On the last day of 2007, David and Sandra spent the evening at her place in Salem, while Rachel and Cory shared a quiet dinner at his apartment. Rachel didn’t presume she would sleep there, telling her mother she would be home no later than one in the morning.
It was a subdued holiday, the usual party at Tommie’s a token gathering of those older, the rest of the cousins pairing off with their partners or immediate families. Eric was hosting a small get-together at his place, Travis having spent many days, and a few nights, at his brother’s house, the only one he had left, he said.
Jenny had spent the morning at Tommie’s. Jackson seemed to have fallen off the face of the planet, Fred keeping a tight lip when Tommie saw him, which seemed about every time Tommie went to town. Everyone in Arkendale had eyes and ears open. Jackson had crossed a line, and not only because a Smith had been killed.
That it was Tommie’s grandson fresh out of fatigues made it worse. Fred was a pariah now, as Bonnie had made herself those last weeks of her life. Funny how what comes around, goes around, Tommie muttered, one last bite of lemon pound cake set into his mouth.
Andy had nothing more to offer that night, but Will had news. He was nearly done with his book; would anyone be so kind to have a look?
Jenny offered, then Chelsea piped up over the din of two fussing babies. Neither Jenn nor Marsh had colic, were only tired. Sam rocked one while Bethany held the other. Then Will grinned again; they might have some good news in the coming year.
Jenny began to cry. “Oh are you two?”
Bethany smiled. “Not yet, but hopefully soon. My mother’s gonna camp out for the next one but it’ll be worth it. We’ll let her entertain a colicky baby. Might send her straight home!”
Joy was heralded in that kitchen, but only for those ears. Will wasn’t expecting anything to come of it for months. They barely had time for, well, you know, now with Louise so active.
“So not much fucking around in your house, huh?” Chelsea teased.
“Good lord Chelse!” Sam huffed, then handed his grandson her way.
“Sorry Dad.” Chelsea was contrite as the men moved from the kitchen into the living room, leaving cackling hens and three infants to chat.
The talk centered on David and Miss Mittingham, what Sandra was called when not around. It seemed a perfect name for a teacher, but Chelsea guessed David would be making her a Cassel before this time next year.
“Has he said anything to you?” Jenny asked.
“No, but that’s his way.” Chelsea waxed about the women David had dated while in Berkeley, then ones he spoke of when in Ohio. Jenny hadn’t assumed her son was a monk, but David kept that part of his life close to his vest. That he happened to be in Salem that weekend was to meet Sandra’s mother. “Now, if that doesn’t spell it out,” Chelsea smiled, “what more proof do you need?”
“I didn’t know he was meeting her mom,” Jenny said.
“Well, he did get another haircut right before he left,” Chelsea laughed. “Kept the beard though.”
Bethany giggled, then sighed. “Oh Louise!”
“She wet through?” Jenny asked.
“Yeah. Will was supposed to change her before we came over here,” Bethany said loudly.
“Oh yeah, sorry!” he called.
“Uh-huh. I’ll be right back.” Bethany stood, heading for the stairs.
“Make Daddy do it,” Chelsea said, but Bethany was already gone. “Well, I’d make Andy do it.”
“I’m sure she’ll file this away,” Jenny smiled.
Will joined them, looking guilty. “She’ll file this away.”
“What we thought,” Jenny chuckled. “Will, get me another cup of coffee please?”
Within her heart Jenny felt perfect. At that moment all her children were happy. Lately it had been easier thinking of her own offspring, then she gazed at her son. “So, another baby?”
He nodded, then reached for his niece. Jenn went to him easily and Will looked complete. “Yeah, I mean, I thought about it before…”
An awkward silence fell over the room. Then Jenny cleared her throat, squeezing his hand. “It’s okay you know.”
“Will it ever be okay?”
“Yeah,” Chelsea said. “Look at all we have.”
“But some don’t.” Will sighed, then kissed his niece. “Tanner’s still a mess and David’s…”
“Fine. He’s just fine.”
Jenny’s calm tone relayed her understanding; Will would never forget Mitch, as Sam never forgot Tracy or Lillian. Yet Jenny never conjured the painful images of her past, not even Alvin’s stilled frame; those days were long gone.
She looked up, saw Will staring at her. The question was all over his face; how could she so easily assume that all was well?
