***
Jericho
About three hours into the drive to Memphis, Jericho unbuckled his seat belt and leaned up between the front seats, glaring at Trent for a moment before he turned and hissed at Jake, “Can I wake him up yet?” The racketing hitch in the continuous snores at his words seemed to underscore the request, and he stared hard at Jake, losing his patience when a response wasn’t immediately forthcoming. “Well? I can poke him with the cast just a little and wake him up. He’d never know anything.”
“No, leave him.” Jake’s voice vibrated with laughter, and Jericho didn’t miss the fond smile that Jake aimed through the windshield, knowing it was actually directed at Trent. Their love wasn’t something they felt the need to talk about constantly, but the demonstration factor was way up there. He’d never seen even one of his mom’s boyfriends or her husband treat her with the same kind of steady consideration or look at her the way he’d seen Jake and Trent do with each other often. Jake glanced at Jericho over his shoulder, and for a moment, the beam of his affection was directed Jericho’s way, making his chest hurt. Jake’s attention wasn’t creepy in any way, more of how he thought a favorite uncle would be. If Trent’s my uncle, does that make Jake my uncle, too? Jake had said as much once, when first talking about Jaime and her family. Jericho didn’t have a chance to pursue that thought, because Jake said casually, “He hasn’t slept well since we left home.”
The reminder that they’d dropped everything to come to his rescue—and the reason why they’d had to make such drastic changes in their schedules—deflated Jericho, and he dropped his chin and muttered, “Right,” before he slumped back in his seat, fingers fumbling awkwardly to buckle the seat belt.
He’d overheard Trent on the phone yesterday, soothing clients whose work had been delayed because of what he’d called a personal emergency. Trent had even offered one caller what had to be a steep discount, because he’d winced as he’d said the number, wrinkling his nose when he’d followed up with forced pleasure at the clear acceptance of the concession. Jake’s work calls had been different, but similar. He’d been a lot more matter-of-fact about the shifting of deadlines and ended each call with a gruffly spoken thanks to the people on the other end.
They’re losing money because of me. Jericho had scarcely slept last night, trying to add up what the trip had cost them so far. Airfare, hotel, car rental, clothing for him—it was a mounting debt he didn’t know how he’d be able to repay. Nate’s naïve expectation that they didn’t want anything in return had derailed some of Jericho’s initial plans, but once they got to San Diego, he’d figure out something.
First would be Memphis, though, and Jericho found himself eager to see Nate again. The boy had been fascinating to talk to, and having that differing perspective would not hurt when Jericho was trying to make decisions. He’d just have to keep the boy from telling their uncles about whatever Jericho decided. Surprisingly, Nate seemed to vary from all the stereotypes Jericho had ever seen about the boy wonder geniuses, because he was as far from gullible or immature as he could be. Nate had alluded to things in his background not being the easiest, and that might play into how old he acted. Jericho knew the life his mom and he had lived had made him grow up fast. That had been a constant refrain for her, how she regretted the way circumstances required she lean on Jericho so much.
He stared out the window, gaze skipping along the fences and fields, watching as shadows from clouds raced up to and engulfed whole structures, changing things from bright and cheerful to gloomy in an instant. I never minded having to step up. His sore lip complained at how his teeth were abusing it, and he ran his tongue along the swollen flesh. He had minded. Minded doing without. Minded walking into the food bank where his classmates were working alongside their parents, the dynamic shift of power making life hard in and out of school. He’d minded Frank having money for whatever he wanted but his mom not having the cash to buy a new pair of shoes when her old ones got too raggedy to wear.
The horses had been Jericho’s idea, the large barn having stood empty for months after they moved into the house. He’d started cleaning it out, repairing things as best he could, begging and borrowing tools and materials from neighbors and other people he knew in town. When he’d approached his mom with his plan, she’d stared at him for a moment then pulled his head against her chest, wrapping her arms around him with a tear-filled mutter. “My boy, always lookin’ out for his momma.”
I tried.
