The Thorn And The Rose
By Anna Scott Graham
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012 by Anna Scott Graham
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.
This is a work of fiction. Names and characters, incidents and places are either products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
For my nephew C.J. who was born right before I began this novel, offering a bright spark during one of the most uncertain times in my life. And for Maria Perry Mohan for her tremendous support during the writing.
Warm sun streamed through lavender curtains that Alvin had forgotten to close. He reached for Jenny in a half-awake state, the light catching his eyes. Squinting, he stumbled from bed to use the toilet.
Returning to his room, he glanced toward Chelsea’s door, finding her empty crib. Taking a deep breath, he didn’t smell the coffee. If Jenny wasn’t in bed, she was downstairs, feeding their daughter, having made the morning brew. But there was no familiar scent, no one in their usual places, no expected sound. Alvin could always hear his daughter’s babbling, yet all he noted were Tommie’s drones from the sofa. On trembling legs, Alvin walked to his room where Jenny’s bedside remained undisturbed. Sitting in that empty spot, Alvin put his head in his hands and began to cry.
When Tommie woke, he smelled coffee. Hearing Alvin in the kitchen, Tommie got up, gave a quick hello, then went upstairs to pee. The house owned an eerie silence, one similar to the morning Betsy had died. Alvin’s mother had been still for hours when Tommie and Rae arrived, Alvin waiting for them in the kitchen. Tommie had seen dead bodies; his parents, Maisie Cassel, those aged, expected to go. He hadn’t seen Tracy Cassel; only Sam witnessed that tragedy.
Tommie came down, put on his boots, and headed into the kitchen. There stood a walking cadaver, Alvin’s pallor white and haunted. He was pouring another cup of coffee, and met Tommie’s stare with a lost, tortured look.
“Oh hey Tommie, you sleep okay? You want some coffee? I made a whole pot. Forgot and just started adding the usual amount of coffee.”
“Yeah, go on. I uh, I slept all right.”
Tommie sat, unable to stand. He didn’t ask how Alvin had slept; shitty, by the looks of it. As when he went to bed last night, Tommie still had no idea what would happen between the couple, but hoped it would be akin to reconciliation. Anything else and Alvin might not last.
“You want some toast?” Alvin said, handing Tommie the cup. “I can make you some toast.”
“Sure.” Tommie sipped the strong liquid.
Alvin said nothing else and Tommie had never noted such quiet from his friend, his best friend, one never before aware of deep, lasting pain. Only with Caroline Atherton had Alvin felt this level of desperation, but that was more of confusion, bewilderment. Once Tommie had explained the abuse that woman had tried to inflict, Alvin had blanched. This time, the agony was of his own making.
Drinking his coffee, Tommie sighed. This with Jenny was Alvin’s fault, but qualified. For all the moments Alvin could be so clear-headed, his limitations eventually won out, what had brought them to this morning, a Sunday in August, only a few weeks left of summer. The barbecue sat outside Tommie’s head; some years everyone crammed into the house, finding a place to sit, eat, dance even while outside the storm raged. None of that happened last night, only a great chasm landing Alvin and Tommie on this farm, the rest at the other.
Tommie assumed Rae was awake, wanted to call her. Wanted to know how she slept, how Jenny slept, how Sam slept. Tommie wanted to know if Jenny was conscious, at all ready to rethink words she’d said falling asleep last night, words that nailed the coffin shut, purging Alvin from her life. Tommie had never heard Jenny so frightened, debilitated. Setting toast in front of Tommie, Alvin stood before him as Jenny had been in speech, two people so needy of the other, yet feeling abandoned.
“Thanks,” Tommie said, taking a bite.
Alvin sat, finished his cup, looking at Tommie. “I’ll never get her back. It’s over.”
Tommie nearly choked, took a drink of the strong coffee, then had to stand, coughing badly. “Now Alvin, that’s a load of…”
“You heard her. I did too. I was standing outside the door and I heard her. She said I never loved her, never ever. Oh Tommie, oh my God!”
Alvin’s head fell to the table, his weeping audible as Tommie went to his side. He ached, not used to any place but his own bed. Rae and Jenny had that spot last night, where Tommie wanted to be later. He with his wife, Jenny here with Alvin. Tommie felt his friend shaking, heard Alvin’s cries. They increased as did words: Why did I do that? Why did I hurt her?
Alvin’s voice was different. Even through tears, it was adult, mature, aware. Alvin was aware and Tommie gripped him. “It’ll be okay, Alvin. It’ll be okay.” Tommie hoped his words were the truth.
Turning in sleep, Sam heard mewling. Sitting up, he saw Alana with Chelsea in her arms. Lana caught his eyes, a sad face on a usually happy girl. Chelsea fussed and Alana carried the baby toward the kitchen.
Sam was glad to see them leave. His head throbbed; he would need a beer that morning, maybe two. A hair of the dog, then one to nip at his heels, chasing away Sam’s dreams. They had spun all night, but he never before recalled dreaming after getting so drunk. That night reality had somehow found a chink in his inebriated armor, spiraling Sam farther than he’d been in ages.
He almost fell off the couch, his head ringing, stomach aching. His heart was beyond description and as he lurched to the bathroom, he fell to his knees, vomiting. Not for what his stomach found unpalatable, more his mind. Then he heard Rae’s voice, soft and gentle. She wanted to know if he needed anything.
“No,” he managed, wiping his mouth with his arm. He stood, taking down his jeans, then sat on the seat, finding his bearings. They were slippery, and as urine flowed, he wished the contents of his head could as easily fall away, wishing all he’d said last night hadn’t emerged, and even more, all Jenny had revealed.
He stood, flushed, washing his hands. He wished for a bath; he would lean back, thrust his head under to where sounds were muffled, unrecognizable. He had felt something from Jenny on that first introduction, Easter 1975. Sam was nearly thirty-four years old; much of his life had been lived with agony, brutally applied. Tracy’s death had set him back, but Jenny! He stared into the mirror. As he had said to Tommie, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.
Sam found Rae near the kitchen, her face still disheveled. He walked toward her, noting the master bedroom door was closed. “She still sleeping?” he whispered.
Rae nodded, taking his hand. “Didn’t move all night. I think it was the drinks.”
