The flush-faced man hurried away limping. Daddy Love turned to Gideon and in that instant Daddy Love’s face was livened by a smile.
Son! You did well. Not a word to that pervert—I saw.
My son in whom I am well pleased.
A feeling of relief and vast joy had come over Son.
Now in the Church of Abiding Hope there was a joyous feeling.
For it was a wondrous thing, that the white-skinned Preacher Cash declared himself a brother of Reverend Silk—the two ministers spoke warmly of each other as brothers.
And a wondrous thing, that the white-skinned Preacher Cash spoke so tenderly yet so firmly, boldly.
I say unto you my sisters and brothers in Christ—forgive your enemies. Love your enemies, as Christ has bidden us. Some will say that it is too late in our American history for my message. Some will say that the age of terrorism is not an age of love but of war, wrath, and vengeance. But I say unto you—there can be no just vengeance without abiding forgiveness, abiding hope, and abiding love.
Smiling Reverend Silk stood to the side, by the church pulpit.
Reverend Silk who was Preacher Cash’s comrade and friend and who would share the collection with Preacher Cash after the service. Reverend Silk was a dark-skinned handsome man of late middle age with a look of the Reverend Martin Luther King, Jr., in his short-trimmed dark hair and the small neat mustache on his upper lip. He too was strikingly dressed in dark coat, dark trousers, white shirt and gilt-brocade vest.
A choir sang—“Coming Home to Jesus.”
The choir sang in strong loud voices and the congregation joined in.
The jubilant mood in the church rose, and rose. A sensation of such goodness you wanted to cry, or to scream. You wanted to throw yourself on the floor, that the Savior would take you into his heart and up to Heaven and all the unhappiness of your life would be left behind.
There was Preacher Cash lifting his hands for a final blessing—
My sisters and brothers in the Crucifixion, the Resurrection, and Life Everlasting in Christ—AMEN.
5
NEW JERSEY TRANSIT STATION TRENTON, NEW JERSEY MAY 2012
Get out, Son.
Out?
Get out, Son. Do as I say.
It was a busy downtown street in Trenton—Sloan Avenue. Gideon was taken by surprise for he’d assumed that Daddy Love was driving back to Kittatinny Falls.
Politely Daddy Love had declined Reverend Silk’s invitation to have a Sunday meal with him and his family. Daddy Love had said he had best be returning home, for both he and his son had tasks to be done.
Yet, only a few blocks from the Church of Abiding Hope, Daddy Love pulled the minivan up to an entrance of the New Jersey Transit Bus Station.
Gideon was confused. Gideon was frightened. But Gideon knew not to hesitate, to obey Daddy Love.
Fumbling at the door handle with numbed fingers and so Daddy Love reached across him with an impatient grunt and opened the door.
Out, Son. And inside the station.
Daddy Love was still in his Brother Cash preacher-clothing which gave to his manner an air of dignity and purpose. His hair, that fell to his shoulders in flaring, dramatic wings, smelled of hair oil, and his stiff whiskers brushed against Gideon’s face.
Gideon asked what did Daddy Love want him to do in the bus station?—for Gideon did not want to think that Daddy Love was abandoning him.
Just hang out inside, Son. Sit on a bench like you’re waiting for a bus.
But—will you come back for me, Daddy Love?
Gideon’s voice was a piteous-Son voice.
In the Church of Abiding Hope, after the service, when the last of the congregation had left, and Brother Silk and Brother Cash were speaking together, Gideon had heard Brother Silk ask Brother Cash about him, and he’d heard the reply: My eleven-year-old, who’s staying with me for now.
And he’d heard Brother Silk ask about—was the name “Deuteronomy”?
Gideon knew that “Deuteronomy” was the name of a book of the Bible. But nothing more.
Brother Cash had spoken then quietly, in a lowered voice to Brother Silk. All that Gideon could overhear was that “Deuteronomy” had returned to live with his “godless” mother, in northern Michigan.
Now, Gideon was clutching at the door handle, fearful of leaving Daddy Love for perhaps this was what had happened to “Deuteronomy”—Daddy Love had disciplined him by forcing him to leave the minivan in a city, and driving away.