“Chelse, go keep Bethany company for a few minutes.”
Jenny caught that child’s eyes, didn’t have to say another word. Chelsea stood, kissed all their heads, then stepped away. As Will asked what was going on, his sister returned, taking her daughter, now five months old, not the tiny infant as when this tale was last told.
After Chelsea closed the kitchen door, Will again asked his question. “Mom, what?”
“About two years ago you asked why your Uncle Tommie was always telling Alvin things take time, you remember that day?”
“Mom, listen, you don’t have to…”
“Sometimes things happen, pretty crappy things.” Jenny caressed his right hand, then ran a finger up to his elbow. “I found out about you the same day…”
He stood, facing the back door. “Mom, it’s okay, really.”
“Do you not wanna know?”
He didn’t turn. Jenny felt his desire to be aware, but also that afterwards, he would never be ignorant again.
Was he waiting for Sam or Chelsea to come in, or his wife? Jenny could share this with Bethany, but if Will preferred those honors, Jenny wouldn’t argue. With Andy it had been different. As his wife gave birth, Jenny had seen a change come over that man, also an innate sense of recognition. Andy had known about Sam and Tracy for a long time.
Maybe if Bethany asked Jenny to be with them for the next baby, but that was far in the future. At that moment it was Jenny and her son, a man so much like both his father and pop.
“Mom, just tell me this. Were you, oh Jesus. Were you raped?”
With his back to her, Will didn’t see Alvin helping Jenny from her chair, but she could feel his hands as if yesterday wasn’t the thirtieth of December 2007, but the third of March 1978, their tall, amazing son no more than a speck within her. In secret Alvin had known about Will, and with just as much stealth he led Jenny straight to that boy.
But he wasn’t a boy anymore. “Will, look at me.”
Tears fell down his face and Jenny opened her arms, feeling Alvin at her back, keeping her upright. As she whispered that she had been assaulted by her own father, Will shut his eyes, then howled. Jenny told him it was all right. It was over a long time ago.
That Bethany never heard her husband reinforced to Andy there was a God, as if the events of the last months had caused some doubt. Sam took it the same. It also took all he had not to join them, but in some manner he knew to sit; maybe it was Mitch staring at him, or Tracy and Lillian’s ghostly eyes. Sam gripped the edge of the couch, battered by Will’s mangled sobs and Jenny’s muted tones, as some odd, ethereal mumble told Sam to stay put.
Seated at the kitchen table, Will couldn’t believe it was this bad. No baby pictures existed because Jenny had run with not much more than the clothes on her back. Even if she’d had a trunk at her disposal, what had her childhood been but a stone around her neck?
He bled tears, which weren’t only for her, but for Mitch, for David, for Tanner, maybe even for himself. Then Will asked how had his mother survived?
Jenny smiled, wiping hair from eyes reminiscent of the reason for her endurance. “Because of your father. Because of Alvin.”
Sam had played his part, but initiall
y, it was a slow, loving farmer, all Alvin ever was. A tender of trees, a tiller of the earth, a man planting two babies within her, then departing for a better place. But what he had left behind became the reason she fought to go on until enough time had passed that another could open the door to her heart. As she said those words, Sam stepped into the kitchen.
“Oh my God Dad!” Will jumped up and Sam steadied his feet, taking his son’s embrace. They spoke no words, then footsteps joined. It was the mothers, followed by Andy. Bethany asked what had happened and Chelsea spoke.
“Mom was telling Will about when she had him, that no matter how bleak it looked, things do work out for a reason.”
God touched Sam and Andy’s hearts as Bethany accepted her sister-in-law’s words without question. Then Will rested in his wife’s arms, muttering they needed to go home, he wanted to be with her. Wanted to make a baby, which didn’t sound odd or embarrassing to any of them.
Before he left, Will knelt into front of his mother. Reaching for her face, he wished to impart some lasting words, but sighed instead. “Not much of a writer, am I? Can’t think of anything to say.”
“You let me and your sister be the judges. Will, I love you. Good luck.”
He stared at her. “With what?”
Jenny whispered something and he laughed. “Oh yeah. We’ll let you know.”
He stood, then Jenny did too, again Alvin offering some small hand. As Jenny hugged her son, Alvin joined them. From Will’s astonished face, Jenny knew he’d felt something. If he asked her about that, she would tell him the truth once again.
