Blessed Are The Pure of Heart

 A collection of 50 short stories has just been released. The collection is titled, My People, My Stories. They are written by yours truly, Byron Lehman. The stories reach over 30 of his writing career; from my first to my latest. 

I hope you purchase and enjoy.  Here are the links to the Kindle version and paperback.

Blessed Are The Pure of Heart

Robert took an unsure step. As his worn boot gently touched the floor the boards beneath groaned and screamed as if in pain. The next step was likewise, but with less groaning. Suddenly he found himself in the middle of a dimly lit room. He whirled and stared about as if he were expecting one of the portraits on the walls to greet him. There was enough likeness to convince him with little examination that they were indeed his ancestors. Above him a chandelier, he stepped from beneath it in some imagined fear that it might come crashing down. The sooty fireplace was no more than a reminder of how cold the room was and that no heat had been in the room in some time.

"Are you cold?" said a woman's deep voice from the stairway just beyond the entrance of the room. Robert turned quickly. She stood near the bottom of the steps, gaunt, pale, and sternly morose. The only flesh seen from beneath her black garb was her thin head with sunken cheeks. Her black hair with discernible strands of gray was pulled tightly into a bun. Her look appeared dismissive. Her lip moved as if trying to force a pleasant smile.

"Thank you for coming," she said.

Robert said nothing. His lips were pasted together and his mind was overcome by the total and utter bleakness of the surroundings and the abysmal figure on the steps.

"If you are cold we can start a fire."

Robert slowly moved his head ever so slightly as to indicate 'no'.

"You probably don't remember me," she said slowly descending the last two steps. "You were quite

young. I am your father's sister, Agatha."

Robert moistened his lips and mouth in anticipation that a question might come that he may have to answer.

She squinted and held her head as if looking through the better of her eyes slowly advancing into the room. "You look like your father," she smiled. "Now that takes all the mystery out of it. Doesn't it?" Robert stood motionless. As she moved closer she walked around him as if looking at a showhorse. He saw her nod as if approving.

"Not bad," she said. "You have the build of a farm hand and the eyes of a prince." She moved in close to him and looked at his face as if counting each stubble of his beard. "You know, don't you? You belong here."

Robert was not quite certain of how to answer. Again he moistened his lips to prepare to speak.

"That face has stood much weather. You are a man of action." She reached down and lifted his hands and examined them. "A smith would envy such hands. You have probably wondered why you are here."

Robert's eyes gazed for a moment beyond at two portraits on the wall behind her.

She returned his hands to his side and smiled. "One is your grandfather. The short one is an uncle, Silas. Good men," she concluded.

His eyes widened at the sight of his grandfather.

"How you come to be raised elsewhere is a long story - no real fault of your father. It was war and circumstances took you from us. You are now the only living male. I have little inclination, skill, or wit remaining to carry on the family's affairs. It is yours for the taking and your portrait shall hang with the others."

Robert wrinkled his brow.

"I know you have been briefed by my legal representatives, who by the way aren't to be trusted. They probably filled your head with such nonsense as to not make a move unless it passes through their greedy little mitts first. They are quite good, but pay them after the service is performed and only half of what they bill because they have already doubled it. You might feel as though you are not up to the task."

He gazed at her curiously.

"I've checked you out, dear Robert. You were quite bright in your studies although you have only a primary education." She paused. "But I know what you are thinking. How can I manage the entire estate with only a primary education? Well, that is what I'm here for my lad. The men have gotten all the credit while Agatha has pulled all the strings for years. You see my health and vigor are diminishing. That is why I need you. You will also attend to my needs in my lingering years. The most important thing you will need dear lad is something few possess." She pressed her hand against his chest, "But what of the heart dear lad, what of the heart?" She laid her ear against his chest. She listened and smiled. "It beats slow and strong. That's good."

Robert looked down on her and she looked up at him. "Is it pure," she asked with moist eyes.

"I shall make you a fire," Robert said.