As I drove off down the road I made sure to let my convertible top down. I didn’t think I was ever going to feel the wind in my hair again. Now with my new found freedom, I planned on making the most of it. The drive took about 3 hours from the town to my parent’s home. As I pulled up to the home where I had done the better part of my teenage years growing up, I suddenly remembered that I had forgotten to call and let them know I was coming. I walked up to the door and knocked. It felt awkward to knock at my own front door, but I didn’t want to intrude since they didn’t know I was coming. My father was the one to answer the door. When He saw me, he quietly placed his finger over his lips and shushed me before I could say anything. Then he leaned back and over his shoulder called out to my mother,
“Honey, it’s for you! It’s Autumn.”
As I heard her rushing over, I readied myself for a big hug. “OH AUTUMN!!” she squealed. “What are you doing here sweetie? Oh I’m so happy to see you”
As we embraced my father smiled and said, “It’s good to see you kiddo! It’s been a minute.”
I exited the hug from my mother and then turned to my father and hugged him as well, “I know, I know. I’ve been so busy with my old job and now my new job that I haven’t had time for a visit. I’m sorry”
“It’s all good, you’re here now and that’s all that matters. But hun what in the world happened to your face?”
For the first time my mother noticed as well, “Oh honey, what happened? Please come on in. We can talk about it inside.”
I entered my old home I was ushered by my mother to our family living room where we all sat down. After chatting and catching up for a while my mother asked again how my face came to be so damaged. I refrained from telling her about all the supernatural things I had witnessed, knowing that she would never believe me, but told her I had been mugged by a stranger with a knife, barley escaping, instead. She bought the lie, and talked about how terrible it must have been for me, and how crime has just skyrocketed, the normal parent things. We must have talked for most of the afternoon and into the evening. I never saw a chance to casually bring up my heritage, the town, and hotel, so I simply just stuck with the regular flow of the conversation.
We must have talked for the better half of the afternoon and into the evening when my mother called out from the kitchen that dinner was ready. My father and I rose from our respective seats and headed to the well lit dining room. We all gathered around the table to enjoy a family meal, an event that hadn’t happened in some time. We all took our seats to enjoy the delicious meal that my mother made; garlic baked chicken, sweet potatoes with butter and brown sugar, and roasted carrots with herbs. It was an amazing meal and one of my old favorites. The chicken was moist and tender, the potatoes sweet and savory, and the carrots crisp and flavorful. After we finished eating we pushed our plates aside to make room for desert, my mother’s famous apple pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top. It was the perfect meal. Over dessert I finally saw my shot to casually as possible sneak my question into the conversation.
“So recently I’ve been mapping out our family tree. I started on your side, mom, and have gotten pretty far. Did you know we were once a part of an old and rich family that settled a town not too far from here?” I asked as smoothly as possible.
“No I didn’t, I mean, I know I came from a more well to do family than your father, but I didn’t know about any town or anything.” She said as she took another bite of her pie.
“The family name was Bennett. Does that ring any bells that you know of?” I pressed in hopes that she would recall some important detail.
“Oh, Bennett, yes! Your aunt and I found some old books and pictures in her attic at the family home. We thought nothing of it at the time. I don’t know what became of them though.” She replied.
“Well that’s more than what I know about my birth family.” My father said sitting back in his chair.
“I know. I wish I could find something out about your family.” I replied.
I need to break away from the conversation for a brief moment to explain something about my father. He was given up for adoption at birth by whoever his family was. Why, we never knew, as it was a closed adoption. He spent years in the foster care system until he aged out, at which point he joined the army and started his career there. He moved from place to place for years. That’s how he met my mom who was living at the time back east. They married soon after and then had me. We traveled from town to town and place to place for years until we finally came to settle in the house we were currently in, the reason being was that it was only a few miles from the hospital where he was born. He sought for years to find his birth family but was never able to.
“I did find an agency that will tell me where in the world my family came from though, whether they were European, African, Austrailian, Asian, etc.” He told me taking the last bite of his pie.
“That might be very helpful in narrowing things down.” I responded.
“The agency told your father they have results that they will be mailing out to him. We thought maybe it would come today but maybe it will be tomorrow.” My mother added to the conversation as she started gathering everyone’s plates.
“Well whenever it arrives I hope the results will give you peace of mind.” I said rising to help her.
We spent the rest of the evening cleaning up and idly chatting about my old job and why I took the new job, minus the paranormal details. When it was finally time for everyone to go to bed we all said our goodnights and headed upstairs to our respective rooms. Once inside mine I was flooded by the many memories that I had from my late childhood. From my bed to my stuffed animals, the lavender painted walls to my furniture that made the room warm and inviting, everything held such wonderful memories. I traced my hand along the bedposts that sat at the end of the bed, feeling the carven wood, lost in thought. I had had such a great childhood and growing up, it had been so much better than my father’s. I figured that was why my parents spoiled me so much. Between being the only child and daughter to boot, I always got what I needed and usually got what I wanted. I loved my old room, and the warmth and happy memories that exuded from it.
