She looked at him, quieted down. “I want Mommy!” she whispered.
“Okay, Sally.” He hugged her. He was crying softly. “Jes wait a min—”
He heard another blast from the shotgun inside the house. Then everything became quiet. After waiting a long time, he peeked out from under the tarp. The yelling had stopped, the crashing noises in the house had stopped, and when he thought it was safe, he crawled out from under the tarp and pulled Sally out with him. He stood on the edge of the road, holding Sally’s hand.
She was tugging on it. “Mama! Go see Mama!”
But he was afraid to go back to the front of the house. He had never seen so much blood. He’d seen Eddie’s face cave in from a cracking blow when Kenneth had grabbed the shotgun from Pa and, pulling back, had rammed the wooden stock into Eddie’s face; it had become a bright red mask of blood. He had seen his mother’s dress tear in the back, with the sound of a loud explosion, then turn suddenly black with blood as she clawed at Kenneth, trying to get to Eddie. His father had been blown off the ground by the second blast and fell against the wall; a splash of blood burst into the air like a fountain. And, what scared him most, he had seen Kenneth’s weird expression, his teeth glistening with a grin as he fired the shotgun. It had frightened him, and he knew that they had to get away before he came for them.
He looked up and down the road and listened. It was quiet. No sound at all came from the other side of the house. He strained to hear Kenneth inside the house, but a dead silence hung over everything. He began walking, pulling Sally with him. “We gonna find Paddy and Dete over at the Reeces’.” They left the road and began walking through the mesquite bushes. He had never been to the Reeces’ but he knew which road they lived on. They walked southeast. The sun was climbing higher. He didn’t know what time it was. He didn’t know exactly how far it was, but he would keep walking until they came to the road. He didn’t know what their house looked like, but he would stop at every one they came to until he found them.
* * *
Eva and Douglas ate breakfast alone in the kitchen at the breakfast table. Eva was still in her housecoat and Douglas commented on it. “You feeling under the weather, hon?”
She shrugged, sipping on a cup of coffee that had already gone cold. “A little, maybe. It’s nothing turning back the clock about a week wouldn’t solve.”
He studied her for a moment, then registered understanding at her subtlety. “Now, Eva.give it time.” He set his cup down. “When the twins get over, send ‘em out to the cowshed.” He got up abruptly and left.
She gathered up the dishes and took them to the sink. She looked toward the field. In the pink glow of sunrise, she could see Joel’s pickup already near the alfalfa patch. She could see him walking along the ditch alone. She watched his tiny figure as she had so many mornings. Douglas was right. He was a good worker. And a good son.
She thought about the night before. As they lay in bed, talking as usual, she had finally admitted how she felt about Joel and Tom. “I just don’t see how you could go along with it,” she’d said. “It’s unnatural. They’re only boys.”
But Douglas had protested. “I didn’t go along with anything, Eva. I listened. When Joel told us he was that way…I thought of my old war buddy. I know you don’t think I should have told them about that, but don’t you see, I understand him, Eva. I don’t necessarily think he is that way. But I understand him, just a little better because of what I did. People are complex.” He drew her close. He had just bathed and shaved and smelled of Old Spice. On him it had a warm, cozy aroma. She buried her face in his chest and listened to his voice resonate through it. “Sometimes things are not black and white,” he was saying, “especially where emotions and love are involved. Please try to understand that, even if you can’t accept it.”
“It will take time, Douglas, a lot of time.” But it was more than that.
She turned away from the window and went to get dressed, feeling the emptiness of the house as more than just the absence of Douglas. She felt a dread that she had never felt in all the years of her marriage. She knew it had hurt Douglas to remember that man from so many years ago. She had wanted to apologize this morning, seeing the hurt and shame in his face, but she had been unable to. He was right to tell them, because they would listen to him, feeling he wasn’t just talking through his hat. When he said it was a phase he went through, why shouldn’t they be able to realize that time itself might bring similar healing? Obviously, Douglas was not a homosexual. The thought had never crossed her mind. Secure in that knowledge, she thought about Joel. But nothing in her limited experience about such men showed how Joel could be either. Weren’t they wispy, sad creatures who really wanted to be women? Yet Joel had said he and Tom loved each other. Apparently he believed that. Tom even seemed willing to give up his home, he felt so strongly about Joel. What could make the loss of his home worth it, if it was not a deep feeling of something like love? Eva understood that, although she could not shake the feeling that somehow it was wrong. Time. All right, she would give them time to prove that they did love each other, but couldn’t she also hope that time would prove them wrong? Yes, it would take time. That’s what Douglas had been trying to say.
At eight o’clock, she heard boys laughing and talking in the driveway. She watched from the kitchen as the twins, Patrick and Detrick, walked up to the house. Bless their hearts, they’d walked and still got here early! They wouldn’t come indoors, so she sent them to find Douglas at the cowshed. She watched their retreating figures, feeling pity. Each wearing baggy pants, obviously hand-me-downs, patched so many times the patches had patches. She decided that this afternoon, she would go through some of Joel’s old clothes and insist that they take them home.
* * *
Sally tugged on Henry, Jr.’s hand. “Henwee I tiahd. Wanna doe home!” She was crying.