He took a deep breath, finding an open can of beer on the table. Sam smiled, then sat, gripping the can. It felt good going down, bitter and icy, reaching a familiar spot in his stomach, how Jenny’s news had hit him. She and Tracy, both women he loved; Sam had loved his wife as much as a kid of twenty could. He took the teenagers’ relationships with a grain of salt. They were fine now, but so young; how had he coped with Tracy’s revelations, Sam tried to remember, finishing that beer faster than he’d planned.
“You need another?” Rae asked.
“Uh, yeah. Where’d Lana take Chelsea?”
“Outside. She’s just grumpy.”
He looked to the kitchen window, but couldn’t see them. Didn’t hear them until Rae opened the door, going to the outside fridge for his beer. Chelsea whined, Lana’s smoothly telling her it would be all right. The same words Sam had murmured to Lillian, only a tiny thing. She would be all right, going with her mother to some other place.
Sam moved to the hallway. That bedroom door was still closed. Jenny had been off limits since he’d met her and now things made sense. Why Tommie had said it was best she was with Alvin, not with Sam. Too close, and why was that farmer always so goddamned right?
Rae returned, setting an unopened can on the table. “You want anything to eat?”
“Toast,” he mumbled, removing the tab. He slipped it into the hole where it drifted to the bottom of the can.
He looked up, saw Rae’s small grin. “Gonna cut your tongue doing that.”
“Not much’ll hurt me now.”
Rae didn’t answer, turning to the counter.
After Sam ate, he kissed Rae, her arms wrapping round him. As demonstrative as she would get, but her grip was fierce, and Sam accepted it. Alana came in as they broke apart and her face showed more worry than Sam had ever seen on her. On Chelsea too; somehow that baby realized a change, not only in her surroundings.
“She’s been asking for Jenny,” Alana said.
Rae collected the fussing girl, moving her from hip to hip. Noting how that pained Rae, Sam took Chelsea, kissing her cheek. “It’s all right sweetie,” he crooned. “Let’s go find your mama.”
Rae’s gaze questioned, but he nodded. “It’ll be okay,” Sam said more to himself than to any of the females in the kitchen.
“Well, it is nearly nine. She might as well start getting up. Tommie’ll be calling soon.” Rae’s voice was circumspect.
“Uh-huh.” Sam stepped to the master bedroom, jiggling Chelsea, getting small giggles from her. Opening the door, he wondered how Jenny would be. She wouldn’t be dead, only sleeping.
She was, but not deeply. As Sam entered the room, Chelsea recognized the long, brown hair spilled over Tommie’s pillow. “Ma-ma-ma-ma,” she said, wiggling in Sam’s hold.
Sam’s breath was taken as Jenny turned his way. She wasn’t dead, wasn’t bleeding profusely, nor was she six months’ pregnant. Not lying helpless on the floor of their apartment, her father’s wasted corpse next to her. Tracy’s father shot her in the chest at close range, but hadn’t mutilated the baby. Instead he’d put the gun to the roof of his mouth, the end of his miserable life in bright red and dull gray flecks all over the living room. Sam had knelt by his wife, holding her hand, telling her it would be fine, she’d be just fine. An ambulance hoisted her onto a gurney as earnest words slipped into ears Sam knew weren’t listening.
Jenny, however, motioned for her daughter. “Oh baby, lemme hold you.”
Sam set Chelsea on the edge of the bed, then the agile child romped to her mother’s side, Jenny taking her as a salve. Sam couldn’t watch and turned to leave.
“Sam,” Jenny began. “Don’t go, please.”
He hesitated.
“Please?” she pleaded.
Tracy had been limp, her breaths halting as commotion around him swirled into frenzy. Her pregnancy was obvious, all minds to saving the baby. Sam sat down, not smelling blood or death, only Tommie and Rae and Chelsea’s wet bottom.
“Yeah honey, I’m here.” But Sam didn’t touch Jenny.
She leaned up, falling into his arms. A warm, living woman clung to Sam in so many ways, her calling of his name like precious gulps of air, filling both their sets of lungs.
They lay side by side, Chelsea having been collected by Rae, who popped in long enough to say that Tommie had called, said they were fine. A relative term, about as fine as the twosome in her own bed, Rae later thought. She gathered the happy child, felt a squishy diaper, and on her way out, closed the door most of the way.
Once Chelsea was gone, Jenny began to cry. Sam held her, whispering her entire name that could be said in one breath. He repeated Jenny Cope over and over as her tears flowed, but her body remained still.
Then she turned to him, tracing his eyes, how Sam realized a few tears had fallen, but he knew not from where. Too many places within him could have been responsible and the last place he wanted to accept was from exactly where he was, lying next to her.
“Sam, oh Jesus Christ! I, I don’t even know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything honey. Nothing at all.”
Jenny nestled into him, her breathing finding a normal rhythm. “Thanks for bringing her in. I really needed that.”
“I know.” He stroked her hair, then kissed the top of her forehead.
Jenny remained still for a minute. Then she glanced up. “Is he here?”
Her trembling voice told Sam everything; terror, worry, and almost indiscernible, hope. As Sam swallowed, he gripped her tighter. “No. He’s at the farm. Tommie’s with him.”
He felt her nod, then finding a place against him where again her tears restarted. Were they from that great anxiety or only the flicker of what she dreaded admitting? Sam inhaled that more than anything. Jenny clung to him, but her heart still beat for only one other. And, Sam exhaled, it wasn’t him.
As Jenny calmed against him, Sam heard kids rumbling. Not only Chelsea, but Max and Steve, Lexi too. Voices wondering, whispering, but there were no answers. Jenny never left Sam’s side, but she too sensed they weren’t alone. Not alone, yet, the two most important members of this extended family remained absent.
As daylight peeked through the window, Sam observed a long low dresser crowded with piled clothes, dusty picture frames against the tall mirror attached to the back of the dresser. Books, papers, and boxes jostled for space while drawers weren’t closed all the way, a few crooked in their placement. Tommie and Rae had lived here from the time Tommie’s parents died, way before Tracy and Lillian were gone.
