Backwater Read Online Free Page A

last anyone heard, she’d been a struggling sculptor in Vermont. Tib said Josephine was a true loner; she needed to be by herself more than anyone Tib had ever met. Plenty of people thought she was a nutcase because of it. I’d have given just about anything to get her thoughts for the family history if I knew where she was. If she was even alive.
    I heard the sound of Scrabble letters pouring into a hat. Dad’s voice boomed, “What letter shall it be tonight?”
    The game was Legal Alphabet and I hated it. The point was to pick a letter, then people shouted out legal terms that began with that letter and the definitions. Speed and pushiness were vital skills.
    Thirteen Breedlove lawyers leaned forward as Dad drew his great hand into the hat.
    “P!” he shouted in full-courtroom voice. “Perjury—an intentional lie told while under oath or in a sworn affidavit.”
    “Plaintiff!” shouted cousin Sarah. “The person who brings a case to court.”
    “
Pro bono!
” screamed cousin Brad, pushing past Sarah. “A service provided for free!”
    The game grew louder and stronger, the legal voices reachinga thundering crescendo. Two lawyers stood on chairs. One beat his breast.
    Makes you wonder about the species.
    Petition.
    Plea bargaining.
    Precedent.
    Patent.
    Uncle Archie’s hand slammed the table, rattling the chandelier above. “Pillory! A medieval punishment and restraining device.”
    “Peace,” I said gently, hoping the game would end. “A state of tranquility or quiet.”
    “Not in this house, Ivy!” boomed my father.
    “No kidding.”
    “We’ll make her a lawyer yet,” laughed Uncle Whit.
    Thirteen pairs of legal eyes stared at me.
    I looked away.
    If I’d had guts, I would have said it.
    Can’t you just let me be who I am?

3
    It was seven A.M. I put my tape recorder on the dining room table and smiled at my father who was sitting across from me eating rum cake and coffee. I was about to interview him for the family history and I wasn’t expecting the search for truth to be pretty. Uncle Archie kept walking down the hall, pretending not to listen. He and Dad have been competing with each other since childhood.
    “I’m so interested in your memories of childhood, Dad.”
    Dad put down his fork tensely. “I had an excellent childhood.”
    Uncle Archie coughed from the hall.
    “I’m sure you did, Dad.”
    “We were a strong family, a good family.”
    Uncle Archie coughed again.
    “You must have some wonderful memories of that, Dad.”
    He sniffed and said nothing. Pulling molars was easier than this.
    “In what ways were you a strong family, Dad? Can you remember some specific moments?”
    Dad sniffed. “We loved the law. My father taught us legal precedent every night at the dinner table.”
    This had to affect the digestion. “What kinds of things did you talk about?”
    Dad squirmed. “Cases, politics, law journal articles.”
    “So you and Uncle Archie had law school every night at dinner?”
    Dad leaned forward. “
I
had law school,” he said quietly. “Archie had dinner.”
    “Now just a minute!” Archie stormed into the room.
“You
needed the help.”
    “I was always interested in learning more no matter how long it took,” Dad addressed me, “whereas
Archie
didn’t seem to think he needed it.”
    “I was first in my class at Yale Law,” Archie spat. “You were
seventeenth.
From the first day, I felt in complete resonance with the law and its powers. I never wavered in my quest. I’ll let my record speak for itself.”
    He was very rich and basically undefeated.
    “Veni, vedi, vici.” Archie said smugly. That’s Latin for “I came, I saw, I conquered.” Julius Caesar said it first. Uncle Archie did not relate to regular guys.
    I smiled at Uncle Archie, even though it hurt to. “Your father must have been so proud of you.”
    Archie’s bushy eyebrows tightened. “He was.”
    “How did he let you know?”
    “By expecting me to excel at