Henry, Jr. stopped and looked down at her tiny face, dirty with tears. Her dress was torn. She had sat down and her underpants showed. They were dirty. He squatted next to her. The walk had dried his pants where he had wet them, but now his legs felt chapped. He put his hands on his hips. “Sally Ann! Come o-on! It ain’t far! I promise.”
But Sally wanted none of it. “No!”
He threw up his hands. “I’m leavin’, Sally.” He started to walk away, but changed his mind. He turned around and bent down. “Git on!”
She climbed up and held him tight around the neck. He stumbled forward and walked as fast as he could. Ten minutes later, he stopped and let her off. He began to cry, but one look at Sally made him stop. As well as he could, he tried to comfort her, patting her head. “We’ll be there soon.” He took her hand and they continued walking until they came to a road. He looked up and down. There were no cars so he helped her climb the barbed wire fence, and they began walking south.
“I tole ya, Sally Ann!”
They hurried now, for Henry saw some buildings. They crossed the road and walked into the Reeces’ front yard. “C’mon, Sally
Ann. We’ll ask these people.”
* * *
They knocked on the front door.
When he heard the knock, Douglas also heard Eva going out through the back door, probably out to the garden. He got up from his lunch. “Sounds like company boys.” Paddy and Dete nodded from the table; their mouths were puffed out like squirrels with the most delicious ham sandwiches they had ever tasted. “Y’all eat. There’s plenty more.” He chuckled at their faces. “I’ll be right back.”
When he opened the door, Henry, Jr. recognized him and began to cry. It was several minutes before Douglas understood what
Henry was saying. But as Henry’s tale became clearer through his crying and stuttering, Douglas’ horror grew. The twins had stopped eating and had been listening at the door. He looked around at them from where he was kneeling in front of Henry. Sally Ann was hanging on Douglas’ neck, crying, “I want Mommy.” He took the two children into the dining room and sat them down. He made
them eat and, when they had begun to quiet down, he took Patrick and Detrick aside. “Did you understand what they were saying?”
They nodded, speechless, and he studied them carefully. Being older, their understanding of the carnage would be more serious, their real knowledge of loss would have more impact. And for right now he was more worried about them. He spoke to the two boys directly, making each of them answer. “Are you all right, Paddy? Can I leave you with the children?”
“Yessir,” Patrick said.
“Dete?”
“Yessir.”
“What, Dete? Are you feeling okay?”
He blinked. “Yessir.”
Douglas left them in the dining room. He was reluctant to do it, but he had to get moving.
He called the police station and talked a few minutes. “Yes, that’s right. No. I don’t know where he is. There just might be a chance that he’ll come here. He knows where his two brothers are. Yes. And please hurry.”
He went back to the dining room and took the twins aside. “You boys have to stay with the children now. Okay?”
The boys nodded again. Their calm frightened him, and he realized that they were probably close to being in shock. Little Henry was lucky, he thought, able to cry to release his emotions. Sally didn’t appear to realize what had happened.
Before he left the house, he looked at his watch; Joel would be coming in soon. He went to the garden to look for Eva. She was bending over a patch of okra in the middle of the garden. “Eva!” he called, and motioned her over. She looked up, smiled brightly, and waved. He called again and waved his arm again. She dusted her hands. She picked her way down a row of beans as quickly as she could.
“My God! Douglas, you look terrible! What is it!”
He told her what he knew. They walked quickly back to the house and on the way he said, “Keep all the kids with you. I think the twins might be near shock. I called the Police. Deputy Gray said he’d be coming as soon as possible. But the children don’t know where Kenneth is. Apparently Henry and Sally were hiding.”
“The children don’t know where Kenneth is?”
Douglas shook his head. “Henry, Jr. thought he stayed in the house, but I don’t know.”
Eva looked toward the field. Joel was driving up the road.
“Just in case, Eva, get my rifle and keep it ready. Joel and I will wait by the highway for the police.”
* * *
Paul found there was very little pleasure in winning. At the drugstore, he paid for the package without touching it. The package lay on the glass counter between him and the bewildered clerk. “Aren’t you going to examine the prints, Son?” The clerk wanted to know. He eyed Paul over his glasses. Paul looked into the frank stare of the man leaning against the counter with the heels of both hands, an accusing gesture that said, Here’s what you wanted; aren’t you even going to count it?
“No. Naw. I trust you, mister,” Paul said nervously. He licked his lips and grimaced, though he thought he was smiling.
“Kids,” the clerk muttered, and punched the cash register. “Now don’t you come back complainin’. You had your chance.”
On the sidewalk, Paul tore open the envelope and looked around before slipping a photograph part of the way out. He stopped when he saw and shut his eyes. His heart banged rapidly. “That’s it!” he whispered. He looked again, this time a longer, wide-eyed stare. His pupils dilated, taking in every detail. Again, he shoved the picture back inside the envelope and looked around furtively.
At first, he felt a rush of satisfaction. I’ve got you now! But the victory was hollow, because Tom had said he was leaving the church anyway.
