This is the second chapter of my e-book Destination.
REMEMBERED
He hoped this hadn’t been a bad idea, but even if it was, there weren’t a lot of choices as far as he was concerned. Why not go back to his roots? He just hoped she was still here right where she’d always been. How old must she be by now? At least 80 he figured. What if she was in some kind of facility? Not her. He couldn’t imagine it.
He drove his black Bronco II up the long gravel drive to the house, the hot dust spinning around behind him no matter how slow he attempted to go. No rain around here in awhile. Typical hot summer day. He reached the asphalt circular drive, the irrigated summer flowers brightly surrounding it on each side. He admired the sprawling Spanish style ranch house and put the vehicle in park, shutting it off. He stayed inside it for an extra minute trying to remember why he thought he should come here, but he knew. In his heart he knew. Heaving a weary sigh, he got out and walked along the stone path leading up to the exotic design of the carved double door. He knocked, a firm knock that spoke of a confidence he didn’t feel or own.
It took so long for her to answer he was just about to head back to his rig. He stayed put when he heard the big door open.
There she stood, a tiny wisp of a woman leaning on a cane on her right side. Her grey hair with a few black strands remaining was cut stylishly short and held its shape on her narrow head. She wore Levis and a bright yellow western blouse with white vertical stripes and matching dainty yellow and white sandals on her small narrow feet. Her blue eyes sparkled bright as he remembered how they always seemed to look right through him . . . and still did.
“Grams,” he greeted her quietly with the name he and many others had always known her by.
She narrowed her gaze and cocked her head just slightly. Then she took her long thin left arm and reached up to grab his right arm and turn him just enough to where she could see his dark auburn hair pulled neatly back and tied with a leather string in a ponytail resting just below the nape of his neck. Then she pulled him back to face her.
“Tommy, that you?” she asked matter-of-factly.
“Yeah, Grams, it’s me,” he replied, realizing she was the only one on the face of this earth who could still get away with calling him “Tommy”.
She turned and began talking as she walked back into the house, expecting him to follow which he did. “Hank Jr. always used to like his hair grown all long like that. You know it drove Ace crazy. I think that’s why he did it. Course by the time he went into the military, all those pretty locks ended up on the floor, but he never really minded.”
She walked all the way into the kitchen before she turned around again and told him to have a seat at the kitchen table. The place was immaculate and it was like stepping into a fancy hacienda in Mexico—at least what he imagined one would look like.
“Something to drink?”
“A coke if you have it, please, Grams.”
“Of course I have a coke. Couldn’t live without it myself. Best drink on the face of the planet,” she said adamantly as she went to the modern stainless steel refrigerator and slid a glass into the alcove that produced ice. She filled two glasses with ice and then produced two cans of coke. “Here ya go.”
“Thanks.”
“So how old are ya now?” she asked, calculating in her mind how long it had been since she’d seen him. “’Bout 30 or so?”
“Yeah, 31, almost 32.”
“Seen some trouble, huh?” Compassion evident in her voice.
He laughed slightly. “I think you’re the only one who could ever read my mind,” he answered, solemnity taking hold.
“Ain’t about readin’ minds, Tommy. I always thought you pretty much put everything right out there for a person to see if they’d just look, you know?”
He smiled at the old woman, appreciation for her straightforward ways welling up inside of him. “What’s with the cane, Grams?”
She gave the cane a horrible look of disgust. “Temporary, my boy. Hip replacement. Won’t be long and I won’t need it anymore.” She paused. “I almost didn’t use the darn thing, but when the doctor threatened me with the alternatives should I lose my balance and yada, yada, yada, I decided I wasn’t too proud to use it. For a short season, you know.”
He took a drink of his coke, the cold welcome burn sliding down his throat.
“So you need a place to stay?”
“I do, Grams. But you know I’ll work for it. Anything you want done, I’ll do.”
She eyed him. “That bad, huh? Well, you know there’s always plenty to do, son. I don’t run the farm anymore. Leased out the hay fields. A good family operates it like Ace would’ve done, so it’s alright.”
“How long has it been now, Grams?”
