Remeon's Destiny

by J. W. Garrett

  “We need to talk about Thomas,” James said, resolutely putting down his fork and clearing his throat. “Did you know—at fifteen years old—he’s been thinking of joining the army? With the preparing of the fields beginning any day now, I’ll expect a lot of him, and I need to know his head is in the right place.”

  “I feel him struggling,” Elizabeth said. “He’s not a man yet and still has many childish ways. I believe he is trying to make decisions about his future. He’s a little restless and distracted, but isn’t that normal for a boy of almost sixteen?”

  “I feel him struggling too. It’s called laziness and indecisiveness,” James said with a sarcastic tone. “This is where we need to take an even harder line.” He continued. “Damn it, Elizabeth, we need him here to make ends meet. He owes it to us. Without him we’ll be hiring some day-workers to help with the farm. It’s time for him to make a real contribution and have a stake in the process, carry some risk. He doesn’t even see the opportunity. That’s how closed-minded he is.

  We should bring him into the planning and all the processes necessary to bring crops to harvest. If he could just see it and grab it, it’s all within his reach. He has done most of the tasks, but, if he is to be a farmer, he needs to be exposed to all facets of crop growing—planning, planting, growth, harvest, and bringing the crops to market to sell. Don’t you feel he’s ready to take on more?”

  ELIZABETH THOUGHT ABOUT Thomas. Her son at times seemed like a stranger. She realized this journey into manhood was not one she could participate in. James assured her that this was necessary for Thomas to realize his lot in life, and, through this process, he would emerge a confident, productive young man. She had acquiesced up to this point, deferring to the man she loved.

  Elizabeth shuddered at the thought of Thomas enlisting. She recalled the stories from friends whose sons didn’t return from the war. It had been a dark time. Even though her family hadn’t had much, they got by; they were all alive still.

  Elizabeth had listened intently to James, then reached out and took her husband’s hand in hers. “I do feel he’s capable and strong, but, James, he doesn’t want to farm. He could change his mind, yes, but you can see it in his eyes some days. He looks like a caged animal. After another year, what do we do? Keep him here against his will?”

  James picked up his dishes, took them to the counter, and threw them in the sink with a loud clatter.

  Elizabeth thought, What if their fears were confirmed, and Thomas, when cornered, actually runs away and enlists? What would happen next? Hopefully her instincts this time were wrong. The rift this would cause between father and son would be devastating to their relationship. James had never questioned that Thomas would follow in his father’s footsteps, and this year it seemed James wanted Thomas to invest more of himself, with James teaching his son more of what he knows about farming.

  She stood up and walked over to her husband, placing her hands on his back. She could feel the tightness of his muscles straining against his shirt, and, when he turned around, she saw that same tension in the deep lines cut into his face. “Maybe it’s a phase. He’s young and impulsive. Let’s give him a few days, and we’ll both talk to him again.”

  As she finished speaking, a wave of uneasiness flowed through her, and she felt a deepening sense of foreboding. Elizabeth turned her attention to the table, clearing the rest of the dishes. She tried to brush away the feeling, but, in her heart, she knew she didn’t believe it herself. “It will be all right.” She continued, assuring James. “Give it time.”

  James shook his head in obvious exasperation, continuing on without missing a beat. “Why should we entertain his childish notions? What could he have to say of importance really, Elizabeth? He is almost sixteen and knows little of worldly things but what we have taught him. And he knows nothing of the horrors of war, yet he’s ready to jump into that blindly?”

  Elizabeth felt a chill rush over her, and she shivered again. This event would shape these two and their relationship far into the future, and her optimism for a positive outcome was dwindling. The men in this family seemed like two ships on very different voyages, and they were destined for a collision.

  A knock on the door interrupted them.

  Mrs. Martin?

  THOMAS NEARED THE house and saw Pa on the porch, standing there, waiting. When he got closer, it became clear Pa was even madder than Thomas had anticipated. His high from before was gone, replaced with a growing fear. He felt like his boots were anchored to the ground as he covered the last few yards to the porch steps with difficulty. Slowly making his way up, he avoided his pa’s glare. He had no doubt of Pa’s intentions.

