“And what about the other one?” Father Poole asked confidently, now with a sense of optimism.
Albert Wilson cleared his throat loudly to get everyone’s attention, which worked surprisingly well given that no one paid much attention to him most of the time. He was a busy sort of fellow, running his own dress shop in town. In fact, he was so good at making dresses that women desired them more than sex with their husbands. Albert Wilson never married or was known to keep a lady’s company, and not once had he confided in his friends, family, or customers his fancy for any woman. Some townspeople thus said that he must be homosexual. That idea, coupled with his feminine mannerisms, made Albert Wilson the token homosexual in Holly, whether he knew it or not, and indeed whether he was homosexual or not. Retaliation for being a man who liked to sleep with other men was never a concern in Holly, as one homosexual was a novelty. Had there been others, they would most likely not have been regarded favorably.
This was the extent of how people thought of Albert Wilson. He was an inconsequential little man of about fifty and fairly soft-spoken most of the time, so much so that his nasal voice could be detected only when he spoke above his usual whisper, which generally didn’t happen unless he was outside the confines of his place of business. Albert Wilson never had a contrary thing to say about anyone, with the exception of Charlotte Wickham who had a habit of telling people what they weren’t instead of what they were. For example, she had told Edgar Wannamaker once that he wouldn’t understand what long-time residents of Holly would think of his fascination with cooking since he wasn’t a New Englander by birth, instead of telling him that his unique enjoyment of cooking could be attributed to his upbringing in New York City. Charlotte had also told Albert Wilson that she didn’t share the town’s view that he understood women well. She had added, “But how could you? You’re not a woman,” instead of telling him that he couldn’t understand them because he was a man.
“Rex Gunther,” began Mr. Wilson, “is the son of Big Rex Gunther, ‘The Pride of Holly’ as he’s known.”
Father Poole and Sister Ignatius had no idea what this meant and gave Albert a puzzled look. He nodded as if to acknowledge their confusion and explained.
“He’s a boxer. Pretty good in Cambridge pugilism circles. Tough guy and very intimidating. The most intimidating man I’ve ever met in my life.”
Father Poole snorted to himself but loud enough for everyone to hear. He was thinking to himself, You’ve never met Ezra Hodges. Now there’s a model for intimidation. Had his parishioners not known Father Poole better, they’d have thought his grunt was a derisive reply to Albert Wilson, something to effect of My Aunt Petula would scare you, little man!
The dressmaker took no notice of Father Poole’s laugh. “The boy’s what you’d call a two-sexer.”
“I believe the scientific term is ‘hermaphroditic,’” said Charlotte Wickham, who was eager to discredit Albert Wilson whenever she could.
“Yes. He’s an her-ma-phro-dite,” Albert said carefully, so as not to make an error in pronouncing the word, and narrowed his eyes in Charlotte’s direction. “He’s even starting to develop breasts.”
He stopped as he realized that the ladies appeared to take considerable exception to that word’s coming from a man, even if it was Albert Wilson.
“And his father used him for punching practice every so often. While beating the child, his father would say that, if the boy was gonna grow tits, he might as well get rid of the penis.”
This time none of the ladies objected to Albert’s choice of words, perhaps because there simply was no other way of putting it without sounding vulgar. When it came to the sex organs, one needed to tell it as it is.
“Oh, dear God!” Sister Ignatius exclaimed. “What do we do for someone with that sort of debility? Surely he can’t hope to lead a normal life! Do we care for him for the rest of his days? I mean, the rest of our days, since we’ll be dead and buried long before he’ll ever be.”
Father Poole put his hand on the nun’s shoulder as if to quiet her. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” he said, patting it gently. “God will surely show us the way. We mustn’t turn these poor lambs away. We must remember, as our friends here are reminding us, the innkeeper who turned Joseph and Mary away.”
Miles Wickham slapped both of his hands on the table and arose quickly, proclaiming “Then it’s settled!”
