by Brandon Witt
Norma brought in three iced teas one shaking glass at a time.
Shortly after, three chipped china plates made their way onto the coffee table, pie and fork balanced on each. After the last one, Travis’s mom finally sat on the opposite end of the sofa.
Travis realized he’d accidentally taken her spot, the one next to Willard’s recliner. He was surprised his dad hadn’t motioned for him to move over. “I’m sorry, Mom. I wasn’t thinking. You wanna trade places?”
She smiled gently, though the worry seemed to be returning to her eyes. “No, dear, you just sit right there between us.” She shifted back to a more supported spot on her new location on the couch. “Would you be a dear and hand me my pie, though?”
He removed the smallest serving of pie from the brass coffee table and passed it to her, noticing how the plate shook as she took it from him, but he pushed the growing worry away.
They ate without speaking for a few moments. Only the watery smacking sound of his father’s lips broke the silence. Travis had to control his facial expression at the first bite of the pie. Gooseberry had been his favorite of all the pies his mother used to make. However, the bite was sour, causing his eyes to squeeze shut of their own accord. The past couple of times he’d been home, Travis had noticed his mother’s food wasn’t what he remembered. She’d always been a terrific cook. Whether it was his slanted memory or her ability, the food had not lived up to what Travis recalled from childhood. This pie was not a result of skewed memory, however. His mother must have forgotten the sugar. All of it.
He watched his father for a reaction as he took a bite. There was none. Either Willard’s taste buds were failing or he’d grown accustomed to the change in Norma’s food and mastered the art of nonreaction. Travis was willing to bet it was the latter. Though gruff, Willard had always been extremely protective of his wife. The only time Travis remembered getting any consequence from him other than measured spankings with the belt was a fist to the jaw when Travis had cursed at his mother when he’d been in high school.
His father’s son, Travis was able to take the next bite, and each one after, without any reaction other than the occasional compliment to his mother. When all that was left was the edge of piecrust, Travis really was able to close his eyes and drift back through four decades. Whatever might be affecting her, Norma Bennett was still able to make the best piecrust in the four-state area.
Travis’s dad had been a ranch hand his entire life, until arthritis had taken hold of his joints. A few years ago, he’d been forced to take a job at a factory in Neosho. Travis tried to think of something he could ask that could ease them into conversation but not make his father feel shame over his perceived weakness. On the edge of losing his own farm, his buffalo—I spend more time with them than Mr. Walker ever does—Travis was more cognizant than ever of the loss his father must have experienced.
Willard turned his sun-lined face toward Travis, cutting off the need for transitions. “So, tell us. What brought you here, son? It must be big to take you away from the feedstore on a Saturday, and without the kids.”
“Ah, Jason’s got the store under control. And we hired a new girl to help out, so it’s covered.”
His mom inhaled a breath and looked at him hopefully. “Is that it? Is this new girl someone you’ve been seeing?” She clasped her hands together in her lap, over the folds of her skirt. “I’ve been praying the Lord would send you a good woman to help take away your loneliness, to be a mother to those beautiful children.”
Oh dear Lord. “No, Mom. Krissy, the new girl, is in high school. She was just in need of a job.”
Norma’s face fell. “Oh. Well, that’s nice, I suppose.”
The room fell silent again. Travis hadn’t practiced what he was going to say. He’d done his best not to think about it. Now that he was in his childhood home, sitting between his parents, the terror of truth lay thick over the room.
Willard spoke again, his voice more commanding this time, leaving Travis feeling even more childishly exposed. “Well, come on, boy. Out with it. Just say whatever it is so we can face it together, like a family.”
Fuck! “Well, I wanted to tell you in person. I doubt you’d find out some other way, but as more and more people are knowing, I didn’t want to take the chance you’d hear it from someone besides me….” Travis glanced out the window, praying to see a snowflake falling behind the lace curtains. No such luck. Maybe he could run for it anyway.