The memory of Frank that last night tried to surface, wedging itself into his throat and cutting off his air. His tongue felt too large for his mouth as he bit down on his lip to silence the shout of warning he wished he’d been able to give his mom.
The hours he’d spent in the barn, bringing in a small but steady income for them, had been a source of pride for him. That had been Jericho making a difference, stepping up and helping support his mom. Now, the idea that it was what killed her was something he couldn’t get away from. No ducking the knowledge that was where she’d died. Where Frank had made a stand with Jericho. Breaking his arm the first in a tragic cascade of events that led to him sitting here, in the back seat of this car, staring out at farms and neighborhoods filled with people going on about their business. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that none of them, not a single one, knew what had happened to his mom.
Jake appeared in front of the window, and Jericho cried out, cringing back into the seat as the door opened. He hadn’t even realized they’d stopped in a rest area, having pulled off the highway and parked in a secluded spot near the end of the lot. Jake squatted down, one hand gripping the armrest molded into the door. His other was raised, with a wad of tissues in it.
Jericho’s eyes were burning, watering, tearing up, and overflowing. He reached out with his good hand and took the tissues, dabbing at his face. As tight as his skin felt, eyelids swollen, he’d clearly been crying for a while without even noticing. “Sorry.” Fighting the overwhelming need to weep, he clamped his lips together, eyes squeezed closed as he angled his face down. Not so much a desire to hide, because this wasn’t the first time Jake had seen him cry, but it always left him feeling vulnerable.
“Come on.” He looked up just as Jake leaned over him and unbuckled the seat belt, scooting out of the way to let Jericho climb out of the car. Jake pointed to a nearby picnic table. “Let’s sit there for a bit and talk.” Jericho followed him up the walkway and climbed up to sit on the tabletop next to Jake, who smiled. “We’ll let Trent sleep a little longer.”
He took in a big breath, hating the way his shoulders hitched in the middle. “Sorry,” he repeated, knowing it was a lousy apology for interrupting their trip like this.
“No sorries, Jericho. You can’t bottle feelings like this up. When my sister lost her fiancé, I sat with her for two months straight, every night, so she wouldn’t be alone when she was hurting. The pain of losing someone doesn’t just go away because we want it to, and the grief of change can be nearly as overwhelming.” Jake’s voice was quiet, soothing, loud enough to hear over the hum of passing cars and trucks without shouting down the parking lot. “When I lost my parents, because that’s how it felt to me when they kicked me out, I was without purpose for weeks. I couldn’t imagine someone I loved so much not loving me enough to accept who I was inside. Finding out I’d been wrong, that my trust in my family wasn’t deserved, that was grief, too. My friends, their families, all the people I’d known all my life became suspect. Jaime was the only one I believed when she said it didn’t matter. Even then, I tested her when I introduced her to your uncle. I told her I was bringing a date, didn’t say who, just showed up with my boyfriend—and not only was she cool with it, she quickly won him over. With his experience, and then hearing about mine, let’s just say your uncle wasn’t quick to trust.”
“Should I call him uncle? You think he’d like that?” Jericho blinked, then cut a glance over to Jake in time to see a bright smile cross his face.
“Why would I hate him for that? If Mom didn’t tell him, then how could he have known?” Jericho straightened and tried not to glare at the idea of Trent thinking something like that. “I don’t hate him. Not at all. He’s cool. You’re both cool.”
“Yeah, he’s the coolest.” They sat in silence for a moment, then Jake asked, “What was your mom like?”
“Oh, man. She was…everything. Didn’t matter what happened, she’d find a bright side to it. When it was just her and me, she made everything an adventure.” He thought back over all the times they’d been struggling. “She was always smiling. Wasn’t a thing in this world that mattered to her more than family.” He realized how that sounded and tried to backpedal, glad Trent wasn’t there to have heard what he’d just said. “After Mama and Papa died, she made a point to say me and her were going to be okay. I hadn’t even thought that we wouldn’t be, but she told me she’d learned from someone a long time ago how to be stronger than what life threw at her, and we’d be okay. I think…I think she was talking about Uncle Trent.”
