by Guy Johnson
“Funny you should mention Mexico. I am back there, but more on that later. What did the doctor say?”
“I was right. I am pregnant.”
“And you’re sure that it’s Deleon’s child?”
“There’s no doubt. It’s in the very early stages.” Elizabeth paused and looked into Jackson’s eyes. “Don’t worry, I scheduled a date for an abortion.”
Jackson studied the smooth skin of Elizabeth’s face then said, “But you said you never wanted to have an abortion.”
Elizabeth looked down at the floor and sighed. “It gives me problems, but I never thought I would be raped by the enemy of my fiancé.”
“Can you have more children after this? Will there be any complications?”
“No, the doctor said that things should be pretty routine. She doesn’t foresee any problems.”
Jackson walked over to the table and sat down. He picked up and relit his cigar. Elizabeth joined him at the table. He puffed on his cigar and blew a smoke ring then said, “I’ve been thinking hard about this since you first mentioned it and I’ve reached a different decision. I think you should have this baby. I don’t want our marriage to start with any more deaths. This baby isn’t an enemy. This baby is going to be a Tremain. Maybe the only way to truly end the feud is to raise this child as my own. I will not make the mistakes that my grandparents made. This will be my child in every way and he or she will never know any other father.”
Tears filled Elizabeth’s eyes. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I know I don’t have to do this, but that’s what makes it a good decision and a right decision.”
Elizabeth grabbed his hand and said, “Then you need not worry; Tremain blood will be flowing in this child’s veins because I am a Tremain. And all my children will be Tremains. In my life I will have no other last name. I am your wife, your lover, your partner until the heart stops beating in my chest.”
Jackson kissed Elizabeth’s hand. “I love you, woman, particularly when you’re dramatic.”
Elizabeth smiled and her big eyes flashed. “You sound like Dan. Tell me about you being back in Mexico.”
“A letter that my grandfather left informs me that I have an eighteen-year-old son living in Tampico, and that the San Vicentes are looking for him. If they get him first, he will be used as a hostage and tortured until I come for him.”
“A son! You have a son! When do we leave?”
“Hey, you’re a pregnant mother. We don’t want to endanger either you or this child.”
“St. Clair, you’re not going anywhere without me. Understand that! Where you are, I am. We’re a set.”
“Honey, please—”
“Honey nothing! I’m going! Don’t waste time arguing.”
There was a knock at the door at the top of the stairs and then Rhasan’s voice, “Grandma T says you should come on up, it’s time for dinner.”
The dinner table was set for eleven when Jackson and Elizabeth entered the dining room. Elizabeth went immediately into the kitchen to help with the serving. Serena was seating Elroy at the head of the table.
Jackson asked, “When do you want me to start carving, Grandmother?”
Serena answered, “Thank you, but Elroy and Gabriel took care of it. I’d like you to say grace, though.” She gestured for Jackson to take the chair at the other end of the table.
Jackson asked, “Where are you sitting?”
Serena tapped a chair at the center of the table. “I’ll sit here, comfortably in the middle of my family. You and Elroy are the heads of this family. You two will sit in the end chairs. Everyone else will sit where they choose.” She waved Carlos, Julio, and Reuben to sit down. Nora and Gabriel sat next to Elroy. Rhasan was sent into the kitchen to help bring in the food.
“Where are Franklin and Victoreen?”
Serena gave Jackson an arched eyebrow and replied, “They saw fit not to join us this time. I hope that will change in the future.”
Elizabeth and Samantha came in from the kitchen bearing platters of sweet potatoes, pot roast, and chicken. Elizabeth said to Jackson, “Save me a seat next to you.” She set down her platter and returned to the kitchen.
Once the food was on the table and everyone was seated, Serena nodded to Jackson.
Jackson looked down the table at Elroy and said, “I defer to my uncle Elroy.”
Elroy nodded and said, “I do want to say a few words of thanks, but the grace is still on you, young blood.” Elroy looked around the table then bowed his head. “Lord, I haven’t been too big on prayers in my life, yet right now I feel truly blessed. I’m sitting here at a table piled high with food and I’m surrounded by family. My own family! I want to thank you for letting me live long enough to learn something from my mistakes. I want to thank you for my son and daughter-in-law being present. I admit I wasn’t much of a father to him or his brother. I was hard and I was cold. Lord, I’m so thankful that you have let this son grow large enough to forgive me my shortcomings and my faults. I can take no credit for his manhood. He is a good man and a good human being in spite of me. I love him with all my heart and will do everything I can to earn a place in his life. My only regret is that I didn’t have the wisdom to say these words to his older brother.
“Lord, I want to thank you for my mother, Serena Tremain. We found each other at the right time. I needed her and she needed me. I thank you because she is the mother I always dreamed of and wished for. Thank you for this miracle! To my nephew Jackson and the rest of the family, I am happy to be a part of the Tremain family. I am committed to earning a place in each of your hearts and becoming a pillar that can be leaned on. In Jesus’ name, I say thank you.”