  His face was red, the muscles there taut, and they spasmed as he spoke. “Son, I’m disappointed with you. Take a walk to the barn.”

  Thomas knew what was in store for him there. It wasn’t a place his pa took him when he was interested in his side of the story. Thomas sighed heavily and braced for the worst.

  JAMES PUSHED THE barn door closed with a thud, then looked at his son as he walked to the opposite side of the barn with his head low. He petted Bessie, then lifted his eyes to meet his pa’s unwavering gaze.

  “Thomas, I don’t understand you. Your little sister, she is your responsibility. How could you leave her? What were you thinking? Are you thinking at all?” James said, his voice growing louder with each syllable. “Mrs. Martin brought Belle home and told us how you weren’t at school today. Where were you? And what was so important to leave your sister behind? Discipline is a trait valued by the world, son. And we instill this in you every day. Where was it today? Son? I’m waiting!”

  I know you don’t understand me, Thomas thought. No one does. “Pa, I just needed time. I felt like I was suffocating. I couldn’t stand to be behind those walls today.” Thomas glanced up to read his pa’s face. A quiet, seething anger registered there, unlike anything he had seen before. “Pa, I know I messed up,” he said. “I meant to be back to the school in time to walk Belle home. Time just…got away from me. You see I had important…”

  “Enough!” Pa said, waving his arms, silencing him. “Nothing is more important than your family and certainly not an afternoon stroll through the countryside. Remember our conversation this morning? What do you think they do to soldiers who leave their posts? It’s called desertion,” he said, not waiting for a reply but pausing to take a breath before plowing in again. “You would be shot on sight. And to think I was ready to give you more responsibility on the farm. I thought you were ready… You’ve proved me wrong, son. Your actions were irresponsible and childish,” he said, shaking his head. “I expected more from you.”

  Thomas met the cold stare of his father, who he didn’t feel like he knew anymore. His pa’s nostrils flared, and his breathing was loud and aggravated. It reminded Thomas of an animal about to charge. He wished he could disappear into the wood of the barn he was huddled against. “Pa, I…wait.”

  “There is nothing you can say that will make this right.”

  Thomas opened his mouth to speak, wanting to scream what was on his mind. But, knowing this wasn’t the time, closed it without saying another word. Would there ever be a time? he thought.

  “You can expect a bigger share of the chores. If you have time to spend half your day doing absolutely nothing, then you have too much time!” Pa said, his voice forming a streaming hiss. “I’ve been too easy on you. That’s fixin’ to change. You’ll be a man soon, with adult responsibilities, and, like it or not, you need to take your place in this man’s world.”

  “Pa, will you let me…”

  “No. The time for talk is done.”

  Thomas looked up at his pa again and knew he was beyond reason. His gaze was fixed, and his jaws clenched, as he stared unflinchingly at Thomas. Fear and dread paralyzed him as his feet turned to lead. He heard the belt whipped free from his pa’s trousers in one swift motion. Thomas couldn’t bear to see the look of disgust on his pa’s face, but his focus still r
emained glued there. His shoulders sagging, Thomas finally turned his face toward the wall, his fingers forming a tight fist, as he inhaled deeply, bracing himself for the first blow. One. Thomas yelled as the first one landed on his lower back with a loud quick snap. Two. Shuffling his feet, Thomas adjusted his position as he anticipated the next hit. Three. Then, in quick succession, four. He cringed and gritted his teeth as he struggled to catch his breath. He fought back tears as his fists pounded the wall, then slowly slid down as number five found its mark, and then, he quit counting. The stinging and burning consumed his entire backside. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks. His father stopped after what seemed like an eternity, even he was out of breath from the exertion. Thomas panted as he gasped for air, leaning into the wall, grateful for its support, not wanting to turn and face his pa again.

