Walter Tate lived seven miles outside Jackson in a low brick house surrounded by soybean fields and oak trees that had probably been old when Russell and I were teenagers.<\/p>\n
Russell drove. I sat beside him with the locket beneath my blouse and Evan\u2019s directions open on my phone. Neither of us spoke much during the trip. The closer we got, the more tightly Russell gripped the steering wheel.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou can still turn around,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo can you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI asked first.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd I ignored you first.\u201d<\/p>\n
His mouth moved, almost a smile.<\/p>\n
Then the house appeared beyond a rusted mailbox.<\/p>\n
Walter was waiting on the porch.<\/p>\n
I recognized him despite four decades and the white hair. Age had narrowed him but had not made him small. Even at eighty-seven, he looked broad through the shoulders. His right hand rested on a wooden walking stick. A gold watch flashed at his wrist.<\/p>\n
The same watch Evan had described.<\/p>\n
Russell parked.<\/p>\n
Walter did not wave.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou look like your father,\u201d he called as Russell stepped from the truck.<\/p>\n
Russell shut the door harder than necessary.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou always did know how to start a conversation badly.\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter\u2019s eyes shifted to me.<\/p>\n
For several seconds, he simply stared.<\/p>\n
\u201cMary Louise.\u201d<\/p>\n
Nobody except Russell called me that anymore.<\/p>\n
\u201cWalter.\u201d<\/p>\n
He nodded toward the porch chairs.<\/p>\n
\u201cI suppose Evan gave you the message.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe gave me your manipulation first.\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter\u2019s face tightened.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe changed sentence?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou paid him to lie.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTo see whether Russell would tell you I hadn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat doesn\u2019t even make sense.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt will.\u201d<\/p>\n
Russell climbed the porch steps slowly.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou dragged her into another test?\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter\u2019s voice sharpened.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t lecture me about tests. You waited forty-three years.\u201d<\/p>\n
Russell stopped.<\/p>\n
The accusation landed because it contained enough truth to hurt.<\/p>\n
I stepped between them verbally before either man could retreat into family history.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou said there was something neither of us knew about August 1981.\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere is.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen tell us.\u201d<\/p>\n
He turned toward the front door.<\/p>\n
\u201cInside.\u201d<\/p>\n
The house smelled faintly of coffee, furniture polish, and old paper. Walter led us into a dining room where a cardboard archive box waited on the table.<\/p>\n
My name was written across the lid.<\/p>\n
Not Mary Bennett.<\/p>\n
MARY TURNER.<\/p>\n
I did not sit.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe reason I asked Russell to come.\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter lowered himself carefully into a chair.<\/p>\n
His breathing sounded shallow.<\/p>\n
Russell remained standing.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou could have called me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou wouldn\u2019t have answered.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou could have tried.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI did. Three times this year.\u201d<\/p>\n
Russell glanced at his phone as if old missed calls might suddenly become visible.<\/p>\n
Walter tapped the box.<\/p>\n
\u201cI knew I was running out of opportunities.\u201d<\/p>\n
The phrase echoed what Russell had said about himself.<\/p>\n
Two old men, both apparently racing clocks they had refused to show me.<\/p>\n
I pulled out a chair.<\/p>\n
\u201cStart with my father.\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter looked at me for a long moment.<\/p>\n
\u201cRobert Turner came to my garage the evening of August eighteenth, 1981.\u201d<\/p>\n
The day Russell was injured.<\/p>\n
\u201cBefore or after he hit Russell?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBefore.\u201d<\/p>\n
Russell frowned.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou never told me that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did he want?\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter folded his hands.<\/p>\n
\u201cMoney.\u201d<\/p>\n
I almost laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat part we know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. Not the debt.\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour father needed cash that night.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe wouldn\u2019t tell me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow much?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTen thousand dollars.\u201d<\/p>\n
In 1981, ten thousand dollars was not an amount a man casually asked to borrow at sunset.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you give it to him?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause he was already in debt to me and because he was terrified.\u201d<\/p>\n
My father had not terrified easily.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat was he afraid of?\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter shook his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t know yet.\u201d<\/p>\n
Russell finally sat.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happened next?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRobert left. About two hours later, he called.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFrom where?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHis house.\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter\u2019s gaze settled on Russell.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe said there had been an accident.\u201d<\/p>\n
Russell\u2019s jaw tightened.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe called nearly killing me an accident?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe said you attacked him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know that now.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou knew it then.\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter did not answer.<\/p>\n
Russell leaned forward.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou saw me at the hospital. You saw my injuries.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you still let him say I started it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter looked suddenly older.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause Robert had something over me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt the shape of another secret enter the room.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter reached into the box and removed a photograph.<\/p>\n
He placed it face down.<\/p>\n
\u201cBefore we get there, you need to understand what happened after Russell fell down those steps.\u201d<\/p>\n
I could hear the ticking of a wall clock.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy father thought Russell was dead.\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat much Russell knows.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat he doesn\u2019t know is what Robert did next.\u201d<\/p>\n
Russell\u2019s face hardened.<\/p>\n
\u201cTell me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe called Evelyn.\u201d<\/p>\n
My mother.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe came downstairs. She checked Russell\u2019s pulse and found one.\u201d<\/p>\n
My stomach tightened.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo my mother knew immediately that he was alive.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why didn\u2019t they call an ambulance?\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter looked at the tabletop.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause your father was afraid the police would ask why Russell had been there.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe could have told them the truth.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe truth would have caused other questions.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat questions?\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter turned over the photograph.<\/p>\n
