Christmas morning began for Eric and Dana as soon as he closed their bedroom door. Eric didn’t assume they would live at the farm for more than a few weeks once they returned in mid-June. That to Eric was the best Christmas present he could imagine.
Until Dana made love to him; then Eric’s thoughts vacillated. His dad’s announcement earlier that month had filtered to all the family, and that evening Eric had received many congratulations, as if he and Dana had announced their engagement. For what she was doing to him, Eric felt perhaps they should tie the knot. Nothing more could set into him what she meant, the way she wound her body around his, David’s constant snores right across the hall assuring no one would hear a thing.
Not that Dana was loud; she said nothing, never even called Eric’s name. At first it had bothered him. Only after she told him about her father did he understand, and still, when Eric thought about it, that miserable aspect of her childhood was unnerving.
He rarely let it reach him, and never when they were intimate. Eric was young enough not to consider his parents might be just as active two floors below, or that they had held similar ideas at one time. That in loving each other they could banish Jenny’s past, Sam’s too. Eric knew his father had lost a wife as Jenny endured Alvin’s passing. That man’s death had cost them both, but had also brought them together. Eric also accepted how deeply Sam’s car accident remained; because his father had somehow escaped with nary a broken bone was Eric even conceived.
Sam’s accident was another family tale that, like David’s deep snores that very night, would travel through the Cassel line long after they were gone. But some stories needed to stay buried in the past. Eric didn’t realize to what degree his father was aware of Dana’s history, but Sam wanted both of them in Arkendale. Eric wouldn’t say anything to Dana other than she was included. His dad knew Dana needed a sanctuary. Eric just hoped Jenny was unaware.
Eric couldn’t ponder life without Dana. When sober, she loved with an intensity he had found hypnotic. When she was either drunk or stoned, he had no manner to describe it, as how Chelsea now felt in loving Andy with two babies between them. But Eric didn’t know his sister was pregnant, didn’t know his parents were aware of Dana’s past. That early Christmas morning all Eric realized was incredible pleasure as his girlfriend’s lips traveled across his lower torso, exorcising her demons while reveling in his body.
It was a holiday full of children’s thrills and adults’ satisfactions, leading to a new year’s party at Tommie and Rae’s where one man read a girl’s face with accuracy, another gathering a hint of the storm. As Tommie guessed that Chelsea was expecting, Sam learned it was Dana’s brother who had assaulted her.
It took Tommie only a week to figure it out, the way Jenny and Sam seemed on a different cloud, one equal to their grandchild Louise, but also made of a softer grain, recalling faint hopes alongside a strong conviction. As Jenny spoke of Alvin in Tommie’s living room, Chelsea having just left with Andy for a dance in the barn, Tommie was sure. That girl was pregnant, no question.
He kept it to himself, partly to digest it, also aware if Chelsea wasn’t saying anything, there was a reason. Maybe one of those kids had finally heard Rae’s longtime plea; if you were newly pregnant, just keep your trap shut.
Sam acquired his information in a manner unpleasant for more than the details. Tanner and Travis had been standing outside the kitchen, talking about Travis’ plans, which were more to Sam’s liking. Travis would graduate from UCLA in another year and a half, and was already considering his next move, which wasn’t returning to Oregon. Travis liked Southern California, where the sun shined, little rain fell, and family wasn’t present. Sam garnered that last bit as a father would, hearing in Travis’ tone something Tanner missed. Travis’ heart wasn’t in this place while Mitch was absent.
Nor while another brother straddled the fence. Tanner had stopped seeing his psychologist, but still lived with Scott and Alana. Since quitting counseling two weeks ago, stresses had built, small asides made. They were nothing Janessa would notice, maybe not even Mike or Susannah. But Sam hadn’t missed Tanner’s grimace when Alana was near, his distress calming when she stepped away. Travis seemed to have witnessed it too, but only said to his cousin that as long as Mitch was gone, a hole existed, one that by himself, Travis couldn’t fill.
Sam permitted that; Alvin’s passing still hung with them, not in an overt, depressive way, only that some left large shoes. Then Sam shuddered at Travis’ next words.
“Besides, and don’t you tell him I said this, but Eric’s in way too deep with Dana. Christ, I don’t know how in the hell he sleeps with her when she’s been with her…”
“Just her brother,” Tanner whispered.
Sam held a soda, wished it was a beer. He would chug it, then crush that can under his shoe. Then find Dana’s sibling and wring his fucking neck.
“Just her brother, shit! You say that like it’s nothing,” Travis muttered loud enough for Sam to hear.
“Man, it is nothing compared to what I saw in California.” Tanner’s voice carried a swagger. He hadn’t learned a thing in therapy, Sam thought, as if being strung out on smack wasn’t any more than a walk around the park, than a girl being raped by her brother.