To Jenny’s left, Rae’s nightstand sported a clock, two books, and wadded Kleenexes, which looked fresh, everything else with a layer of dust like the rest of the furniture, this house timeless. Sam had grown up with Tommie Smith and Alvin Harris as additional big brothers. He never got on with Adam or Randy Harris, Sam more of a town boy, but whenever Jacob was with his best friends, Sam tagged along, never a huge gap between them due to Alvin.
Alvin’s mental deficiencies allowed an easy procession from Jacob and Tommie to Alvin and Sam. Jacob had few months on Tommie, with an edgier temperament requiring that number one position. Tommie, even before his accident, was always the moderator, hearing Sam’s voice when Jacob’s grew rowdy. Then after Tommie was hurt he became a calm in the storm of the Cassel brothers’ chaotic home life, their drunken father either raging or unconsciousness. The Smith farm was a haven, with Alvin just up the road, another bastion of reason, but differently. Not premeditated, what got Alvin into trouble sometimes, causing this whole misunderstanding. He hadn’t wanted a son that might think less of him.
Sam closed his eyes, Jenny’s frame warm against his. They all had some problem and here he was again in love with another sexually abused woman. How ironic, and Sam wanted to laugh out loud, drown in the paradox that a man like a brother, slow and dimwitted, had managed to snare all Sam wanted. Yet due to that disadvantage, Alvin was close to losing Jenny as Sam had lost Tracy. Always losing the ones he loved, but at least with Jenny, it wasn’t permanent.
Cradling her, Sam considered all he had learned; was it his fate to be attracted to women so damaged? Was that even the right word? They were injured, but Jenny was living, breathing. Not that smoothly, but she wasn’t dead. Why hadn’t he seen it, why hadn’t he picked up on it? Too close to the bone; she had slipped under his radar. In the past Sam had been drawn to women like Jenny and Tracy, women needing a savior, a few relationships with similar girls where he finally had to get out, unable to breathe. Maybe it was due to Jenny’s hands-off status from their first encounter. From that first day, she was Alvin’s. Looking like shit and Sam winced; she’d been broken on that first Easter due to her past.
Because her father had assaulted her, done unspeakable things to her. She’d been honest last night in front of god and everybody, once he’d admitted his truths, most of his truths. Only out in the barn had Sam given that last piece to Tommie, answering why Jacob had been a drunk for the last twelve years. It hadn’t been only Tracy; Lillian remained.
Tracy’s dad had taken Sam’s wife and daughter, but Jenny’s father had only brought Jenny this way. Where she would be otherwise, Sam had no idea. Right now she was in his arms, safe, protected, and he would die to keep her that way. And, he sighed, loosening his grip, he would die a little more when she returned where she belonged.
Sam got off the bed first, helping Jenny stand. She was shaky, more from having been horizontal for so long than the upset which lingered. He led her to the bathroom, finding a sea of faces in the kitchen. He nodded and all the Smith kids turned back to the table.
Rae returned his nod with her own, Chelsea in her arms. The baby was chipper, so many at her beck and call. Sam wondered if Jenny was hungry, maybe she would prefer to sit quietly in the dining room. Sam only wanted to do what she needed, what she could take. What she might be able to digest, then slowly, gently, start urging her where she needed to be; with Alvin, in his house, in his arms. The hardest thing Sam Cassel had ever faced was allowing his tiny infant daughter to be unfettered from tubes keeping her alive. Lillian wasn’t really living, air pumped into sickly, premature lungs, removed with force. Sam had given permission for his child to be disentangled from that entourage, Jacob’s hand in his, keeping Sam upright. Now another had to be relinquished; Jenny wasn’t for Sam to keep. Like cutting her free, he would surrender her to the man who needed her more. Sam wasn’t sure if anyone could love Jenny Cope more than he did, but he was willing to accept Alvin needed her more.
She stepped from the bathroom, her face dry but aching. She glanced to the kitchen, Chelsea happy in Rae’s grasp. Jenny motioned to the dining room, where Sam led her. They sat at the table, Rae bringing cups of coffee for each.
“Start with this and we’ll go from there.” Rae’s face was to Sam’s, a sharp eye that he took with a half smile.
“Oh god Rae, thanks,” Jenny mumbled. “Can I have Chelsea?”
“Of course honey.” Rae left and as if the kids had heard, Chelsea appeared, again pleased to see her mother.
Sam drank the coffee, not as pleasant as a beer, watching Jenny with her baby. Such an intimate bond existed, one he had known only for moments. He’d held Lillian, but really, it was more like a doll swaddled so he barely saw her features. That had been on purpose and thinking back, he was relieved she hadn’t been fully exposed. Hardly anything to her at six months’ gestation, and really, no one had expected her to survive. Too damned small, most of the nurses in disbelief she had lived through the cesarean section. Tracy had been all but dead arriving at the hospital, but Sam had witnessed his only child brought forth, Jacob arriving after the delivery. Even if Jacob had been right at Sam’s side, it would have made no difference. Lillian Ellen Cassel was doomed, nothing doctors or loved ones could do.
Sam juxtaposed that aged memory with the laughing, chubby baby in front of him, Chelsea nearly a year old. As Jenny nibbled on her daughter’s face, the first signs of life appeared. Sam felt that warmth and connection, but not to him. Jenny had mumbled it was over, nothing left between them, but her words were borne of pain. Chelsea removed that sting, an ache fading in front of Sam’s eyes. Turning, he found Rae, her face aware of the same.
“Jenny, you want some breakfast?” Rae called.
She nodded, absorbed in her daughter. Sam breathed again, Jenny with a momentary need for someone who understood, who could speak a language only they knew. He was just an interpreter, having kept within him all Tracy had endured, enabling him to fathom a lasting betrayal. But Chelsea’s father had removed it, and as Sam sighed, heavy, sorrowful footsteps were heard.
Sam looked to the door. Rae was gone, but Tommie stood with Alvin alongside.
Slowly Jenny gazed that way, but only Chelsea made sound, laughing gurgles. Then speech; “Da-da!”
That giggly girl was thrust into Sam’s arms as Jenny stood. In the eyes’ of others he watched what happened next, Tommie’s falling countenance beside Alvin’s gaping mouth as Jenny blew past both, running from the house.
Crouched in the abandoned horse stall, Jenny Cope heaved tears from some unknown place. Alvin had opened the floodgates, but still, from where did this originate?
