Me and Jake

by Boo Riley

  It’s funny because I hadn’t considered mom. Thoughts of escape always took me into the woods with Cameron and Jake. If I knew where she lived, or had a number to call, then maybe. But she’d given us away because some man said, “It’s either me or them two brats. You pick.” Why would she want me now? She’d done her choosing.

  I gave the stuffed one-eyed dog a scruff and walked to the kitchen.

  On the table sat two plates: one with a pancake and two slices of bacon and another with a stack of pancakes an inch thick and half a dozen slices of bacon. He stood at the sink pouring milk into coffee cups. “Take a seat, Ty. I hope I don’t have to tell you which one is yours.”

  He carried the cups over and set one in front of me.

  What a great treat. Cold milk in the morning. I remembered my manners and left the fork alone until Ray pulled up his chair.

  He’d shaved, didn’t look as old, and without the hat, he seemed less menacing. Something still nagged me about him. Either his blue eyes or sharp nose, maybe both, looked like someone I knew.

  As soon as he settled in, I picked up the fork but he bowed his head, something we’d never done at home. The bald spot on top hadn’t seen sunlight in awhile.

  I lowered my head, but watched his hands lace together on the table.

  “Lord, thanks. You done good. Amen.” His hands relaxed. “Dig in, son. Honey, preserves, or both. Help yourself to what I’ve got. The butter is in this little crock. I churn my own. You’ll like it. Folks wouldn’t need spas if they’d churn their own butter.”

  The butter spread smooth and melted into little pools on the sweet-milks. I put on a dab of honey then mixed it in.

  Ray grabbed the jar. “Watch this. Put it on thick, right down the middle of a sweet-milk.” Honey ran out of the jar like it didn’t have a thing to do and could take its sweet time. “Then, roll it like you would a newspaper or tortilla. Got to be careful and not let it drip down your front when you eat it. To stop that, fold the bottom end to close it up. Now, take this jar and put on some honey. There’s plenty. That drop you smeared around won’t go far. Got a tree full of bees back in the woods been providing honey for years.”

  I tried not to grin, but failed.

  Four sweet-milks went down before I thought to breathe. On the last four, I dabbled in the preserves.

  Ray poured me another cup of milk, selected a toothpick, and pushed his chair back. “Did you know honey never spoils?” He paused and watched me shovel in the last bite, his mouth opened slightly as mine did, but he didn’t wait for me to answer. “Yep, it’s the only food source on the planet that lasts forever. It turns to sugar over time and you can eat it like that, but to make it honey again, golden and fluid, all you have to do is heat it up. Leave it to God. Honey, made by Heaven, tastes like Heaven.”

  A golden drop on the side of my plate drew my finger to it. I wiped it, looked at it, and then licked it off. “Momma Ray made preserves and we had honey, but…” Mr. Ray almost had me talking about what I didn’t want to, not yet anyway.

  Yes, I’d seen jars of preserves in a rack on the kitchen counter after Momma Ray took them out of the pressure cooker. They disappeared into Dad’s bedroom when they cooled.

  Ray worked the toothpick a minute, gazing at me. “She did, eh? That your ma?”

  “No, sir, I…I ain’t seen my real mom for awhile. Might have been in the second grade the last time.”

  “Son, that’s years, not awhile.”

  The pitcher of milk kept drawing my eyes to it. Ray motioned with his free hand. Another cup would top off the best breakfast I’d eaten for sure. “Yes, sir, it’s a long time.”

  I poured another cup and then held it over Ray’s. He declined with a headshake.

  “Ty, an old man don’t sleep much. I think it’s God’s way of giving him more time to ponder his life before he dies. Maybe ask Him for the only real gift, forgiveness. My point, last night after you turned in, I sat here thinking. A Don Ray came to mind. He liked to be called D Ray. Had him a young wife and two kids as I recall, but it was some years ago that our paths crossed. I remember him ’cause of his last name: your last name and my first name. Anyway he happen to be your daddy?”

  I hesitated and knew I’d just answered the question without opening my mouth. “Yes, sir. That’s him.”

