“But the other boys were like your brothers…” Billy offered, a little meeker this time.
He shrugged his shoulder like there was a bit of truth in the statement. “I protected them, sort of. Ye see, they ken I had a big heart…and everythin’ else, too,” Benji couldn’t help but laugh at their uneasiness then patted his right hand over his left fist and changed the subject. “Ye see, they kept us in old slave quarters. We were three to a little room, or cell, or whatever ye want to call it. Anyway, we had to plant, hoe, harvest; dependin’ on what season it was, and tend to a set number of sections or rows every day. They didn’t watch us work; jest had their guards watchin’ us on the monitors in their air conditioned trailers, makin’ sure no one tried runnin’ away or smokin’ the stuff.”
“Pot?” Peter mouthed. Benji nodded then continued his story.
“They dinna ken it, but there were only two in our little shack. Wee Michael was only about yay high and had little bitty hands. But, he was a good cook so they let him work the kitchen rather than the fields. He always made sure that he made up a tray for himself, me, and our other roommate, Casper. Ye see, they werena too diligent in doin’ the bed checks. I shoved my pallet next to Casper’s and used a bundle of rags to stuff under the blanket so it looked like he was early to bed and late to rise. As long as the work was done by the cabin as a unit, they dinna care if the lad was lazy or no. I did the work of two people. Wee Michael kept the secret. He kinda liked me, and as long as I’d let him brush my hair every once in a while, he made sure that I got Casper’s food and that the beds werena checked too close like.”
“He brushed your hair?” Peter asked. “Was he, well, you know?”
Benji shrugged his shoulders. “I dinna ken and I dinna care. I kinda liked havin’ someone touch me, like a friend or a brother,” he tilted his head to Peter to make sure that he understood that was the extent of his attraction to other men. “It got kinda lonely and in the winter we scooted the pallets together and I kept him warm. Not that he had enough body heat to keep me warm but it was comfortable. And, as long as I was there, the others dinna bother him. Ye see, he was kinda pretty and they dinna have women and, weel, I guess he got, um, assaulted before I got there. So, I dinna mind what the others thought about us: he was safe and I was well fed. They never did catch on to our ruse. And, when I left, I made sure Wee Michael came with me. I left a note fer the ‘goons’ to tell them that Casper had escaped and we were chasin’ ‘im down fer ‘em.”
“And they believed you?” Peter asked with eyes wide.
“I dinna ask,” Benji replied. “We never went back and they never caught up with us. We wound up in Asheville. I got a job bustin’ tires at a junk yard.” Benji saw the confused look on Peter’s face and explained the job. “That’s separatin’ the wheels from the tires. Wee Michael got a job at a salon, washin’ hair,” Benji laughed. “He’d come back to the shelter, his hands all sparklin’ clean and soft, and mine; weel, it took about two months fer the black to come off of ‘em after I left that place.”
“What happened to Wee Michael?” Billy asked.
“Oh, weel, the lady who owned the hair salon took a likin’ to him and decided to teach him how to cut hair. Last I heard, they were marrit and had a bairn who stayed with them there at the salon, off in the corner play area, while they washed and cut hair all day. I think it worked out jest fine fer both of ‘em.” Benji sighed, “They had each other, a bairn to see to, and made money doin’ what they loved. We should all be so lucky.”
“Blessed,” corrected Billy.
“Excuse me?” Benji asked.
“There is no such thing as luck. We all have tough times: trials and tribulations, obstacles, whatever. Even though it doesn’t seem fair at the time, if we are good people, and you seem to be one, then we get blessed. We just have to be patient. God will reward us in His time.”
“Weel, I dinna mean to be rushin’ the Lord, but I wish He’d hurry up. I’m tired of runnin’. I dinna mind protectin’ the small and weak but,” he shook his head, “I’d like to have a place to call home and someone to come home to,” he sighed as he looked over at Peter and Billy and sucked in his bottom lip. He bucked up, sat up, and added, “But, if what ye say is true, I guess there’s a bit more that the Lord wants me to do before I get my blessin’. I’ll bide and do my best not to get bitter in the meantime.”