  “Now go inside and up to your room,” Pa ordered, still breathing heavily. “Your mother will bring you leftovers later tonight. You’ll not eat with the family this evening.”

  Pa left without another word, closing the barn door.

  In the silence of the barn, Thomas screamed as he smashed his fist through the wall and crashed in a crumpled heap to the ground. The tears began again, and he impatiently wiped them away, his breath still coming in short bursts, his chest heaving. I can’t stay in this house any longer. I won’t. He began the slow, painful walk across the barn, then to the house. Every inch of his body hurt, and he knew tomorrow’s pain would be worse. His father would never understand. This is the last whipping I’ll ever receive without fighting back, he vowed. And tomorrow I’ll be gone.

  Thomas caught his sisters’ glances as he entered the house. Mary averted her gaze, and Belle sat curled in the corner, whimpering. His eyes brimming, another wave of unshed tears fell, and his vision clouded again. Belle was upset, but this wasn’t her fault. The issues were much bigger than today. Thomas made his way up the steps. Slowly he closed the door on this day that had quickly gone so wrong.

  In the closet Thomas found his small travel bag. From his drawers he pulled out three shirts, a pair of pants, and underwear, and set to work packing. A few minutes later, he had finished with the small items he wanted to take with him, then surveyed his room for anything he may have forgotten. So much time spent here and this is how it ends. He gathered his comic books from the shelf above his bed and, from his nightstand, pulled out all the cash he had in the world and placed it in the bag, then zipped it shut. He set his alarm clock for twelve midnight.

  The pain of cuts large and small stung him when he pulled away his torn shirt. Pieces of cloth clung to his skin from the blood gathering there. Muscles he didn’t even know he had screamed at him in agony as he undressed and slipped into his bedclothes. He pulled back the sheets and crawled into bed, lying on his stomach. Not even the least bit hungry, he shut his eyes and tried to push from his mind the recurring scene in the barn. Despite the effort, every time his eyes closed, vivid pictures came alive in his head, taking on a life of their own.

  Sometime later the door opened, and he heard his ma place food on the bedside table. He felt a light kiss on his forehead and a gentle pat on the shoulder. She then reached around and quickly dressed the wound on his hand.

  “I love you,” she whispered, hugging him lightly as she kissed him on the cheek.

  Thomas felt his face, now wet, not from his own tears this time but his ma’s. He buried his head under the covers, relieved to think no more, and gave in to the exhaustion that overtook him.

  THOMAS SLEPT DEEPLY at first and happily so, a welcome escape from the previous day’s escapades. He was glad in an odd way that he had had a confrontation with Pa, the final straw; now it was decided. Plans were in place, and Thomas would be leaving later tonight.

  He pulled himself into the conscious world. His legs stretched the length of the bed and hit an obstacle. Thomas perched himself up on one elbow, and he saw Belle huddled at the bottom of the bed, curled into a little ball, fast asleep. She really is just the sweetest sister ever. I’ll miss her when I’m gone. Thomas squinted to see the clock on the night table. He picked up the clock to confirm the time. Just 11:00 p.m. Why am I awake? He put the clock back on the table, and his hand hit something rough and hard. In the dim light, he held it up and studied it with his hands, turning it over between his fingers to feel all the angles. He looked again toward the bottom of the bed and smiled. This must be from Belle.

  A rock. Surely a special treasure. The perfect weight to fit in one hand and one hand could enclose it. Even in the darkness of the room Thomas could see reddish tones to the stone and could make out the shape of a crude heart with his fingers. A fiercely protective instinct ignited within him as he thought of his little sister. She must have really felt sorry for me. Thomas reached down and pulled a blanket over her shoulders, wincing as his muscles stretched, sending pain through his extremities again. He watched as Belle breathed in and out in peaceful even breaths and thought about how wrong he was for leaving her yesterday. Pa was right, Thomas admitted to himself. What kind of brother am I? Even at eight years old she knows what it means to be loyal.