  “And Momma Ray, as you called her, she’s your stepmom?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Ray gathered the plates and carried them to the sink. I followed him and took him by the elbow. “Mr. Ray-Ray, I’ll do the dishes. I know soap and water real well.”

  “All right, I’ll let you do that. Soap’s under the sink on the right. I got a teapot full of hot water already. Cold is in the bucket in the corner there by the door. Pour a little in each sink and warm it up with the teapot. No use messing with the skillet. I’ll wipe it out and put it back with the rest. Washing a seasoned skillet ruins it.”

  “Yes, sir, I got it. Thanks for breakfast and dinner. The stew tasted good, but I especially liked the sweet-milks.”

  “Thanks, and you’re welcome. I’m going to sit over here and put on my boots. You get done, we’ll go see if we can get my pickup cranked and deal with what’s on your mind.”

  He had a way of hinting at a thing without asking.

  I poured in the water and soap and gave the plates a good scrubbing. “Mr. Ray-Ray, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure, shoot.”

  “How did you know me and Jake were watching you?”

  Ray-Ray finished pulling on a boot, let his foot fall with a thud, then sat up. “You know, I can’t answer that right off. I felt something, someone, a look, and from the deepest part of the woods too. A place I’d have never dreamed. ’Course I didn’t know it was you, or I wouldn’t have taken a pistol with me.”

  “Mr. Ray-Ray, the pistol didn’t bother me none.”

  “It didn’t?”

  “No, sir. Not after I looked into your eyes.”

  Ray nodded. “Well, God’s a strange feller. His ways are proof, and He’s hard to cipher sometimes. Maybe He set us up. Wanted me to find you and made me aware through my feelings. They say a woman has intuitions about things, and the Lord knows I believe that. My missus could read me like a book. Men have gut feelings. That might be it.”

  I finished the last dish, placed it in the rack and pulled the rubber stoppers on both sinks. “I can feel my dad looking at me.”

  Ray finished the second boot and grabbed his hat. “You can feel your dad?”

  “Jake knows every time he comes around too.”

  Ray clapped me on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s get a move on.”

  His pickup looked a lot like Dad’s. Not in color because Ray’s was red, but in wear and tear and rust patches in the bottom of the doors and behind each tire.

  He opened the driver’s door and reached inside. A rapid clicking noise came from under the hood and I knew right off. “The battery’s dead Mr. Ray-Ray.”

  “Yes, sir, you’re right as rain, and that’s a problem. I have an extension cord, and I have a charger, but I don’t think the cord’s long enough. We’ll check, but I think we’ll have to push it closer to the house. Good thing you’re here, son. I’d have to lasso Miss May and tie her tail to the bumper.”

  We shared a chuckle.

  A squeak and rattle echoed through the trees. We turned at the same time and stared down the lane. The car moved like the honey, dodging what had to be limbs, rocks, and potholes on the rough road. Looking from sunlight into shadows made it impossible to see. But then the car passed through a stream of sunlight and revealed a cowboy hat on the dash.

  37

  Ray pulled off his hat and held it out to shade his eyes from the glare reflected off the windshield. “Hmm, I’ll be.”

  “Sir?” I said.

  “I haven’t seen this feller in a week.”

  The white car entered the clearing. As it neared, the little propeller emblem became visible on the hood, and
the driver reached and took the hat off the dash and put it on. “Mr. Ray-Ray, that’s Mr. Jordan.”

  “Yep, sure is.”

  Oh yeah. Dad would be getting his comeuppance now. I’d be going straight to the sheriff.

  He stopped.

  I stepped to the driver’s door, pulled it open, and he stepped out.

  “Mr. Jordan…” It’s all I could say.

  He held me close.

  No one spoke.

  After a time, I gained control and eased my bear hug from around his chest. He took me by the shoulders, at arm’s length.

  “Dad went nuts when he seen the apple pie Ed got us at The Burger Stop. I left a shovel handle for whacking his old hog by the door and Dad grabbed it and hit Cameron in the head. Dad had me in mind, but Cameron stepped in and Dad hit him. He’s dead. I didn’t want to run, but, but—”

  “Ty, Ty, wait.” Mr. Jordan shook me. “He’s not dead, son. Cameron’s in the hospital. He has a concussion and a dozen stitches in the side of his head, but he’s going to be fine.”

