“What’s there for him to explain?” Jarret sneered, gesturing as he spoke. “When I do something wrong, you don’t wait for my explanation. You bring the hammer down.”
Papa sat in the leather recliner and propped a boot on the coffee table. “Roland? I want to believe you had a reason for your behavior. You want to explain why you felt the need to shin out without permission?”
Shin out. When Papa’s patience waned, he turned to cowboy talk. If Roland didn’t give him something, he’d only provoke him more. “I-I didn’t run away. I stayed at Peter’s house. I tried to call.”
Jarret leaned forward but Keefe yanked him back. “Nanny and I waited by the phone. You didn’t try to call.” He faced Papa. “It’s just like every year on the anniversary of Mama’s death. He runs off.”
Roland’s heart plummeted to the floor and smashed into a million pieces. Why would he bring that up? It wasn’t the reason and he knew it. Roland’s mouth turned down of its own accord. He couldn’t keep it from twitching.
Papa cleared his throat. “I spoke with Conrad, uh, Mr. Brandt. You were over there without permission.”
“Uh . . .” What could he say? He had tried to call, but he tried too late. And leaving a note was a dumb idea, even if Nanny had received it. Besides, telling her he was staying at a friend’s wasn’t the same as asking permission. “I made a mistake.”
Jarret slid forward. “Yeah, Roland made a mistake, a few mistakes. Just like I’ve made mistakes. You had to have expected that from him. He’s not special. He’s just like every other kid. And me? I’m older now and I’ve changed. You judge and condemn me all the time. Everything that goes wrong, you want to blame me. You’re ready to send me away.” His tone grew tense. “And you’re gonna let Roland off the hook because he’s been a-a-a goody-goody all these years.”
“Jarret, settle down.” Papa tossed his cowboy hat onto the coffee table. “I’m not blaming you. I’m asking Roland to explain himself.”
“No.” Jarret stood up. “Why should he get—”
“Jarret, sit down,” Keefe said in a low voice, tugging Jarret’s belt loop.
Jarret swatted at his twin’s hand and remained standing. “You’re going to take him to Italy no matter what he did. And you’re not going to give me a chance to prove I’ve changed. I didn’t do anything wrong while you were gone.”
Roland’s skin crawled at the smoothness with which Jarret lied. It didn’t even show in his eyes. He deserved to be sent to Arizona, military camp, or wherever.
“I did what I could to help Nanny through this,” Jarret said, his tone and body language showing sincerity and compassion. “Let me prove myself in Italy. Let me go with you.”
Papa remained expressionless, as was his way, making him the most frustratingly impossible person to read.
Keefe tapped Jarret’s leg and nodded for him to sit down. Jarret sat.
“Roland?” Papa turned his steel-blue eyes on Roland. “Last chance to split fair.”
Roland cleared his throat and refused to glance at Jarret. “I’ll tell you, because I think you should know.” Goodbye, Jarret. Hello, Italy. “When you told me about the trip—”
Saint Conrad’s face flashed in Roland’s mind along with the words of his resolution: brotherly charity . . . I will patiently bear with the faults, defects and weaknesses of others, and as far as possible, I will cover them with the mantle of charity . . .
“. . . about Italy, uh, when you told me, I - I discovered that Jarret—” Saint Conrad’s face faded, and Jarret’s face replaced it, anger and loneliness lurking in his eyes. But he deserved it. He deserved whatever consequence he got.
Brotherly charity . . . bear with the faults, defects, weakness . . . charity . . . charity . . .
Roland dropped his head into his hands and groaned. Mama’s death had brought inconsolable loneliness to Papa, loneliness he had yet to overcome, loneliness that Roland knew all too well. Loneliness that Jarret would suffer if he met with the consequences of his actions.
But they were not alone, none of them. Roland believed this truth in the depths of his being. Head in his hands and eyes closed, he knew with certainty that there were five people in the room. Not just four. When he lifted his head, he half-expected to see a man with a white beard, dressed in a long brown robe, a rosary hanging from his belt. Saint Conrad was here, with the example of his life in Roland’s mind and his prayer to strengthen Roland.
Roland knew what he had to do.
Taking a breath, he met Papa’s gaze. Farewell Italy. “I’ve made some mistakes lately. I went to Peter’s house without Nanny’s permission and stayed two nights without letting her know. I tried to leave a note but didn’t make sure she got it. And I never asked Peter’s parents if I could stay. I didn’t want them to know. Besides that, I’ve been in your office without permission, searching through your books, reading one of them.” He swallowed hard and glanced at the twins. “I got in trouble for skipping school. Which wasn’t exactly my fault, but I accept the responsibility.”