It showed my father standing beside a man I did not recognize.<\/p>\n
They were in front of a warehouse.<\/p>\n
My father looked younger than I remembered him from 1981, perhaps by two or three years.<\/p>\n
The other man wore a dark jacket and had one arm around my father\u2019s shoulders.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho is that?\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter answered carefully.<\/p>\n
\u201cLeon Mercer.\u201d<\/p>\n
The name meant nothing to me.<\/p>\n
Russell reacted.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
I turned.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know him?\u201d<\/p>\n
Russell looked at Walter.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re saying Robert knew Mercer?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cVery well.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho was Leon Mercer?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
Russell rubbed his face.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy uncle used to mention him.\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter corrected him.<\/p>\n
\u201cI avoided mentioning him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSame difference.\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cMercer ran illegal gambling operations across southeast Missouri and southern Illinois.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at the photograph.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy father?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe owed Mercer money.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow much?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMuch more than he owed me.\u201d<\/p>\n
The debt we had found was already large enough to threaten our house.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow much more?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAlmost forty thousand.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt Rebecca\u2019s absence acutely. She had been the one who kept the first discoveries from floating away into unreality.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy father was gambling?\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter shook his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why did he owe a bookmaker forty thousand dollars?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat,\u201d Walter said, \u201cis where this becomes worse.\u201d<\/p>\n
He removed an envelope.<\/p>\n
Inside was a photocopy of a police report dated August 1979.<\/p>\n
Burglary.<\/p>\n
Commercial property.<\/p>\n
Losses included cash, payroll checks, and vehicle titles.<\/p>\n
The business name stopped me.<\/p>\n
TATE & SONS AUTOMOTIVE.<\/p>\n
I looked up.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou were robbed?\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cTwo years before Russell was hurt.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat does that have to do with my father?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe police never solved it.\u201d<\/p>\n
Russell had gone pale.<\/p>\n
\u201cUncle Walter.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor what?\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter looked at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour father knew.\u201d<\/p>\n
Russell stared.<\/p>\n
\u201cKnew what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho committed the burglary.\u201d<\/p>\n
The silence stretched.<\/p>\n
\u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cRobert Turner helped Leon Mercer arrange it.\u201d<\/p>\n
The room seemed to tilt.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMary\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy father was many things. He was stubborn, controlling, proud. He wasn\u2019t a thief.\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter did not argue.<\/p>\n
That made it worse.<\/p>\n
He pushed another document toward me.<\/p>\n
It was an insurance investigator\u2019s interview.<\/p>\n
A witness had reported seeing my father\u2019s truck near the garage after midnight.<\/p>\n
The statement had been withdrawn three days later.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy was it withdrawn?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMercer paid him.\u201d<\/p>\n
Russell stood and went to the window.<\/p>\n
I looked at Walter.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow did you learn this?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMercer told me years later.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy would he tell you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause by then he was dying and wanted to hurt everybody he could before he went.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stared at my father\u2019s photograph.<\/p>\n
The man in my memory smelled of sawdust and aftershave. He taught me how to hammer a nail straight. He refused to cheat on taxes by even a dollar because, he said, dishonesty made a man small.<\/p>\n
Perhaps people built identities most fiercely around the traits they had already betrayed.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did my father get from the robbery?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTen thousand dollars.\u201d<\/p>\n
The same amount he asked Walter for on August eighteenth.<\/p>\n
My skin prickled.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat happened to it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSpent over two years.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOn what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cKeeping his business alive.\u201d<\/p>\n
Russell turned from the window.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo in August 1981, Robert needed another ten thousand.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMercer wanted payment.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFor helping with the burglary?\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter shook his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cBlackmail.\u201d<\/p>\n
My father had not simply owed Leon Mercer.<\/p>\n
Mercer owned his silence.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat was going to happen if Dad didn\u2019t pay?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe threatened to tell me everything.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you would have gone to the police.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
My mind returned to the basement.<\/p>\n
Russell confronting my father.<\/p>\n
My father striking him.<\/p>\n
Panic.<\/p>\n
Blood.<\/p>\n
\u201cRussell came at the worst possible moment.\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cRobert was already cornered.\u201d<\/p>\n
Russell faced him.<\/p>\n
\u201cBut why was I at the house?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou went there about the debt agreement.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWho told you about it?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy father.\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter\u2019s jaw shifted.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
Russell stared.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYour father didn\u2019t know about the marriage clause until afterward.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s impossible.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen who told me?\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter looked toward me.<\/p>\n
\u201cEvelyn.\u201d<\/p>\n
My breath stopped.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy mother told Russell about the agreement?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Russell shook his head slowly.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. I remember Dad mentioning\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou remember your mother saying your father had agreed. But Evelyn was the one who showed you the papers.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at Russell.<\/p>\n
His face had changed.<\/p>\n
A memory was rearranging itself.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe came to the garage,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n