  A prayer I never prayed, a wish I never wished on a star, had come true, something beyond my wildest imagination, and I didn’t believe it. “But, I saw it. Cameron went down, limp as a wet rag. His head exploded, blood everywhere. Dad, he, he chased me out the back door of the barn and something happened and he got Jake with a good lick. I heard him yelp.”

  “Son.” Mr. Jordan bent over with his face close to mine. “Listen, I’m telling you, I talked to Cameron this morning at the hospital. He’s as worried about you as you are about him. We’re all worried.”

  “So Cameron’s alive. He’s OK?”

  “He sure is.”

  We looked at each other, the three of us. They smiled and I know I smiled. My face felt like it had cracks in it. I broke out in a fit of laughter that produced more tears, smiling the whole time.

  Then another thought struck me. “Mr. Jordan, I ain’t going back to that house, me or Cameron, neither of us. There’s no way. We’ll both run away. Dad will kill us the next time.”

  Mr. Jordan’s lips pooched out. His cheeks pulled them this way and that way like the words were there, but not in order yet. “Son, your dad is in trouble with the law now. I can’t say more. Can you live with that until we get to town?”

  A pang of guilt twisted at my stomach. Dad was my dad. Not two minutes ago, I hated him for killing my brother. Now, Cameron’s alive, Dad’s in trouble, and I’m feeling sorry for him. Then again, if Dad had problems with the law and wound up in jail, we’d be free, me and Cameron. Free of him forever. And we wouldn’t be living with Willamina Ray either.

  In the end, Dad took care of his own comeuppance. I’m sure glad I didn’t drown him.

  “Yes, sir, I can wait.”

  Mr. Jordan stuck his hand out to Ray. “Good morning, big brother.”

  “Morning, Judge.” Ray drew out the title, mocking like, then took the hand and gave it a good shaking.

  Mr. Jordan clapped him on the shoulder then put his arm around his neck and kissed him on the bald spot on top of his head. “Better put your hat back on before your head gets sunburned.”

  Their noses and eyes hit me then. That’s where I’d seen it. They had the same look when they pondered how or what to say. Like when Mr. Jordan tried to talk about Randy or tell me about Dad.

  Shocked, plum shocked to the bone. What a day.

  Ray laughed, put his hat on and gestured at me. “I haven’t been able to get a word out of this young man. He’s eaten me out of house and home and sweet-milks to boot. You show up, brother, and his gums go to bumping. Now, look at him. A cat’s got his tongue. I wish he’d make up his mind.”

  “I thought I recognized you, Mr. Ray-Ray,” I said. “Only I knew we hadn’t met. You two look a lot alike now that you’re together.”

  Mr. Jordan took a deep breath and looked over my head toward the house. “We grew up here. Ray is my elder by fifteen years and more than a brother. He raised me after Mom and Dad passed.” He gave Ray a playful pat on the belly. “We used to hunt these woods all the way to your house, Ty. Only there wasn’t a soul to be seen for miles in those days. We could go plum to town before we crossed a road even.

  “Speaking of hunting. Ed and I made a two-mile jaunt across Parson’s holler with Ed’s dog, yesterday afternoon. We cut a trail that set the dog to baying just before dark, and I knew it had to be you and Jake. That’s why I came here this morning. I had my suspicions.”

  Ray pointed at the car. “You’re touring the woods in a luxury car this morning. Where’s your pickup? That thing don’t like potholes and tree limbs.”

  “Yes, big brother, you’re right about that. Ed got a bad tank of diesel in his pickup and didn’t have another fuel filter. He’s got mine this morning.”

  He paused and did a quick scan of the house. “Speaking of hunting, where’s Jake? Got him penned?”

  My head dropped, chin on my chest. I kicked dirt with a toe. My heart ached. The tears tried to sneak out, but I held them back. “No, sir. He ran off yesterday evening. Let Mr. Ray-Ray sneak up on me and run off. Ain’t seen him since.”

  “I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Mr. Jordan said. “He’ll turn up. And don’t you feel bad about letting Ray sneak up on you. He sneaked up on me plenty of times growing up. Let’s go see Cameron. You ready? The sheriff’s department has a team looking for you too. We need to call them off.”

