A Girl's Guide to Guns and Monsters - Martin Harry Greenberg [89]
She pulled the trigger.
As Melinda described it later to her ex- husband and father, the snake died of “high-speed lead poisoning.” She expected them to chuckle, to praise her ability to handle a crisis without upsetting the girls or anyone coming to harm. Instead, they both expressed dismay and discomfort, each in his own way. Mike volunteered to search the entire property and to place a low fence to deter snakes from crossing the road, which she politely declined. Her father’s reaction surprised her more. He insisted on coming over, a two- hour drive, despite her protests; and he brought her mother’s Great Aunt Ruth with him. Melinda could not recall the last time she had seen her great-great aunt; the woman had to be in her nineties.
For a time, father and aunt reacquainted with Melinda and the girls, speaking of school, the past, and weather. But, when the girls went down for the night, the conversation changed abruptly. The adults retired to the living room, the television off, shoving aside Legos and a host of developmental toys and therapy objects. Melinda sat on one couch, her father and aunt on the other.
Her father sighed deeply, clearly intending to raise a matter of great import. “Melinda, honey, I had hoped to spare you this information.” He glanced at Aunt Ruth, who said nothing. She was short and deeply wrinkled, her hair thin and white. Her mouth pursed, her eyes recessed into folds, her expression gave away nothing. “Your mother’s family carries . . . a curse.”
Melinda turned her father a twisted expression of scorn. A molecular biologist, he believed in nothing supernatural. Or so she had always thought. “A curse,” she repeated dubiously. Her brows rose in increments. “A curse?”
Her father chewed his lower lip. “I know it sounds insane. I didn’t believe it until . . . until your mother . . .”
Mother. Now, he had Melinda’s full attention. She had barely known the woman, who had died of a heart attack when Melinda was a child. As it clearly pained her father to talk about her mother, Melinda had learned to remain silent on the matter. “. . . died?” she inserted.
Her father nodded. “She was so . . . so young.”
“Thirty-one.” Melinda knew that much. Now that she had passed the same age, it seemed like an impossibility. How does a healthy woman of barely three decades develop heart disease so severe. She had seen pictures of her mother: smiling, slender, full of life.
Father seemed to read Melinda’s mind. “She knew the stories of her bloodline, had lived in dread of them since childhood. When the snake appeared—”
Melinda interrupted. “What snake?” It was the first time a snake had ever entered the story.
“A simple garter snake.” Her father buried his face in his hands. “Completely harmless, yet she knew what had to come. And her heart could not take it.” He peeked at Melinda through his fingers. “Melinda, honey, your mother died of stark and horrible terror. Nothing more. I tried rescue breathing. I tried to bring her back, but I . . . just . . . couldn’t.”
Melinda had never blamed him. Now, she felt nothing but confusion. “What? She died because she saw a . . . a garter snake?”
Her father only nodded. Aunt Ruth’s head bobbed as well, rhythmically and silently.
“Why?”
Father spoke through poorly suppressed tears. “She had seen the curse take her own mother and knew what was coming.”
Dread crawled through Melinda, but she said nothing.
“I thought it best not to tell you,” he sobbed. “I worried you might live a life in fear, that you might react the way she did. The curse often skips generations. At times, it seems to disappear. Your mother hoped it was a legend, tried to believe it did not exist, that neither she nor you would have to deal with it.”
Melinda did not know whether to laugh or cry. If he believed the curse a hoax, why bother her with it now? If he believed it true, why wait