“I think she was, too.” Jake’s head moved in Jericho’s peripheral vision, nodding. “Your uncle is one of the strongest men I know.”
“Mom was…Jake, I don’t know why she picked a man like Frank. I overheard one of her friends telling her she could do better than Frank, and she dropped that friend like a hot potato.” He swallowed hard; this felt like telling secrets that weren’t his to tell, like a betrayal. “I don’t know why she picked him, but Frank was impossible to get rid of once he’d latched on to her. He wasn’t going anywhere. Do you…do you think she needed to be with someone? Like it wasn’t enough with just her and me? There, for a while, it even felt like she was picking him over me, because he was terrible to me. Terrible, Jake. He hated me something fierce. Mom, she… Do you think she’d have gone back to him? You think she’d have done that? Knowing what he was like? What he did to me? I can’t tell you the number of times I couldn’t go to school because of him.”
“Because he beat you?” Jericho nodded instead of answering aloud. Jake’s jaw tightened, a muscle in his cheek jumping as he asked, “That all he did to you?”
“He never…not like that. Not like you’re thinking. But he was vicious. He killed a man in a bar fight a couple of years ago. Got drunk and beat a man to death. I read in the paper that the judge told him if he were a dog he’d be put down. I wish they would have put him down. I wish he’d died a long time ago. Does that make me a bad person?” He remembered the news article he’d found in the library about the fight. The other man had started it, but once Frank started down a path, he didn’t waver, not even when he’d beaten the man into a pulp. The reporter had noted the judge’s hands were tied by a technicality but repeated the stern warning and harsh words directed to Frank verbatim.
“No, Jericho. That makes you human. Some people, people like Frank, they’re bad in a way that can’t be fixed. He broke your arm, the last in what sounds like a long list of brutality you had to endure at his hands over the years. Then even that wasn’t enough. He came back and, honest to God, I really think he believed he’d killed you when he attacked you in the house. I think that’s the only reason he didn’t come back and finish the job. Those aren’t the actions of a considerate person, not the actions of a good or just man. That’s the way a monster behaves.”
Jericho stared down at his lap, watching as dark splotches appeared, droplets of tears in a constant freefall from his face. Jake scooted closer and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, holding him steady.
“It was a monster that took your mother from you, Jericho. Not any action you did or didn’t do. Not a thing except Frank was the cause. It’s not your fault.” He shook Jericho slightly and repeated himself, voice vibrating with intensity. “It’s not your fault. It’s not. The guilt lies directly at that man’s feet, and if I had a say in it, he’d burn in hell forever. But it’s not your fault.”
They sat like that, the wet fabric of Jericho’s jeans first becoming more saturated and then gradually drying in the sun and wind. Jake didn’t hurry him, didn’t say anything, just sat and held him against his side, the toes of one foot occasionally tapping out a rhythm to something only Jake could hear.
Jericho had focused on the rest area across the highway, servicing the traffic heading the other direction. He’d watched trucks weave into and out of it, their plumes of exhaust wafting away on the wind. Movement closer to hand caught his attention, and he saw Trent was stirring in the car.
“Uncle Trent’s waking up.” An earlier thought struck him, and he wondered silently for a moment, then decided to ask. “Should I…could I call you uncle, too?”
Jake’s arm gave him a squeeze as the man took in a deep breath. He hummed, then nodded. “I’d be honored, Jericho. I would be honored.” Jake released him and stood on the bench their feet had been propped on, stretching before waving at Trent, who was looking at them through the window, an owlish expression on his face.
Jericho smiled as he stood next to this man who had already shared so much wisdom with him, somehow knowing instinctively what Jericho needed to hear. He had a feeling the insights had been hard-earned, but even with the circumstances surrounding his meeting Trent and Jake, Jericho was glad.
“Okay. Uncle Jake it is.”