“Ten years.” She paused and gazed across the room. “Seems like just yesterday he’d be comin’ in from the fields for supper. Darn him. The old soldier made it to see Jesus before me. We used to argue about it, you know. He insisted he’d beat me to Him. True to his word . . .” Her voice trailed off.
She stood. “Let me show you to your room, Tommy.” And off she went, tapping that cane at a rapid pace.
“I don’t expect to stay in the house, Grams,” he offered, not wanting to put his old friend to any trouble.
That stopped her in her tracks, and she turned around abruptly. “Ha! And just where would you expect to be stayin’, Tommy? In the hen house? Heaven’s sake, boy. I don’t care if you are hired help, you’re going to have a little space to call your own in this big old lonely palace. You got a problem with that?” She confronted him with a look that reminded him of an angry little bird.
“No, ma’am,” he replied. “Thank you.”
“Huh. ‘I don’t expect to stay in the house, Grams,’” she imitated him. “For cryin’ out loud. Think this old lady is afraid to have a handsome young man in her house? That’ll be the day!” she muttered as they traveled down a spacious adobe-looking hallway.
They came to a stop outside a large room. Grams pointed with her cane. “This’ll do nicely, I think.” She walked inside. “That bed’s never been slept on to my knowledge. Ace built this end of the house for reunions with family and his Marine buddies. He put this king size bed in here just before he went on.” She plowed forward into the bathroom. “This here’s got a nice Jacuzzi. Ace put one in our room, too. It’s good for what ails ya, you know? Must be them bubbles—kinda massages away the aches and pains.”
He smiled politely and wondered if a blush was threatening to warm his neck and face. The room and bath were like a hotel suite.
She went back into the main bedroom. “In here,” she said, pointing with her cane once again to some built-in cabinets, “are all the linens. Sheets, towels, blankets, the works. You can’t find somethin’ you need, you tell me. Alright?”
“Alright,” his voice soft.
She turned toward the corner of the room near the multiple shuttered windows. “That there fireplace and insert will feel mighty good this winter. Ace built ‘em in most of the larger rooms. Great idea for wintertime.”
Wow.
“Now, you go get what stuff you got and set yourself up in here. If you’ve got anything you want stored, I’ve got the big barn and the bunkhouse. As soon as you get settled, you come on out for dinner. Alright?”
“Alright, Grams. I don’t—”
Grams held up her hand in a stop position. “Don’t. You know I’ll make you work for it. It’s only right. That way you don’t have to feel guilty.” She paused. “Looks like you’ve spent enough time feelin’ that way. No more.”
Having said that, she put her cane in motion and strutted out of the room and back down the passageway. He stood there in wonder. God, I don’t deserve this.
He hauled in his belongings, short of some tools he left in the back of the Bronco. He needed a shower and felt privileged to take one in such elegant surroundings. He shaved only because he figured it would make him look more presentable, the menthol lather feeling good on his hot face. He slapped a bit of cologne on his jaw line and inspected himself. He decided a while back his long hair was here to stay. It made him feel new. Not so much like the uptight guy he once was with the perfectly styled hair and the expensive clothes he usually couldn’t afford. He shook his head a bit at the memory while he towel dried his thick wavy mane. A waitress in one of the small towns he’d stopped in to get a piece of pie and a glass of milk, had told him he had great hair—that normally she didn’t like long hair on a man, but that his was “plum nice, all shiny and well-groomed”. He’d thanked her with a smile and a good tip. When he was all dressed in clean jeans and a fresh T-shirt, he tied back his hair and went out to have dinner with Grams.
She glanced up from her spot in front of the built-in grill. “No need to tie your hair back on my account, boy. You shoulda seen ol’ Hank Jr.’s when he wore it down.” She laughed out loud. “Ol’ Ace threatened to take him down, but Hank knew he’d gotten big enough to best his ol’ man. He wouldna done it, of course. I told ol’ Ace just to ignore him, and he’d probably cut it himself before the jarheads did.” She laughed a short burst at the memory and turned a large juicy steak over.
As it sizzled profusely, two things happened. Thomas wondered how in the world Grams could read his thoughts, and his mouth watered at the wonderful aroma of that chunk of meat, the likes of which he couldn’t remember eating since . . . well, he couldn’t remember when.