So it came to pass that Father Poole, whether he liked it or not, now had his sanctuary for the abused and abandoned. He even had Argyle Hobbs erect a plaque, “THE BENSON HOME FOR ABUSED AND ABANDONED BOYS,” over the back door of the rectory. Its placement was arranged so that Captain Ransom wouldn’t see it when he came to collect his bribe every month.
Sister Ignatius didn’t agree with the name, claiming that it was inaccurate. “They’re not all boys, Phineas. And none of them was abandoned, unless of course you’re trying to be metaphorical about Jessica.”
Father Poole paid little attention to her occasional hounding about the new name for the rectory at St. Andrew’s. It served its purpose, and that was enough for him. When he did think about the name, or say it out loud, no sooner did the word “abandoned” leave his lips than he would think about Zachary Black. Although the boy had abandoned them, he thought that it was right to include Zachary in naming the rectory, since it was Zachary who had first made him realize that there were children in the Holly community who needed him.
All the five children got along very well together, becoming as close with each other and Father Fin, as he once again began to be called, and Sister Ignatius as any family could ever wish to be. The new boys learned how to climb the maple out back, as taught to them by Jonas. Jessica, no longer quite so little, also learned along with Joey, Rex, and Theo.
The children always kept close to the rectory, having been told time and time again by Father Poole and Sister Ignatius not to go into the town below. They were even scolded during their first winter together by Father Poole, who told them he was disappointed that they had used their makeshift sled to go sleigh-riding down “The Path to Salvation” not once but three times, almost killing themselves and also risking being seen by the wrong people.
The troop swore they’d never go down the hill again. That is, until one day in mid-July of 1936 when the five of them were sitting among the uppermost branches of the maple and gazing out at the Atlantic Ocean in the distance. Just as it had been for Jonas several years before, it had become the favorite view of all the children. They spent hours upon hours in the tree. From there they could see the entire town of Holly and all its inhabitants going about their lives, the vast expanses of farmland around Holly, the surrounding towns, and of course that endlessly blue vista. And as they gazed with imaginative eyes, they wondered what the ocean must be like, what monsters lived in it, how many pirate ships had gone down there, what prevented the water from rushing into New Hampshire, how many drops of rain it must have taken to create such a vast amount of water, and when they would finally be free from the confines of their situation to see it all up close.
The day was hot and sticky down below, but the tree danced in the air as a constant breeze blew through its leaves, offering some much needed relief to the children, who had been promised lemonade by Mrs. Keats if they stayed outside while she made them lunch. Jonas and Joey sat next to each other, as they always did, on their own branch, while Jessica and Theo sat together on theirs. Rex sat by himself yet didn’t sense too much isolation because his branch was between the two limbs where the others sat.
Still, Rex always felt a bit out of the loop when it came to the other four. After all, Jessica and Theo were both nine, and Jonas and Joey would soon be turning eighteen. Rex was in the middle at age twelve. It was hard for him to relate to boys who were on the cusp of adulthood and almost impossible to pretend he was nine again. He also didn’t know yet whether he was more l
ike Jessica or the boys. He liked playing baseball, climbing the tree, and tackling the others, but then so did Jessica.
As hard as it was for Rex to define his emerging identity, he found comfort in knowing that he, with his ever-growing breasts and changing voice, wasn’t the only one who was different among the pack. Each of the children was different in some way. Jessie, as she was now called, was the only girl among them, and Jonas was the only Negro. Joey seemed as though he were crippled, because no one ever saw his hands. And Theo, with his wrecked teeth, couldn’t eat what the rest of them could. This included sourballs, apples, licorice, gum, or Mrs. Keats’s giant chocolate-chip cookies.
“HEY, Y’ALL,” Jonas yelled from his and Joey’s branch. “Let’s go see the ocean!”
“We’re already seeing it,” Jessie said.
“What, now?” Joey replied, not believing that Jonas was serious.
“Now!” he said.