That morning in Sam’s arms, she had felt another brother around her. Previously, Jenny had sisters, but hadn’t known their love for ages. Here in Arkendale, Oregon, brothers comforted, protected, and loved her. Jess and Jane were Jenny’s past, Tommie and Sam, even Jacob, Jenny’s future.
But not Alvin; she knew that as soon as she saw his blue eyes rimmed in red, then inhaled his warm frame. As she rushed by, he was close, but miles away. The only love of her life was beyond her reach.
Was it the dreams, a night full of her past from as far back as she could recall; Jenny hadn’t dreamed of her childhood since her time in Tampa, Joni’s shrink dredging well-buried memories, what made Jenny run, taking her to New Mexico, bringing her here. To Oregon, green and thriving; to Alvin, and Jenny lost it all over again.
She concentrated on breathing, easier than considering family, her family. The youngest of three girls and how she had loved her father, a man that could do no wrong. Missing how he leered at her sisters and ignored his wife, Jenny accepted her daddy’s ample kisses and hugs, never suspecting anything sinister. She never suspected a thing until it was too late.
Tears returned for ideas long buried, a family Jenny lost at thirteen. She had lost those parents, barely holding on to Jess and Jane. Then at seventeen her father’s temper rose; he wanted a divorce, would head west. Would leave Colorado Springs, but take his youngest. Jenny was going to be with him forever.
She sat in the same stall as she had with Liz almost two years before. That Thanksgiving, Jenny had comforted a girl now turning into a beautiful young woman. Liz’s long curly hair was shorter, her friendship with Max evolving into an unacknowledged but deep love. Jenny had seen that emerge over summer, but two years ago Liz had been a scared young teen, and Jenny had only wanted to protect her from Chad Lambert. At seventeen, Jenny had no one, not even her mother, for that role. Jenny’s mother raised little protest that her husband would depart, taking their daughter with him, the moment Jenny Cope knew her life had to change.
She wrapped arms around her knees, rocking back and forth. Setting her head against the tops of her legs, she remembered her parents’ last fight, edgy and silent. If Jenny wasn’t gone before her father returned from an upcoming business trip, she wouldn’t survive. Yet, where could she flee? Jane was barely scraping by in Pueblo, Jess still at home, trying to act as a go between, but the girls’ father had no desire for his eldest child. All his attentions were focused on his youngest and with a year of high school remaining, Jenny was trapped. If he moved out and took her with him, what use was living?
Jenny inhaled hay and cows, but no chickens, not the scent of Alvin’s barn. Alvin had cried with her as she explained exactly why she had fled. Packing a few belongings and all her waitressing earnings, Jenny left a note in a cookbook, one place only her mother might find. She fully explained why she was leaving, but didn’t expect her mother to believe her. The note was for Jenny’s peace of mind. If nothing else, at least she had spilled the truth.
Breaths were halting as the memory washed over Jenny, that last time she saw her sisters. Their father’s week-long absence brought Jane north, but Jenny didn’t reveal her plans, didn’t want anyone to dissuade her or provide any indication of her whereabouts. She had decided to go east, to the south, far from high desert and thunderstorms, not assuming those rumbles would follow her. She had given each sister a kiss, noting alcohol on Jane’s breath, but none in Jess’, who was off to Denver for a few days’ respite. Jenny’s oldest sister had friends there and as Jenny watched them leave, she was as firmly wrapped in her own arms as there in Tommie’s barn. Alone, but resolute; she would have to live for herself now.
Hearing footsteps, again that notion stirred within her. Alvin didn’t want to build a family, didn’t want any more of her children. She loved him, how she adored him, but she had said goodbye to loved ones before. Seeing Tommie enter the stall, Jenny winced. She would start over again, leaving behind this family too.
“You okay?” he asked.
Jenny nodded, slowly releasing her arms.
He sat next to her and she reached for his bad hand, gently caressing his mangled thumb. Leaning her head against his right shoulder, Jenny again began to cry.
“Honey listen, I know it’s hard but he loves you and he’s so goddamned sorry. A day late, but believe me, Jenny, he knows he was wrong.”
She inhaled. “Tommie, it’s over.”
He took a deep breath. “Oh now Jenny…”
“No, it is. I do love him but…”
“Honey, you stop this.” He turned her face his way. “You’re past all that now. This’s your home, yours and Chelsea’s, with Alvin.”
She shook her head. “I left one family and promised I’d never let that happen again. Well here it is, fucking 1977, and yeah, I have a child, but Alvin…” She paused.
“He loves you.”
“Oh Jesus.” Jenny looked away. “Alvin doesn’t need me.”
“Hell, now Jenny you know that’s not true!”
She stood, walking as though her legs had fallen asleep. Then she turned Tommie’s way. “He needs someone uncomplicated. All my shit’s just too much for him. I can’t leave him Chelsea, but once I’m settled, he can come see her. I won’t deny him that.”
Tommie lurched, taking her by the forearms. “You realize what you’re saying? That’ll just kill him! He loves you, you and Chelsea. He can’t make it without either one of you!”
“I never should’ve stayed before,” she whispered, on the brink of another meltdown.
“Jesus Jenny! Please honey, just give it a couple of days. This’ll all blow over and then it’ll be Chelsea’s birthday, and you’ll be fine. You and Alvin’ll be just fine!”
Tommie’s heart pounded. She was willing to walk away from Alvin, from them all. Take Chelsea and run away, all she knew to do, but this wasn’t Florida, Alvin wasn’t some pick-up. They were her family and that’s when Tommie knew. She wouldn’t risk losing another set of kin, preferring to make the break herself.
He stroked her face with that gnarled limb. “Jenny, we all love you, every single one of us. You belong here, you and Chelsea and not just with Alvin. With me, Rae, the kids, Jacob, Debbie.” He hesitated, sensing the presence of others. “Sam.”
Jenny looked up, seeing they weren’t alone. In the stall’s doorway stood Rae and Sam, Alvin behind them. He carried their daughter, tears falling down his face.
She shook her head. “No,” her voice clear and strong. Looking at Alvin, catching his blue eyes, Jenny didn’t blink. “It’s over.”
“Jenny, what? No wait honey, no! I love you, oh Jenny Cope, please no, you can’t go!”