Now feeling very tired, I changed clothes and got ready for bed, entering my bathroom and brushing my teeth and gently cleaning my face. I put on my teddy bear pajama pants and a comfortable oversized t shirt and lay down in bed between the covers. I set my pocket watch that I had dug out of my pocket onto the nightstand and I fell asleep quickly and deeply as the ticking that came from the watch lulled me to sleep. I had a wonderful night of dreamless sleep and did not once awaken during the night. Here I was perfectly safe and sound and didn’t have to worry about a thing. I was home.
When I finally woke up the next morning, light trickled through the windows and across the floor of my bedroom. I felt refreshed and like I had truly slept well for the first time in a long time. I always slept at the hotel but never deeply in case of something happening, now I that I had the chance to be free of all the responsibilities of running the hotel; I slept peacefully through the night without a worry or a care. As I got up I could smell the wonderful scent of fresh coffee and cooking bacon. I quickly went downstairs to find my mother hard at work in the kitchen making a hearty breakfast of pancakes, bacon, and eggs.
“Good Morning!” I said to my mother as I went up and hugged her from behind.
“Good morning to you! How did you sleep last night?” She asked turning and hugging me back.
“I slept better than I have in forever. My old bed is still every bit as comfortable as it has always been.” I replied as I went to grab a cup of the fresh brewed coffee.
My father entered the room and said, “Good morning to my two favorite ladies in the world!”
We both smiled and in unison said, “Good morning.” With a giggle.
My mother had just finishing cooking and we all grabbed our plates and food and went into the dining room for breakfast. We ate and conversed more about trivial things when suddenly, just as we were finishing up, we heard a knock at the door. My mother, being the closest to the door, went to answer it as my father and I finished our cups of coffee, talking about the changing of the weather and whatnot. She came back in a few minutes with a large, packaged envelope and an excited smile on her face. She hurried over to my father and handed him the package.
“It finally came honey! It’s your DNA test results!” She said as she ran back to her seat to anxiously await the opening of the package.
We both sat there as my father opened up the letter slowly and started to read it. It contained a lot of information and pages that he quickly glossed over to get to the results on the final page. We watched as his eyes grew wide and his mouth began to gape. Whatever he was reading must have stunned him to get that sort of reaction out of him. I had only ever seldom seen him in this type of state in my lifetime, since he was such a strong and even keel type of person. He sat silently for a few moments with the letter still in his hand staring into space as I’m sure his thoughts ran wildly with the new knowledge he had just acquired. After a few more minutes I broached the question we all had wanted to know for years.
“So, what did it say then?” I asked gingerly.
“It says…….It says I’m actually Native American.” He replied in disbelief.
For years we knew he wasn’t exactly Caucasian. He had dark earthen brown eyes, olive tan skin, and his eyes were a little almond shaped as well. We often thought perhaps that he had been Hispanic or perhaps Asian, but none of us even considered that he might be Native American. The thought was strange and foreign to me but the more I sat and looked at my father I could see it. I’m sure he knew it too as he sat there in disbelief. After a few more moments of silence he went on to add.
“The DNA results go on to state the general area my family came from was around here, which explains why I was born at the hospital in town.” He said still reading away at the letter.
“Does it say what Native American tribe you come from?” My mother asked with excitement for my father in her voice.
“It does. Right here it says that my DNA was compared with the local tribes of the area and it was found that it most resembled the Pueblo tribe.” He answered excitement growing in his voice as well.
In that moment, my heart did a flip flop in my chest. If the DNA results were true, and we had no reason to doubt that they were, this meant that I was not only a Bennett but a part of the Native peoples that inhabited the land the town was sitting on. If that was true it also meant that the very reason that I was able to leave the town was because I was a part of the tribe itself. I never would have guessed at my heritage because of the way I looked. To be part Native American, I was stunningly European looking. I always took after my mother. Growing up I remember always wanting to have my father’s tan skin rather than my alabaster white skin tone that burned every time I stepped into the sun. My hair had always been auburn in color and my eyes were deep ocean blue like my mother’s. I think I was just as stunned by it all as my mother and father were, but for similar yet different reasons altogether. I got up from the table and excused myself when the time was appropriate, to make a call to Deb to let her know what I had discovered. Perhaps she would also be able to give some insight into who perhaps my father’s family was as well.
After speaking with Deb, who was every bit as excited and surprised by this newest development as I was, told me that she would check with her tribal elders and Nathaniel to see if any of them knew of a child given up for adoption. Together we hoped that perhaps we could find my father’s birth family. I didn’t mention this conversation to my father in fear it would get his hopes up for nothing. I think, though, that just knowing the information from the DNA results was enough for him at the time. I was going to check back later with Deb to see if she had any leads. I planned on finding out, if possible, my whole family tree on both sides. It would take a lot of work, but I was up to the task.
