Claiming Amelia

by Jessica Blake

  I scoffed. “So I should just forgive and forget?”

  “No. Just forgive. Always remember the lesson. Let it help you become the father you didn’t have.”

  He had left me then and Liane had taken his place, and I pulled her into my lap, needing her close.

  “You okay?” she asked me and I placed a hand on her stomach.

  “I am now.”

  She kissed my forehead and snuggled closer. “Nice chat with Dad?”

  I snorted and she laughed. “Yeah, I felt the conflict in you.”

  That surprised me. I’d expected her to feel my anger. But conflict? I gave it some thought and realized it was true. I was conflicted. I wanted my parent’s love as much as I wanted to hold onto the hate. I wanted to be a big brother as much as I wanted to despise my siblings.

  “Which will bring you more joy in the end?” she asked me, reading my mind. “Which legacy do you want to leave our child?”

  I rested my head on her chest, listening to her wise heart pulse beneath my ear. I already knew the answer to her question. I just wasn’t ready to say it out loud.

  ***

  Later that night, Liane came back from visiting my mother, distraught and looking so exhausted that I became concerned. “Your mother is beside herself. Worth has disappeared, and no one can find him. Hawk, she needs you. She needs a strong man beside her. You’ve got to find him. Forget what happened between you. You’ve got to find him and bring him home.”

  I reluctantly agreed and had there been anyone at all who could have taken the responsibility, I would have shifted it immediately. But there was no one but me. I made a few phone calls first, and no one could give me any information. I checked the clinic and called hotels. Nothing. It was getting very late, and the town had shut down for the night.

  I finally got into my car and decided to simply drive the roads. I looked by the river and went by the old LaViere farm. He was nowhere to be found. On the way back home, I passed by the road on which Mark had nearly lost his life. On a whim, I made a U-turn and turned onto the road. Sure enough, it was by that tree that I found Father. He was asleep, lying on the grass with his arms outstretched.

  I climbed out and bent over him. He’d been drinking heavily. I woke him and dragged him to an upright position. Despite the alcohol, he was coherent. He said nothing. He just looked at me, then folded his arms around me and began to cry.

  We sat that way for a long time, and I patted him on the back until at last he quieted. I helped him into my car and drove him to my house. There I made him a pot of black coffee and helped him shower. He borrowed some clothes from my closet and finally presented himself in the living room.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “Don’t,” I responded, the conflict still running through me. “Just don’t. Mother is beside herself and needs you. That’s the only reason I came looking for you.”

  “Hawk, let’s not do this.”

  “Do what, Father? Don’t pretend, not with me. It’s happened again, don’t you see? It’s the same story all over again.”

  He looked at me, his eyes narrowed, trying to comprehend my words. “What story?”

  “You know the one. It’s a classic around these parts. The good son is in an accident at the tender age of sixteen, and the bad son goes on to reproduce more bad seed.”

  Realization hit him, I saw it in his eyes the moment it did. He took a step backwards, then another until his hand was on the doorknob. “No, son. History tried to repeat itself, but it failed this time. The good son will live.” He opened the door and took a step out. “And the bad one…”

  He shook his head wearily and closed the door behind him. He never completed the sentence.

  CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

  Auggie

  Time heals all, I’m told. I disagree. I believe that time blunts the memory as a scab closes a wound. It never truly heals for that would make it completely disappear. But life moves on, and it’s up to each of us to make the best of it.

  Six weeks after his accident, my baby boy opened his eyes. Three days after that, they were able to take him off the respirator. He couldn’t speak at first, and we didn’t know if it was from brain damage or from being on a ventilator for so very long. At first, he could only blink his response, then he grew strong enough to squeeze my hand. Then, miracles upon miracles, he opened his mouth and said his first word. “Mom.”