Daddy Love, you will come back—won’t you?
In his Brother Cash attire, Daddy Love was not so irritable as sometimes Daddy Love was, when Son pleaded in such a way. For, in truth, Daddy Love felt tenderness in his heart, to see that the boy was so utterly broken, so unquestionably his.
Just go inside the station, Son. If you see a police officer, look away. If a stranger approaches you, do not speak with him.
But—will you come back for me, Daddy Love?—Gideon’s voice was piteous.
He laughed, but not unkindly. He kissed Son’s forehead in a blessing.
Jesus hath said, “O ye of little faith, why do you doubt?”
And Daddy Love shoved Gideon out of the minivan in front of the New Jersey Transit entrance, and drove away.
On dazed legs the boy went inside the station.
A sound as of crazed cicadas roaring in his ears.
And so many people! Mostly dark-skinned.
He thought Daddy Love would not abandon me. Daddy Love loves me.
There was a policeman, youngish, speaking into a little phone, making his way through the station. If his gaze moved over Gideon Cash sitting on one of the benches, beside a woman with fretting young children, it did not snag or linger.
Loud-amplified voices announced bus departures. Gideon saw lines of passengers shuffling through doors, onto buses. He thought Daddy Love loves me best.
Son firmly believed this. Gideon believed too but not so firmly.
Gideon knew: there had been other boys living in Daddy Love’s house in Kittatinny Falls
Or anyway, there’d been predecessor-boys in Daddy Love’s life because Gideon was wearing their left-behind clothes and shoes that were too big for him.
Yet Daddy Love did not like it, that Gideon grew.
Skinny and lanky-limbed and one of the taller boys in sixth grade.
His face was a young-boy’s face. You would think no older than ten.
But his brain was no child’s brain. In the night, Gideon could feel it thrumming with thoughts like something vibrating.
Son slept. Gideon lay sleepless.
Son had not the slightest doubt, Daddy Love would return to the bus station for him.
Gideon had not a doubt also. Yet, Gideon was anxious.
His eyes were fixed to a large ugly clock on a wall. His eyes were fixed to the minute hand jumping.
There was ceaseless motion in the bus station. Here and there, white-skinned passengers. And here and there, a pale-skinned boy of about his age, but never alone.
Though there were older boys, teenagers, in the bus station. And these were mostly black boys in low-slung jeans, hoodies.
Minutes passed. No one approached Gideon Cash, and no one spoke to Gideon Cash.
He was thinking of the playground in Grindell Park. And feeling now less anxious, that Daddy Love had abandoned him; for the circumstances were similar, he thought.
Waiting for a stranger to come to him. A man, attracted to a solitary lonely-looking boy in the New Jersey Transit Station.
Gideon was wearing “good” clothes—a plaid flannel shirt just slightly too big for him, dark trousers, sneakers.
These were not the mud-splattered sneakers in the closet, that Daddy Love had told him his feet would grow into.
Beside Gideon, the mother with her young children. One of the little girls was peeping at Gideon through her fingers.
He laughed, and peeped at her through his fingers.
The mother was a lig
ht-skinned Hispanic woman, with fleshy lipstick lips. She asked Gideon where he was traveling and he said Delaware Water Gap and she said she’d never heard of that. She asked if he was traveling alone and Gideon said yes.
She was waiting for a 1:20 P.M. bus, to Camden. Gideon said he was waiting for a 1:30 P.M. bus.
Belatedly Gideon realized that he was speaking to a stranger, which Daddy Love had forbidden. In a sudden panic he rose from his seat and walked quickly to a farther side of the bus station and sat in such a way, behind a column and a gathering of young people with backpacks, so that the surprised Hispanic woman wouldn’t see him.
He was thinking what a mistake he’d made. If Daddy Love was watching him from somewhere, Daddy Love would be livid with rage.
Yet here, in his new seat, Gideon was also sitting close by a (Caucasian) woman with several fretting children. But here, he would not betray Daddy Love by getting drawn into a conversation.
Thinking of how terrified he’d been once when it had seemed to him that Daddy Love might have abandoned him. He’d been very young at the time.
