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In the first part, I had described how my distant relatives thought I manipulated my granduncle in the last few months of his life to inherit his entire estate. They had no idea that he and I had been fucking since I was in college and between my marriages. It wasn't for any inheritance, but because I got off on fucking my grandmother's brother. I thought he and I were the twisted, sick black sheep of the family, until I discovered a mysterious book, possibly left for me to find as a confession from the grave.
I had become a soccer mom by the time I inherited my grandparents' house in 1999, and had been cleaning out some of my Grammy's belongings. In her sewing room, going through desk drawers of ancient patterns and women's magazines, a red diary was wedged in the bottom, ironically within the stiff but emptied blue covers of an old Methodist hymnal. The straps holding the diary's tarnished lock had dry rotted and gave way as I slid a finger beneath them. The spine crunched as the yellowed pages appeared.
Until her early twenties, my grandmother and her family resided in a cabin at the base of a mountain in northwestern Virginia. They lived like paupers even though their land had extensive timber reserves. Their miserly, alcoholic father would sell a few acres of trees a year, just enough to get by. My grandmother, Darleen, got a job at the county library right after she graduated high school, just to get out of the house, I believe.
Expecting the ancient journal to be filled with routine comments on the weather, gardening, their small assortment of livestock, and maybe some boys she liked, the volume was also filled with very shocking revelations in my Grammy's longhand. It began in the spring of 1949, when she was just a nineteen year-old natural beauty, and before she acquired the refined grammar of finishing school. The 'R' refers to her brother Ralph. I'm sure she didn't want any full names used. I nearly fell out of my chair after just a couple paragraphs. Here are the relevant passages, spelling corrected but otherwise verbatim:
'April 16, 1949
Dear Diary,
I'm pretty sure R is looking in my window when I change clothes. I didn't think the window was low enough to see but if he stands on the woodpile he can look right in. He never seems to be in the house when I'm changing at night and Daddy's asleep drunk. Most sisters would be mad but I think it's sweet and it makes my tummy tingle thinking about it. It's been just undergarments so far but I'm going to show him more. He's 18 and going to graduate soon and might get married and move away and I will miss my chance to show him. Maybe later he will try something sinful. It makes my parts warm just thinking about it.'
'April 17, 1949
Dear Diary,
I did it! I took off my slip and brassiere and then stockings. I hope he saw but I feel sinful also.'
'April 18, 1949
Dear Diary,
Last night I stood naked as a jay bird and ironed two dresses. I hope R was watching. I left the blind up an extra inch for him. My parts got warmer the longer I stood there.'
'April 22, 1949
Dear Diary,
I am sobbing and filled with guilt. Daddy caught R looking in my window and gave him a beating so loud I could hear from inside.'
'April 23, 1949
Dear Diary,
I am paying the wages of sin for my pride, and I'm sad because I have made R pay as well. He is on the train now to join the Marines. Daddy forced him.'
'April 24, 1949
Dear Diary,
Daddy didn't wait long to come after me after the mean bastard had poor R sent to South Carolina for basic training. With Mama in the insane asylum it was just me and Daddy left. The next day I had just walked home from the Sunday sermon and was undressing in my room. Daddy walked in. He was weaving from side to side drunk like usual. In his hand was a broke bottle neck. I screamed, hoping it would make him know he was a scaring me. It didn't work. I didn't want to get cut by the broke glass, so I figured I better speak up.
"You don't need the bottle neck Daddy. I'll give you what you want." I said all serious. "But I don't want a baby." I was hoping he would just put his male part in my mouth and I could satisfy him there Girls at work talked about doing it that way even before they got married, but not with their daddies of course. Wasn't no marriage ever blessing this union made by the hand of the devil. I kept taking my clothes off and Daddy smiled as my bosom bounced out of my brassiere. Wasn't no use in trying to cover anything up. I had a feeling this ain't going to be .the only time for this. Daddy watched me with his shiny red eyes while I took the rest off, exposing my birthing parts. My virtue was as good as gone. Poor Mama, it felt like I was replacing her. Next Daddy smacked me back and forth across the face and I tried to back away but tripped on my Sunday shoes and fell onto the bed. Daddy said "You don't want a baby you little whore? I got a fix for that.' and he spun me around so's I was facing the bed and while holding my arm up against me he bent me over front ways across it. My arm hurt like the dickens and I heard Daddy's belt buckle jingling.
I started to cry as he spread my cheeks with his fingers and I figured he was going to put his self in my rectum hole. "One smells as bad as the other," he said. I heard and felt him spit on my hole. I was glad there wasn't going to be no baby, but it was going to hurt. He left the broken glass neck on the pillow by my face as a reminder I guess. He must of spit on his man part too cause it was slick feeling as it went in. Daddy grunted and cussed and called me whore a bunch more as his peter made me feel like I was having a big long bowel movement in the outhouse. His hand that wasn't hurting my arm squeezed my bosom and pinched real hard. He grunted loud after about a minute inside me, and the horrible sin we committed was done. I thought we was done for the day but Daddy pulled his belt off and whipped me all over my back and bottom. Then he turned me back over by the twisted arm that had gone numb and whipped my bosoms and aimed at my loins, and I couldn't block everything at once. I screamed and cried the whole time. Luckily Daddy left and went to sleep. My birthing place was warm and wet after that like it ain't never been before. I felt his liquid dripping out of my behind. I cried and prayed for forgiveness the rest of the day.'
'April 27, 1949
Dear Diary,
It's been three days since Daddy and I sinned against our lord. I had to visit the outhouse a few extra times on account of my tender bowels, but I'll be okay. I'm still sore from being whipped naked. I had clothes on all the times before that. I can see pink lines criss cross my chest and thighs and I'm sure the back is worse, It hurts to sit down. Daddy's been a little sober and been staring at me. I think I better figure out a way to make him happy without him beating me."