He only moved to grip Sam, offering Andy and Chelsea the same. Will knew they were aware, but he didn’t know about Dana. Jenny wouldn’t compromise her privacy and Will had enough on his plate without worrying about Eric’s girlfriend too.
After he was gone, Chelsea and Andy prepared to leave, but Chelsea was curious; what had Jenny wished him good luck about?
“Their fucking around of course.”
“Good God.” Sam sighed and Andy echoed his father-in-law.
Chelsea smiled. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree does it?”
Jenny laughed, kissing her daughter, Andy also with a chuckle. None of them noticed Sam’s silent demeanor.
That night he waited up for Rachel, Jenny’s words spinning in his head. Also Will’s, who had texted, thanking his dad for being there when Alvin had gone.
Sam had no choice in that matter, as was true for the rest of his life. As midnight drew near, Jenny long asleep, a father considered his other sons, wondering if they were going to continue in their Sam Cassel ways. Eric and Dana seemed as strong as ever, but maybe this Sandra would tame David some. While Sam hadn’t had all five kids under his roof in a long time, that night he wished to hear from them all.
A flurry of texts lit his cell. First from Chelsea, awake nursing a baby: Happy New Year! David’s arrived a few minutes later, specifically to his dad: I asked her, she said yes. Sam read it twice, then nearly woke his wife. Then he let it be. David could share that news himself.
After Eric sent his greetings, his cousins chimed in, the most pertinent being from Emily and Travis, both adding R.I.P. Mitch at the end. Sam shed a few tears, then reread Will’s note: Tell Mom I love her and thank you for being my father. That made Sam break down, how Rachel found him as she stepped through the front door.
“Dad, you okay?”
Sam looked up, saw she wasn’t alone. That therapist whom he rarely noted was right behind her, appearing rather besotted. Sam nodded, then saw another behind them. Alvin also looked pleased.
“Dad, uh, Cory was just, I mean…” Rachel turned to face an embarrassed young man.
“I couldn’t sleep, just reading texts from your siblings and cousins.” Sam stood, taking a deep breath, partly to clear his head, then confirm his vision. Alvin remained, but not as he had appeared at the Fourth of July. He was alone for one thing, Robert nowhere near. And Alvin looked peaceful, or at least not like a harbinger of doom.
Mitch had been the one Alvin and Robert had meant; Alvin wouldn’t let anything happen to Sam and Jenny’s kids. In fact, he had seen to it that Chelsea had a baby, two of them. David was getting married and Will was healed. Rachel was in love, or at least in lust, from the way she kissed a man who made Jenny grimace.
Rachel suffered no ill effects from that therapist and Sam didn’t even get to say a proper goodnight, much less Happy New Year to him. Suddenly the door was closed. Rachel stood alone, although Alvin hadn’t moved from the entryway.
Sam’s daughter stepped his way, then hugged him. “Happy New Year Dad,” she said in a soft, changed voice.
“Happy New Year Rache. You have a nice time?”
She nodded, but in her sparkling eyes Sam saw a young woman more than enamored. Rachel was in love, and not like before. Plenty of times Sam had seen her eyes glazed and unfocused, but this was deeper. With Jenny’s brown irises shining in Rachel’s face, Sam had to look away.
“Yeah Daddy, we had a good time. Cory, well, Cory’s…”
Her tremulous but thrilled words washed over Sam as he watched Alvin slip from view.
After Rachel said goodnight, Sam checked the doors, then climbed in alongside his wife, snuggling against her. She faced the right as usual, was warm and cuddly.
With all his chicks having reported in, the last one sleeping just upstairs, Sam felt able to relax. In 2008, maybe one son would marry, while another would father a child. Maybe a younger daughter might know her heart swept away. Eric and Chelsea’s futures were a mix of the unknown, plenty of work for Chelsea, the same for Eric. Not that the farm was a load, only the woman he loved.
Sam loved a woman for which life was increasingly difficult, but only in the physical. In her heart things were easing; Will’s awareness of Jenny’s past was another sandbag hefted from the balloon Sam felt contained only them. After Eric had graduated from high school, all their kids were out of the house, so to speak. Never far away, but Sam was fine with that. More than fine, relieved.
He had seen it as Rachel stepped through the door, even if a young man held her hand. Sam had read it in Will’s text, felt it with David’s good news, in Chelsea’s late night tasking. She had only been awake due to nursing a baby.