Alvin’s plaintive wail drifted as Jenny left the barn, heading to the house. Alvin was frozen and Rae took his daughter while Tommie steadied his friend.
“Tommie, oh my God no, she can’t go! She can’t take Chelsea!”
Tommie nearly buckled from the weight of Alvin’s despair, Sam to their sides.
“I’m gonna go talk to her,” Rae huffed, leaving the men in the stall.
Tommie nodded, leading Alvin to a hay bale, sitting him on the edge. Alvin shook, his cries like knives falling on them all.
“How much’d you hear?” Tommie whispered to Sam as Alvin continued to howl.
“Enough,” Sam breathed. “Jesus Christ!”
Tommie gripped Alvin, who now trembled so badly, Tommie wondered if he should just lay him on the ground. The stall was clean enough and as Alvin nearly fell over, Tommie and Sam eased him to the hay-covered floor. Alvin curled into a ball, crying hysterically, his words reverberating through the entire structure: Jenny please, I’m so so sorry!
Sam couldn’t watch. In his dreams Jenny and Alvin spiraled apart, and Sam was always there, taking her in his arms. Never Chelsea, only Jenny, and guilt flooded Sam Cassel, guilt and dread and a small bit of what could be. If he was any other man, it would be so easy; simply walk into the Smith house, tell Jenny she and Chelsea could live with him in Portland. Sam knew she would revert to that cold, emotionless persona where all she’d been was a girl ready for anything and anyone. He could step into her life and take Alvin’s place with a few simple moves. He knew her well enough, more now than ever before. Knew how to dance with her, how to spin her round. On the ropes, Jenny would be an easy conquest.
Sam’s thoughts turned back to the man literally floored by her decision, in a fetal position, much as Jenny had been last night. Both were so damned needy of the other, of only that one. Sam might keep her a while, but he’d never really have her. Only Alvin would.
“Get him home, give me today with her,” Sam said in Tommie’s ear. “She needs to be away from him if he can take it.”
“You sure?”
Agony swirled as Alvin wailed Jenny Cope over and over. “Yeah,” Sam nodded. “Just give me a little time.”
That night Tommie ate at Alvin’s, Jacob for company. Alvin had fallen right to sleep when Tommie nearly carried him in the house, getting Alvin as far as the couch. He seemed unable to go upstairs and Tommie had spent the afternoon checking the farm. Steve and Lexi had collected a few things for Jenny and Chelsea, but now at five thirty it was three brothers not by blood, related instead by circumstance, and by time.
Tommie fried the Spam, Alvin fixing toast, while Jacob made eggs and coffee. He had spoken to Sam, learning what truth was out to who. And, without words, Jacob knew some facts. Between the blood brothers, Sam hadn’t needed to say why Jenny broke down, why she and Alvin were far apart. In Sam’s eyes Jacob had seen Jenny’s history. Now the reason Sam had fallen in love with her made complete sense.
Little was spoken over dinner. Alvin was hungry, eating more Spam that night than ever in one sitting. He tried not to think about Jenny, but couldn’t help it. Was it because she wasn’t there, she or Chelsea? Alvin missed his daughter tremendously, only wanted both of his girls back home. Jenny was his; how could she think of leaving?
Tommie sighed, unable to finish. The eggs were overcooked, Jacob’s doing, but Jacob had been preoccupied; he knew everything. Tommie had shaken his head when Jacob asked if Jenny would be harassed. No one would come for her, Tommie said, too many years passed. Jacob sighed in relief, saying he wouldn’t let it go beyond him, all that needed to be stated on that subject. Mumbling Lillian’s name, Tommie had hugged that man, both aware of much unstated, but no longer hidden.
Jacob ate all the Spam and eggs, leaving half a slice of toast. His coffee cup was half full but he wanted to pound a few beers. Instead he listened to Alvin’s hoarse voice trying to speak of anything except all that mattered. His woman, his daughter, and Jacob reached for his mug, draining the cold, black liquid. What he would give to add just a little whisky, smooth down all that had been stirred again.
He set down the empty cup. “So, you staying here tonight?”
Tommie nodded. “Yeah. Alvin, that all right?”
He looked up. “What’d you say Tommie?”
“You want me to stay here tonight?”
“Oh uh, yeah. Yeah, thanks. But Tommie, you mind taking the bedroom at the top? I uh, I don’t wanna sleep in my bed.”
“Sure Alvin. That’s fine.”
“Tommie, why don’t you go get some clothes. I’ll stay here till you get back.” Jacob tried to get another drink, then remembered he’d finished it all. He stood, but the pot was empty.
“Yeah, good idea. Listen Alvin, I’ll be right back.”
Pulling his keys from his pocket, Tommie reached the doorway. He turned back, saw Alvin’s aching face.
“Tommie, will you give Chelsea a kiss for me, you know, a goodnight kiss?”
Jacob had gone to sink, his head down, and Tommie thought he heard a small whimper from a man who never broke. He’d been a drunk for ages, but never cried, not since Lillian’s death. That night, Tommie saw Jacob’s dam burst, quietly and to himself.
“Of course Alvin. You bet I will.”
Arriving home, Tommie found a silent house, kids nowhere to be seen. Rae and Jenny sat on the couch, Debbie in the big chair. Chelsea rested in her mother’s arms, nearly asleep.
Tommie squeezed Debbie’s shoulders, then kissed his wife. Then he leaned down, giving Chelsea a small peck on the cheek. She flinched, returning to unconsciousness.
“From her daddy,” he said.
Jenny was motionless, but Tommie saw her eyes dart away.
He headed into his bedroom, Rae behind him. “How is he?” she asked, shutting their door.
“Like shit. How ’bout her?”
“Still says she’s gonna leave him. Now she’s saying maybe she’ll go to Portland, live with Sam. What is this crap?”
Rae sat on the unmade bed and Tommie held her. Once this was over, she would probably have her own collapse; she trembled against him and all Tommie wanted was to make love to her. Jenny was letting that hard skin return and Tommie didn’t know what to do, except that he missed his wife, wanted to be home. Wanted to erase the last two days, but really, it was longer. For the last few months, Alvin was convinced a son wouldn’t love him; what a load of horseshit, Tommie sighed.
“You gotta leave?” Rae mumbled.