“Travis. Come on.” Willard’s bark made his son flinch.
“Okay. Okay.” Travis sucked in a deep breath and then let it out, shakily. “I ah….” He wrung his hands, his thumbs tracing over the calloused palms. “You see, I’ve started….” Fuck. This was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do. Ever.
A whisper touched his ear. No clear words, but it was there. This was far from the hardest thing he’d had to do. This was nothing in comparison.
He sat up straight, the couch groaning at his movement. Dunkyn shifted below him, moving away from Travis’s boots.
Travis wished he’d changed places with his mom so he could face his parents at the same time and not have to look back and forth.
“Well, it’s like this. I’m dating someone. Ah… a man. His name is Wesley Ryan, and he’s a veterinarian in town. It’s been a couple of months now or so. Wendy really likes him. The kids think he’s great. Sh….” He’d almost said Shannon liked him. That would have been… unhelpful, though it felt true enough. “I like him.” He cleared his throat, forced his voice to sound more declarative. “I love him.”
He’d not been able to face his parents, not fully, as he spoke, but he made himself look at them, turning his head to look them both in the face. His father wore a disgusted expression. His mother showed nothing but shock. Travis suddenly worried about the possibility of a stroke.
Maybe he shouldn’t have done this.
“I just didn’t want you to hear it from anyone else but me.”
Travis turned back to his dad. The disgust on Willard’s face was morphing into a look of anger. Travis shifted his attention toward his mom.
Tears were already streaking down Norma’s face. Her trembling voice was barely audible. “Travis, grief can do strange things. The devil uses it to sneak inta us. He’s using Shannon’s death to tempt you. To try to steal you away. You must fight this, son.”
God, he hated seeing her cry. Hated the fear in her voice. “Mom. This isn’t new. I know it is to you both, but this isn’t new. Even Shannon knew about it, even before we got married.”
Norma’s mouth worked silently.
“I don’t care what she knew or didn’t know. She was never good enough to be part of this family anyway.”
All embarrassment and shame fled as Travis turned toward his father. It was a sheer act of will that kept him seated on the sofa. “Dad, watch what you say about my wife.”
Though Travis had never used that tone toward his father before, Willard wasn’t taken aback in the slightest. “Well, she wasn’t. And I don’t need to be concerned with Shannon’s memory. You obviously aren’t.”
Losing the battle, Travis stood, fists clenched and trembling at his sides.
Norma spoke up, her tone pleading. “Please. Let’s not fight. That won’t solve anything. Let us pray.” She turned toward her husband. “Willard, please. Let’s pray for healing.”
Travis tried to keep the anger at his father out of his voice, though he couldn’t manage to look away from Willard. “Mom, this isn’t something we can pray away. I’m sorry, but I didn’t bring this up to get help with it. I simply wanted you to know.”
“But the children, Travis. Think of them. Think of the example you are to show. Lead them in the paths of righteousness. This… sin… will corrupt their souls.” At the tears in her voice, Travis turned away from his father. The years Norma had aged in the brief moments since hearing his truth ripped at his heart.
Travis knew there was no hate behind her words. She was terr
ified and panicked for their souls. Travis could see the image of him and his children burning projected from behind her eyes. He wished he could take that away for her.
Of all his fears about loving Wesley, hell was not one of them.
“I don’t want to hurt you, Mom. I don’t believe it’s wrong. Not like you do.”
She leaned forward, struggling to rise, but she wasn’t able. “That’s what sin does, Travis. It blinds us to the truth. It smothers out the voice of God. Makes us believe the lie.”
Travis moved toward her, reaching out to take her hands, a mix of frustration at her stubborn beliefs and the desire to comfort her in her fear waging within him.
“Don’t touch her.”
Travis turned, angling himself cautiously against the anger in his father’s voice.
Willard shook with fury of his own. “You are a disgrace to your family. We raised you better.”