Six years old and Daddy Love had taken him to a July Fourth barbecue at the house of a man named Nick—“Dominick”—on the River Road across the Delaware in Pennsylvania. Daddy Love was such a friendly person, men were always inviting him to have a drink with them, or drop by the house; most of these invitations Daddy Love declined. But these were the Paglianos—Nick Pagliano was a building contractor with an office in Raven Rock—and Daddy Love had been impressed with Nick Pagliano whom he’d met through his woman-friend at the Gift Basket in New Hope.
The barbecue, with other people, and other small children, was the first occasion of its kind for Gideon since he had come to live with Daddy Love as his adopted son.
The Paglianos lived in a showy-looking split-level house on a promontory above the river. Gideon had never seen such a house except in pictures or on TV and when Daddy Love turned the van up the driveway, Daddy Love had whistled through his teeth.
With a grim smile he’d said to Gideon—Novo-reech, Son. Not like us Americans who work our fingers to the bone for honest wages.
The split-level house was made of brick, stucco, and plate glass and was set back from the twisty River Road behind a screen of evergreens. Once Daddy Love arrived, and the Paglianos welcomed him and his little boy Gideon, and they were ushered out onto a redwood deck above the river, and given barbecued hamburgers and made to feel welcome, Daddy Love had seemed to relent. Hi! I’m Chet Cash. My son and I live just across the river.
It was a surprise—how Chet Cash had a great time at the barbecue. Chet Cash shook hands meeting new people and Chet Cash petted the Paglianos’ fattish beagle named Magic Johnson and complimented Mrs. Pagliano on her wisteria garden.
Gideon petted Magic Johnson and whispered in his ear.
Hi! I am Giden Cash, my daddy and me live across the river.
They didn’t go inside the house, for the barbecue party was outdoors on the deck and around an oblong swimming pool.
Gideon was too shy to play with other young children at the party. Daddy Love hadn’t brought swim trunks for him which was just as well since Gideon shrank from swimming in the shallow end of the pool, with shrieking splashing strangers’ children.
In flashes sometimes he remembered his little friends at the Montessori school. He remembered their teacher who was so very nice but he could not any longer remember her name.
He remembered Mommy’s hand gripping his but letting go.
That was bad Mommy. Daddy Love had explained.
They didn’t want you anymore. They sold you for adoption which is like at auction. But you are safe with Daddy Love now.
Daddy Love didn’t stay long at the barbecue for often Daddy Love was restless at such gatherings. But Daddy Love shook hands with all the guests and seemed to be making new friends as Daddy Love always did. He’d introduced himself as a single dad, a part-time farmer, artist, and spiritual pilgrim in our wayward times.
He’d also done carpentry work, he told Nick Pagliano. Maybe sometime he could do work for Nick?—cabinets were his specialty.
Daddy Love and Gideon left the party, and drove back to New Jersey by way of the Delaware Gap bridge. Daddy Love said again, with a sneering shrug, Novo-reech, Son. Not our kind of Americans.
And so it was a surprise to Gideon when, a few weeks later, Daddy Love took him back to the Pagliano house above the river.
Somehow, Daddy Love had learned that the Pagliano family was away. And there were flyers and advertising newspapers strewn in the blacktop driveway.
Daddy Love drove unhesitatingly up to the house, in the minivan. Daddy Love parked in the horseshoe driveway and went to the front door to ring the bell and there was no answer.
Daddy Love wore gloves and was carrying a canvas sack.
Daddy Love said, Son! We are going to play a game.
Daddy Love took Son’s hand and led him to the back of the house, to the redwood deck.
And Daddy Love took Son to the door on the redwood deck, that led into the house; and at the bottom of this door was a small inset door, a dog-door that was the size of the fattish beagle and that opened inward, or outward, if the dog pushed his head against it.
At the party, Gideon hadn’t noticed this little door in the regular-sized door! Though he’d petted Magic Johnson and followed him around, Magic Johnson had not used his special dog-door at the time.
Yet, Daddy Love had noticed.
There is nothing Daddy Love does not notice, Son. Always remember.