“Dude, Eric said he’d been messing with her since she was Susannah’s age!”
The cousins stepped away from the house, and Sam couldn’t hear the rest. Had he wanted to, did he need to know that much? At least it wasn’t her father, he breathed, the can in his hand twisted small and tight.
Sam said nothing to Jenny or Eric. Tommie said nothing to Rae, but in the middle of January, Jenny asked Tommie about his recent chipper mood. That she had just spoken to Sam about Eric and Dana caused her heart to shift with the divergent weights of pleasure and pain.
It was in the familiar kitchen, coffee cups in their hands, when Jenny inquired as to the nature of her brother’s smile. A shit-eating grin, Jenny said plainly; what was up?
They were alone and Tommie chuckled. “Well Jenny, I don’t rightly know. Why don’t you tell me what’s up?”
She smiled, sipping her coffee. “Want some pound cake?”
“What type?”
“Lemon.”
“Sure. You gonna have the same?”
“Uh-huh,” she giggled. “Tommie, what?”
He leaned back in his usual chair, the one he always sat in before Jenny even arrived in Arkendale. Tommie had been thinking about those past days, pondering what Alvin’s daughter now held within her. “Jenny, is Chelsea pregnant?”
Her steps toward the counter halted, a hunk of innocent lemon pound cake waiting far from the coffeemaker. “What?”
“Is she?”
Jenny turned. “Did she tell you?”
“Nope. But it’s all over her like a bad rash,” he smiled. “My God woman, sit down!”
He was on his feet, getting her back to her seat, the same one she’d used since taking residence in this house. Jenny started to laugh as Tommie pulled his chair close to her. “Jenny, tell me! Is she?”
“Uh-huh, oh Tommie, they are and it’s…”
“Knock knock,” came Will’s voice from the front door, Louise babbling in his arms.
“Shit,” Tommie muttered, then changed his tone. “Well well, if it’s not a daddy and his other better half. Sit down Will. Want some pound cake?”
“Lemon, I hope.” Will chuckled, then leaned down and gave his mother a kiss.
“Of course,” Tommie laughed, moving back to his usual spot. “Where’s Bethany?”
“Getting a nap. She’d just laid down and Louise woke up. Thank God for frozen breast milk.”
Tommie laughed even harder. No guile with Will, as there hadn’t been any with his pop.
Will handed his daughter to her grandmother, a baby who to Tommie looked like Jenny. Then Will came to the table with pound cake for three. “What, you get caught up yakking, couldn’t cut the cake?”
Jenny’s eyes im
plored Tommie to stay quiet. “Well, your mom was getting up to do it, but then, you know.”
“Mom, you okay?”
“Oh yeah, just hits me sometimes.”
Will nodded, then ate a large bite. “Well, maybe today you need some chocolate cake.”
Tommie smiled. “Maybe not today.”
Will stayed an hour, during which time Tommie made references to his late father, to which Will never batted an eyelash. Tommie spoke of Alvin like he talked about anyone, also mentioning Mitch in Iraq. The recent troop surge had sent twenty thousand men and women, most heading into Baghdad. Then the trio spoke of Tanner.
“I mean, and no offense Uncle Tommie, but he seems…” Will hesitated, his baby daughter nearly asleep in his arms.
Tommie could have sworn it was Alvin and Chelsea, except for all of Louise’s brown hair. Louise did look like Jenny; could babies sport freckles at three months old?
“Will, she can’t understand you, much less hear you, she’s sleeping.”
Jenny’s words eased her son’s. “Since he quit going to therapy, I’ve seen him hanging out with a local dealer, not Jackson, God only knows where he’s gone, but some guys I went to high school with. They’re still doing the same shit, I mean stuff, Louise, you didn’t hear that. But they are and Tanner’s, well…”
Tommie had seen another side of Will emerge with fatherhood, one Jenny had already noted, a deeper understanding that Alvin possessed in brief moments. Alvin’s last words had been so clear and adult, that Sam and Jenny were meant for each other, a giving away as how Will had left the pitcher’s mound, with more grace and awareness than anyone had imagined.
“What’re they dealing?” Tommie asked, unafraid for Louise’s innocent ears.
“Used to be speed, now it’s meth. That’s dangerous crap,” Will sighed. “That’s not even a decent way to describe it. A guy I knew in the farm system, his brother started with speed, then moved onto meth, basically destroyed himself. I know it was bad with Tanner on heroin, but if he starts fooling around with…”
The conversation halted as Sam stepped in, looking in Tommie’s opinion not like a man with a pregnant daughter. But as Louise stirred in her father’s arms, then was handed to her gushing grandpa, Tommie noted Sam’s changed demeanor. Another was coming, Tommie smiled to himself, maybe making up for those in trouble.