“Pour us some milk, will ya, boy? You do still drink milk, don’t ya?”
“Yeah, Grams. Coke and milk are pretty much all I drink, I guess.”
“You and me both, Tommy. Yes sir. You smell good. I like a man who ain’t afraid to wear cologne. Ol’ Ace always cleaned up nice after a day in the hot fields. Put on some of that aftershave of his, and, well . . . he knew I liked it.”
Grams attended to some other things on the stove while the occasional flames jumped up and licked the steaks on the grill. He wasn’t there too long before she shut it down, having decided the steaks were cooked to perfection. Later on when she served the meal and Thomas bit into one, he knew she was right. Medium rare, juicy, and so delicious he almost moaned with pleasure.
“Wow, Grams. I’ve never in my life had a steak this good,” he said with complete admiration.
“I still raise a few good beef. The feed store mixes up that grain concoction Ace made up. Just before he died, ol’ Norrie who owns the place asked if he could patent it and bag it up. Ace made a deal with him and they split the profits and called it Ace’s Beef Feed. They sell the darn stuff all over the world now, believe it or not. Keeps money in the coffers of heaven—Ace made sure all his profits on that project went to the Lord’s work. Missionaries. Generous man, that Ace.”
“I remember,” Thomas said with genuine respect between the savored bites of his dinner.
“You probably don’t know this, son, but he really liked you, Tommy.”
Thomas was quiet as he remembered the attention Ace would give him whenever he’d wander over to visit, a curious boy who loved the big ranch down the country road from his modest home. “He was always kind to me, Grams. I remember he taught me something every time I came over—either about hay, or cattle, or keeping up a ranch. He made me feel important, like I could actually be useful if I put my mind to it.”
Grams laughed. “He told me he’d never met a kid who was so eager to learn. Our two boys, Samuel and Hank Jr., were just so used to everything, you know? They wanted to go into the military as soon as they could fight and play, I think. Be like their daddy. I think it’s a good thing when a man can die doin’ what he likes, you know?”
Thomas almost choked on his food as the image of walking in on Will Otis having sex with his wife popped into his mind. He coughed violently and choked out an “Excuse me” before he was able to stop.
“My land, boy. Didn’t mean to bring up a bad memory.”
Thomas’s eyes had filled with water and he needed to blow his nose. “Grams, is there a bathroom close or should I run to my room?” he asked hoarsely.
“Just down that hall there on the left, son. Then get back here and finish your plate.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The main bathroom was as elegant and charming as the other rooms had been. He felt like he’d been transported to another country where he was a privileged guest. He quickly rinsed his face, blew his nose, and washed his hands. Then he tried to compose himself enough to go out and finish the fabulous meal he’d been served.
“I’m sorry about that, Grams,” he said as he sat back down at the table.
“You gonna tell me what happened?” she asked, sending a direct glare across the table at him.
“Yeah, I am.” He paused. “It’s bad, Grams. And if you’re not okay with me bein’ here after you hear about it, I’ll understand.”
“Pssht,” she uttered. “Go on now. You’ve got my attention.”
“I married a girl I met at college, Jenni Laver. She was taking a bunch of psychology and philosophy classes, thinking she might want to be a psychologist or a counselor one day. I was taking all business classes, hoping to start my own accounting firm eventually. It wasn’t so much a desire as it was a practical decision. I just had the aptitude for it. And after Mom and Dad died, I was just trying to survive.”
“That was a sad time, Tommy.”
“You know all about sad times, Grams.”
“Go on.”
“Well, when Jenni and I first got together, things seemed pretty sweet. She was the first hint of anything fun in my life since their death.” Thomas stayed quiet for a few moments. He wasn’t much of a talker, but he knew he had to tell Grams what had happened. “We lived together for awhile and then decided to get married, and for some reason after we did, Jenni decided she was sick of school and said she didn’t want to be a counselor or whatever anymore. She wanted to go to work full time. I worked part time at an accounting firm, and she got a job in a law office downtown. They needed a paralegal and were willing to train her.” He took a drink of his milk. “She spent a great deal of time there learning the ropes. I graduated and began working full time at a different firm, more upscale accounts. I guess it was the classic case of us not being able to spend much time together, and it started to get to me. I got a little ticked at her one weekend because she went in to do some extra stuff instead of being with me, and she exploded. She told me her job was every bit as important as mine, and I was being selfish and trying to hold her back. Anyway, it went like that off and on for awhile. Things would get good again, and then they’d go haywire.” He stopped and looked across the room. “It was never quite right, Grams.
