Chapter 22.
At the kitchen table, fraught by suspicion, Renee listened to Ray snoring in the living room, taking his usual half-hour, almost to the minute, daily nap. A sound of footsteps came from the second floor. Renee had ordered Jacob to his room and he was pacing, or exercising, or both. When she had put the question to him about Tara, he stonewalled her and played dumb, until she could not bear to look at him in her kitchen any longer and banished him upstairs until further notice.
Her history of disapproving of Tara began to make Renee feel complicit in the day's events, as if she had hexed the relationship. The low voice of Dave Ingeston riled her thoughts, his phone call replaying to her in an accusatory tone. Several times she strolled to the couch to wake Ray, but withheld her hand from shaking his shoulder, not ready with words for him, not knowing if Tara had stowed away in Jacob's truck, not knowing what exactly had unfolded in the night. With Jacob involved, and with what disgusting magazines she had discovered in shoe boxes beneath his bed that summer, she suspected the worst. Unable to stay partial, her heart already aligned with Ethan, her gentler son, and against the younger son whose many years of shifty smiles and exaggerations unbalanced the love in her.
The rain had stopped. She watched the window dry, until she could sit idle no more.
When she finally decided to wake Ray, she stopped again upon seeing Ethan drive into the yard, and stopped next to Jacob's truck. Standing at the kitchen window now, she watched Ethan throw open the door of Jacob's pickup truck and put his head inside. His hands rifled through the glove compartment and ashtrays, seeking evidence. Leaning downward, his head disappeared, and then reappeared as he put his nose into the air like a mole, sniffing at the air. When he closed the door of the truck, Renee ran outside in her socks to meet him.
The ground moisture soaked into her soles and she stopped in the yard when Ethan approached her.
"Perfume," he said.
"Ethan."
"It's her perfume in there."
"Are you certain its hers? I mean, did Tara say…"
"She told me. She'd been in the truck all day."
"No!" said Renee, covering her mouth, and witnessing tears in Ethan's eyes.
After explaining the party to his mother, Ethan said, "And I swore I heard a door slam earlier today. A door on that truck." He pointed and closed one eye, peering down his arm as if aiming a rifle. "But I never thought to look inside. Something happened between them."
"I will handle this," said Renee, her mouth pursed with wrinkles at the corners and upper lip, forming a volcanic cone. "The nerve, the nerve of him, and her, and Dave. Follow me. I'm waking your father."
Renee marched to the house. The urgent whines of the dog, with a stick in its mouth, begged for Ethan to toss a fetch. The yellow mutt wagged his tail and dragged his sopping wet fur across Ethan's blue jeans and to chase the dog away, Ethan threw the stick far across the yard. When Ethan stepped into the house, he heard his mother shouting Jacob's name.
"Of all the un-Christian things a brother could do," she muttered, before shouting again, "Jacob, if you are not down in here two seconds, I swear." Then lowering her voice again to a mutter, "I swear to God, you'll be living in the barn."
At the bottom of the staircase, Jacob stopped and pressed his palms against the door frame.
"You overgrown brat, get in the living room."
Ray sat up on the couch, smiling. "You've never called me that before."
"Not you, your son," she said, nodding at Jacob, hands on her hips. Jacob settled into the recliner and leaned back, head straight, mouth without expression, but his eyes furtive. Ethan stood in the kitchen with his boots on yet, the first time ever that he had crossed the threshold of his mother's clean floor in footwear. Arms folded, his eyes remained upon Jacob. Ethan started to speak but Renee overpowered him, explaining the details as she saw them, with full bias in Ethan's favor.
Still groggy from a sleepless night and a slight nap, Ray tried to catch up to the happenings surrounding him. Without knowing any details, he knew by his wife's tone that he should pretend to be upset right away, no questions needed. Ray frowned accordingly at the subject of her ire, secretly glad that it was not him. Soon he caught the gist of things. "Jacob spent the night with Tara?" Ray said. Then he no longer needed to pretend his anger. The pretense became authentic. "Is that what you're telling me?"
"Yes, Ray. Tara's perfume is all over the pickup, like she spilled a whole bottle of it in there." Renee deferred to Ethan. "Isn't that right?"
He nodded.
"Jacob," said Renee, "what do you have to say to your brother?"
Jacob said, "What should I say, Mom?"
"Tell him the truth. Because you can't apologize enough for this, not for this."