Travis was far enough away from his dad that he didn’t have to look up into his face. He’d known they’d be upset. His mother’s reaction was exactly what he should have expected. He hadn’t anticipated such anger from his father, though—confusion and arguments to be sure, but not this.
Willard stepped toward him, one of his knees letting out a loud pop at the movement. “Are you determined in this?”
Travis glanced back at his mother apologetically, then faced his father once more. “If you’re asking if I’m going to pursue this relationship, then the answer is yes. I don’t know where it will lead, but, yes. I am determined.”
Norma let out a pitiful moan from behind him, but Travis didn’t look back, though it killed him.
“You are no longer welcome in this home.”
Travis flinched again. “Dad.”
“Willard.” Norma’s shaking voice called out from a great distance. “There is redemption. There is—”
“Quiet, Norma!”
Travis had never heard his father use that tone with his mother. It had been reserved for his children and unruly cattle.
“You are no longer a son of mine. You are no longer a man.”
Travis felt something in his chest begin to crumble.
Then a whisper. An affirmation.
Travis looked his father full in the eyes. He saw the blue eyes that stared out at him from his own reflection. From the face of his sister.
Travis and his father stared at each other. Neither flinching. Neither wavering.
After a moment or years, Travis broke the connection and looked down at his mother. He attempted a smile. Something to impart love, comfort, encouragement… something. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded.
The screen door banged against the doorframe behind him as Travis took the one step off the porch and walked stiff-backed to his truck, Dunkyn by his side.
He refused to look into the rearview mirror as he drove away. He would not consider the possibility of his father changing his mind, nor would he ponder what it would mean if this were truly the last time they would see each other.
At some point as he drove through Neosho, Travis pulled off at a hotel by the highway. He would stay there for the evening. He would return home the next afternoon.
He needed a night to think. A night to himself. A night of quiet. A night not to think.
Chapter Twenty-Six
THE HOLY Church looked as if it had been lifted out of Kansas City and dropped accidentally in El Dorado. The mini-mega church had none of the small-town charm Wesley would expect from this little town and, apparently, it wasn’t done growing. A new offshoot of construction was jutting out in the corner of the parking lot. It was definitely not like the church he had attended with his grandparents.
Wesley had stared at it several times as he’d driven by, thinking how out of place it seemed with small neighborhood houses on three sides of it and Travis’s buffalo field on the other. It was easy to see the original structure. While no shrinking violet itself, it made a charming picture. Wesley was fairly certain he could remember what it looked like before it was devoured by the expansion. He glanced over at Wendy, who had just opened the car door for Mason. Caleb was doing the same for Avery on the other side of the car. “You sure this is a good idea?”
Wendy adjusted Mason’s cap so his ears were covered from the morning chill. Satisfied, she turned her attention on Wesley. “Yes. Nothing bad is going to happen, Wesley. I promise. Everyone is friendly. They’ve all been supportive of us.”
He read between the lines. Wendy had told him, when the kids weren’t around, how accepting they’d been of her when she’d moved in with Travis after Shannon’s death. After her parents’ reaction, Wendy had been afraid that her divorce would only alienate her. No one seemed to mind. Of course, no one had known her in El Do before the divorce, so that might have helped some.
Wesley couldn’t help but be irritated at his nervousness. He didn’t use to feel like a freak show everywhere he went, but that was changing. And he wasn’t as naive as he’d been only a couple of short months ago. People were talking about the new vet dating one of their men. It didn’t matter that Travis never went to church. His kids and sister did. His dead wife had. And now, his boyfriend was entering the doors.
What the hell was he doing?
“Caleb, would you please take the twins into children’s church?” Wendy grinned at her nephew. “It seems I need to do a pep talk with our resident veterinarian here.”
Caleb took Mason’s outstretched hand. “Sure, Wendy.” He smiled earnestly at Wesley. “It’s gonna be fine, Wes. I’m sure things have settled down now, and we won’t have to move. Just be you. They’ll love ya.”