  After that, things seemed to move quickly, more quickly than I thought they should. He was taken out of ICU and admitted to a rehab unit for intensive therapy. I wanted to scream at the doctors and nurses to stop. To give him time to rest. Time to recover. But no, they were getting him into a chair. Then on his feet. They didn’t listen to the cries of pain that tore at my soul.

  And it was a good thing because, slowly, he began to get better.

  I spent many hours at the hospital, sometimes with Worth and Marga. Sometimes alone. I would simply sit with Mark or we’d watch something stupid on TV. He was quiet, still getting his bearings, still trying to retrieve some of the memories he’d lost. His speech was still hard to understand at times, but his speech therapist was making a difference.

  “H-Hawk v-visited me this m-morning,” he said, and I understood those words clearly enough.

  I examined his face for any anxiety, but there was none. “Did you have a good visit?”

  “Y-yes. I d-discovered him. I mean….” His face turned red as he searched for the right word. “I m-mean… I remembered him.” He was getting frustrated with himself. Instead of babying him, I let him process his frustration on his own, the way the therapists told me to. He needed a mother, but he didn’t need to be mothered right now.

  “I’m sure he was glad you are so much better now,” I offered tentatively, still unsure if what he remembered was good or bad.

  He nodded. “He t-told me about the f-fight and asked me to f-forgive him. I asked him to f-forgive m-me too.”

  My face grew hot and I worked hard to blink away the tears. They came anyway, burning a line down my face. “That’s wonderful, honey,” I said, squeezing his hand.

  “Yes. F-family is im…” I waited for as long as he needed to finish the word and smiled when he did. “Important.”

  ***

  When I wasn’t at the rehab center, I turned my attention to the farm. Over the years, I’d found a continuity within nature that pulled me back from the brink. The horses welcomed me, and the exercise stimulated my blood. For the time being, I set aside relationships and problems. As I was learning, these were often resolved on their own and didn’t require my interference.

  One such example was Brandon and Lily. I wasn’t even sure that Brandon still had a law practice as his days were spent at our farm. He and Lily were a common sight, and I was amused to hear they had even begun to bicker a bit. This was always a sign of people being comfortable with one another. They no longer worried about making good impressions. At that point, relationships were like worn-in jeans or shoes — no matter how they appeared to the outsider, they just felt right.

  Lily confessed to me one day that they’d become quite attached to one another and was feeling me out about how I felt on that topic. I had a feeling where all that was headed. Sure enough, Brandon proposed and Lily accepted. They both still wanted to have a family, and that clock was rapidly winding down. Lily asked whether they might be married in the high pasture that fall. I not only told her that would be wonderful but opened the hotel to her and her guests for the reception and in case of inclement weather. It felt good to have some positive spirits around the place.

  Hawk and Liane continued to visit often when Worth was scarce. Liane was growing heavier and was even more beautiful than before. She was blossoming in many ways. So was Hawk. Their love for one another showed in every gesture, every sentence they spoke. Love was truly in the air.

  Marga was getting ready for her senior year and all that had to offer. In a strange way, Mark’s accident seemed to calm her down and
made her accept life more maturely. I’d heard stories about cases wherein one of the conceptual twins doesn’t survive, and the healthy fetus absorbs the other. It almost seemed as if she had absorbed Mark’s calm and common sense at the accident. Perhaps it was how she paid tribute to him.

  She visited him nearly every day. Often, she’d drag her friends with her, which always cheered him up.

  Worth, it seemed, had grown numb. He functioned mechanically, going to work each day and coming home as regular as clockwork. He didn’t drink but neither did he smile. He slept next to me in the bed at night, but he may as well have been a ghost. I knew eventually something would burst and hoped that I’d be there to help him through it.

  Liane’s girlfriend threw a baby shower for her, and it was held at the vicarage. I was invited and looked forward to being around excited young women. I arrived a bit early and brought bowls of salads that Letty had contributed. I found Liane’s father sweeping the step outside the church when I pulled in. He had been very kind during the first few days after Mark’s accident and had visited him several times in the hospital. I’d never thanked him properly for that.