The game was: Daddy Love would help Gideon push through the dog-door on his hands and knees, and then Gideon would open the regular door by turning the knob. It was not a tight fit, for Gideon was very small and Magic Johnson was a fat-bellied dog. It was not difficult for a six-year-old to turn a doorknob and open a door and please his Daddy by doing so.
Daddy Love believed that the door locked from the inside but was not otherwise locked and this turned out to be so.
Daddy Love believed that if the burglar alarm was on, opening the door from the inside would not trigger the alarm; and this turned out to be so.
Still, Daddy Love was cautious entering the house, after Gideon had managed to open the door. Immediately Daddy Love went to check the burglar alarm which was operated by a square white plastic thing in the wall just outside the kitchen and from there Daddy Love went to an interior closet where he discovered sockets and plugs and these Daddy Love disconnected.
Swiftly now Daddy Love moved through the house. Whistling, laughing. What a happy mood Daddy Love was in!
Daddy Love put items in his sack—a laptop computer, silver candlestick holders, silverware—until it was almost too heavy for him to carry. So quickly Daddy Love moved through the rooms of the house he seemed to have forgotten Gideon who was left behind on his six-year-old legs, unable to keep up as Daddy Love charged up the staircase to another floor.
But Gideon had learned, Daddy Love did not like a son of his whimpering.
Especially, Daddy Love disciplined Son for crying.
Forced into the terrible safety-box that held him captive like a mummy and locked in for a very long time so that he couldn’t help wetting his pants like a little baby which was shameful to him and disgusting to Daddy Love.
So now Son could only whisper in desperation seeing Daddy Love nowhere in sight on the second floor—Daddy! Daddy!
He ran along the carpeted hall. He tripped, and fell forward onto his face.
But scrambled up again at once, before Daddy Love could see and scold.
Until at last Daddy Love remembered him, and stood in the hall calling to him.
Think I’d left you? Not ever, Son.
Daddy Love will never abandon you.
In an upstairs bedroom that was so large, Gideon couldn’t see all of it without turning his head, with an entire wall made of plate glass looking out onto the river, Daddy yanked open drawers in a bureau and kicked their cont
ents about on the carpeted floor.
Here he discovered cash, secreted away in a woman’s silk evening purse. Daddy Love counted the bills swiftly once, and then twice, like a bank teller.
Fifteen hundred dollars! Assholes.
Elsewhere there was jewelry, and a man’s silk neckties, and a selection of these items Daddy Love shoved into a woman’s straw tote bag, and handed it to Gideon as his responsibility for carrying back out to the minivan.
Daddy Love entered the large shining bathroom that adjoined the bedroom. Gideon had never seen a bathroom so large.
Daddy Love insisted that Gideon use the toilet, for it was a long drive home and he didn’t intend to stop.
Daddy Love often watched Gideon at the toilet. Daddy Love observed the shy stream of yellowish liquid falling and fizzing in the toilet bowl and seemed in his unpredictable Daddy Love way strangely moved.
You are such a perfect boy, Son. If only you would never grow an inch!
Daddy Love stood beside Gideon, to urinate into the toilet himself. But Gideon shut his eyes and did not see.
Daddy Love did not flush the toilet.
Instead, Daddy Love stopped the drain in the large pale-pink-marble bathtub bordered by floor-to-ceiling mirrors on two walls. And Daddy Love turned on the faucet, so that water splashed noisily but did not run out of the tub.
Gideon sucked at his fingers, seeing this.
For this was a bad thing to do, he remembered being told.
Long ago he’d been told. Never never turn on a faucet so that the water will overflow the sink.
Seeing the worried look in Gideon’s face Daddy Love laughed.
Christ says I bring not peace but a sword, Son.
Laughing Daddy Love led Gideon back out onto the redwood deck and out to the minivan parked in the driveway. Together Gideon and his dad loaded the rear of the van.
And all the way home, Daddy Love was in a good mood. Whistling and laughing. At the Water Gap bridge he leaned over to kiss Son on the forehead in a way that frightened Son but made him feel very relieved too for it seemed that Daddy Love did love him as he’d said since the first night.
Daddy Love: A Novel Page 13