There were more than a few wet eyes around the table when Elroy finished. Serena was weeping openly. Samantha was dabbing her eyes, as was Elizabeth.
Jackson cleared his throat and said, “I don’t think anything that I can say will be more gracious or grateful than what Uncle Elroy has just said.”
Elizabeth squeezed his hand and said, “We still need a grace, St. Clair.”
Jackson took a deep breath and said, “Well, let’s get some family business out of the way first. Rhasan wants to move out of his mother’s house. I have recommended that he move in here, Grandmother, if you don’t have a problem with that.”
Serena could not speak.
Jackson continued, “He will comply with all the house rules and in the summer, this is where he’ll return until he has completed college. Is that all right with you, Grandmother?”
It took Serena a moment to gather herself, for she was emotionally overcome. She turned to Jackson and said through her tears, “To recommend him to my care, this means you must think that I—that I have done something right, that I have something of value to give! Oh, my grandson, you have truly touched me this moment! This is what I have dreamed of my whole life! To have my house filled with family, happy family.” Serena stood up and put one hand high above her head. “Lord, let me be the one to say thank you, for I am the true sinner in this gathering! I am the one who lost her way! And I am the one who has caused those she loved so much pain! This day you have given me blessings I do not deserve. I have been petty. I have been envious. I have been small. And through these things I have destroyed those I have loved and lost others that I never knew. Yet in your beneficence and grace, you have given me back the family that I thought I had driven away completely.” The tears began in earnest and Serena choked up. “Lord, I’m overwhelmed with your generosity, with this gift, with this miracle! I am so grateful! Thank you! Thank you!” Serena collapsed in her chair. Elizabeth and Samantha immediately went to her side and held her. The emotion had flowed back and forth across the table like a riptide, sucking everyone in its path under its roiling forces. It took a moment for all at the table to regain their composure.
Mrs. Marquez, teary eyed, came in with a tureen of gravy. She said to Jackson, “This is the best dinner ever for Mrs. Tremain. The best!” She returne
d to the kitchen wiping her eyes on her apron.
When Jackson stood to say grace, he knew that he would lead the family out of the madness that had torn and separated them for so many years. He did not know whether he would be able to end the violence and death of his grandfather’s wars, or whether he would merely continue them. The only things that he promised himself were that there would be no more secrets and half-hidden truths. It was his desire to bring all the family, perhaps even Franklin, but definitely his children, to the table, to be sharing and supportive of one another, so that none of the children now being raised would ever look back on a haunting, distant summer with fear and trepidation.
He bowed his head and began, “Thank you, Lord, for all the blessings …”
This book is dedicated to Caylin Nicole Johnson and Brandon Bailey Johnson, my grandchildren. Their lives lie before them, winding into the mists of the unknown. May future suns shine down upon them as gently as the ones that I have felt, and may the mountains they climb provide vistas that reach deep into their souls and cause them to be creative beings. Sweet children of the morrow, you have my heart. I hope only to have paved a small part of the path you will travel.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
As with any work that stretches into thousands of words, there are many people who must be thanked. Chief among them is my wife, Stephanie Floyd-Johnson, reader of a million versions and edits; sometimes impatient, but always loving and supportive. Then there are my friends and family: the village without whom there would be no one to ricochet against, no sounding board, and no harmonics with which to tune the personal melody. First, my mother: the artist in full stride, who has reached heights that I can only dream about. My cousin, Rosa Johnson, the artist in waiting. Then my irascible, independent-thinking friends. I mention the readers only: Amelia Parker, Ron Merritt, Janice Jones, Ernie Carpenter, Kate Hogdon, Lora Condon, Geoff Wood, Calvin Sharpe, Steve Turer, Sharon Brown, Al Nellum, Jim and Cynthia Hill, Leigh and Leland Brown, Norman Jayo, Elliot Daum, and Paul Schabracq. Paul deserves particular mention because he was the one who in 1982 suggested that I put pen to paper and write down some of the stories about my grandfather. From such simple beginnings came Standing at the Scratch Line and this book. Finally, I would thank my agent, Helen Brann, who has supported my work from the early years and represented me so ably.
ALSO BY GUY JOHNSON
Standing at the Scratch Line
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Guy Johnson is the author of the novel Standing at the Scratch Line, and a book of poetry, In the Wild Shadows. After graduating from high school in Egypt, he completed college in Ghana. Johnson managed a bar on Spain’s Costa del Sol, ran a photo-safari service from London through Morocco and Algeria, and worked on oil rigs in Kuwait. Most recently he worked in the local government of Oakland, California, for more than ten years. He lives in Oakland with his wife and son. He is the son of Dr. Maya Angelou. To learn more about Guy Johnson and his work, visit his website at www.guyjohnsonbooks.com.