***
Trent
“James, we’re here.” Trent turned to watch Jericho struggling with the strap on his duffel. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask Jacob to help him when he saw his husband walk around the back of the SUV and deftly snag the bag from Jericho, his smile at the boy defusing any argument. He didn’t know what had happened at that rest area, but the changes seemed profound. Not that Jericho had been angry or obnoxious in any way before, but there had been a wall between where the boy stood and Trent and Jacob. Now, that wall was dust in the wind, and the backs of his eyes stung with remembered emotion from the moment he’d stepped out of the SUV and onto the rest area parking lot to be met by a lighthearted, “Sleep well, Uncle Trent?”
“Uncle Trent.” He’d mouthed the words at Jacob over Jericho’s head, getting a beaming grin in return.
It hadn’t been a one-time thing either. After that moment, each time Jericho addressed him or Jacob, it was prefaced with the title Trent didn’t know he’d longed for. Hadn’t realized he’d been missing until it was gifted to him like that.
“James,” he called again, shoving the door open wider to let Jacob pass through with their suitcase and Jericho’s bag. Jericho followed, awkwardly angling his cast around where Trent stood.
Footsteps warned of an approach, and the lightness of the steps heralded the youngest of his nephews. Trent closed the door and watched as Jacob dropped the luggage he held and squatted with arms out. Matt didn’t slow as he rounded the corner of the hallway, barreling full speed at Jacob, who scooped him up and stood, lifting him for a loud round of raspberries against his neck. The little boy burst into riotous giggles, noisily shouting at his uncle. Jaime was not far behind her son, and Jacob folded her into his arms, too, making Matt laugh more.
“Come here, James. Gimme, gimme, gimme some lovin’.” Trent waded into the little knot of people he adored, peeling Jacob’s arms away from Jaime with a roll of his eyes. “Hand her over already, honeybuns. Oh. My. God, you’re so pretty when you’re preggers. Well, you’re beautiful all the time, but makin’ babies sits well on you.” He gave her a squeeze. “How are you doing, sweet girl?”
“I’m good.” She hugged him tightly, then stepped back and dropped a hand to cover her belly. “We’re good.” Her gaze darted over his shoulder, and she pushed past him as Trent turned around, watching her move straight to where Jericho stood. Something about the boy’s posture gave away his nervous
ness, and Trent got to watch that fade away as Jaime pulled him in for a hug, too. “Welcome, Jericho. We’re so glad you’re here.” She looped her arm with Jericho’s good one and turned them both to face Trent and Jacob. “We’re grilling for supper. Con’s already outside with Nate, so let’s get your bags upstairs and head outside.” She led Jericho towards the stairs, and Trent grabbed the duffel, leaving the suitcase for Jacob, who lifted it in one hand, the other still trapping Matt against his chest. Jaime was talking to Jericho, and Trent heard her say, “You’re in the room with Nate. Jordan’s supposed to be over tonight, but he usually crashes on the couch. You won’t mind sharing, right?”
“No, ma’am.” Jericho seemed to hesitate, and Trent knew why when he continued, “I don’t mind, Aunt Jaime.”
“Oh.” Jaime’s voice was soft, and she paused as they reached the stairs, one tread up from where Jericho stood, which put them at nearly the same height. “That’s…that’s good, Jericho. That’s really good.” Eyes sparkling suspiciously bright, she offered them all a trembling smile as she pulled Jericho on up the stairs. “That’s really good.”
A little while later, Trent and Jacob were in the guest room with the door closed. Jaime had shown Jericho to Nate’s room first, then immediately led him away to go outside where Connor and Nate were. The smile she’d sent Trent’s way said it was intentional, and he wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to have a few minutes alone with Jacob.
Chest plastered to Jacob’s back, he leaned against him heavily, sighing out in a dramatic way he knew would have Jacob grinning. “Jakey, he called me uncle. That’s amazing. I don’t know what kind of voodoo you did do, but I like that you dooed it.” He gave Jacob a tight squeeze, then sighed again. “Uncle Trentie and Uncle Jakey.”
“He called James aunt, too. Did you see her face?” Jacob turned in his arms and locked Trent in an embrace before falling backwards, taking them both to the mattress.
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