been in the middle of both children telling him two entirely different things about their week. "Hey, that's enough. Leave him be and ya can tell him later."

Roberta came around the side of the sofa and stretched her arms up for Remy to lift her into his arms and hugged him. "You're not coming, poppie?" She asked, laying her head on his shoulder. Her long brown hair hung lifeless down the side of his arm as she hugged him.

"No petite. Poppa's got somethin to do. But, you two are gonna have too much fun to notice I'm not dere." Patting her back and setting her down, he looked to Jean-Luc as he stood up and turned around to face him. "You ready, poppa?"

Jean-Luc nodded and patted Alex's back to move forward and come around to where Remy and Bobbie were standing. "I think we have alot to do today. We should get goin. Who's ready for de zoo?"

Both children lit up and turned around to raise one hand each and jump in place before him, calling "Me! Me! Me! Me, gran'pa!" One by one, they turned around and hugged and kissed Remy goodbye as they both ran for the door and out to wait by Jean-Luc's car.

Remy said his thank yous and goodbye to Jean-Luc before grabbing his arm and asking the real reason as to why he was given the trunk. He was only smiled at and welcomed as Jean-Luc was placing something in his hand and closing it. An old, heavy, thick key that would unlock alot of the mystery behind his grandfather and the painting of the man named "Logan."

"I'll bring them back on Sunday, after dinner." Hugging Remy and stopping to look at the trunk one last time, he let a wave of sadness show on his face before turning for the door.

Showing him to his car and waving goodbye to the kids, buckled and ready in the back seat, he stood on the front step and watched the car disappear down the drive. Going back inside, Remy shut and locked the door and stared at the key in his hand for a long moment. He sighed and went to the kitchen to reheat a cup of morning's coffee before tending to his task.

~~~~~~~~~

Remy placed the cup of hot, black coffee on the small glass coffee table he had brought around to sit behind him, to avoid the flutter of dust in his coffee. Kneeling in front and wiping the front, sides and top off with a wet cloth, Remy took the key from his pants pocket and hesitated before placing it in the lock and opening the lid.

Neatly folded on top were uniform jackets from the war that blanketed the many papers and books and weapons this massive trunk contained. Placing the clothing carefully on the floor, beside him, as well as the many loose papers of deeds and bills, Remy came across a small rounded, and tarnished silver mirror underneath of a fragile and faded, tan photograph of a man who didn't smile. Remy looked closely at the picture and gasped as he saw himself in the mirror. "Mon dieu! C'est moi." He hadn't realised that he said it in French, nor had he realised that he held the same expression of incompleteness that Jacques so often wore.

He placed the photo on the table, by the cup and took a sip of coffee to shake loose the feeling of de ja vouz. Holding the cup in his hands and feeling the warmth, he stared at the picture until the livingroom became dark with storm clouds rising outside. Standing up and reaching for the lightswitch, on the wall that concelaed the steps upstairs, he turned it on and blinked at the sudden brightness of two lamps on either side of the room.

Suddenly, the trunk hadn't looked so old. Clothing and papers set neatly around his space he retrieved, he looked down into the seemingly bottomless trunk and pulled out another uniform and more papers that were not belonging to Jacques. "What is this?" He whispered, and stared closely at the material and design of the foreign uniform.

He stood up and hurried upstairs to stand in front fo the painting in his room. "I knew it!" He said out loud, startling himself in the breaking of silence. The Union shell jacket, still neatly folded in his hands, matched the one Logan was wearing in the painting. Running his fingers under the lapel of the left side, he held it up to open it and heard a thump as something hit the floor, between his feet.

Looking down and draping the jacket over his left arm while reaching to pick the book up, he read the cover and stood straight up before he moved to open it. "Journal" was elegantly written in brilliant gold letters that seemed almost new save for the slightly worn binding of the book.

The walls had begun to close in and Remy felt he needed to sit down and catch his breath. Sinking down onto the corner of his bed, he eyes never left the cover of the book. Running his fingers over the letters, he glanced up to the painting to see Logan appearing to be staring at him. "Is dis yours, monsieur?" He asked the painting, holding the book out in one hand. "Or, is it Jacques?" He hadn't brought himself to open it as he wondered what the inside would have. Empty pages of worthless babblings from his grandfather gone mad, or about a sensual love between two people that was clearly looked down upon in the eyes of the public?

His heart raced, and pounded heavily in his chest and he opened the cover and read the first beautifully written entry. His eyes grew wide, snapping the book shut and turning to stare fully at Logan's picture in such shock as the man stared cooly back at him. Shaking his head and then reaching to the floor, where he had dropped the uniform jacket, he picked it up and found himself holding it gently like a newborn child in his arms.


Continued.