Keefe lowered and shook his head. Jarret’s mouth hung open on his frozen face.
Roland returned his attention to Papa. “I accept whatever consequences you feel I deserve. I’m sure you won’t feel right about taking me to Italy now.”
A crease formed between Papa’s brows. He nodded. “You’re right.”
Jarret’s eyes popped open.
“This is going to be a lengthy assignment. And I could use the help.” Papa faced the twins. “I appreciate the help you’ve been to Nanny, Jarret.”
Hope colored Jarret’s face.
“And I have a particular trip in mind for you, Jarret. But it’s not this one.”
Jarret exhaled and slumped, his hope deflating.
Roland sympathized. It stung a bit, watching his ticket to freedom slip from his grasp. But he knew in his heart he’d made the right choice.
“So, Keefe . . . that leaves you.”
Keefe gave everyone a who me? sort of look and straightened. “What?”
Papa smiled at him. “You’re the one I overlook the most. You listen well, you’re good at following directions, and you’re intelligent. This could be a good experience for you. And I think it would do you some good to be on an assignment without your brothers.”
Roland gulped. He hadn’t thought of that. He’d be alone with Jarret the whole time. Roland and Jarret. Jarret and Roland. Could they possibly become friends?
Jarret’s eyes narrowed, his gaze sliding to Roland. He nodded.
Roland’s mouth went dry. What did the nod mean?
“Now, boys . . .” Papa reached for his hat. “I don’t want any hard feelings. So, now is the time to talk about it.”
No one said a word.
“Anyone?”
“Um, you said the trip would be long,” Keefe said. “How long?”
Papa positioned his hat on his head. “Oh, close to a month, maybe more. Depends on how well we do our research and how hard we work. And, of course, there’s always the possibility of setbacks.” Gazing at the coffee table, he seemed to be speaking to himself now. “. . . and the schoolwork. You’ll have to keep up with schoolwork. Maybe I’ll need to find a tutor . . .” Papa stood. “Is this something you want to do, Keefe?”
Keefe jumped up. “I-I do. Yes. Sir.”
Papa chuckled. “Good. Come with me. We leave in a week, so we should go over a few things every night.” He motioned for Keefe to go on ahead then stopped at the double doors. “Jarret, I know this will be hard on you . . .”
Jarret’s upper lip curled. He peered through narrowed eyes.
“. . . not having Keefe by your side. But this will give you and Roland a chance to spend some time together, just the two of you.”
Jarret huffed and looked away.
Papa turned to go but then stopped again. “Before I forget, Roland, I do expect you to return the coins. And I mean soon.”
“Uh . . .”
“Oh, and if you
need to smoke, step outside. And don’t leave cigarette butts lying around. Nanny’s been complaining.”
“But I—”
Papa winked and left the room.
Roland exhaled. Papa must’ve known more than he let on. What did he think really happened to the coins? What did happen to the coins?
“Good luck getting the coins back to him.” Jarret raised a brow and got up from the couch. He stretched and sauntered to the recreation room.
Maybe now Jarret would make peace with him. Roland forced himself to join Jarret in the recreation room. He leaned against the doorframe, struggling with how to word what he wanted to say.
The recreation room was the one room Papa insisted Nanny leave for the boys to clean. Shoes and sock balls lined the walls. Glasses and plates cluttered the little desk in the corner of the room. Darts and CDs lay on every surface.
Jarret fished around in a drawer.
“Hey.” Roland pivoted into the room. “Sorry things didn’t work out the way you planned.”
Jarret called Roland a name under his breath and turned to face him, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter in his hands. Leveling an icy glare at Roland, he tapped out a cigarette, stuck it between sneering lips, and lit it. After emitting a puff of smoke, he turned to the pool table and gathered balls.
Roland plucked a ball from a corner pocket and rolled it to him. “Really? You smoke? I thought it was just to set me up.”
“Want one? They think you smoke anyway.”
“No.” Roland pulled two balls from a corner pocket and rolled them to Jarret.