“Yeah. Alvin doesn’t even wanna sleep in their bed. God only knows what kind of mattress is on that third floor.”
“I think it’s the twin Jenny used.”
Tommie nodded. “Maybe you’re right. Thank God we junked Betsy’s old bed.”
“Honey, Sam was here all afternoon, trying to talk to her, but she just wouldn’t listen. Then after he left, she started on this Portland idea. What’s she thinking?”
Looking at Rae, Tommie saw a veil. She only processed what was necessary. He stroked her face, then kissed her. She responded and for a few minutes they exchanged love and years, memories and meaning. All she meant to him was his whole life and if Jenny thought she could just shut them out, she was kidding herself. Like she’d been kidding herself since she was seventeen.
You couldn’t just excise what meant everything, whether it was family, a lover, a child. Tommie suddenly knew why Rae never dealt with losing their baby, but he tucked that aside, too many other things to consider.
Yet, he left her a nugget. “Honey, she loves him, more than she could ever admit. It’s just easier to shut him out completely, then she doesn’t have to think about it. She already lost one family and that’s what he was telling her no to, so now she’s gotta find plan B. ’Cause if Alvin doesn’t want a family with her, one she already had planned, well, what’s she got left?”
He stood, gathering clothes and a book. Staring at his wife, Tommie found tears falling down her cheeks. Before he headed to the bathroom for his toothbrush, he kissed those streaks, glad that maybe Rae might have taken one small step. If nothing else, maybe there was that.
The next morning Tommie woke to the smells of coffee and hot food and the sound of rain. It had been dry all day Sunday, but that Monday morning a deluge fell. He came down the stairs, stopping by the bathroom. Someone was cooking breakfast. Was it Alvin or…
Sam stood in the kitchen, frying eggs. Alvin wasn’t there and Tommie grabbed a cup, poured some coffee. “Where is he?”
“Out in the barn. I surprised him and he hightailed it out there.”
“Well, I knew there had to be someone acting as cook. It wasn’t gonna be him.”
Sam sighed. “I think he was relieved. He didn’t wanna wake you, but looked like he wanted something more than toast.”
Tommie sat. “You seen her recently?”
“Not since yesterday afternoon.”
“You know her latest plan?”
Sam turned, a spatula in his hand. “No, what?”
“Says she’s gonna move to Portland, live with you, she and Chelsea both.”
“What’n the hell? Shit!”
Tommie stood, taking the spatula, turning the eggs. “She’s just running again, won’t listen to me, at least not right now.” He stared out the kitchen window, rain pelting all in sight. Then he heard the back door rattle. Alvin came through, soaking wet.
“Oh hey Tommie, look who surprised me this morning. Good thing ’cause I was getting hungry and well, Sam offered to cook. Only got four eggs today, I wonder if they know.”
Still shaken, Sam looked to Alvin. “Know what?”
“That she’s not here. Jenny always goes with me, but maybe the chickens know.” As Alvin put the eggs on the counter, Sam left the room.
Turning off the flame, Tommie removed the eggs from the skillet. Bread waited in the toaster and he set down the handle as Alvin poured coffee.
“That’s my job,” Alvin said.
“I know. Just got it started for you.”
Alvin stayed near Tommie. “It’s gonna be like before, isn’t it? Just me, all alone.”
Tommie gazed at rain smashing against glass. “No Alvin.”
“But Tommie, I heard her. She isn’t coming…” Alvin swallowed. “Home. She said so.”
“I know what she said,” Tommie sighed. “But that doesn’t mean she’s not coming back. Just that when she does,” Tommie paused, hoping he wasn’t being rash. “When she does, you’re gonna have to make some adjustments.”
“Oh, I know. Oh Tommie, all I want now is another baby with her. Oh my goodness, if she’d only listen to me, give me just a minute, I’d tell her, oh Tommie, I’d tell her how much I love her! Oh my God, I love her so much!”
The toast popped up, but neither man moved. Sam returned, finding their embrace. He had heard Alvin’s words, spoken loudly, as if those sentiments could be willed to the Smith farm. Sam nodded at Tommie, then took his leave.
Sam dripped on the Smith carpet heading to the kitchen. Jenny sat with Rae and Lexi, feeding Chelsea breakfast. Sam gave all a kiss, then with eyes to Rae and Tommie’s eldest, he sat next to Chelsea, tickling her face.
Lexi made an excuse and Sam heard her go to the stairs. She made a few apparent thumps, but not enough to rouse her sleeping siblings.
Rae poured Sam some coffee, then squeezed Jenny’s shoulders, disappearing into her room.
Sam blew on his mug, all his world existing in that kitchen, one he had sat in countless times, but never with Jenny and Chelsea alone. She could be his wife, Chelsea their daughter, but as if Sam had to restart his life, he brushed those thoughts aside. “Jenny, I need to talk to you.”
She looked up, brown eyes not here on this farm, but already somewhere else. She was easing herself and her baby from this place, these people, but Sam also saw uncertainty, as if all she needed was one purpose to stay.
He’d seen that reason back at Alvin’s house and Sam’s heart ached beyond anything previously known. With a few simple sentences he could take her willing hand, put her in his truck, strap this baby in the middle, and off they’d be. His family, Sam Cassel’s wife and child.
“Jenny, I’m leaving in another couple days, but before I go, I have to know that you and Alvin are together.”
She seemed shocked, had she expected him to say something else? He couldn’t look at her, but continued. “Honey, he loves you. He’s as sorry as all get-out, knows he’s screwed it up, but for god’s sake he loves you, and I know,” Sam stared at her. “I know you love him.”
She did, in her icy, frightened tears, her heart frozen since Saturday. She had been ice-cold, trying to steel herself for another move, another destruction of family. The last thing she wanted to do, but had been prepared.
Taking her hands, Sam’s heart broke into pieces. “Honey, I know you’re scared shitless and I don’t blame you. Tracy was never able to break free from her mother, why she died. She had to tell her mom about the baby and while I begged her not to, she did it anyways. That was how he found her, why he killed her.” Sam stopped. There was more, but it wasn’t necessary. Jenny was already crumbling, having given Chelsea the spoon, a mother’s own hands shaky.