“Well, you’re more than welcome to stay here as long as you want. You see, I’m going to have surgery day after tomorrow and Peter has to go back out of town so, I’d actually appreciate it if you could housesit for us, even if this is only an apartment.”
“I think I can manage that,” Benji grinned as he looked around. “Although I dinna ken what I’d do all day. I’m used to workin’ to earn my keep. I guess I could read. It looks like ye have quite the library.”
Billy gulped as he looked over and saw the colorful collection of Lisa Sinclaire books, the ‘fictionalized’ history of Benji’s grandfather, Jody Pomeroy, and his family. He’d have to make sure they got put away.
“Um, didn’t you say that you could operate anything with wheels, wings, or tracks?” Billy asked to change the subject.
“That I did. I’ve had quite the opportunities to learn a lot about them in the last, phew,” he added in exasperation, “too many years. And, if they’re not runnin’, I’ve a bit of skill in repairin’ ‘em, too. My mother was quite gifted that way and I guess I got a bit of the talent from her. At least, I’d like to think that I got more than jest the red hair from her.”
“Well, you got the height, too,” Billy said casually then blanched. How was he supposed to know that?
Benji cocked his head at Billy’s revelation. “Ye ken my mother?” he asked.
Billy answered boldly and truthfully, “Never had the pleasure. But I seriously doubt that either of your parents would be petite. So, who’s taller: your mother or father?” Billy hoped he had plugged his faux pas with feigned curiosity, then changed the subject a bit, “And I hope that she’s not taller than you. She’d have a heck of a time buying shoes!”
“No, she’s a bitty thing,” he put his hand out flat at his chin, “only six foot even.” Benji laughed then looked over at his own raggedy shoes in the corner. “But, getting’ them in my size is plenty hard. And, they dinna come cheap, either. Size sixteen secondhand shoes or boots jest arena out there.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what. You can run a Cat, right?” Billy stated more than asked and looked to Benji who nodded that, yes, he could operate a bulldozer. “We, that is, I, can rent a dozer and we can go out to my mother’s property. She has some old buildings that she wants razed. You can do that while we’re recuperating.”
Billy saw the confused look on Benji’s face then explained who ‘we’ were. “My mother has liver cancer. They’re going to yank it out and I’m going to give her half of mine. Both halves will grow to full size in short order. I’ll be up and at ‘em, catchin’ the bad guys again in a month or two. So, you can use the truck for commuting and I’ll make sure we go to the big and tall men’s store and get you set up with some work boots and jeans this afternoon. Sound fair?’
“More than fair, mate, more than fair.”
4 Greetings
P eter and Benji sat at the kitchen table playing chess. “Was that blood real or fake?” Peter asked. “I mean, I always heard that wrestling was just bad acting but sometimes it looked so real!”
“Weel, sometimes it was real. They’d tell us what they wanted us to do, kinda give us an outline like ‘ye tell him his mother’s an ugly cow and he gets mad and starts throwin’ chairs or whatever at yer heid. He’ll chase ye around the stage, up into the arena then ye knock him down when his back is turned.’ We got to ad lib and sometimes it was fun. But, some of those guys, and I willna tell ye who, took lots of steroids. Ye coulda looked cross-eyed at ‘em and they woulda tried to take off yer heid, or worse. No, that was real blood too many times,” Benji admitted then bent hi
s head down to concentrate on the game. “How long have ye been playin’ chess?” he asked to change the subject. He didn’t want to talk about his sleazy and embarrassing past with the affable but inquisitive man.
“Just a few, um; well, I cannot tell a lie,” Peter admitted then sat up straight to tell his brief board game history. “I was going to tell you just a few weeks so you’d have pity on me, but I’ve been playing chess since I was three. I competed for a while when I was younger. My father was quite pushy,” he said in exasperation. “Always trying to live his life through me…” he added dejectedly as he bent forward over the game, settling his chin onto his knuckles to reevaluate the move he had just made.
“The sport of kings, or something like that,” Benji said as he castled a knight and got in position to capture Peter’s queen. “But I canna see ye as anything but yer own man now. Hopefully yer father grew out of it and realized that yer a great person on yer own and that he is, too. Nobody can be him but him; not ye nor anyone else.”
