My Father's World

by Michael Phillips

  He paused and smiled. “I’ll never forget the Bible Memory Verse contest in church. Like I said, your ma was smart, and she won the dad-blamed thing most every month. She knew more verses than Saint Peter! Our Sunday school teacher gave a ticket for each verse memorized, and at the end of the month the winner traded in the tickets for a prize—the more tickets, the better the prize. Well, all year I had been admiring one prize in particular—a fine-carved wooden horse. But since the only verse I had ever been able to memorize was, ‘Jesus wept,’ my chances of ever gettin’ it were mighty slim. I didn’t tell no one, but I guess somehow your ma found out, because all that month she kept finding ways to give me her tickets, mostly in trade for doing chores. She figured I’d be too proud to take her tickets if she just gave them to me, or if she won the horse and gave that to me. The way she had it figured was for me to feel like I earned the tickets, even if it was sort of by what you might call illegal means.”

  Uncle Nick chuckled at the memory, then continued. “The big problem came during the church service when the winner was asked to come forward before the whole congregation. When I stood up, our Sunday school teacher, Mr. Alexander, couldn’t believe it. But all the folks was applauding so hard and praising him so for his amazing progress with a mischievous kid like me that he didn’t have the heart to tell them the truth. I won that carved horse, and, even if it was ill-got, so to speak, I always prized it special-like because of what your ma—”

  Uncle Nick’s voice seemed to catch over the words and he stopped a moment.

  “Well, your ma was a fine sister,” he finally said.

  “Why’d you ever leave Ma and come to California?” asked Tad. By now his tears had dried and he was fascinated with this rare and unexpected side his uncle was revealing.

  But Tad’s question was as ill-timed as the horse had been ill-gotten, because Uncle Nick’s talkativeness suddenly stopped. He drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. When he finally spoke again, his voice sounded heavy and far away. All of the lightness and fun was gone.

  “Well, son,” he said, “that is a hard question. And one I can’t answer for you.”

  He sighed deeply again.

  A spell had stolen over us that night, and I felt sad that it had to end. But the tone of Uncle Nick’s voice told me that Tad’s question had intruded upon painful ground.

  “That’s something, son,” Uncle Nick added, “that you’ll have to find out from your pa . . . if he ever decides to tell—”

  He stopped short and looked up.

  Pa was standing in the doorway glaring at him.

  Chapter 25

  The Argument

  From the expression on Pa’s face, we all knew the instant we saw him that he was furious.

  “Nick!” he barked out, “what do you mean fillin’ my kids heads with notions of their ma?”

  “Nothing, Drum,” replied Uncle Nick, bewildered at the outburst and half rising off Tad’s bunk. “I only thought it’d make ’em feel better to—”

  “Well, I don’t want you thinkin’ about what’s right for my kids! They’re my kids, you hear, and I’m their pa, not you!”

  “I didn’t think—uh, there’d be no harm,” stammered Uncle Nick. “They was just missin’ Aggie, that’s all.”

  “No harm! What do you know about missin’ Aggie? It wasn’t you that had to leave a wife and kids! And then tellin’ me I oughta explain to ’em why we left! That’s what caused the trouble in the first place, not being able to say why! And you want me to tell ’em now, after it’s too late, after all these years—after I’ve lost my Aggie? You want—”

  Pa’s voice broke off momentarily. Sitting there listening, I had no idea of the feelings that were flooding through Pa as he stood in the doorway yelling at Uncle Nick. I was only aware of my own anger at hearing him fault our uncle for just trying to be nice to us.

  “Curse you, Nick!” Pa yelled again, recovering himself. “You and that foul breed you ran with. You were nothin’ but a fool kid and I shoulda never tried to help you! You cost me my wife . . . and now my own kids can’t stand the sight of me. Well, I won’t be having you play pa to ’em, you hear me! Get out, I tell you . . . just get out!”

  Pa turned and walked into the other room.

  Without another word, Uncle Nick followed him, his head hanging low. Seconds later, I heard the outside door shut tightly. The five of us sat still as mice, terrified over the outburst, though we had no idea what all the words meant. The only sound in the whole cabin was our breathing.

