The Eyes of the Doe

by Patricia Taylor Wells

  Leaving the only home we had ever known was a difficult choice, especially for Ross. His father, Wylie Hendricks, had served as a county judge and a deacon in the First Baptist Church. Everyone in Land of Goshen knew Papa Hendricks and held him in high esteem. Even after he passed away, Ross and his two brothers continued to benefit from the family name and reputation their father had left behind.

  When Ross came home from the war, he went to work as a Landman in the East Texas oil business. He had learned everything he knew from working alongside his father who, in addition to being a county judge, was an attorney and the owner of the only abstract and title company in Freedom County. Most of Ross’s business was conducted at night, after the farmers, ranchers, and other landowners he hoped to sweet-talk into leasing their land were home from their fields and pastures. Ross sat at kitchen tables in just about every county between the Sabine and Trinity Rivers, drinking stale coffee as he drafted contracts that granted oil companies, independent producers, and wildcatters permission to drill their wells. Ross’s reputation as a Landman was unsurpassed. He could negotiate long-term leases with low rentals better than any other lease hound in Texas. But he was also high strung and high-minded, which made him difficult to get along with. Working contract meant being on the road much of the time and going without a paycheck when business was slow. None of this suited me, of course. We had three kids to feed and plenty of bills to pay. I kept after Ross until he found a job with an abstract and title plant in Dallas. Having him home every night and knowing when we would have money in the bank, was worth the inconvenience of starting over in a new location.

  Despite all this, I didn’t have total peace of mind. I was always afraid Ross would up and leave his job the first time something didn’t please him. Ross wasn’t a team player by any means. He had his own way of doing things and no one was going to tell him any different. I couldn’t spend my time worrying about this, so I reluctantly contacted one of Papa Hendricks’s former acquaintances who owned a law firm in Dallas to see if there were any openings I could fill. A few days later I went in for an interview and was offered a job on the spot as a receptionist. I dreaded having to tell Ross my good news that night at supper.

  “YOU DIDN’T GO begging for a job, I hope.” Ross made his resentment clear.

  “Carl Roberts is willing to give me a chance and I’m going to take it.”

  “What about Jake and Holly?” Ross asked.

  “They’re old enough to take care of themselves. Besides, I can be home in plenty of time to fix supper, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “I don’t like you working, especially for someone who knew my father.”

  “It’s because he knew your father that I got a job. Why can’t you just be grateful?”

  “You don’t need to work. I’ve always taken care of this family.”

  “We could use the extra money. I don’t know how we’re going to pay for college in a few years if we don’t start saving something. You shouldn’t be embarrassed about my having a job.”

  “Tell Carl you decided to stay home with the kids. He’ll understand.”

  “I’m not going to do that, Ross. I told him I would start next week.”

  “You could have at least asked me about it before you went to see him.”

  “You would have said no; just like now. You never appreciate anything I do for you and this family.”

  “Well, goddamn it, Jewell. Just don’t let me hear how tired you are every night of the week.”

  I hated Ross when he acted like this. What did he have to complain about? He never lifted a finger around the house, and I certainly didn’t expect him to pitch in and help just because I had a job. I would manage somehow. I always did. Not once had I ever put my needs ahead of those of my family. Ross ought to know that.

  I HAD BEEN working for several months now. Despite the fact I had less time to get everything done, I still felt I had made the right choice. My children were doing fine, I thought, as I looked over at Jake. He was the quiet one. I never knew what he was thinking and that bothered me.

  Holly had turned fourteen in August and was high strung like her father. Unlike Jake, who would run off to avoid confrontation, Holly would make her objection known by screaming at the top of her lungs. She and Jake were as different as night and day. It doesn’t take long for a parent with more than one child to realize they can’t treat their children exactly the same. The kids, of course, realize this, too, and are quick to hold them accountable for being unfair.

  Jake and Holly were growing up so fast. It seems like just yesterday when I could put the two of them in the tub together and not be criticized for how I was raising my children. Those days were over. Lord, help me, I had raised one teenager, but I now had two more to worry about.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Every life experience is planted deep within our hearts like a bulb waiting to sustain us through the wintry seasons of life.

  Ross

  IT WAS AFTER dark when I got home. I had spent most of the day searching property records at the courthouse two counties over. Jewell had kept supper waiting, even though she knew I would be late coming home. I liked having my family gathered around the table for the evening meal. Jake usually tried to sneak a comic book on his lap to read while he was eating, even though he knew Jewell wouldn’t allow it. And Holly would sit quietly, waiting for the right moment to grab the conversation. She loved to argue and so did I. It was only when we got on the subject of politics that we were headed for trouble.

  “Did you finish your homework?” Jewell asked Holly about halfway through supper.

  “Not yet,” she replied. “World Book isn’t much help.”

  “What are you working on?” I asked.

  “I’m doing a report on Reconstruction.”

  “You’re not going to find the truth in World Book,” I assured her.