"I can't apologize for helping Tara get away from the cops? Because that's all that happened. And then we got stuck in the mud and I couldn't drive, so we didn't get out until sunrise."
"This is ridiculous," said Renee.
"Let's hear him out," said Ray.
"And I knew I was in deep shit already," Jacob continued. "Once we got unstuck, I came home, and I didn't know anything about Rhea, or Dad's ankle. And I sure didn't expect to see Ethan home. What was I supposed to tell him? Should we have hopped out and said hello to Ethan? What would he have thought then?"
"What about the perfume?" said Renee, more disgusted than before.
"Perfume? She sat in the pickup all day. Is it any surprise that it smells like her perfume, if she sat inside, with the windows rolled-up, for half a day? Not my fault she wears it thick."
"If nothing happened," said Ethan, "why didn't you just get out of the truck when you saw me, and tell me right away? If nothing happened, why did she cry on the way to her house just now? If nothing happened, then how on earth did you ever get stuck, and then get unstuck somehow when the sun came up? And if nothing happened, why does it sound like you used the exact same 'stuck' story on her that you told me you used on Sarah Steigen this summer?"
Renee said, "What did you do to Sarah Steigen?"
"Nothing, ma. Why on earth," Jacob rolled his eyes at his mother's question and focused on Ethan, "would I want to mess with your girlfriend?"
"Because you have to, Jacob," Ethan said. "Because if she was in your truck, you would try. You smelled like beer when you stepped out of the truck this morning, meaning you'd been drinking all night, even after you pretended to be stuck. And I know you fed Tara as many beers as you could, just like Sarah. If I know you, and I do."
Renee said, "Getting girls drunk. You are a piece of work…"
"If this, if that," said Jacob. "Ifs and butts, candy and nuts."
"Ray?" Renee said, prodding him, "Are you going to say anything?"
Ray said, "What did I tell you in the pasture today, Jacob?"
"That you were proud of me."
"That you had were a sneaky little shit. Isn't that what I said? I should have broke your nose."
"What?" Renee said, in disbelief. "You gave him the bloody nose?"
"It was time," Ray said.
"Time for what?" she asked.
"For corrections," said Ray. "And he may require a second round."
"My God," said Renee, closing her eyes, "what family is this?"
"Just say it, Jacob," Ethan said. "Just say you did it."
Jacob said, "I didn't do nothin'."
"That's a yes, you idiot," said Ethan, "and that's good enough for me. Since anything else you say will be a lie. I should have let you drown in the pond."
"You should have."
Stories untold were now emerging and filling Renee with questions until she nearly swooned. Events between the boys and their father had been kept from her. Strange and unsavory happenings withheld, information that she could not respond to but only ingest, and she witnessed her sons slip beyond her control. Her command of the family room became
part of a remote past, with sordid events clouding times like those when the boys watched the Dukes of Hazzard side-by-side on the floor leaning on their elbows, pajama feet in the air.
"All you've ever been is a liar," said Ethan. "All the times I covered for you. Just say you made a move on her, be honest for once."
"I didn't touch her." Jacob became annoyed with Ethan's accusations, reminding him of childhood bossing when Ethan issued commands while they performed chores, or when they served together as altar boys.
"Can you even pretend that you didn't try?" Ethan said. "Six hours in the pickup together, pouring beer down her throat, and you didn't scoot over, not once, to try one of your tested date-rape moves?"
"I didn't touch her," said Jacob, with a serious face. And the next remark slipped out of him before he realized it escaped. "She touched me."
"She…" Ethan stopped. "What'd you say?"
Renee closed her eyes and let her head fall to her chest. A moment of potential energy bent in the air as Ethan's face turned slap-red. A coming rage mounted in the older son. Ray stood up, seeing the physical change in Ethan. Too slowly Ray stood, reaching to intercept Ethan's wild charge across the carpet. Jacob did not move, but waited for his brother's revenge with a blank stare. And the fist of Ethan rained on Jacob's collarbone, smashing the younger brother in the chair. Jacob tumbled onto the floor, doubled over on his knees.
In a bear-hug, Ray picked up Ethan and carried him outside, just as he had in the past carried Jacob and Renee outside when emotions turned wildcat – but never before with Ethan. He pushed Ethan out the door, locked the deadbolt, and listened to Ethan punch the door several times before returning to the living room to assess the damage. And if Ethan's blow was insufficient, Ray intended to apply more pain to the worthless boy.