  All the hurt and bitterness I’d felt earlier in the day was slowly rising to the surface again. When it suddenly boiled over, I found myself on my feet running into the other room, where Pa stood with his back turned.

  “Uncle Nick was just being nice to us!” I shouted. “You had no call to yell at him like that!”

  Pa stood still as a statue and said nothing.

  “He’s the only one around here who has been nice to us!” I continued. “You never say a thing! You treat us like you wish we’d never come, and like you can’t wait to get rid of us! But Uncle Nick’s our friend!”

  Slowly Pa turned around to face me. He was full of grief and anguish, but my eyes were too full of tears to realize it. I only saw the same face of stone.

  “Corrie, I . . . I—” he tried to say, but I lashed out at him again without giving him the chance to finish.

  “Grandpa was right! And now you’re treating Uncle Nick and us just like you did Ma.”

  “Oh, Corrie . . . you just don’t understand how it was. If only I could make you see—”

  “I understand what I heard!” I shot back angrily. “You’re nothing but a mean man! Uncle Nick oughta leave here like you left Ma! And maybe we’ll all just leave too!” I was crying hard and didn’t know half of what I was saying.

  “Please . . . don’t talk like that,” he said, his voice sad. He reached out a hand, and I think he wanted to touch me. But I hit at him and forced his arm away.

  “If it weren’t for you, Ma’d still be alive!” I shouted bitterly. “You ran out on her! You deserted all of us. And now she’s dead—all on account of you! I hate you for what you did to Ma!”

  I turned away from him and ran for the door, threw it open and ran outside. Night had fallen by now, but there was a moon up. I ran and ran, sobbing wildly as I went. I had no idea where I was going, I just wanted to get away. Finally, exhausted from my outburst and the exertion of running, I came to a big tree near my thinking rock, and threw myself down at its trunk and wept bitterly.

  I must have cried for five or ten minutes. I was in such turmoil over what had happened, angry and sobbing and hurting inside, that I lost all track of time. Love and hate were battling within me and I couldn’t even tell the difference.

  Eventually I began to breathe easier and stopped crying. But I still lay there, unaware of the night cold, my emotions spent, my heart aching.

  I’m not sure what I expected next, but I never could have anticipated what did happen. When Little Wolf came upon me earlier in the day, the sound had startled me. Now I remained still, though I knew someone was approaching. I felt no inclination to jump up or run away. I just waited . . . waited until the footsteps stopped and I could feel someone standing behind me.

  I knew it was Pa.

  He drew nearer and knelt behind me. Then I felt his hand lightly touch my shoulder. It was the first time he had touched me since our arrival in Miracle.

  “Corrie . . .” he said quietly, “will you let me talk to you?”

  I nodded. But I still couldn’t turn around to face him.

  “There’s a lot of things kids can’t understand,” he went on, “especially when they’re young.”

  “I ain’t so young now,” I said, finally finding my voice, “and I still don’t understand why you left Ma and us like you did.”

  “You’re right there, Corrie,” said Pa. “You ain’t young. You’re a mighty fine young lady. But you were young th
en, and I know you were hurt, and your ma was hurt. You were all hurt, I know that . . . and it’s my fault. But there was just so much about it you couldn’t possibly understand.”

  “So why won’t you tell me, so maybe I can understand now?” I said impatiently, looking the other way.

  Pa withdrew his hand and sat down with a sigh. It was several minutes before he spoke again. When he did, his voice was different somehow—quiet, filled with sadness and regret. Just the sound of it softened my anger. “Your ma and your Grandpa Belle never knew what was going on with Nick. We all knew he was runnin’ with a bad crowd. Your Uncle Nick was a mighty rambunctious lad back in them days. And he finally got himself in so deep over his head that I knew if I didn’t try to bail him out, he’d likely either get himself killed or spend the rest of his days behind bars. Either way it would have broken his old pa’s heart.