  “Good afternoon, Rev. Coventry,” I shouted from the parking lot. “I’ve got quite a bit of food here that needs to be refrigerated. Where shall I take it?”

  He motioned me in to the church and showed me the commercial refrigerators in the kitchen. We stowed the bowls there and settled into his office for a chat.

  “You know, I never thanked you properly for your kindness,” I began.

  “That’s not necessary, but you are most definitely welcomed, and I include you all in my prayers daily,” he said, holding a match up to his pipe. “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all. When I was young, my dad smoked a pipe from time to time, and the scent brings back pleasant memories.”

  “So, Mrs. LaViere, how are you faring? Is Mark continuing to get better?”

  “Please, call me Auggie.”

  “Only if you’ll call me Ben.”

  “That’s much better. Thank you, Ben. We’re all sort of caught in perpetual motion. Mark is making progress daily, but he still has a long road ahead of him. Marga has settled down, which is a good thing. Worth is pretty numb. And me? Well, perhaps I’m the hub of all that motion.”

  “Liane speaks so well of you. I know that she’s glad you’re nearby, her not having her mother and all through this pregnancy,” he said kindly, puffing and blowing the smoke in the direction of an opened window.

  “She’s like a daughter to me. She stayed with me almost all the time, immediately after the accident. And she visits Mark every day and I think he looks forward to seeing her the most. She’s a very special young lady. You should be very proud of her.”

  “I am,” he nodded, “I am. What you see is her mother, though. Her mother was a gentle soul. She had the knowing, the same as Liane, but I think Liane’s is stronger. Judith was never very strong, however. We waited a very long time for Liane to be given to us and after she was born, the doctors warned that Judith shouldn’t have any more children. It had simply taken too much out of her.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

  “Ah, no, no reason to be sorry. We had Liane and who could have asked for a better blessing? To think that today we’re celebrating her child about to be born, well…” his voice trailed off as he lost himself in a memory.

  I sat quietly, allowing him his moment.

  “May I be frank, Auggie?” He snapped back from his reverie and looked to me.

  “Of course.”

  He drew upon his pipe, forming the right words. “This, this difficulty between Hawk and his father. I must admit that it troubles me. Liane is very sensitive, as you know. I’m a bit concerned that their hostility is less than healthy for her and for the child. We’ve always had a peaceful house, you see. Liane has never learned to deal with an ongoing tension. I’m not sure how well she’s handling it.”

  I nodded. “I understand. I wish they would settle their differences, but they are both the same, and that’s where it begins. They tend to almost cherish resentment, as though it’s necessary to their mental being and self-respect. I have no idea what to do about it,” I confessed.

  The bells in the church steeple rang out the hour then, and the sound was peaceful and restorative. How much joy and misery had that church bell known?

  “I don’t suppose going to church would…” he let the sentence trail as I shook my head.

  “I’m afraid not, Ben. Neither one would be very regular, I’m afraid.”

  “Counseling?”

  “Worth is a psychologist, remember? No, I’m afraid he holds himself above we mortals when it comes to self-healing.”

  “I hope you don’t mind, Auggie, but Liane has filled me in on the difficulty. If I might be so bold, I wonder if you might not hold the key?”

  I stared at him, unsure if I heard him correctly. “Me?”

  “Men are solitary creatures. They don’t share well, each having his own territory. When he makes a family, he provides for them and lives for them. Without them, he has no purpose. Do you see where I’m headed?” he asked, drawing on his pipe again.

  The air was filled with the sweet cherry scent of his tobacco, and I had to admit it was beginning to stifle me a bit. “Might we take a walk, Ben?”

  He instantly recognized the problem and tamped out his pipe. “Of course, of course, how thoughtless of me.”

  We left the church and strolled along the sidewalk. “Go on with what you were saying, Ben, please.”