Eric’s message had been rote, probably a mass text sent to all his friends. Sam was another name on the list, but kids grew up, moved out, and then…
Sometimes they came home. All but David were close, mostly for Jenny. Will’s return initially carried a dark shadow, Eric’s the same. Now Will was happy to be outside the diamond, and Sam was curious about that book. Will had asked for his opinion, once Jenny had read it.
But Eric stuck in Sam’s craw. Not for his presence, but his subtle likeness. David had aped Sam’s previous wild look; even with short hair, he had kept his mountain-man beard. Jenny wouldn’t let Sam shave his whiskers; he took a clipper to them every month or so, leaving enough to say he still had a beard, so much white in it that Sam could play Santa.
Maybe for his grandchildren, Sam chuckled. Then Jenny stirred, asking if it was midnight.
“Yeah, happy New Year’s baby.” His voice was soft, alluring. He’d grown hard lying beside her, even with all their kids in his head.
“Sam, make love to me.” Her tone was heady, and half asleep. Sam grinned, taking off his night clothes.
Caressing her skin, Sam woke her in a most pleasurable way. While she wouldn’t climb atop him as in days of old, Jenny was vigorous, matching Sam’s passion with her own need.
Afterwards he held her, no clothing between them. He felt young, maybe Will’s age, about when he first met Jenny on Easter in 1975. While she had looked a fright, Sam only noted her smile and so many freckles adding to a beauty that with bloodshot brown eyes hinted to a faint trace of heartache. Even on that first day, Sam knew she’d been injured.
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, what Chelsea had said to Jenny, what Sam had offered
Tommie that initial night. Something within Sam had been drawn to Jenny Cope, still a name he could murmur in one breath, as Alvin had done.
Why had Alvin been there? Sam wasn’t bothered by his presence, was in fact grateful. Sometimes life was so hard that any help, even from the other side, was necessary. Wrapping Jenny close, Sam closed his eyes, giving thanks for another year that Jenny was in his life. Then he bolted up, a cold sweat dripping from his body. Was something going to happen to Jenny?
“Sam, what is it?”
“I, uh, think I left the front door unlocked. I’ll be right back.”
If not for Rachel upstairs, Sam would have streaked naked to the living room. He took ten seconds to put on his robe, then darted out, looking around. A few coals glowed from the fire and he stirred them, alerting anyone else who might be present.
Squinting, he checked the room, saw nothing. He took a deep breath, then walked into the kitchen. There, sitting at his table, was that man.
“Hey Sam, happy New Year!”
Sam didn’t flinch. “Hey Alvin. How the hell are you?”
“Good, I’m good. Sit down Sam.”
Sam did as he was asked, taking Jenny’s seat, Alvin in Tommie’s. Sam glanced around the room; they were alone. Then he stared at the solid figure across the table. “So what’s up Alvin?”
A long sigh emerged, then those eyes, so blue and clear, like… heaven. Alvin’s eyes reflected that place from where he came. “It’s not quite over Sam. Almost, but not quite.”
“Really,” Sam said, cool and collected.
“I wish it was, I really do. But you know…”
“The apple never falls far from the tree.”
“Yeah Sam, it never does.”
“You fell from a tree,” Sam said, then winced, looking at the floor.
Alvin laughed. “I sure did. Pretty stupid of me, but it worked out for you and Jenny.”
No guile lingered in Alvin’s voice, there never had been. “Alvin, who?” Sam gazed up, then shook. “Oh Christ, not Jenny, please God no!”
Alvin looked past Sam, as if he could see it. “Just stay alert. That’s all I can tell you Sam. Something’s coming, just stay alert.”
Sam gripped the table, then stared straight across. “Alvin, please don’t take her. I can deal with just about anything else, but don’t, oh my God, don’t take Jenny!”
Both men glanced at the mostly closed archway doors. Sam could hear her breathing, knew that was impossible from where he sat. Then he gazed at who held Tommie’s chair; nothing was without a purpose.
“Just stay alert Sam. That’s all I can say.”
Sam swallowed, but his throat felt tight. “All right, I’ll do that.”
Alvin nodded, then looked to the back door. Then he smiled. “Trees are looking good, the hens are happy. After all this time life on the farm suits you.”