Paul persisted. He couldn’t accept that. By the time he got to the Courthouse park where he was to meet a few of the other disciples, he was feeling better. No, the very horror of this disgusting picture in the preacher’s hand would shock Tom into submission.
He passed copies of the picture around. “See!” he said, triumphantly.
But the others shoved the pictures back, all except Pete. “That’s disgusting,” they all said.
Kevin looked at Pete. “Man, give your copy back!” But Pete had already tucked his away. Kevin was stunned. “You going along with this? You?”
Pete answered back, “You’re the one thought it’d be neat.”
But Kevin shrugged. “Not now, man. Count me out. I’m washing my hands of this whole mess.”
Paul watched them all go, including Pete. He felt drained, deflated. “But we have a duty!” he called to the retreating figures.
It was lonely being the only one willing to perform an unpleasant task. Tom had become too sure of himself, haughty at the Fellowship dinner, as if he had an inside track on virtue. All his talk of leaving the church. Pure bluster!
So there was no beating thrum of victory, no praise from the others. He walked home through the park. Under the trees it was cool and could have been pleasant; the grass was freshly cut and its aromatic perfume filled the air. He passed by the gazebo near the street, feeling the springy grass beneath his feet. Light glittered through the overhanging branches of the wide-spreading trees. It would have been a pleasant afternoon in this park, the town’s pride, but the refusal of the disciples to go along with him had hurt. He walked quickly, blindly past the well-tended trees, along the edge of the park, thick with hedges, and soon he stepped onto the sidewalk.
He felt like posting the pictures on the bulletin board next to community announcements posted there by the Lions Club, the Knife and Fork Club, the Knights of Columbus, and don’t forget the Common Sodomites, Paul thought, derisively. He kept on walking, determined that his purpose was not spiteful as Tom had said, but noble and, yes, right. It would be cleansing to finish this, even if it wasn’t pleasurable anymore.
* * *
His father’s reaction was an uncontrollable shaking that spread from his head to his hands. He went pale as a corpse and let the pictures fall. He looked at Paul as though he were a murderer. “Did you take these pictures?”
Paul felt helpless. “I—”
“Answer me!” Leon Romaine said in a low voice. “You did, didn’t you!”
“Yes! But don’t you see what they’re doing?”
His father shook his head. “Paul, I can see the damned picture.” He picked up one, glanced at it, then another, then…With one in each hand he stared at Paul, then glanced at both pictures. “My God!” He looked at the right hand, then the left hand. He dropped these and picked up several more. “My God!”
Paul felt triumphant. “See?”
His father stood up and, without warning, slapped him. “You made copies!”
“I know. I—”
“You made copies! What in God’s name were you going to do with these? Answer me!” He slapped him again, and Paul backed away holding his face.
“You were hiding somewhere and watching! How could you?”
Something had gone very wrong. “But you’ll give one of these to Tom’s father, won’t you?”
His father looked at him strangely, as if he were seeing some crawly thing. “Why? What would be the point?”
“Would Brother Allen believe you otherwise?”
“We will just have to trust that he and his son can work this out between them, won’t we? Remember, Paul,” his father said wearily, “your mother and I have already reported to Mr. Allen. I see no point in continuing to hound the poor man.”
“But Tom lied to him! He denied everything! And now, now it’s true! We’ve got proof! Daddy, he just has to have proof!”
Leon Romaine was not a vindictive man. And he believed that each father should raise his children in a loving and religious environment—that in some measure, the sins of the children reflected on the parents. Showing this disgusting photograph to the Allens would be the most unkind thing he could do. But it was true, what Paul had said. Tom himself was in grave, grave danger. Looking at Paul, he felt nauseated. There was more behind Paul’s desire to show these pi
ctures than to save Tom. That was evident and damning; it was, in its way, a measure of the way he had reared Paul—again a reflection on the parent.
He sank back to the couch and began gathering up the prints. He looked at Paul. “Get out of my sight. You make me sick!” The very sight of his son, waiting anxiously, his eyes glittering with vindic-tiveness, hatred, appalled him.
Wearily, Elder Romaine did call Mr. Allen. He told him of the photographs; he also told him of his disappointment in Paul, that he would counsel him to determine the depth of his son’s own sickness. For surely that’s what it was. In only a matter of minutes, the two men came to an understanding, and each would handle his son on his own terms. Elder Romaine apologized sadly for again being the bearer of such heartbreaking news. And yes, he would burn the photographs, save one. He would put it in an envelope and put it away. He would deliver it later, after the minister had tested his son’s honesty; for both men decided that in truthfulness there was hope, but if Tom chose to lie a second time…
* * *
The Stroud’s house had always been an eyesore on Highway 490. It was a long, narrow structure with a flat tin roof. Its outside walls were covered with a thin coat of unpainted plaster. Seen from the highway, it looked like a storage shed or a railroad car that had somehow been dropped into a raw, barren patch of land along the road. The front faced away from the road and was entered at either end from the highway by driving through gaps in the rusting, tangled barbed-wire fence. Between the house and the highway, Edna Stroud had managed to grow a few trees and a lush patch of uncut Bermuda grass. As they neared the place, it looked to Joel as though she had been trying to hide the house.
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