“No way,” Joey said, his hands deep in his pants, going for his fifth ejaculation of the day. “Sis’d castrate us. Sorry to tell you guys, but ain’t nobody gonna do that to me! I’m stayin’ put!”
Jonas laughed, knowing what castration was, but the comment went right over the heads of the other three, who lounged on their respective branches.
“I’m serious, y’all,” Jonas said. “C’mon! Les’ go!”
“How ’bout we only go so far as the end of ‘The Path to Salvation’?” Rex said. “We can’t make it all the way to the shore and back again before dark. And besides, Father Fin’d be so mad.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Jessie said, “but I’ll go down the hill. Father Fin and Sis are in town. They won’t be back for a while. Hobby’s also in town getting a new hammer cause he broke his other one.”
“Yeah,” said Theo. “And thince they won’t be back for another hour or tho, and Mitheth Keat-th never cometh out-thide, no one will thee uth.”
It was decided then. The children made their way down “The Path to Salvation” for the first and last time, deliberately defiant. Once they were there, they didn’t know what to do. Jonas and Joey wanted to forge ahead into town to explore it, while the other three demurred.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” Jessie said.
“Aw, come on now, guys. Don’t be a bunch of pussies,” Joey replied, which wasn’t like him, but he was losing patience with the younger ones. Nearly a man, he wanted to make new friends, get a job, and have an independent life.
As Jonas was about to concede defeat and agree to retreating back up the hill, they all heard a dog’s yelp.
“GODDAMN MUT!” cried a man’s voice. The children ran to a deserted corner of Atchison Street, where they saw a man in greasy overalls with an unlit and half-smoked cigarette in his mouth kicking a mangy white dog that appeared to be a stray.
“GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE BEFORE I COOK YOUR HIDE INTO GLUE, YOU PIECE O’ SHIT!”
Joey cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “HEY, SHIT-FOR-BRAINS! THEY COOK HORSES INTO GLUE, YOU ASSHOLE.”
The man turned around quickly. “YOU LITTLE SHITHEAD! I’LL TEACH YOU!”
He pursued all the children, but they quickly dispersed. Rex and Jessie ran back toward the hill, Jonas to the left toward town, and Joey and Theo to the right. The man caught up to Joey and pulled him by his hair. The boy began screaming, “GET THIS FUCKER OFF ME!”
The other children ran to his aid, jumping on the man in greasy overalls and pummeling him until he let go of Joey and fell to the ground. He screamed while they kicked and punched him. Shortly thereafter, the man lay senseless. They all came to the conclusion that he had suffered enough. As they walked away, the children realized that he was watching them go back up the hill. They heard him scream, “I’LL GET YOU FUCKERS! I SEE WHERE YOU’RE GOING! I’LL FIND YOU ALL! YOU’LL BE SORRY!”
They all raced up “The Path to Salvation” as quickly as they could, pursued by the filthy dog-abuser whom they had pummeled. In fact, as beaten as he was, he was gaining on them with surprising speed. Jessie was the fastest of the children and made it to the top of the hill before anyone else. Because Theo was the slowest, the man in the greasy overalls caught up to him first.
Hearing Theo scream for help, they all reacted to protect one of their own, running halfway back down the hill to assist their brother. Before they could get to him, however, Theo’s attacker shrieked loudly. The dog that he had been abusing had come back for retribution. He first bit the man on his backside, causing him to release Theo almost immediately. After Jonas helped Theo to his feet, the two boys ran up the hill. Meanwhile, not relenting, the dog continued to maul the man.
Throughout all of this Joey, Theo, and Rex reflected back on their own beatings prior to entering the Benson Home for Abused and Abandoned Boys, imagining the dog’s satisfaction as he took his revenge. They didn’t share their thoughts with one another, however, because they were afraid the others would think it was cruel to wish death on a person who was struggling to survive.
The man made one last scream for help before the dog latched his jaws onto his tormentor’s throat and didn’t let go until he went limp. The dog then let go and looked up at the children in the distance, his white fur now stained red.
“He’s dead,” Rex said.
