Not a member?     Existing members login below:

I Am Not My Brother's Keeper

I Am Not My Brother's Keeper
© 2011 Amelia Bradford
I would like to dedicate this book to my husband for his never-ending support in making
my book a reality. And thank you to my two precious children Abbey and Lucas, Abbey
who helped me so much and to Lucas for being a good baby and allowing Mummy to
write! I also would like to thank four of my life long friends for always keeping after me
to write a book: Meredith (mostly), Barb, ―Mia‖ and Vicki.
• • •
―What a day. What a rotten day.‖
It was drizzling rain and chilly. The locals are used to it, the sudden summer chills of San
Francisco that surprise and catch visitors to the region rushing for their sweaters. Almost
every morning and afternoon through the months of May, June and July, a foggy, gray
soup rushes in from the Pacific Ocean to envelop the northern coastal and valley regions
of California. This was one of those days. I suppose it fit the occasion.
I was inside the local Pharmacy store, standing at the wire transfer desk for the third time
in a week preparing to send money to my brother, Adam. As I completed the paperwork,
I could feel myself getting really angry. Well, outrage is a better way to describe what
was happening with me. Bastard! Yes, outrage mixed with stomach churning anxiety
threatening to break through the brave, smiley face I was so adept at portraying to my
family, friends and what seemed like the entire planet.
Happy, happy Amelia, nothing ever bothers Amelia. Need help; call Amelia! Oh, she
may say no sometimes, but she never means it, always gives in, every time; can never say
no and really mean it. Just keep at her. After all, she is married to that rich Australian and
he is so generous. She can afford to help. They have plenty to spare. She should help. She
is family isn't she?
God, I am so tired of giving in to them, especially to Adam and that idiot wife of his,
Susan. I have had enough! This is it, the last time! Oh, I know I have said that before, a
hundred times, a thousand times probably over the last 10 years. What is the matter with
me?
Here I am again and to make matters worse my baby son, Lucas, is sick with a cold and
running a fever. I should not have him out in weather like that. It is so unlike me. I never
put my children at risk. Never! I may have been a bit overprotective, even with Abbey,
my 10-year-old, but that is how it is when you've had as much trouble as I've had getting
pregnant. I love my children.
Lucas was an in vitro baby. He only came along after nine, disheartening attempts. But,
that's me; I am just that determined. And, I am planning to have a third child even if it
takes me until I am 50 to do it.
As I stood there waiting for the receipt, my mind kept running the same old mantra about
how all of this came to be, how I allowed myself to be sucked into the vortex of my
brother's nightmare. And now, what was once a deep love for baby brother, Adam, was
evolving into a poisonous hate.
Remove