  “Oh, yes, yes, quite. Indeed, as I was about to say, men need a purpose behind their ability to provide. They need a sense of recognition, perhaps even a reward. They fight for their king, or in this case, country. They feed, clothe, and shelter their family, but for themselves? They drink and sport, but they are constantly competing to be the best. Even the weakest man must find some way to be the strongest, if you see what I mean.”

  “I do, Ben, I really do,” I answered, a bit amazed at how unique it felt to have a conversation that was about something other than horses or business.

  “I’m wondering whether Worth and Hawk are nothing more than highly-spirited men who have no opportunity to compete, other than in anger and for your approval? They are equally strong, although Hawk has the advantage of youth and this thwarts Worth’s ability to maintain the leadership role on every count, in every situation. I believe they are competing for your acknowledgement.”

  We strolled nearly to the corner while I processed what he was telling me. “I see where you’re going with this, and I have to say, I’d never really thought of it like that. Yes, you’re right; they’re both very competitive.” I was intent on his words but becoming more thoughtful.

  “Yes, yes. Now, in this case, Worth and Hawk were born into money. Money is the scorekeeper, you see, but only for those who began with none. Therefore, there are no means of acknowledging a victor here — not in any category.”

  I nodded, enthusiastic to hear such a monumentally indescribable situation be explained in logical terms. “Go on,” I encouraged him.

  “Therefore, either the men must separate enough that they no longer compete, or there must be an alternate reward or recognition. There is only one you, Auggie.” I nodded, understanding. “However, the reward is different for each of them. It is up to you to clearly define this. To Worth, you are wife. You must let him know this and acknowledge that he is a good husband, provider and so forth. To Hawk, you are mother. He must feel the security of your love and support and be encouraged to become his own man. Neither man can question his role in your life. You must be very careful not to hold approval of one over the other’s head.”

  I stopped walking and was stunned by the simplicity.

  “Yes, I see you are what we Brits call gobsmacked.” He smiled and patted my shoulder encouragingly.

  “You’ve hit it on the head, Ben. I’ve accused Worth of being a bad father because of his pers
onality traits then told Hawk that he’s exactly like his father. That put them on par and naturally, they’re fighting to prove me wrong. If, as you say, my opinion carries the weight it does, then I’ve gone about this all wrong! I’ve encouraged, rather than helped to resolve their differences.”

  “Exactly,” Ben said, smiling with the reward of having been a good counselor.

  “I can’t tell you what this means to me, Ben. Thank you,” I gushed and kissed him on the cheek.

  “It will take some thinking on your part, Auggie,” he cautioned. “Old habits are difficult to break. We must first realize which part of our behavior is inspired by logic and which by habit. Once the patterns are discerned, we can begin to make adjustments. Nothing too drastic, mind you. That becomes noticeable and certainly Worth, with his professional training, will see what you’re up to.”

  I smiled. “You know him well.”

  “As he knows you. I believe the trick will be in how you allow yourself to think of each of them. Your behavior toward them will reflect that thought pattern. Resentment encourages defense — you get the idea.”

  We heard laughter behind us as the guests began to arrive. “Ben, you may have changed the outcome for not only Liane but everyone in our family. Let’s head back, shall we?”

  “With pleasure. Just remember… it falls to you to determine the boundaries.”

  “I’ll remember,” I agreed and took his arm as he held it out to me. We strolled toward the church just as Liane emerged and ran to hug me.

  The baby shower was just the thing to lighten my mood that afternoon. Liane sat, surrounded by friends and well-wishers, opening gift after gift and expressing delight at each new surprise. The refreshments were bountiful, and there was anticipation in the air. I hugged Ben and Liane as I left, offering to carry back anything that wouldn’t fit in Liane’s car. She appreciated the gesture, and we loaded a stroller into my trunk. “I’ll get the rest when I come to visit Dad,” Liane explained. I waved as I drove off and the drive home was the first pleasantly decent day I’d enjoyed in a long, long time.