“Only got what he deserved,” replied Joey, the most emotionally detached among the group.
“That there dog protected us,” Jonas added, as the children regrouped on “The Path to Salvation.”
“Yeah,” Rex commented. “And this guy would’ve told on us to the police. They’d find out about us living up here. Father Fin and Sis’d go to jail because of us.”
“You’re right,” Joey said after a long pause. “This is for the best. No one knows what happened. No one below ever pays any attention to what goes on up here. So let’s just clean this up.”
“Clean what up?” asked Theo.
“I mean, get rid of the body.”
“Why do we have to get rid of it?” Jessie asked. “Let’s just roll him down the hill.”
“Because, stupid, it’s evidence,” Joey said angrily, causing Jonas to get in his face.
“Hey!” Jonas challenged. “You don’t need to be callin’ nobody names.”
Joey considered what he’d said, then turned to Jessie.
“Sorry, Jess. I’m just scared too.”
“Tho what do we do?” Theo asked, holding an arm that had been bruised by the man in the greasy overalls.
“The dog’s got blood all over him,” said Joey, “and this man’s got his tonsils ripped out of him through his neck. Folks are gonna put two and two together and find out that he’s been mauled. They’ll kill the dog.”
“No!” Jessie screamed, running over to the dog and hugging his neck.
“That filthy mutt’s one selfless dog,” Joey added.
“What do you mean?” Jessie asked, rubbing the side of her face against the dog’s.
“He didn’t care about himself,” answered Joey. “While this man was beating the shit out of him, he didn’t attack. But after we helped him, he didn’t hold back once the man went after us. All of a sudden it was like he stopped worrying about himself.”
“Then let’s get rid of the body and give the dog a bath,” Jonas said.
The children surrounded the corpse and contemplated how all this happened.
“It was all because we wanted to see the ocean,” Jonas admitted out loud.
“The one time we go down the hill on our own, a man gets killed,” Rex said.
“Yeah,” Joey replied. “We wanted to see something amazing. We got our wish.”
Twenty
One Big, Happy Family
“I can’t believe it’s been as long as it has,” whispered Sister Ignatius to Father Poole as she got up from their be
d to make breakfast on a spring morning in 1942. It was early Saturday and quite cold out, despite its being early June. She wrapped her robe tightly around her thin, naked body and walked lazily to the mirror above the large dresser that had once belonged to Ben Benson, her slippers scraping rhythmically against the wooden parquet.
“What are you talking about?” Phineas asked, the side of his mouth still pressed against the pillow.
Though his words were muffled, she understood him perfectly. After all, they had been lovers for the past thirteen years. Despite the popular notion that thirteen was an unlucky number, Ellen gleamed with affection for her partner in a relationship of such longevity.
Standing before the mirror, she began to twist her long blond hair into a spiral above the nape of her neck and set it with a handful of bobby pins. She smiled at Phineas’s question and managed a tiny laugh.
“She’s fifteen today,” Ellen said. “Our Jessie is fifteen.”
Phineas grunted, only half awake. After she made no further attempt to carry on the conversation, he rolled over and rubbed his face, then abruptly started slapping his cheeks, first one and then the other, until he felt alert enough to open his eyes. A few seconds later, sitting up in bed and squinting without his glasses, he saw Ellen rubbing her temples while staring at herself in the mirror.
“Are you still getting those headaches?” he asked.
Her eyes met his in the mirror. “It’s fine,” she replied weakly. “I suppose I just got up too fast.”
She then walked over to the bed, sat down on its edge, and hugged him. “Our girl is fifteen years old today, and I remember it all as though it were only yesterday.”
They kissed again, and then she left Phineas alone to get dressed. As Sister Ignatius walked down the stairs of the Benson house, which she had come to call her own for well over a decade, she reflected on the events of the past several years, although now thinking too much made her head throb. Her headaches were becoming more frequent, intense, and longer-lasting. Today, however, she refused to think of herself. It was Jessie’s birthday.
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