At his words, Wendy looked at him, a shocked expression on her face. Caleb didn’t seem to notice, only gave Wesley another encouraging smile before turning and walking up the steps toward the church with the twins. Mason craned his neck to look over his shoulder, giving Wesley a small wave.
Wesley waved back, a moment of adoration cutting through the nerves at the sight of Mason’s tiny, wiggling fingers and Caleb using his new nickname. After the boy had shadowed Wesley at Cheryl’s, he’d started referring to him as Wes. Wesley had always hated that name and corrected anyone who’d tried to shorten his full name. Coming from Caleb, though, it sounded like acceptance, and was possibly the best thing he’d ever heard.
He turned from the kids’ retreating forms and looked at Wendy, who was intently staring at her reflection in the car window as she fixed her red curls, a little too concerned about them to be believable.
“That’s not convincing, Wendy.”
She peered over at him, her voice sounding innocent. “What do you mean?”
He put his hand on his hip. “Really? I’m supposed to believe there’s not a story there somewhere? We won’t have to move?”
Wendy dropped the pretense and turned from her reflection, pulling her Western-style woven jacket tighter about her. “Well, I didn’t know Caleb knew about that. He was young enough when it happened that he wasn’t really aware. I guess he’s heard things now that people are talking again.”
“What things?”
Wendy waved at a car pulling into the parking lot a few rows over.
“Wendy….”
She sighed. “Fine, if you’re going to get all huffy. Though I really think it would just be better if we went in and started fresh.”
Wesley continued glaring.
She lifted her hands, rings flashing in the sun. “Fine, fine!”
He waited, but Wendy still didn’t speak. “Oh good God, Wendy. Whatever it is, now I’m twice as freaked out about it.”
Wendy rolled her eyes. “You don’t need to be freaked out. It’s not about you in the slightest. Don’t be a drama queen.”
Wesley thought he was going to have to prompt her again, but after another sigh, Wendy launched into the story.
“Well, you know that gay youth pastor a few years back. The one Carrie told you about?” She didn’t wait for him to confirm. “Well, and this is before my
time…. Actually, it all happened right after Shannon’s death. When I started coming with the kids, the new pastor had just started. So I missed all the drama, and Caleb, like I said, was too young back then for the youth group, so it didn’t affect him at all.”
At her pause, Wesley arched his eyebrows at her.
“Oh, fine. It seems that the preacher who brought in the gay youth pastor, I don’t even know his name….”
“Brooke.” There was no way Wesley could have forgotten the guy’s name from Ms. Michael’s story.
Wendy gave him a surprised look. “Oh, right. Brooke. Well, the preacher, Brother Bron, I believe his name was, I never met him, was new to the church at the time too. I guess when he asked the gay youth pastor, Brooke, to be part of the youth group, well, shit hit the fan, as you can imagine.”
Wesley snorted. “Yeah. Duh. Sounds like a dumb move to me. I can’t imagine people being okay with that. Not here.”
“Exactly. Not saying it’s wrong, obviously, but it seems like a pretty… bold move from a new preacher. Anyway, I guess at that same time, the preacher’s daughter got pregnant by Brooke’s cousin, who also worked with the kids.”
“Oh. Not married, huh?”
Wendy shook her head. “Nope.” She waved her hands in a fluttering gesture. “From what I’ve heard, there was all kinds of drama around it, and the end result was Pastor Bron was asked to step down, though I think he was here a little over a year or so before that finally happened.”
Wesley waited, but it looked like Wendy was done talking. “Ah… what about the whole moving thing?”
She rolled her eyes again and gave him an exasperated grin. “You’re like a bulldog that just won’t let go of something. Fine. Due to the whole mess, the entire family moved. All of them. Not just the preacher, but the whole mess of them. I think their names were Durke or something. I’m pretty sure I remember something about the mom being Sue Durke. They had just left when I started at church. I never met any of them, but it seemed that the family was one of the pillars of the church, so they say. People were pretty upset and torn about the issue.”