He found Jacob on the carpet, on his knees, panting.
"That," said Ray, touching the collarbone hard and feeling for the break, causing Jacob to writhe, "that right there is the end of football season. I heard the crack. That right there is the end of wrestling season for you, too. While you're down, I should go get the snips and the torch and take care of your primary problem between your legs. That'd fix you for good. Afraid we'd have to cut off your tongue, too, if we were to have any success – maybe your whole head. Get up and put your shoes on, Jacob, because you are going to church. Matter of fact, we're all going." Ray looked at Renee, who knelt by the couch, facing away from him, crouched over her knees. "On second thought, Renee, why don't you stay here."
Agonizing, Renee could not respond. All memories of the boys in living room – of Christmas mornings, Friday nights with popcorn, the Minnesota Twins winning the World Series, helping with homework, building blanket forts – all overshadowed by Jacob's announcement and Ethan's fist, and the very idea of Ray striking Jacob in a test of manhood made her feel alien in her own house, and worse, as hillbilly as the neighboring Frye family.
Jacob leaned back with his hand on his elbow, keeping his bones close together to ease the pain, a grimace on his lips.
"Oh, rub your shoulder," said Ray, mocking Jacob. "Cry abuse to the priest when you get there, but tell him I did it, not Ethan. Don't accuse your brother, just blame me when you start your whining. Corn crop is about done, and I ain't busy this winter as long as I got Judd to milk the cows. I can winter in jail. Never been jailed, not in this country, but I ain't scared to try it. Let them haul me away, Jacob – then you can play the victim, even though you just stabbed your brother in the back. What did I say about that? What did I say you would do?"
"You said I was no good," said Jacob, holding his elbow, unable to lift his arm any higher. "But I already done it. I know I deserved it. I deserved it." He leaned back and forth, wavering on his knees. "I ain't gonna rat anyone out – " He stopped to groan. Jacob said, "I know it was right, I had it comin'."
"Get your shoes on and get out to the pickup, so you can tell the priest. We'll take the flatbed truck. And you can ride in the back, too, in the pen."
"In the bed? There's calf shit all over it. Can't we take my truck? Or mom's car"
"I'm not riding in your truck. That would be comfortable. You aren't riding in any closed space with me and Ethan. Freeze in the wind for all I care, we'll drop you off at the graveyard if you don't make it, give the devil his due. Probably rubbing his hands together, waitin' on you."
In the yard, Ray grabbed Ethan's arm and walked him to the pickup, guiding him into the front seat, telling him, "I gotta good mind to put one name on that will this afternoon, and it ain't Jacob."
"She was a virgin," said Ethan.
"I see," Ray said. "I see. Damn him to hell. Ethan, God sees you. He's sees this, and He sees who is right here today. His eye is on you, this instant. He never blinks and He knows – of that I am certain. If lightning strikes Jacob on our way to the church, his trespasses will not be forgiven."
"I'm not going to church," said Ethan.
"Yes you are."
"What good is that gonna do?"
"It's the only thing to do."
Reluctantly, Ethan stepped inside the pickup. Ray said to Jacob, "What are you waiting on? Get in the back."
"Can you boost me up so I can crawl in?" said Jacob. "I can't even lift my arm."
"Got two legs don't you? Got an anchor strapped to your ass?" said Ray, quoting an old Navy insult, one he had learned from a wise sailor when the infantry waddled off the ship to dock and a private first-class had bitched about his rucksack's weight. "If you don't roll into the truck," Ray said, "I gotta mind to get some rope and drag you to church. Now isn't the time to find out if I'm bluffing, Jacob. Ask the sun to stop moving, but don't test me today."
"Can't we go to the doctor, first?"
"Doctor can't help you in hell," said Ray. He relented, adding, "We'll buzz by Parker's office later. First things first. Collarbone breaks aren't life threatening."
Using one arm, Jacob gripped the wooden truck bed, and slid his leg over the back until he tumbled onto the planks. Wet feed stuck to the truck bed mixing with rain and manure. Jacob rolled over to his back, covering himself in oats, chaff, and dung. When the truck lurched forward, Jacob groaned, staring at the gray sky and wondering why he had spoken to Ethan that way. No reason came to mind, other than that his mouth operated alone, his mood in control, with the rest of his self slave to the mood. He thought of football. Wrestling. A senior year in ruins. And finally he no longer felt strong. Ray's day of education, a success at last.
The Plenty Page 24