Love’s Sweet Revenge(125)

“Then we’ll just sleep in that bed.”

Randy smiled more. “We’ll see.”





Part Three





Thirty-one


Mid-August

“Rock of ages, cleft for me, let me hide myself in Thee.

Let the water and the blood from Thy wounded side which flowed,

Be of sin, the double cure, save from wrath and make me pure.”

Evie finished the hymn before praying. The gathering for at least one hymn and prayer had become a Sunday ritual for the family ever since living close in Guthrie—a big dinner, usually chicken, mashed potatoes, a vegetable, and apple pie, followed by prayers that Evie offered up as easily as if Jesus Himself were sitting among them. She sang another hymn with no bashful reservation, her voice lovely and her faith something she loved to share.

The entire family occupied every chair and settee in the great room, Jake sitting in the big, red leather chair.

“Daddy, I wish you would let that traveling preacher baptize you the next time he comes around,” Evie told her father after she finished the second hymn.

Jake glanced at her with a deep sigh. “Since you keep asking that, baby girl, I guess you should know I’ve been baptized.”

The entire family looked at him in astonishment, even Randy. He’d never mentioned any such thing. Evie put a hand to her mouth in a tiny gasp. Lloyd frowned in surprise, and Ben and Stephen glanced from Jake to each other, confused. Jake lit yet another cigarette and shifted in his chair before looking at his entire family, who all sat practically gawking at him. He inhaled deeply, then set the cigarette in an ashtray. “For crying out loud, don’t anybody pass out over it,” he joked.

“When?” Evie asked.

Jake looked away, taking up the cigarette again.

“Your father doesn’t have to talk about it if he doesn’t want to,” Randy told Evie.

Jake glanced her way, and in that moment, she saw what sometimes showed through the man. She saw the boy.

“I was eight,” he answered, keeping his eyes on Randy as though it was only there he could find the strength to talk about it. “My father wouldn’t let my mother go to church, but in the rare times he’d pass out from drinking—and I say rare because the man could drink a whole fifth of whiskey or a bottle of tequila straight and still function…” He shifted in the chair again.

“Pa, you don’t have to tell us any of it,” Lloyd spoke up.

Jake took another drag on the cigarette and set it back in the ashtray. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and stared at the braided rug in front of his chair. “It’s all right.” He paused, and Randy ached for what she knew was something hard for him to talk about.

“Anyway, when my father was passed out, my mother would sneak out and go to a nearby Catholic mission so she could take Communion  . She always took me and my brother with her because she refused to leave us alone with…him.”

“Grampa! You had a brother?” Little Jake asked.

Jake studied his namesake. “I did, but he died.”

“How?”

Jake glanced at Randy as though to ask for help.

“Little Jake, me and Ben already know,” Stephen told the boy authoritatively. “Grandpa said he’d tell you when he’s ready, so you shouldn’t ask him.”

“It’s just hard for Grandpa to talk about,” Brian gently told his son, seeing the concern and disappointment in Little Jake’s eyes. “Let him tell you another time, all right?”

Little Jake puckered his lips. “I’m sorry, Grampa.”

Jake met the boy’s curious gaze and smiled sadly. “You don’t have to be sorry. It’s a natural question, and I will tell you, but you have to let me decide when. All right?”

The boy pressed his lips together and nodded.

“Maybe we’ll go for a ride tomorrow out to Fire Valley and talk about it. How’s that? Just you and Ben and Stephen and me. I’ll let all three of you shoot my rifle, but only under my say-so. Maybe we will find a few wild mustangs while we’re at it and bring some in. And we can officially rename the place Little Jake’s Valley.”

Little Jake brightened. “Okay!”

Jake looked at Evie. “To answer your question, it was one of those times she snuck out for Mass that my mother asked the priest to baptize me. He baptized my little brother also. I remember it because the next day my father—” He suddenly stopped talking and reached for the cigarette. “Let’s just say that my mother and little brother were no longer with us the next day. You know why. The end result of that baptism is why I’ve never talked about it. It’s not something I care to revisit too often. I remember how much Mass meant to my mother. That’s why I wear her rosary beads under my shirt. After she…died…my life went to hell, so I figure already being baptized wouldn’t help much. If I get the chance to meet the Lord when I die, before dark angels take me elsewhere, I’ll just have to hope already being baptized will save me from the flames.”