With the cigarette dangling from his mouth, he racked the balls and stepped to the cue sticks hanging on the wall. “So, why didn’t you tell on me? You could’ve shown him the scab on your forehead, told him about being thrown in the basement. I don’t know what he thinks happened to his picture of Pompeii.” He grinned, amused. “It’s back on the wall but there ain’t no glass over it.” He selected a cue and chalked the tip. “Could have told him I locked you in the turret, planted the cigarettes. You might have won.”
“Won? Was this a contest?”
Jarret grinned. “Keefe wasn’t even playing, and he won.” He leaned forward and shot the break. Balls cracked into each other, and a striped one sunk into a side pocket.
“I didn’t want the conflict. If I’d told on you, there’d be more war between us. I want peace. Why can’t we have peace? I don’t want you shipped off to Arizona. I-I want to forgive you.”
“Forgive me?” He chuckled and lined up a cut shot. “I never said I was sorry.” He pocketed another striped ball, took a hit off the cigarette, and snagged the chalk.
“I can still forgive you.”
Jarret tried to make a combination shot but scratched. He backed up and leaned against the wall.
Roland picked out a cue stick and studied the table. He leaned to line up a shot.
“So, am I forgiven?”
Roland glanced. “Yeah, I forgive you.” His chest grew light as he spoke the words. He smiled. He did it and it felt good.
Jarret nodded and rubbed the stubble on his chin.
Roland tried to bridge his hand on the pool table, the way Papa had taught him, and focus on a solid ball, but helium filled his head. He took the shot and scratched.
Jarret pushed off the wall. He sauntered to the desk and smashed his cigarette out in the drawer, hopefully in a hidden ashtray. “What if I’m not done with you?” He gave Roland a look as if sizing him up.
“Well, then I’ll have to forgive you again.”
“What if I’m never sorry?” Jarret stepped close and stared down his nose.
Roland tried to maintain eye contact, but his gaze kept sliding away. “I don’t care. I can still forgive.”
“Right.” A slow grin crept across Jarret’s face.
Jarret won the game of pool, but Roland knew he had gained something this day, too. Peter’s inheritance wasn’t just for Peter. It was for him, too, a gift from Saint Conrad, who’d been watching him and waiting for him all these years from Heaven. Roland realized he had found the inheritance that belongs to everyone, if only they had faith to receive it.
With one hand on the light switch, Jarret motioned to the desk in the corner of the room. “Hey, grab me another cigarette, will ya?”
Roland yanked open the drawer and there next to the pack of cigarettes was a long black box. Papa’s coin collection!
“Better get that back,” Jarret said with a smile. “Papa did say soon.”
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Did you love Roland West, Loner? Then you should read Life-Changing Love by Theresa Linden!
Book 2 in the West Brothers Christian teen fiction series.
Caitlyn Summer, soon to be fifteen, must practice old-fashioned courtship with high parental involvement, but she has a terrible crush on shy Roland West and she has competition from a girl with no restrictions. As Caitlyn struggles to remain faithful to God, her parents, and herself, her best friend gets pregnant and might get an abortion. When Caitlyn discovers her mother's past mistakes, she begins to resent all the guidelines her parents expect her to follow.
The characters in Life-Changing Love face the questions: Who am I? Where am I headed? How am I going to get there?
Read more at Theresa Linden’s site.
About the Author
Theresa Linden is the author of award-winning Catholic teen fiction that weaves the natural with the supernatural. She has ten published novels, including a dystopian trilogy, a contemporary young adult series, two short stories in Image and Likeness: Literary Reflections on the Theology of the Body, and a short story in Secrets: Visible & Invisible. She is a member of the Catholic Writers Guild and the International Writers Association. Her books can be found on CatholicTeenBooks.com, Catholic Reads, and Virtue Works Media. A wife, homeschooling mom, and Secular Franciscan, she resides in northeast Ohio with her husband and three teenage boys.
Read more at Theresa Linden’s site.
About the Publisher
"For he is like a refiner's fire and like fullers' soap, he will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver, and he will purify the sons of Levi and refine them like gold and sliver" ~Malachi 3:3
God is the refiner. His Word is the fire. We are the silver. And the more we immerse ourselves in Him, the purer we become. And even though the purification process might hurt a bit, He is with us through it all. And like the saints, we come to reflect His image.
All novels published under the Silver Fire Publishing imprint show the refiner's fire at work in the characters. These novels are written to entertain, to support Catholics in their faith, and to inspire a greater trust in the Divine Refiner, who is at work in each of our lives.
Draw near to the Master Silversmith through faith-filled fiction.
Roland West, Loner Page 29