“Hey, you’re trying to get my queen,” Peter exclaimed then touched his white game piece, trying to figure an escape route. “But you’re right. I never thought of it that way. I’ll have to tell him next time I see him,” he said then grimaced and bit his bottom lip. He looked up and said, “He has Alzheimer’s disease and is in a home. I doubt he’ll know who I am, much less what I’m saying, but I owe it to him to at least try to put it into words.”
“Nae, ye owe it to yerself to tell him if he canna remember who ye are. Now all ye can do is forgive him and love him. He may not ken ye but he ken him. Let him be a mirror to reflect yer love back to yerself if he canna give it to ye on his own, aye?” Benji said gently.
“Wow, aye,” Peter replied then looked down at the board again, surreptitiously wiping the tears that had spilled out of the corners of both eyes. “My queen is out of danger—give it your best shot,” he said with a false bravado. His relationship with his father had always been an issue but now he could see it for how it really was. Yes, he’d go see Dad tomorrow and have the son to father talk that was long overdue, even if his father didn’t know who he was.
“Weel, ye can keep yer queen, but I’ll take the king. Checkmate,” Benji announced then added gently, “but ye really werena into the game. I wasna playin’ fair, talkin’ about yer kin like that. Sorry.”
“Shoot, fair or not, you gave me insight that fifteen years of therapy couldn’t. Now what’s for dinner, Love,” Peter called out to Billy.
“We’re going to Mom’s for dinner. I called her and told her to make enough for an army. It’s been a long time since breakfast and coffee and cookies don’t count as a meal. Let’s take the Beast,” Billy said as he grabbed the coffee cups off the table and set them in the sink. “You two can play another game after my mother,” he gloated at the title, “feeds us.”
Ж
The three men rode to the mill in the truck with the windows down, Peter squeezed between Billy, the driver, and Benji, the mellow passenger with his right elbow hanging out in the wind. “Those are the buildings we want torn down,” Billy said as he pointed to the unpainted and weathered sheds, “and then we’re going to build a big house right there. We’ve got some preliminary plans drawn up and I’d like to get your input on them, and then here we are,” Billy announced, segueing from drafting to dining in the same sentence.
Bibb came out the front door of the little apartment at the side of the mill, waving cheerfully at the trio as they piled out of the truck. “Benji, this is my mother, Bibb Stephens. Mom, this is Benjamin MacKay,” Billy said in introduction.
“Benji,” he said to clarify the name.
“Bibb,” she responded. “Just Bibb; not Ms. Stephens or BS; just Bibb.
Peter started laughing at the exchange.
“What’s so funny?” Bibb asked.
“Oh, even if I hadn’t known Billy was your son, I’d suspect it. When I first met Billy, he introduced himself as ‘Billy Burke; not Billy Bob or Billy Joe, just Billy.’”
Billy chuckled as he recalled their first meeting. Peter was an insurance adjuster, new to his job at handing out checks for claims. Both his and best friend Leah’s apartments had just been damaged in a major fire. “Yes,” Billy said, “and I sure had the hots for you!”
“Well, it was an arson case,” Peter drolled then they all laughed together.
“Who would have thought that one month later we’d be a couple, sharing tea with my mother and…” Billy shut up quickly before he said something about Benji, the odd man out in this reunion. But he was neither odd nor out: he was here because he wanted to go back to be with his family, both of their families, back in the 18th century. Peter didn’t know about his time traveling family and Billy didn’t want him to know, at least not for a while, and maybe not ever. Trust was still hard for him to share.
Benji picked up the dead spot in the conversation. He knew that he could discuss time travel with Billy but not with Peter around. Billy had alluded that Bibb was aware of all that was going on, or a lot of it, but Peter was being protected. Well, protected was a better way to think of it than shut out. “So, yer both goin’ to the hospital tomorrow and yer gonna donate half of yer liver to yer mother? Willna ye miss it?” he asked as he looked to Billy.
“Nope, the doc said my half will grow back in a month or so and hers, I mean, the half I give to her, will grow to full size in short order. I just, well, we’ll both, have to take it easy for a couple of months and then we’ll be ready to take on the world. What do you want to do, Mom?” Billy asked with a grin. He still loved to use that name.