  Thomas reached for his trousers to stow the rock in his pocket, and his knees shook. He stood as a chill overtook him, and he shivered. A wave of nausea came over him next, and he began to sweat. He clumsily sat back down. Something isn’t right.

  Why can’t I shake this cloud from my mind? Thomas rose with thoughts of going to the bathroom, then back to bed for another hour before leaving. He stood up again and took an unsteady step. His body propelled forward, but his feet didn’t keep pace. Thomas reached for the bed to steady himself, just a little too late. His knees buckled, and he collapsed loudly to the floor, hitting his head on the bed as he fell. His legs and backside throbbed from the whipping earlier tonight as expected, but this was different. Thomas gathered his stray limbs back under him, unsure why they had a mind of their own. Dazed, he sat on the floor, holding his head in his hands. “Why do I feel so awful?” he voiced this time.

  Belle’s head peeked over the side of the bed.

  “Thomas, what’s wrong? Did you fall outta bed?”

  “Belle, something’s not right. Go get Ma,” he said, as his teeth chattered uncontrollably.

  Belle rushed quickly down the stairs and a short time later reappeared with Ma by her side.

  “Thomas?” Ma asked.

  Thomas blinked, opening his eyes.

  “Ma, my legs, they feel shaky. And my arms too. I don’t feel right, and I’m hot.”

  Elizabeth faced Belle. “Belle, dear, you run along while I tend to Thomas. He will be fine, and you need your sleep too. Now, on you go, back to your own room. I will be down shortly.”

  Belle looked tentatively from her mother to Thomas, her eyes wide and questioning, then she began her slow descent from the bed.

  “I’m okay, Belle, really,” he added, when actually he was quite sure of the opposite. Thomas had heard that tone before in his mother’s voice, something he was rarely a party to, and his heart beat a little faster.

  “You do seem to have a fever,” Ma said. “Let me help you back into bed, and let’s cover you up. I’ll bring you some water. I’m sure this is nothing a day of rest won’t cure.”

  A day, he thought. I don’t have a day. But he didn’t have the strength to argue.

  Thomas climbed slowly back into bed, leaning on his mother for support to reach the side and then rolling in the rest of the way. Exhausted by the effort, he looked at his ma, whose eyes wouldn’t meet his own. His body trembled and shuddered as his ma piled on blankets, but no amount of warmth stopped the constant shivering.

  Helpless to control his ailing body, he fell into an uneasy, troubled sleep, struggling as he alternated between spells of shivering and sweating. Thomas twisted and turned, dreaming of hospital beds where rows and rows of people slept, all dressed in uniform. He saw himself asleep in one of those beds and watched as his family pranced by, waving to him, laughing as they left him the
re. He screamed, but his mouth didn’t move, and no words came out, yet he heard his own agonizing cry. In the recesses of his mind, he listened to the wordless chants of his sick roommates, joining in the terrorizing wail.

  A PARALYZING FEAR threatened to engulf her as Elizabeth soothed Belle back to sleep and woke James. Just too horrible to be true, she thought. Not this. She wouldn’t say the word; it was too horrible. Her mind raced on. There had to be another answer. Sure, special hospitals existed for people with the disease, but it had no cure. “And, if Thomas has it, we have all been exposed as well,” she said, exasperated. As James dressed quickly to get the doctor, she reached for him. Elizabeth saw the regret in his eyes and the sorrow buried in the lines of his face. Tonight’s earlier confrontation and what had transpired between him and his son would not soon be forgotten. She could see he felt horrible, even though the sickness had nothing to do with that.

  She clung to him in the coolness of the night, each pulling strength from the other. “You better go, so you can get back faster,” Elizabeth said.

  James grabbed his jacket to head out the door, then he stopped to hug his wife again and whispered. “Let’s not take this all on right now. We’re putting the cart before the horse. Try not to worry. Let the doc examine him, then we’ll know more.”

  She silently nodded, worry, nevertheless, filling every fiber of her being. But she managed a small smile as he left for town and for the doctor who would bring much-needed answers.