Chapter 4

INDIANA (Part 2)

Odysseus and the Ghosts

The clipper ships.

Ben ran his hand mindlessly up and down the boat rail, wincing at the memory. How many nights had he used them as a bedtime story? As many as he could get away with. Talk about anything rather than what he probably should have been talking about. At the time it had seemed like the best solution - to let the wound heal over and start to scar. Later, he had known better - that to let the wound heal over prematurely caused grief to fester and poison you. Live and learn. He'd done better after Inger, he thought - handled it better with both Adam and Hoss. He leaned over the rail and saw what wasn't visible in the darkness. Indiana. The first real blow to the wall he had built so carefully around his heart - a wall later demolished by Inger's deft and loving hands.

He had found work even more easily than he had hoped - at a nearby stockyard, counting and marking and slaughtering hogs. It was hard, exhausting work, but it paid well and Mrs. Kittwell at the boarding house seemed kind and competent to look after Adam. The board was good. It had seemed like a good place to rest for a while. He returned to the boardinghouse every night smelling of sweat and blood and hog entrails but Adam was always unfailingly overjoyed to see him.

Ben scooped him up in his arms as he ran to greet him one evening, inhaling deeply. He smelled pleasantly of fresh baked goods - a wonderful change after the stench of the hogs.

Adam hugged him hard. "Guess what, Pa?"

Ben inhaled again. "Hm…let's see. Boiled ham for dinner?"

Adam shook his head impatiently. "Uh-huh. But guess what else?"

Ben shifted his shoulders, trying to relieve the tiredness in his back. "I give up. What else?"

"I have a job, too."

Ben's brows twitched a little at the sight of his beaming face, then he glanced over Adam's shoulder to raise them questioningly at Mrs. Kittwell. "Really," he said slowly. "What kind of a job?"

"I do things for Mrs. Kittwell. Keep the wood box full and set the table and stuff."

"Really," Ben repeated.

"Uh-huh. Mrs. Kittwell says if I do a good job she'll take something off our board and then we can get to California faster. Isn't that good, Pa?"

"Is that so," Ben spoke slowly, watching Mrs. Kittwell for an explanation. "Well, I'm glad if you're a help to Mrs. Kittwell, son, but I think that's a favor for her kindness, not a job."

Adam's black brows drew together and he looked at Mrs. Kitwell, too. Mrs. Kittwell blushed.

"He's running some little errands for me, Mr. Cartwright. It's a big help to me - I'd have to pay a boy to do it anyhow and this saves me that. Seems only fair I should take it off your board."

Adam looked triumphant. "See, Pa? It's a real job."

Ben patted him lightly on the back and lowered him to the floor. "I see, son. Adam, will you go to our room, please? Do your letters for me. I'd like to check them before dinner."

Adam hesitated, studying him darkly. "Aren't you happy, Pa? It will go faster if we both have a job, won't it?"

Ben squeezed his shoulder absently. "We'll talk about this later, son. Now do as I say."

Adam paused as though he wanted to argue further, but Ben's lowering brows convinced him to obey and he turned slowly toward the hall. Ben and Mrs. Kittwell watched him leave.

Once he was out of earshot Mrs. Kittwell burst out, "Please don't be offended, Mr. Cartwright. He's very helpful, really, and I'd have to pay someone anyway. And it makes him so happy."

Ben took a deep breath. "Mrs. Kittwell, we do not need charity."

"It's not charity!" she protested. "He works very hard for me!"

Ben kneaded at the tightening spot between his brows. "My son is four years old, Mrs. Kittwell. I do not want him going to work. I can support him just fine."

"I know…" Mrs. Kittwell clasped her hands earnestly. "But it's such a long day for him with you gone and it helps to pass the time…the things he does for me are very useful but, truly, they're just little things. Really, just the sort of thing he would be doing as chores anyway if he had a home."

Ben swallowed slowly.

Mrs. Kittwell eyed him timidly. "I hope you're not angry, Mr. Cartwright? I thought it would be a good arrangement for all of us - everybody benefits. Really, I was only trying to help."

Ben nodded dumbly. He was busy trying not to show how stricken he was by the words "if he had a home." Adam had a home, didn't he? Well, not exactly a home, not yet, but he had Ben - that was almost the same thing, wasn't it? He swallowed again. Mrs. Kittwell seemed to be talking, but he couldn't concentrate on the words, his eyes on the hallway that lead to the rented room he shared with Adam. He held up his hand finally, forcing his face into what he hoped was an expression of pleasantness. "Mrs. Kittwell - I appreciate all your kindnesses to both me and Adam - please don't think otherwise. But if you'll excuse me, I need to have a talk with my son before dinner."

Mrs. Kittwell looked apprehensive and touched his sleeve questioningly as he passed.

He shook his head. "Adam is NOT in trouble," he assured her. "We just need to talk."

He found Adam sitting in the middle of his bed with his slate in his lap. He looked up as Ben entered, but didn't say anything. Ben dropped onto his haunches opposite him, studying his face keenly.

