His notepad was open to a blank page, poised ready. Beneath it were the three letters that had spun his already complicated family tree onto a whole other level. His biological father, having no knowledge that his brief holiday romance in England in January 1974 had resulted in a child, had written to Morton’s biological mother, telling her that he had discovered something from his own father’s past. Something bad. Morton had found the three letters just as they had been when they had left the shores of Massachusetts in 1976; unopened and unread.
‘Here you go.’ Morton turned to see the young man from the help desk standing beside him. He placed a boxed microfilm down on the desk. ‘Used one of these before?’
‘Yes—a few times.’
‘Okay, cool. Well, good luck—come find me if you need any further help.’
‘Thank you.’ He pulled the film from the box, threaded it through the machine, then buzzed on until the first edition of the newspaper appeared onscreen. He briefly took in the front page and established that the Cape Cod Times was published daily. He wound the film on until he reached the edition for the December 26th, 1976. And there it was, the headline story. Devastating House Fire. Below it was a large black and white photograph of a burning building. Morton zoomed into the story.
HYANNIS PORT-Holiday tragedy struck Velda Jacklin’s family when a fire, apparently begun in a Christmas tree, killed her husband and injured her daughter. “She’ll never smile again,” said a close friend who watched the ambulance take the surviving family members to the hospital. The fire broke out at about 7pm on Christmas Eve in the property at the Jacklin family home of 2239 Iyanough Avenue, causing the death of well-known local businessman, Roscoe Jacklin. Firefighters from Hyannis FD and Yarmouth FD were still trying to smother the flames at 10.30am yesterday. When fire units arrived at the Jacklins’ home, they found the three-story wood-frame house ablaze. “Flames were shooting out from all sides of the house,” said Fire Chief Francis J. Boinski. Mrs. Jacklin’s daughter, Alice, remains hospitalized in a satisfactory condition with first-degree burns, lacerations and possible fractures. Four investigators from the state fire marshal’s office have been sifting through the remains of the home to determine the cause of the blaze. “We’re sure it had something to do with the Christmas tree,” Boinski said. “It had been in the home for two weeks and we believe the baseboard heating had dried it to flash-point.” Mrs. Jacklin is being taken care of by a neighbour.
Morton stared at the screen. Something didn’t add up. He pulled out the third and final letter that his father had written and scanned through the text. They blame me, so I’m staying with a friend from college. He’s lending me everything—I have nothing left. The truth is out, it’s all over. I don’t know what to do. ‘They blame me…’ Morton muttered. He re-read the newspaper story. There had been no mention of his father, Jack, at all. Had he even been home on the night of the fire?
Morton printed out the entry, then wound slowly through the rest of the newspaper, not expecting to find further mention of his family. Just four pages from the end, he stopped. There, next to his name in the obituaries section, was a photograph of his grandfather. Morton stifled a gasp. Whatever bad thing Morton’s father had discovered from the past, it couldn’t soften the innate satisfaction of seeing his grandfather for the very first time. Roscoe Joseph Jacklin. Morton’s biological grandfather. He adjusted the photo into a close-up and pushed his face nearer to the screen. It was a formal headshot where his grandfather was looking out past the camera with a fixed pose. Unsmiling and serious. He had a strong jawline and short dark hair. Morton placed both hands over the screen, creating a balaclava over his grandfather’s face; the eyes staring back at him were his own. He printed the photograph then read the accompanying description.
Roscoe J. Jacklin, 48, of Iyanough Avenue, Hyannis Port, died Dec. 24th. A native of Boston, he was a renowned local businessman and owner of Hyannis Port Cars. Mr. Jacklin was a charter member of Cape Cod Lodge, on the Hyannis Board of Trade, Cape Cod Chamber of Commerce and was a corporation member of Cape Cod Hospital Association. During the Korean conflict, Mr. Jacklin served as a Sergeant First Class with the 2nd Reconnaissance Company of the U.S. Army. He leaves his widow, Velda Jacklin and two children.
The fact that he had two children had at least been acknowledged in his obituary, Morton thought, as he wound the film on to the next page. His hopes that the following editions of the paper might include further comment on the fire or its causes were in vain; he read every page of the final five editions of the month to no avail. He rewound the film and headed over to the help desk.
‘Could I get the following couple of months’ newspapers, please?’ Morton asked.
‘Sure thing,’ said the man who had previously helped him.
Morton returned to his microfilm reader and re-read the printouts while he waited, hoping to find further clues to link the cause of the fire to his father. His father’s sister, Alice, had been injured in the fire. She of all people must know what had occurred that night. He had tried contacting her last