It was soon afternoon and I had the 3 hour drive ahead of me to get back into the town. I told my mother that I planned on leaving around 3pm so I could get back before dusk to the tiny town and the hotel. I didn’t want a run in with any creature, even though supposedly they were now gone. I just wasn’t going to risk it. So my mother prepared a light lunch for us all and we sat down to BLT sandwiches and fresh cold iced tea. We enjoyed our meal and talked more of the test results. I hadn’t seen my father so excited in such a long time. I was happy for him and wished I could tell him of all I knew, but neither he nor my mother would understand the strange happenings that surrounded the town and hotel, so I let it be.
Once finished I helped my mother with the dishes and then went to my room to grab all my stuff together, and as I came down the stairs to leave, my parents were waiting for me at the bottom. It was then that I suddenly remembered that I had left the pocket watch on the bedside table. I told them I would be right back and went to retrieve it. I had it in hand when I came back downstairs. My father saw it and his eyes grew wide, and then he asked,
“Where in the world did you get that?”
“I found it recently. Why?” I asked in response not understanding why it mattered.
“I had one just like that. I think when I was abandoned at the hospital that was the only thing my family left behind with me. It was old and worn but it looked just like that one at one time.” He answered coming closer and taking it from my hand as I gave it to him to look at it.
“Are you sure? I think you gave it to me the same time mom gave me my locket, for when I got scared or worried when you were away, and it looked nothing like it.” I asked as I watched him carefully.
“I’m perfectly sure. I was the one who wore it down so badly. I used to rub it when I was feeling sad and anxious in the group homes and eventually it wore it down.” He replied as he stared at the watch in his hands, absentmindedly rubbing it between his fingers as he used to.
He handed it back to me reluctantly, and I took it. This was yet another mystery I was going to have to solve. I placed the watch in my pocket and went to hug each of my parents, embracing them each for an extended amount of time. Soon I was out the door and in my car. As I drove away from my childhood home, I waved at my parents and beeped my car horn as they both stood on the porch waving back. I heard my father call out,
“Don’t be a stranger!”
To which I called back through my rolled down window, “Don’t worry I won’t!” as I drove away.
My drive back to the town was a smooth one, the weather was crisp and clear, the first signs of summer ending and fall in the air. Autumn, my namesake, was always my favorite time of year. Yes, it signaled the ending of some things but it also was a bountiful season. Since I had the chance to grow up in various places, I got to see fall in many ways. I most enjoyed the falling of leaves and the fruits and vegetables that were popular of the season. Call me clique, but my favorite flavor was pumpkin spice. As I was driving I let the windows down and enjoyed the slight breeze in the air.
After about two hours, the town finally came into view. A part of me was happy to see the place, but part of me dreaded going back. I loved the friendships I had made in the town, and I looked forward to rebuilding it, but the darker side of the town always weighed heavy on my mind. I hoped with the rebuilding I could bring life back to the town, chasing away some of the ghosts of the past. I thought about these things as I neared the town, my mind finally giving way to the more positive things I had to look forward to.
Before long, I was almost to the town line when I realized I needed to fill up on gas. I pulled into the gas station and as I did I heard a ringing as I pulled up to the pump. Before I could get out to pump my gas, a young man dressed in an old uniform, came out to where I sat. He had a cheery disposition, and seemed to know exactly who I was. He walked around to the driver’s side of the car, and grabbing the pump, started a conversation.
“Good evening Miss Winters! How are you today? Would you like me to pump your gas for you?” He asked.
“Umm, sure, and thank you.” I replied as I still got out of the car to face him. “Not to sound rude, but who are you?”
“The name’s Benny! I work here at the gas station, have for a long time. I don’t believe we’ve met before but I’ve heard a lot about you.” He responded as he started pumping my gas. “If you want to you can go inside as I get your car a little spiffed up.”
I looked at my watch; it read 6:36pm. I then looked at the car and realized it could use a little washing up. The dirt roads had done a number on its last detail, and I always wanting the car to look its best, agreed. I walked into the gas station, as the sun was setting in the sky, and sat in the little booth by the window as Benny began to clean my car. He finished in record time, and came inside right as the sun set, and disappeared into a back room, presumably to wash his hands or use the bathroom.
Now that he was finished with my car I began to look around at my surroundings. The gas station was small and quaint. It reminded me of something you would see out of an old 50’s movie with everything being suspended in time. I guessed that this gas station had been built in that era. As I sat in the booth I became aware of a faint sound coming from the back. I got on my nerves after a few moments. It sounded like something reminiscent of running water mixed with static from a television. I got up from the booth and walked to where the sound was coming from and that was when I saw what had been making the sound…….
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