Yours Truly

1 - The Tale of Mrs. McCaden

The children of Farlove Avenue all knew about Mrs. McCaden, the wizened old lady who lived in the quaint Victorian cottage at the very end of the street. There were many legends concocted by these silly-minded children surrounding the elderly woman, such as claims that she was alive during Jesus's birth, or that she was an immortal sorceress who leeched the youth out of the Louisianan kids if they stepped a single toe upon her neatly-trimmed front yard-- which is why all the children made sure to give Old Mrs. McCaden a very wide berth. 

        All the kids knew how Mrs. McCaden lived a quiet, reclusive life by herself in her tiny house, with only a stay-at-home nurse named Aly to take care of her. Mrs. McCaden hardly spoke, hardly smiled, hardly went out to fetch groceries or see the sunlight-- it was like she'd died already. To make things even more peculiar, Mrs. McCaden didn't wear a wedding ring, in spite of having been married. She only wore her high school graduation ring where a wedding ring should've been, and according to Aly, she never took it off. The children believed that the ring was her main source of witchcraft. It especially scared the children when Mrs. McCaden sat in front of her window on her rocking chair, sipping tea and watching the sunset forlornly. Aly's tried her best to assure the terrified younglings-- multiple times-- that Mrs. McCaden was harmless, but to no avail. They'd absolutely convinced themselves that Mrs. McCaden was a loon. To them, young Nurse Aly was the very image of 'brave.' 

           Nobody quite knew what it was about Mrs. McCaden that emitted a bone-chilling aura for the young children. The one thing that was clear to all the residents of Farlove Avenue was that Mrs. McCaden definitely kept many, many secrets to herself. Ninety years' worth of secrets, mind you.

        "Aly! Aly!" Rink Willard, the twiggy little boy whose momma sold fresh beignets at the French Quarter, jogged to catch up to Aly the Nurse as she was briskly walking down Farlove Avenue, heaps of groceries teetering in her arms. "How do you do it, Aly? Don't you ever get scared?" 

         Aly sighed. "How many times have I told you, Rink? Mrs. McCaden is not an immortal witch. It's very rude. Don't say that in front of her face, will you? It could really hurt. I think she suspects how much y'all fear her." 

        "She's all-knowing!" Rink cried. "Aly... Aly, is it true she's a hundred years old? That's what Julia Sutkins told me!" 

        "Don't be silly," chided Aly. "Mrs. McCaden is ninety years old, not a hundred." 

        Rink stared at the young nurse with the blonde ponytail. "But Aly... George Weller from school told me that Mrs. McCaden used to have a husband, but he's dead now! And he was older than her! How's that possible? Ronny reckons she murdered her husband! She don't even wear a wedding ring!" 

        Aly stopped in her tracks. "That's not funny, Willard. I don't want you goin' round sayin' things like that. One more outta you, and I'm going straight to your momma, you hear me? Tell Ronny she never murdered her husband. He had lung cancer, tell Ronny that. Yes, her husband was older than her. He was... ten or so years older than her, I believe. His name was Robert Whitby. Great man, great man..." 

        "Robert Whitby? Shouldn't his name be Robert McCaden? After all, she's Mrs. McCaden and not Mrs. Whitby!" Rink barked, bouncing his red rubber ball on the gravel as he walked alongside Aly. 

        Aly gave a sort of exasperated look aimed at the sky. "McCaden must've been her maiden name. I don't know, I don't want to ask her too many questions. It's rude. Gotta respect her privacy." 

        "But you're her nurse, Aly," argued Rink. "You should know all about her! Does she have any family? Why's she so alone? Why does she always wear that high school class ring? Why doesn't she ever do nothin'? All she does is sit there like she's dead, and it scares the livin'--"