Walter nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cAugust seventeenth.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe day Mary and I talked by the river.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Russell sat again.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe told me our fathers were arranging things behind our backs.\u201d<\/p>\n
I could see it in his eyes now.<\/p>\n
Not new information.<\/p>\n
Recovered information.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe wanted you angry,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
Russell looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe knew I\u2019d confront your father.\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter said nothing.<\/p>\n
I turned sharply toward him.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe sent him there.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
The accusation was too large to accept at once.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter\u2019s answer came quietly.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t believe she expected Robert to hit him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat is not what I asked.\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter\u2019s fingers tightened.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe wanted Russell to discover something in your basement.\u201d<\/p>\n
Russell frowned.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe blackmail letters.\u201d<\/p>\n
My mouth went dry.<\/p>\n
\u201cMercer\u2019s letters?\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cEvelyn knew where Robert kept them.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe had been reading them.\u201d<\/p>\n
Russell stared at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo she sent me to confront Robert because she wanted me to find evidence that Robert was involved in your burglary?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy not go to the police herself?\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter finally looked ashamed.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause Mercer\u2019s letters mentioned her too.\u201d<\/p>\n
My mother.<\/p>\n
Again.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did they say about her?\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter opened another folder.<\/p>\n
He removed a photograph.<\/p>\n
It was older than the others.<\/p>\n
The picture showed Leon Mercer beside a young woman.<\/p>\n
She was perhaps twenty-one.<\/p>\n
Her dark hair was tied in a scarf.<\/p>\n
Her smile was unmistakable.<\/p>\n
My mother.<\/p>\n
I sat completely still.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat was their relationship?\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter\u2019s voice softened.<\/p>\n
\u201cBefore Evelyn met your father, she and Leon Mercer were engaged.\u201d<\/p>\n
The room became very quiet.<\/p>\n
I looked from the young woman in the photograph to Russell.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy mother was engaged to the man who blackmailed my father?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid Dad know?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why was it a secret?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause Mercer believed he had another claim on your family.\u201d<\/p>\n
My pulse thudded.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat claim?\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter did not answer immediately.<\/p>\n
Russell noticed.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ve brought us this far.\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter closed his eyes for a second.<\/p>\n
Then he opened the box and removed a sealed brown envelope.<\/p>\n
My name was written on it in my mother\u2019s handwriting.<\/p>\n
Not Mary Louise Turner.<\/p>\n
Just Mary Louise.<\/p>\n
Below it:<\/p>\n
To be opened only if Robert ever tells her.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is that?\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter slid the envelope toward me.<\/p>\n
\u201cEvelyn gave it to me three days after Russell was hospitalized.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou kept a letter from my mother for forty-three years?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe made me promise.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou seem very selective about promises.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI was.\u201d<\/p>\n
My anger flared.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat does \u2018if Robert ever tells her\u2019 mean?\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cI never opened it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen what do you know?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEnough.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTell me.\u201d<\/p>\n
He looked toward Russell as though asking whether there was still time to retreat.<\/p>\n
There was not.<\/p>\n
\u201cLeon Mercer believed you were his daughter.\u201d<\/p>\n
The sentence entered the room and simply stayed there.<\/p>\n
I stared at Walter.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe believed Evelyn became pregnant shortly before she ended their engagement.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRobert married her soon afterward.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
Russell reached toward me.<\/p>\n
I moved away before he touched me.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy father was Robert Turner.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat may still be true.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMay?\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter\u2019s voice was careful.<\/p>\n
\u201cEvelyn always insisted Robert was your father.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen why would Mercer believe otherwise?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause of the dates.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stood.<\/p>\n
The chair scraped backward.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou paid Evan to twist Russell\u2019s words. You hid documents for forty-three years. You helped write a contract that treated us like livestock. You do not get to tell me who my father was based on dates.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter did not raise his voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat is why I kept Evelyn\u2019s envelope sealed.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at it.<\/p>\n
My mother\u2019s handwriting.<\/p>\n
Forty-three years of silence contained beneath a flap of brown paper.<\/p>\n
Russell stood beside me.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t have to open it here.\u201d<\/p>\n
I almost laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cEveryone keeps saying that.\u201d<\/p>\n
He understood immediately.<\/p>\n
I picked up the envelope.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d I said. \u201cI do.\u201d<\/p>\n
Walter Tate lived seven miles outside Jackson in a low brick house surrounded by soybean fields and oak trees that had probably been old when Russell and I were teenagers. … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":14177,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-14182","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-feel-one-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/feelonestory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14182","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/feelonestory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/feelonestory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feelonestory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feelonestory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=14182"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/feelonestory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14182\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":14229,"href":"https:\/\/feelonestory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/14182\/revisions\/14229"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feelonestory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/14177"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/feelonestory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=14182"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feelonestory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=14182"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feelonestory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=14182"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}