  “I ain’t tryin’ to lay the whole blame on Nick. It was easy, too easy, for me to slip back into my old ways, my ways before I married your ma. An’ I shoulda known better than to try to help Nick by goin’ into the pit with him. It was stupid, but I got myself mixed up with the gang he was ridin’ with. Fool that I was, I thought I’d be able to get him out of the fix he’d gotten himself into, and that we’d be able to just ride away clean and pick up our lives from there.

  “And that’s where I made my big mistake, Corrie. The thing went sour on us. Real bad! Before I knew what had gone wrong, two men were dead and me and Nick were arrested for bank robbery and murder. So both of us were going to have to spend our lives in prison. On top of that, the Catskill Gang got it in their heads that Nick and I had the money from the bank. We weren’t even there that night—I swear it, Corrie! I nearly had to sit on Nick, but I managed to keep us both away. Jenkins, one of the gang who was shot that night, found us just before he died, and I reckon the others figured he told us where the money was. The others all made a clean getaway, but Nick and I didn’t even know what had happened, leastways not enough to get our hides away before the law found us.

  “Your uncle and me was sent to prison, Corrie.” He said the words as if he could hardly stand to hear them. “You can imagine how ashamed I was. My own shame was likely enough to make me do what I did, but even then I woulda at least tried to see your ma if ever I got the chance. She was too far away to come to the trial or the jail, thank God for that, at least! I had only one visitor in jail—your Grandpa Belle. He laid the blame for the whole thing on me and I didn’t argue with him—I guess I still don’t. He said I led Nick astray right from the start and maybe that was right, too. When we was kids, Nick always looked up to me, and I could be a rough one before I met your ma. Grandpa Belle said Aggie couldn’t hold her head up no more in the community because of me, and it’d be better if I was dead. All he said made sense at the time, ’cause I hated myself and what I’d done enough to believe it—to believe Aggie’d even think such things. But even if I thought she’d have me back—if I ever did get out of prison, though they’d have probably hung us eventually—I figured I was too rotten for her, anyway. And I thought about what it would be like for you kids to go through your lives having a jailbird for a pa. It didn’t matter that I was innocent. No one believed me. It was all the same as if I’d done all I was accused of.”

  “Ma never said anything about all that,” I said.

  “I reckon your ma didn’t want you to think poorly of me,” he replied in a voice full of despair. “She couldn’t say nothin’ good about me, so she just didn’t say anything. I’m surprised your Grandpa Belle didn’t say nothin’, but she musta made him keep quiet—’bout that, at least. The fracas took place far enough away that I reckon no one else around town knew much about it.”

  “But then we heard you was dead—what about that?” I asked. I wasn’t very angry anymore.

  “There was a big riot in prison only a few weeks after we got there,” he answered, still with that trapped tone to his voice. “Upwards of twenty-five prisoners escaped. Nick and I were lucky, I guess, ’cause we just got carried along in the thing and ended up outside. We got to the woods surroundin’ the prison and found some of the prisoners who had been killed. We exchanged clothes with them. When the bodies were found, the guards thought it was me and Nick who died. We were pretty desperate, Corrie. But now I can see we was just gettin’ deeper an’ deeper into a life of lies.”

  “You let Ma—and us—think you were dead?”

  “It seemed best, Corrie. I still believed all your grandpa said. I was a jailbird—an escaped jailbird, now. I could only bring more shame and misery to your ma. I’ll never stop regrettin’ what I did . . . I just kept going . . . Nick and I . . . we left everything—”

  His voice broke, but he struggled to continue.

  “Do you realize what I did? I left my wife, my four kids . . . my God! Becky was just a baby . . . Aggie was still carrying Tad. I didn’t even know my youngest son’s name before you got here!”

  Again he stopped. Slowly, I turned to look at him. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. I could see them glisten in the moonlight. I’d never seen a man cry before, and now here was my own pa, the rough, quiet man I’d just blown up at, the man Ma had forgiven on her deathbed . . . here he was, sitting not two feet from me, sobbing like a child.

  Something in my heart gave way. Suddenly I felt full of compassion for him.

  “But . . . but Ma would have understood,” I said. “She would have come West with you. You could have told her, Pa.”