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I bet they haven’t taught you anything in school about all the lawlessness that went on after the damn Union did away with the Texas Rangers. One thing for sure, we didn’t need a bunch of arrogant Republicans down here meddling in our affairs and subjecting us to their worthless rule. That’s the reason we ended up with the goddamned Klan. At least that’s what Dad claimed. He always said the only thing worse than a Republican was a Klansman.”

  “Is that why you hate Republicans so much?” Holly asked.

  “Let’s don’t get started,” Jewell said. The look she gave us should have been enough.

  “I’ll tell you why I hate them,” I said, ignoring Jewell. “It goes way back to when Dad defended a colored man, Old Hick, who had killed a white man who cheated him in a dice game.”

  “What does that have to do with Republicans?” Holly interrupted.

  “Let me finish my story. I had gone under the house to play where it was cool. Old Hick was lying under the drip line of the icebox, catching water on his tongue as the ice melted and trickled down the runoff pipe. He told me he was playing a game, so the two of us hid out most of the day. When Dad came looking for me, he thought I had been kidnapped when he saw me sitting next to a runaway killer. Dad crawled over to where we were and grabbed hold of me. He placed me on his lap and for the next hour, the three of us sat there while Dad convinced Old Hick that he would get a fair trial if he gave himself up.”

  “Weren’t you scared?” Holly’s eyes widened.

  “Old Hick wasn’t going to hurt me. I was more scared of the whipping I was going to get afterwards for not letting anyone know where I was.”

  “What happened to Old Hick?”

  “Dad kept his word and defended him.”

  “And then what?”

  “He was found guilty and hung.” I felt sad and ashamed just thinking about the fate of the man who had taught me how to fetch a drink of water on a hot day without leaving my play spot.

  “But that wasn’t enough to satisfy the Klan,” I continued. “They were angry with Dad
for defending Hickory Adams in the first place, and made their resentment clear by burning a cross in our yard. I remember Dad saying that the men under those sheets were some of the same men he prayed with on Sundays.”

  “If the Klan was mainly Democrats, why would they want to harm one of their own?”

  “I’ll tell you why. The Klan had it in mind to get rid of all the Republicans who came down here during Reconstruction, wanting to control the Negro vote for their own personal gain. If those damn carpetbaggers and the scalawags who sympathized with them had left us alone, we could have taken care of our own problems and there never would have been a vigilante group like the Klan. The damn fools. The Klan figured if they could scare the Republicans, they could scare the coloreds and anyone else who didn’t see things their way.”

  “Let’s talk about something else.” Jewell stood up so she could refill everyone’s glass. “Jake, you’ve hardly touched your plate. Is something wrong?”

  “I’m not hungry,” Jake mumbled.

  “Well, you’ve got to eat something.”

  “Can’t I just go to my room?” Jake kept his head down. “I don’t feel like eating.”

  “You’re not leaving the table until everyone has finished. This is the only time we have together and I’m not going to let everyone run off just because they want to.”

  “I forgot to tell you,” Holly broke in. “Mr. Bates picked me to do a solo for this year’s cantata. We’re doing “O Holy Night.”

  “Who’s Mr. Bates?” I asked.

  “If you ever went to church you’d know he’s the new choir director,” Holly said.

  “I guess that means I’ll have to drive you to practice every Wednesday night.” Jewell sounded aggravated with Holly’s announcement.

  “This is the first time anyone ever asked me to sing the lead,” Holly persisted. “Mrs. Hanks doesn’t think I can do it, but I know I can.”

  “Doesn’t Mrs. Hanks play the piano? Why should she have a say?” Jewell asked.

  “She has a say about everything. I saw her whisper something to Mr. Bates after he made the announcement. I know she didn’t like his decision.”

  “Well, maybe you shouldn’t try anything you’ve never done before,” Jewell said wryly.

  Ordinarily, Jake would have teased Holly about her big announcement, but he kept quiet and slumped down in his chair. I tried not to let on I was studying his face for clues. I was hesitant about bringing anything up, but decided to go with my gut feeling.

  “I think you should take Jake to see the doctor,” I said as I looked over at Jewell.

  Jewell returned a blank expression. I had expected to get her full attention, but she acted like she hadn’t even heard me.

  “Kathleen called this afternoon,” was all she said.

  It annoyed me that Jewell was trying to use our oldest daughter’s phone call to avoid talking about Jake.

  “Let me see your hand.” I reached out to take the hand Jake reluctantly held out for me. I looked at his palm carefully, and then turned it over for closer inspection. “Have you been feeling bad, son?”

  “I’m just tired, is all,” he answered.

  “Your fingertips have no color in them,” I observed.

  “They look fine to me,” Jewell replied, barely glancing at Jake’s hand when I held it up for her.

  “Well, you take him in. I want him checked out.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Jewell blew me off. “Jake’s coloring is fine. You’re worrying yourself over nothing. I’ll call Dr. Riley’s office in the morning and see if I can get him in on Saturday.”

  “Why can’t you take him in tomorrow?” I felt my blood pressure rising.

  “I can’t take off work because you say so. If you’re so worried about it, why don’t you take him in?”

  “Because you’re his mother. You’re supposed to take him.”