“I guess in hindsight it was never meant to be. After awhile and I mean after we’d gotten into a small house of our own and were starting to acquire ‘things’, it was just falling apart between us. I couldn’t figure out any of it, Grams. I wanted her, but it seemed like she wasn’t really wanting me. I got so frustrated one night I suggested we separate. She agreed. That’s not what I’d hoped would happen, but it did. I moved into an apartment but still came home whenever I needed something. She asked me to let her know when I was coming so she could be there if she needed to be. Then she gave me her work schedule. I’d try to see her once a week, you know, to see if we were making any headway, but the arguments were the same ridiculous things we always said to each other, and since I wasn’t big on a bunch of empty words, I’d usually just walk out.
“I think it was three months into the separation when I remembered this particular book I kept boxed up with some others in our bedroom closet. This friend of mine had been looking for one and couldn’t find a copy. I offered to let him borrow mine. It was a Wednesday, I thought, which was a work day for Jenni. It was late afternoon—I’d gotten off work early. Only it wasn’t Wednesday, it was Tuesday, and it was Jenni’s day off. Anyway, I came in the back door and was preoccupied with finding that book when,” Thomas momentarily lost his voice. He sat with his jaw clenched until he could gain control. “When I walked into our bedroom and saw a man makin’ it with my wife.”
Grams looked down momentarily for the first time and pressed a spot on the table cloth to straighten it out. After a couple of moments, she looked back across the table at Thomas.
“I,” his voice shook a bit, and he swallowed. “I jumped him from the side. It was like I could hear this screaming in the background, but it seemed faraway. The guy regrouped pretty fast, and he was considerably bigger than me and stronger, and he had to defend himself since he was pretty vulnerable being naked and in the middle of . . . Anyway, he hit me and knocked me off him, and he got a couple good hits in before he stood up. I scrambled up myself and caught him off guard with a hard right—”
Thomas sat there, a numbness settling in on him. Tears filled his eyes and spilled out. The breaths arrived a little faster. And he had to force himself to slow them down.
“When I hit him, it knocked him back against the corner of the wall and the closet. He fell in a heap. He hit his head just right on that corner. He died right then and there,” Thomas nearly whispered. “I froze. My wife had a sheet wrapped around her and was down on the floor holding him, screaming his name. I reached for the phone and called 911. Then I sat on the bed and waited for the cops to come. I had a broken nose, a broken hand, and my lips were split. Both my eyes would end up black.”
“So you did time?” Grams asked quietly, startling him back to the present.
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, 15 months. Man 2. I’m a Class B felon.”
“I’m sorry, Tommy. Don’t seem quite right to put a man in jail for an accident involving another man gettin’ it on with his wife.”
“Thanks, Grams. I was wrong to attack the guy. Obviously, he was a guest of my wife’s. A young attorney, a co-worker.” Thomas stood and took his plate to the sink. “How would you like me to take care of the dishes, Grams?”
“Let’s just let them sit tonight, Tommy. I’ll show you what to do tomorrow.”
He came back and reached for her plate and took it to the sink. “She divorced me as fast as she could. I stopped by the house to see her and tell her how sorry I was before I came over here.” He paused again. “It wasn’t pretty.”
Grams got up from her chair and walked over to him at the sink. She put her bony fingers around his wrist and looked up into his face. “I’m glad you’re here, boy. There’s no better place for you than right here right now. God always has a plan, Tommy. And it’s always better than our best laid ones. You know that now, don’t you?”
She knew. He couldn’t help but smile at this wily wise old woman. Uncanny. “Yeah, I do, Grams.”
Father, thank you just isn't enough. You are the Author of Life and all things good and perfect. Thank you for rescuing me. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.
Into the Fire 