  “I couldn’t face her, Corrie.” He shook his head dismally. “I’ve fought Indians without flinchin’. I faced down a stalking mountain lion and shot it. You woulda thought I had enough courage—but I didn’t. I kept thinkin’ ’bout what her pa said ’bout being better off if I was dead. I kept thinkin’ of the shame I’d caused her. And I’d never be safe again either. Not even now, I ain’t safe, between the law and the Catskill boys that want me.”

  “But don’t they think you’re . . . dead, Pa?”

  “I don’t know no more,” he replied. “After Nick let your ma know he was still alive and here in Miracle Springs, anybody could find us. An’ I ain’t so worried about the Catskill crowd as I am about the law. If they ever find me, it’d be back to prison, and . . . I don’t know what’d become of you kids. And now that I got you back, I—”

  His voice faded into a strangled sob, and he couldn’t say anything more.

  I found myself rising to my feet slowly. I put my arms around his big, broad shoulders.

  “Oh, Pa!” I said, crying hard. “I’m so sorry . . . I didn’t mean what I said back there at the cabin . . . you were right—I didn’t understand. I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean to hurt you more.”

  Pa reached up and clasped one of my hands, then rose to one knee. I took a step back, and for a moment I just stood there looking into his tear-stained face, and he into mine.

  Then he released my hand and opened his arms wide. In an instant my head was on his chest. I felt his strong arms close around me and we held each other tight.

  “Corrie, Corrie,” he said, “I’ve thought of you every day for the last eight years, prayin’ somehow the Almighty would let me see you again.”

  He paused and managed to take in a deep breath. I was sobbing on his chest, still holding him tightly. “Your ma and you kids had every right to hate me for what I done . . . but . . . but, Corrie, can you forgive me . . . for leaving . . . for not being a pa to you all these years?”

  Again the tears streamed down his face, and the agony of regret in his voice was more than my heart could stand.

  “Oh, Pa . . . Pa,” I cried, “of course I forgive you! Ma never hated you. When she died, she told me she forgave you. I don’t hate you either, and I’m so sorry for what I said!”

  “It’s over now, Corrie,” he said, reaching up and gently stroking my hair. “I’ll never think of what you said again. If we can just find a way in our hearts to get over what’s past, then . . . then maybe we can start ove
r again . . . as pa and daughter.”

  I stood back a little, and attempted a smile. “I think we can, Pa,” I said. “I really think we can!”

  He smiled back at me, and I embraced him again, this time not just as a man I called Pa, but as a father I was learning to love.

  Chapter 26

  A New Beginning

  When Pa and I finally walked back toward the cabin about twenty minutes later, he left me at the door.

  “There’s one more apology I gotta make before I go in,” he said, then turned off and headed up toward the mine in the moonlight.

  I wasn’t quite ready myself to go in and face the rest of the kids. I knew they’d pester me with a million questions, and after what had just happened I needed some time to be quiet. My feelings were still running pretty deep, and I didn’t know if I could face their looks without bursting into tears all over again.

  So I sat down on the wooden porch and waited.

  About fifteen minutes later, I heard Pa and Uncle Nick approaching. I couldn’t make out their words, but every once in a while I’d hear Uncle Nick laugh, so I figured it’d been patched up between them. When they came into view, Pa had one arm slung around Uncle Nick’s shoulder and was looking earnestly at him. All I heard was Uncle Nick’s response.

  “ . . . think nothing more of it, I tell you. I deserved it.”

  “You’re wrong there—I was out of line.”

  “Don’t matter. It’s over. You’re always telling me that the stream needs a good storm now and then to flush the gold outta where it’s hiding. I reckon people are like that, too.”

  “Well, however we got here, you’ve been a good partner to me,” said Pa, still serious, “and I want you to know it. And we gotta stick together to get through the rest of it . . . oh, Corrie,” he said, looking up suddenly and seeing me sitting there. “Ain’t you been in yet?”

  “I wasn’t quite ready,” I answered. “I needed a little more time to settle myself.”

  “I guess we all did,” laughed Uncle Nick, trying to lighten the mood. “After we all blowed up at one another, eh? Nothing like a good rainfall to clear up the air, I always say!”