“It does Alvin, it really does.” Sam couldn’t hide his small grin.
For a few minutes they chatted about the kids. Then the tall man stood, Sam doing the same. “All right, like I said, keep your eyes open. And be patient with David. He’s got his own way to go.” Then Alvin grinned. “He looks just like you, big wild beard and all.”
“Well, Will’s just like you, baseball and everything.”
“Oh Sam, you don’t know how much I loved watching him play!”
They embraced as if Alvin Harris was a living, breathing man. Then Sam walked him to the front door, both speaking in low, hushed tones about how Chelsea and Rachel were similar to Jenny, a few bad eggs endured to reach the right one. Now Chelsea just needed to take it easy, David too. Will had Sam’s gift for writing, but all those children were Alvin’s, Sam offered, to which Alvin nodded. “Ours and Jenny’s. Tell her it’ll be okay. She’ll be okay Sam, she really will.”
Tears fell from both men’s eyes and Sam said a silent prayer, thanking God for letting him take over where this man had left off. Big shoes to fill, but Sam felt akin to Alvin, as if their disparities in statures and mortal states weren’t any different. Once more Sam embraced him as if nothing separated them. Then Alvin stepped through the door, locking it behind him.
Unsure how long that small exchange had lasted, Sam returned to bed where Jenny’s small snores comforted him. Alvin said she would be okay; okay could be qualified in a variety of ways, but Sam was exhausted. He only thought of his children, because Jenny would be okay.
Sam needed to be patient with David, reminding Chelsea to get proper rest. Will needed a good editor and had Rachel found the right man? Maybe this Cory Sanchez was the one.
And Eric… What had Alvin said about Eric? Sam couldn’t remember. There must have been something Alvin said about Sam’s youngest son.
Then he recalled a snippet, how Chelsea and Rachel were blonde and brunette versions of their mother. Will was Alvin’s, David was Sam’s, and Eric was…
A mix of Jenny and Sam, his brown mane and sometimes wild eyes looking for trouble, never falling far from the tree.
It wasn’t so much a chill Sam felt, more like a warning. Alvin had said to stay alert, and to tell Jenny she would be okay. Sam would do the former, also the latter, hoping she would understand, and not be afraid.
_______________
_______________
Liner Notes
Sometimes when I write novels, a dedication is firmly in mind from the beginning. Sometimes it hits me during revisions. This one slammed against my brain late last night, as the San Francisco Giants won the 2012 World Series. That team, like so many characters within this novel, survived on grit, guts, and a whole lot of love.
Loyalty lies at the heart of this installment of the Alvin’s Farm series; Eric and Travis stand by Tanner, and Eric would do anything for his girlfriend Dana. Chelsea puts Will’s baby ahead of her honeymoon, then takes a detested pregnancy test at her husband’s behest. Rachel comes home to care for family, and Sam accepts Eric’s return to the farm. But it’s David and Mitch, having battled each other as kids, who prove what kinfolk means. What is lost in that show of devotion is crushing. But when it comes to crunch time, the Cassels and Smiths are always at each other’s backs.
As I watched the 2012 baseball playoffs, my beloved Giants lived by the same rules, albeit without the tragedy. Last night as they beat the Detroit Tigers, I was awed by their tenacity, also the shared love. For months these men have played together daily, some since the season began, some as late as July. But families aren’t built only on blood ties; they are knitted by appreciation, by a sometimes intrinsic awareness, that innate sense of recognition; Andy had it about Sam’s first marriage, Sam owned it with Dana. At times it’s unpleasant, but not always. In the 2012 postseason, it served the Giants well, bringing them a second championship in three years. This novel sits as their season does, a bridge of sorts; what further victories will the Giants seek? Why does Sam Cassel need to stay alert?
So many to thank; The Usual Suspects were vital. Julie K. Rose designed the beautiful cover, and provided exemplary editorial assistance. Readers of the previous novels spur me to continue these tales, and with only one remaining, joy and anticipation hover. These characters have been a part of my life since 2009, and have figured heavily in 2012. Thanks to all who have responded to these clans; it has been a pleasure and privilege putting their stories into play.
About the Author
Anna Scott Graham was born in 1966 in Northern California. A mother to several, she lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and numerous hummingbirds.
Alvin's Farm Book 5: An Innate Sense of Recognition Page 24