Sam steadied her, trying to keep himself upright. All he would have to do is stand, unharness Chelsea, take their few things and flee. Instead he pressed his feet to the floor, touching Jenny with light fingers. “Honey, if you go away, you’ll not only be hurting yourself, this baby and Alvin, but you’ll be giving him one more victory. I know he hurt you, but you’ve won. We’re your family and if you leave…”
Sam held his breath. She didn’t know he was aware of her plans, didn’t know how much he loved her. How straddling this line was like cutting her out and for the last time, Sam Cassel exhaled all he felt in a long, torturous sigh.
“Jenny, if you leave, your father’ll be just like Tracy’s, pointing a gun and shooting you and this baby deader’n hell. You, Alvin, all of us.”
As Jenny trembled, Chelsea whimpered. Sam unhooked the tray, lifting Chelsea from the seat. Pulling Jenny to him, he absorbed her past, mixing it with his own.
For a few minutes they were a threesome. When Rae stepped into the room, Sam stood, handing the baby over. Then he walked away.
Alvin watched the rain from the kitchen window. Tommie had helped with the dishes, but Alvin did most of them, only hearing the splatter against the panes. Tommie hadn’t said much after Sam left, but the little Tommie did speak Alvin hadn’t heard. All he could think about was Jenny.
Sam was going to talk to her, Tommie had said, the last thing Alvin caught. Sam would talk to her, more than Alvin could do. Not because he didn’t have words, but because Jenny wouldn’t listen to him.
That had never happened, not even in the beginning. As rain continued, Alvin thought about holding her in the loft, moments sometimes rainy, sometimes not. That first time, on Easter, it was dry, but Jenny had cried. She hadn’t told him the truth, but had let him comfort her. That seemed like a distant memory as Alvin pulled the stopper, water draining from the sink.
It was his fault and he only wanted to tell her so. Now another child with the woman he loved seemed so right, but also like that moment in the barn, forever gone. Alvin didn’t expect he’d get another chance to talk to her, touch her, love her. That thought made him shudder and abruptly he moved from Tommie.
If Tommie spoke, again Alvin didn’t hear it. Only Jenny’s cries, her words: It’s over. Her tears in Tommie’s bedroom, her voice in this house begging for another baby; so many horrible, awful words in Alvin’s head, and he was the cause. He was the reason she was so sad.
But not only sad; she was angry. He’d seen that yesterday at Tommie’s in the horse stall. A few times she’d been mad at him, mostly over Chelsea’s diapers. Yet, he would change every one, even the poops, if only she’d let him talk to her. Alvin was sure, if he could just talk to her, it would be all right!
He had always fixed her moods, taken her sadness, even when it seemed so bad. Even during all the horrible moments when she was telling him about her… Jenny’s father started all this. It was that man’s fault, for all the terrible things he did to Jenny. Then Alvin sighed. That wasn’t true.
He sat at the table, only his coffee cup left. They had cleared all the dishes, put the unused eggs in the refrigerator. Sam hadn’t stayed for breakfast, he was talking to Jenny. She would listen to him, to Tommie, to just about anyone but Alvin. A swallow sat at the bottom of his cup and Alvin drank it, but it was cold, yucky. He wanted to spit it out, but didn’t. Jenny had taken his unkind words, now he had to take the cold coffee.
The house was cold too. Was it the rain? Alvin looked up, saw Tommie drying the skillet one-handed. Alvin felt guilty and stood, taking the towel from Jenny’s nail where she kept the ones for drying dishes. A different towel from the one used for drying hands, again, everything with its own place. She was still that way and now Alvin sat completely apart from everyone else. Yet Jenny hadn’t asked for that.
She had only asked for another baby and now Alvin ached to give her one. He longed to touch her, make love to her, how he missed her! He had held his daughter, but not since the morning of the barbecue had he touched Jenny. She hadn’t wanted him on Tommie and Rae’s bed, instead going to Sam’s arms. Now Sam was talking with her; might he be able to tell her something she would understand? Maybe because of his wife, his wife that died.
Sam and Jenny shared things Alvin never would. They knew that kind of abuse, they were close in age, and they could dance really good together. The last one wasn’t such a big deal, but out of everybody, Jenny had the most in common with Sam. Except for the child he shared with her, Alvin really didn’t have that much in common with Jenny.
“Here Tommie, let me do that. At least something I won’t mess up.”
Taking the skillet, Alvin heard Tommie speak, but the words went past him. Sometimes things went right over him, like how similar Sam and Jenny were. Although, the last bit only just came out. Alvin had no idea Sam’s wife had been raped by her father. Then he shot and killed her, and Sam’s baby too.
Alvin shed a few tears, thinking of the night Sam came home alone. He wasn’t much older than Lexi, and was so sad. Now Alvin understood completely. Sam had lost Tracy, Alvin was losing Jenny, both men having had daughters. Sam had a baby girl, but just for a few minutes. Long enough to hold her, then she was gone.
“Oh Tommie, she can’t go!” Alvin blurted. “She can’t take my daughter!”
He set the skillet on the stove, steadying himself against the counter. The pain was so bad, like his heart had fallen right out of his body. Alvin tried to breathe, then thought of Jenny’s face as she held their child, his voice loud and cruel, announcing he was going to buy some condoms. How could he have done that?
Alvin voiced those thoughts, then looked to his friend. “My God Tommie, why? Why was I so mean to her? Just like her father, oh Tommie, I’m so damned DUMB!”
Tommie had no words as Alvin’s deep sobs filled the room.
After Sam left, Jenny had given her daughter to Rae, then went for a bath. Alana had just exited the tub and the mirror was foggy. Jenny was glad. She didn’t want to see herself, only wanted to submerge her hair, rinse Sam’s words from her head.
She had sat in the kitchen for a few minutes, absorbing his thoughts, as Rae crooned to Chelsea. Rae hadn’t said much over the last few days. If they were making curtains or clothes, Rae would have plenty of opinions. Emotional destruction wasn’t her field.
Jenny got in the tub, leaning back into the water. Soaking her head, her heart felt heavy; she would cut off her hair for this new start. Then Sam’s tormented gaze returned, agony and truth. Jenny hated admitting that, but was it easier to leave Arkendale, or again face her father?
Or even worse, having to face Alvin?