  “I said I would make an appointment for Saturday. I’m sorry that doesn’t suit you. Jake was just in for a checkup last June, right before Boy Scout camp. Everything was fine. He’s been doing so much lately, with Scouts and all. He’s probably just tired. Can we finish eating now? We’ll talk about it later.”

  “A boy his age wouldn’t get that tired unless there was something wrong with him.” I startled everyone with my outburst. “If it weren’t for that damn job of yours, you’d have more time to see after your children.”

  “Don’t start that again,” Jewell returned. “I do the best I can for this family, but you don’t seem to think that’s good enough.”

  “You’re damn right I don’t! You need to take Jake to a doctor. I don’t like the way he looks. Jesus Christ. Have you forgotten what happened with Holly? She cried all night and all you did was stick a bottle in her mouth. You didn’t want to take her to the doctor in the middle of the night. The next day, we found out she had something bad wrong—polio, for God’s sake. Well, I’m not going to wait around to find out if my son has cancer or something worse, and then have some doctor tell us it’s too late to do anything about it.”

  A cold silence followed.

  I felt the veins in my temples swell and my face burned with anger. I shoved my chair back and took out the cigarettes and matches I kept in my shirt pocket. I fumbled with the book of matches as I clinched the cigarette between my teeth. After picking off the small traces of tobacco that gritted my tongue from biting into its filter, I let out a heavy sigh and turned my back to everyone.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  After every tragic event there’s a painful silence that echoes in our minds forever.

  Holly

  I WAS THE only one in my family who attended church on a regular basis. Daddy stopped going once he was out on his own, blaming his decision on Papa Hendricks who used to drag him behind the woodshed if he skipped a Sunday meeting. Daddy swore he would never force his own children to worship against their will. It didn’t seem to bother him one bit for anyone to think he was banking his soul’s redemption entirely on the Baptist creed: once saved always saved.

  Mother, on the other hand, was not as convinced of her salvation as Daddy was of his. She made up for not going to church regularly by singing “Blessèd Assurance” as she kneaded dough for her Sunday morning biscuits. I always felt guilty for interrupting her slightly off-key soprano when asking for a ride to Sunday school.

  “If we don’t hurry, I’ll be late,” I pled every Sunday morning as Mother took a glass jar and placed it upside down on top of the dough she had flattened between two sheets of floured waxed paper. I grew even more impatient as she carefully lifted the dough circles she had just cut and meticulously arranged them in the iron skillet she had slathered with Crisco.

  “You’re not going to be late,” Mother replied, aggravated that she would have to delay baking her biscuits in order to take me to Sunday school. “Did you find the quarters I left on your dresser for the collection plate? Now go on and get in the car while I finish up. I declare. It’s an every Sunday thing, rushing me around like this. I’m just glad that Jake isn’t like you, wanting to go every time the door is open.”

  Jake wanted nothing to do with religion. When we were younger, he and his naughty friends had taunted me constantly, calling me Holy Holly whenever I begged them to become members of my little congregation in the backyard. They were hell-bound for sure. Nothing delighted me more than seeing them squirm in their lawn chair pews as they listened to my dark sermons. I always read the scriptures aloud to Jake every Christmas Eve, hoping he would feel as blessed as I did from hearing these sacred stories. All he would do was put his hands over his ears and jeer, “You think you’re such an angel, Holy Holly.” It was totally useless. Jake had no desire to save his soul. I shuddered to think what was going to happen to him if he continued to reject the true Biblical account of the creation.

  “You’re going to go to hell when you die,” I would lecture him for refusing salvation.

  “Am not! Now leave me alone, you ninny. I don’t beli
eve a word you’re saying. If you don’t get out of here, I’ll tell everyone that the real reason you limp is because you don’t have any toes.”

  I LOOKED AROUND the table: Daddy with his back half-turned, Jake who was noticeably pale now that Daddy had pointed it out, and Mother who stared vacantly at her plate while cutting her food into small bits. It annoyed me that my big announcement about my solo part in the cantata had been lost in my parents’ argument over who should take Jake to the doctor. Jake was always edging me out, either for some Boy Scout medal he had earned or the first place prize his project had received in the science fair. He was forever stealing the spotlight that should have belonged to me.

  Still, it was difficult to ignore what Daddy had said about Jake, no matter how reckless it sounded. Daddy had an uncanny knack, with a good record to back it, for knowing things before they happened. He claimed that when he was a soldier during World War II, his ability to sense approaching danger had saved his life countless times. He took the warning signs that came to him seriously, and it made him angry when others made light of them. I remember how upset he became just last year when he found out that Mother was planning to take Marilyn Davis and me to see President Kennedy when he came to town.

  “There’s going to be trouble,” Daddy cautioned the morning of the parade. “Every coffee shop in Dallas is buzzing about it. Just yesterday, someone left a flyer on my windshield. It had mug shots of Kennedy with Wanted for Treason printed in big letters. It then listed all the things Kennedy has done to betray the American people, at least according to whoever made the flyer. I’d think twice about going to that parade if I were you.”