He tucked Will’s news in the back of his brain as Will got a call from his wife, who needed their daughter. “Feeding time,” Will smiled.
Again no embarrassment, just like his pop. Tommie was used to that term now, Alvin as papa to the five Cassel kids. What he would be to Louise, Tommie wasn’t sure. Or to the baby that Chelsea and Andy were expecting.
Tommie walked Will and Louise outside, that little girl then strapped in the back of her daddy’s Mustang. Tommie had laughed at that, was still chuckling as he returned to the kitchen where both Sam and Jenny tried not to smile. With what they knew, Tommie only needed to mention grandchildren.
Jenny looked at Sam, then lost a few tears. “Honey, he guessed. We were talking about it right when Will arrived.”
Sam threw his hands in the air. “Well farmer, whatdya think about two babies?”
“That’s fine with me. My God, is she really having Andy’s baby?”
Jenny burst out laughing. “Not two as in Louise and another grandchild. Chelsea’s pregnant with twins!”
That stopped Tommie cold. “Are you shitting me?”
“Nope.” Sam’s laughter came from deep inside. “Of all the crazy things you could think!”
Tommie couldn’t talk, a first, Jenny giggled. They would need to note this day, the first time Tommie Smith was held speechless.
He stood, then looked around the room. How many years had he sat in this kitchen, having lunch or just cookies and coffee with this couple, or with Alvin and Jenny, Alvin alone, Alvin and Betsy, Alvin and his siblings. Tommie even remembered Alfred Harris, a large, quiet man looking nothing like his son, his eldest son. Adam and Randy had been young at his death, Lorraine only eight, maybe nine years old. Alvin had been eleven; Tommie recalled it well, only a couple of years after Alvin fell from the monkey bars. Tommie had been coming to this house since he was old enough to walk down the lane, no siblings except for the one separated at birth, then younger sister Jenny. And now Chelsea, Alvin’s firstborn, was adding to the history.
“I, I…” Tommie still had no words to express it all.
“She’s due in July, well really August, but they’re saying July and she’s fine. Just had another scan, she sees a doctor in Albany for high risk pregnancies, and they’re not telling anyone until my birthday. Not even Eric and Paula know.”
“The kids don’t either, do they?” Tommie found his breath, then some speech. If Will had been aware, he wouldn’t have been blathering all about Tanner.
“No, and she’s feeling bad about that, but until she’s a little further along…” Sam sighed, but not in sorrow. Tommie then met him, as Sam was on his feet. Their embrace was short but powerful. “Man, it’s just an act of God.”
“No shit!” Tommie laughed, then stepped Jenny’s way.
She didn’t get up, but with achy, aging knees, Tommie knelt beside her, taking her in his arms. She wept for her daughter’s joy. And Tommie had to wonder, maybe for Tanner too.
Tommie left as his usually chatty self, would wait for Chelsea to come to him. Jenny said she would tell her daughter that it was between the three of them now, and that Tommie should expect a visit soon. At least Chelsea would have one more with whom to share her news.
As he reached home, Alana met him in the driveway. They rolled down windows, Tommie hard pressed to keep quiet. If it was like that around his daughter, how would he not say anything to Rae?
“Daddy, you okay?” Alana asked, looking worn.
Chelsea’s news would be a tonic, Tommie thought. “I’m fine honey. How ’bout you?”
Her sigh was the same lost tone she had owned for many years. At first Tommie had heard it about her first husband. Then it was all about her eldest son. Alana had taken Tanner and Nanny into her heart from the time Scott moved in with her. Tommie loved both those kids just like he did Jenny, all family, no difference. But concerns lined Lana’s face. Coupled with Will’s words, Tommie felt a storm was returning, no way to hide from it.
Jenny hadn’t been able to run from the thunder, not until Sam had loved her. Then she had known a great peace, no further repercussions from sudden thunderclaps that used to rip her apart. Tanner had come home, apologized, and Lana had put it behind her. She had set Tim McGillis in the past too, but that man was dead, no way could he ever hurt her again.
Tommie listened to small complaints that had nothing to do with Tanner. Melissa was doing badly in Spanish, and here she was, half a year left of high school. Nanny seemed hell-bent on quitting the basketball team after having played since junior high. Some boy was calling Susannah all the time; she wanted to go on a date, to which Scott was adamant, too young at thirteen for that sort of nonsense. And Mike was bugging them for a new game console.
Simple troubles, Tommie considered, as Alana left with a small wave. Stepping from his truck, he heard cows in the barn, smelled the coming rain. Clouds hung right over his head, ones that Tommie couldn’t ignore. Chelsea may be pregnant, even with twins, but Tanner was flirting with disaster.
Chapter 12
Alvin's Farm Book 5: An Innate Sense of Recognition Page 11