“Well, I’m still trying to figure a way to get all the pieces to fit. I already told you about razing those old dilapidated storage shacks. If we can clear that area and get some local contractors and building material suppliers to donate goods and services, we can build a home for unwed mothers. Every time I hear the word abortion, I get the shivers.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Billy agreed and Benji and Peter nodded that they felt the same way. Billy added, “It’s bad enough that the baby doesn’t even get a chance to grow. I mean, the child didn’t ask to be created but God thought it was right or sperm wouldn’t have met egg, no matter what the conditions. No one has the right to end a child’s life. That malarkey about a woman’s body being hers to do with what she wants, would be just fine and dandy if she could remove the baby and let him grow to term without hurting or killing him! So if being pregnant is inconvenient for the mother, let’s help her. If she doesn’t want to keep him after he’s born, there are loads of people hoping and praying for a child. I mean, they’re waiting for years to adopt one!”
“But it’s not just the child that’s lost with an abortion,” Bibb said sadly. “I lost you, well, I lost watching you grow up, but I knew you were safe. But the mothers who choose abortion lose a part of themselves, not only the child. I worked with quite a few abortion recovery groups through the years. Alcoholism, drug addiction, and suicides follow right on the heels of abortions; that and a wide variety of mental illnesses including severe depression. No, abortion kills a child and wounds the mother, sometimes taking her life, too.”
Benji spoke out, “What about the fathers? Dinna they get a say? They’re jest as much a father before the bairn is born as after, or can be. Give ‘em a chance to claim their own, I say. I dinna ken what I’d do if I found out I had fathered a child, but I sure wouldna suggest the lass get an abortion! That is, would be, my child, and I’d raise him the best I could with or without the mother!”
Bibb added, “An abortion kills one and wounds the other for life. I’m not proud of hiding my pregnancy from your father. I mean, I’m pretty sure that life would have played out differently for all three of us if I hadn’t been so prideful thinking I could handle everything myself, but I am glad that I didn’t choose the, ugh, easy way out. I don’t think I could have lived with myself if I did. And I know from the counseling center that there are many attempted, and some su
ccessful, suicides within a year after a woman has an abortion.”
Bibb looked up and saw that all three men felt the same way she did. “And don’t even get me started on letting young girls get an abortion without parental consent. That is positively insane! The girls aren’t old enough to smoke a cigarette and yet the law says she can kill her unborn child…ugh!” she shuddered. “If a woman can’t or won’t or is just afraid to get emotional support for herself and her unborn child, then I want to be there. It’s my dream that no female should feel helpless. She and her unborn child can, will, be safe here. And regardless of whether she and the baby wind up staying together or not, that child will still have life. Hmph!”
“Amen to that,” Benji said sincerely.
Bibb changed the subject, sort of. “I've decided to sell the mill to the employees. If it hadn't been for them, I wouldn't have been able to keep it going all these years. But there's more out there: the mill is on just a small part of the land.” She snorted, “I'm going to have to do something with the rest of it. Those land developers just won't leave me alone!”
“What do you want to do with it? I mean, don't let money get in the way. James left me in charge of all of the Melbourne assets. He said it was for us to use and not to worry about spending it all…wisely. He trusts my judgment.”
“Well, I, I mean we, could build a home for unwed mothers and not wait for the donations to come in. I can talk to the businesses and see if they’re interested in the project. I’m sure that many would like to give back to the community. I’m sure there are more than a few fathers of daughters out there who would like to see options for women. I mean, a woman shouldn't feel like she has to marry a man...even if she does want to...but so many times families aren't supportive. And, Lord knows I don't want the poor girls, or women, to think that abortion is her only way out. No, this way a woman can choose to keep her body and her baby safe. If she decides to adopt out the child, that's fine. But, I want to have resources on hand so the gals can learn a trade, build a network so even those who can't work can help those who can by taking care of the babies...at least until they're on their feet. I don't want this to be a destination but a means of transporting a woman and her child to a safer, happier life.”
The Great Big Fairy Page 3