She wasn’t sure. Splashing in the bathtub, Jenny washed her hair first, then her body. An almost unnoticeable paunch remained from Chelsea. Otherwise Jenny’s torso looked as before she arrived here, allowing so many into her heart, under her skin. Sam was right; if she left, her father would win. How many fucking victories did that bastard have to own? All of them, Jenny laughed softly. All of them.
She washed her feet, then ran the washcloth over her skin again, up to her neck. He had kissed her there, fondling her breasts with hard, greedy fingers. She fought him until pinned by his arms and legs, always resisting. She had never lain still, but had stayed silent. Why? If she had cried out, her mother would have heard.
Now Jenny wanted to flee those memories and this place that felt stuck to her. She didn’t need these people, she had never needed anyone.
She wore a small smile, but it only lasted until she heard her daughter’s voice, a sing-song Ma-ma-ma wafting right outside the bathroom door.
“Jenny, she had a big poop. You mind if I bring her in?” Rae’s tone was impassive.
Jenny didn’t care if Rae saw her naked, her tears more what she wished to conceal. “Go ahead, that’s fine.”
Keeping her back to Jenny, Rae stood at the bathroom sink, rinsing off Chelsea’s bottom and legs. Catching her mother’s eyes, Chelsea laughed. “Ma-ma-ma!”
Jenny sighed. “Rae, just give her to me.”
Eyes averted, Rae leaned toward the tub, sticking Chelsea out in the air. Jenny grabbed her, slipping off a t-shirt. The baby giggled, kicking her feet in the water. “Ma-ma-ma-ma,” she repeated.
Jenny kissed her. “Yeah, you’re with Mama now.”
Rae put an extra towel on the back of the toilet. “Can you get her out okay?”
“Yeah.” Jenny set her baby close. “Thanks Rae.”
“You’re welcome Jenny.”
Jenny pondered Sam’s words amid Chelsea babbling Da-da-da, which made Jenny cry. When mother and daughter came downstairs, Tommie sat with Alana on the sofa. Jenny looked stoic as Tommie stood, giving her a kiss. “What pretty ladies.”
“Is he alone?” Jenny whispered.
“Said he wanted some quiet time. I’ll go back in a bit.”
She nodded, but Tommie saw a chink had emerged. Rae didn’t know what Sam had said to Jenny and Tommie wouldn’t press.
With his family huddled in the kitchen, avoiding the rain, Tommie led Jenny to the dining room. Jenny still held Chelsea, both females with weary eyes. Chelsea’s were almost the exact color of Alvin’s, and never before had Tommie noticed the striking nature of that hue. As blue and large as the ocean, but now Alvin’s were bloodshot from tears and lack of sleep. A nap called Chelsea’s name and maybe Jenny could get one too, but first Tommie had a question.
“Honey, all he wants is to talk with you, just for a few minutes. Can’t you give him that? I’ll be there, you won’t have to go alone. But God, he really needs to see you. If he was any other man, I wouldn’t ask.”
Tommie looked to the floor. If Alvin was any other man, Jenny wouldn’t be here. She had needed someone slow but so damned smart sometimes, the only one able to listen and not run away. Then Tommie sighed. Sam could too, but Alvin had found Jenny first.
What had Sam told her, Tommie wondered, seeing Chelsea snuggle into her mother. She didn’t nurse anymore, but as though she was attached to Jenny’s breast, Chelsea was cradled against her mom, at peace.
Where Alvin needed to be, Tommie knew, and Jenny could use some comfort too.
She sighed, then looked into the room. Was she thinking of past dinners, happier times, all she found here, a family? That was the crux; what she needed, what Alvin had vetoed. Now he knew better and for better or worse they needed each other. Neither looked whole, both exhausted and worn, only the other to set them right.
“Jenny, I know you’re hurting. Alvin, God, sometimes he’s smarter than I could ever imagine, then he’ll act just like a five-year-old. Christ, it drives me nuts. But honey, and I know you know this, his heart is all yours. Like I told you, there was no Alvin before you. He only came alive after meeting you. Maybe that’s too much, I don’t know. But you’re the same.”
He took a deep breath. “Take my truck, I know you can drive it. Just go talk to him. If you never give him a chance to explain, how will you tell her someday? How can you tell her what happened tearing you two apart?”
Their eyes met and for seconds she looked angry. Then Tommie blinked, nearly losing his breath; a circle, long and unending, coming back on itself. He hadn’t meant to imply anything else, but Jenny had clearly taken it another way.
Giving her daughter to Tommy, Jenny stood, kissed his cheek, and headed to the front door.
Alvin heard the familiar rattle of Tommie’s truck. The transmission had been getting worse, that pick-up on its last legs. Alvin could hear it from the loft, having left the house for a place that reminded him only of Jenny. It was too hard thinking of his daughter as well, and Chelsea had never been in this part of the barn.
He sat where Jenny had found refuge, but Alvin didn’t cry. He thought how differently he could have handled the last few months. His brain was the same as last week, but now thoughts were clearer, processes sharper. After Tommie went home, Alvin had spent the morning in the loft, not liking the silence of the house. If Jenny didn’t come back, he might just move.
He couldn’t live there alone again, too many memories. Jenny and Chelsea were in toys that cluttered the coffee table and bottles that rested on kitchen counters. The blankets Jenny crocheted were scattered about, the first one for him in green and gray, theirs in red, blue, and purple, countless others for their daughter. Alvin couldn’t live in that house without them.
Could he survive if Jenny left? He wasn’t sure. Probably, but Alvin didn’t know how to reckon the empty ache within him. Never before had he felt so bereft, not even as a teenager trying to understand why an older woman was in his room. Not when his brother died in Vietnam, not when his father was buried. Nothing in his entire life had ever been this bad and hearing the stillness, Alvin wondered if he should go down or at least holler, letting Tommie know where he was.
Alvin didn’t move. His body ached, along with his heart. The couch wasn’t comfortable, but it beat sleeping in bed alone. He wouldn’t to go back to that bed until Jenny was with him. How had his mother slept without his father all those years, Alvin wondered. His parents had never been in his head as anything other than his mother and father, yet, they had loved each other, making four children, a family. One that was now only him, but Alvin had happy memories of times with his brothers. Not so many with Lorraine; had that family sustained his mother?
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