  “Ty and I were just about to start pushin’ my pickup closer to the house,” Ray-Ray broke in. “The battery’s dead, and I think it’s too far for my extension cord to reach. Better give me a boost before you go.”

  “I can do that.” Mr. Jordan reached through the window, started his car and pulled the hood-latch.

  Ray opened the door to his pickup, pulled the back of the seat forward and grabbed a set of booster cables. They talked as they hooked the two batteries together. “Judge, how’s Randy feeling? I’ve been praying for that boy.”

  “He’s fighting, Ray. Fighting every step.”

  “Tell him his old unc’ will be out to the house in a couple of days, would you?”

  “I’ll sure do it, Bud. Plan to stay for dinner, if you can stand to eat under electric lights.”

  Mr. Jordan focused on me and pointed a thumb at his brother. “He put you up in the peach room?”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. “I woke up this morning and thought where in the world? Kind of expected to see the Mad Hatter.”

  “So, you’re still burning the midnight oil, eh, brother?”

  “Long as I’m here by myself, might as well. Ty, that’s my granddaughter’s room. Amy is growing up fast, so someday I’ll have to repaint. Until she tells me, it’s peach, peach, and more peach.”

  “Mr. Ray—”

  “She passed away, my missus did. A long time ago.”

  I kept my trap shut and nodded. I didn’t understand the loss of a wife, but I’d lost mom and thought I’d lost Cameron, so the terrible feeling was familiar.

  And how did he know what I had in mind to ask him anyway?

  The thought of losing Dad didn’t hurt and that bothered me.

  Mr. Jordan clamped the booster cables on the battery of his car. “Ray, give her a shot and see if it’ll start.”

  The old truck fired and shook like the dickens, running on half its cylinders like Mr. Ray thought it might.

  Mr. Jordan removed the cables. “Ray, when you going to get another pickup? I worry about you out here by yourself.”

  “Ah, this one’s good for another hundred thousand miles. No use in wasting money on something I don’t use more than once a month.”

  “I guess. Ty, better give Jake another shout. We need to hit the road. I didn’t mention it, but there’s someone else waiting to see you besides Cameron.”

  38

  The lane to our house passed on the left, Jason’s house on the right. The little white church, its parking area full for Sunday morning services, came and went three miles later. I half e
xpected to see Jake padding up the road or waiting for me at the bus stop like he did on school days.

  It felt like a week had passed since Dad’s rampage.

  Sitting in a car with the windows up revealed a strong odor, and now that I knew its source, it bothered me. “Mr. Jordan, I’m kind of messy to be going into a hospital, or anywhere. My shirt’s ripped and dirty, and I smell like I slept with Mr. Ray’s hogs last night.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you what. We’ll stop at the house right quick and you can clean up. Randy has clothes you can wear. And a pair of shoes too. Yours look like they’re about done.”

  “I’d appreciate that. Momma Ray bought me new shoes for school, but they were too small and hurt my feet.”

  “Randy’s may be too big, but that’s better than too small. I’m sure he’s got a pair in his closet. We’ll see. Are you hungry? I’ll stop and get you something if you are.”

  “No, sir. Mr. Ray-Ray wasn’t joshing when he said I ate him out of sweet-milks. I sure had my share and then some, with half a jar of honey. I’m full as a tick.”

  We weaved our way across town. Not many cars on the road on Sunday mornings. Mr. Jordan had that pondering look I’d seen before, something on his mind.

  A ton of things weighed heavy on me and thinking about them hurt. On one hand, no more Dad and living with his ever-present threat. On the other hand, who were we going to live with now? Momma Ray?

  “Mr. Jordan, what’s next? I mean, for me and Cameron? When he gets out of the hospital, and Dad and Momma Ray…I feel like I’m out of control.”

  We approached another intersection and the light changed to yellow, then red.

  “Ty, right now, I don’t know what to tell you. Life hasn’t been fair to you and Cameron, and believe it or not, that’s a good lesson—one some people never learn.”

  There wasn’t another car in sight, not one on the road but us, like the light knew to turn red and stop us, so we could talk.