Adam waited.

"Adam, " he said at last, "do you understand that if you take this job, it comes with certain responsibilities? That you have to do it and do it well, even when you don't feel like it - that you can't stop if you get tired of it? When you accept a job from somebody then you have an unspoken agreement to honor - an agreement to fulfill that job to the best of your ability every day, until the job is done."

Adam thought about this, then nodded solemnly.

Ben sighed. "Well, I don't know if you do understand - I think you're too young to, really - but I suppose there's no better way to learn. But Mrs. Kittwell has been a good friend to us and it's important not to let your friends down."

Adam nodded again.

"Very well. If you really want to do this, then you may. You can tell Mrs. Kittwell at dinner."

Adam gave a little hop of joy and threw his arms around Ben's neck. Ben held him close, knowing that the talk was not over and that the next part might not go nearly as well. So after a minute he added, "Adam. Look at me. I need to talk to you about something else."

Ben sighed at the memory, turning away from the railing, wishing he could turn off his mind and sleep. Tomorrow would be another long and tedious day on deck with nothing but his thoughts for company. He shuddered. With the responsibilities of building a ranch and raising three boys to distract him it had always been easy to keep his memories at bay. Now they swarmed over him like the escaping demons of Pandora's Box.

He found a deck chair in the faint light and sank into it. Silly to pay for a berth and then spend the night on the deck, but he felt better out here in the open air - the tiny berths below seemed claustrophobically cramped - pressing in on him. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, remembering.

That talk with Adam had been a disaster. He remembered how shocked he had felt, and how helpless - shocked because, even as a small boy, Adam was not usually given to emotional outbursts. He had wondered, not for the first time, how other people figured out how to do child rearing. Did they automatically know? Would Elizabeth have known?

At dinner afterward he had sneaked a glance at the dark head next to his elbow, bent low over his plate, listlessly moving his food about. He smiled slightly despite the pull on his heart as he remembered. Adam still did that when he was bothered about something.

That night he had forced himself to drag his attention from the red rimmed eyes and occasional sniffling on his right and to turn it instead with assumed casualness to the other diners, trying to look unconcerned. He hated everyone knowing his business, but they weren't so blind that they couldn't tell something was wrong between him and Adam and that Adam had been crying.

He shifted his eyes to the man on his left. He worked at the slaughterhouse with him but was less particular about his hygiene. The smell of the day among the hogs was still strong about him and as Ben watched, he spit a long stream of tobacco juice into a nearby bucket before returning to shoveling in his food with a knife. Ben averted his eyes quickly to the other end of the table. Two men who helped keep up the livery sat there, unwashed and unshaven, their fingernails black with inattention, enjoying a voluble, good-natured argument. Next to them was a tall silent young man who currently worked sweeping out the feed store - probably just passing through and at least he was clean. Ben felt his heart sink. They were all honest men, of course, and respectable enough since Mrs. Kittwell wouldn't take any other kind of boarder, but all things considered, they weren't exactly the sort he would have chosen to expose his young son to. Lord only knew the kind of habits he could pick up from them. He smiled grimly. Not that they hadn't been exposed to worse in their journeys. He could rarely afford the better places and a roof was a roof. Still, Mrs. Kittwell was right. This wasn't any kind of home.

He put down his fork, suddenly losing his taste for dessert, and glanced at Adam's plate. Most of the food remained there, organized into tidy piles. Softly, so as not to draw the attention of the others, he said, "Are you going to try to eat that, or are you finished?"

Adam put down his fork. "Finished," he whispered, so softly that Ben had to stoop further to hear.

Lectures on wasting food and never knowing where your next meal was coming from leapt to Ben's lips, but he bit them firmly back. Now wasn't the time and he wouldn't be telling Adam anything he didn't already know from bitter personal experience. "All right, then. Let's go to our room. There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

Adam looked directly at him for the first time since dinner started. "I have to help Mrs. Kittwell."

"Not tonight, Adam - I need to talk to you."

Adam stared at him. "You said if I took it I had to do it no matter what."

Ben winced. "I know that. But this is important."

Adam's small jaw hardened. "You said," he repeated firmly.

Ben swore internally. Not for the first time he wished that Adam's memory were a little less accurate. "I know what I said, Adam. But you can officially start your new job tomorrow - tonight I need to talk to you." He lifted him down from his chair and held out his hand to him. For a second he could see Adam consider rebelling, but then he seemed to notice the others at the table too and hung his head. He ignored Ben's hand and walked past him toward their room. Ben pretended not to see the furtive glances that shot around the table and followed.

By the time Ben reached their room, Adam had already climbed onto his bed and buried his head in the pillow. Ben sighed. Evidently this was not going to get easier.

He sat on the edge of the bed and rested his hand on Adam's back. "Son. We need to talk about this."

Adam pressed his hands over his ears.

Ben sighed again, more deeply. "Adam. Look at me, please."

Adam pushed his face more deeply into the pillow.

Ben ground his teeth a little. "Adam, I know it's not pleasant, but ignoring it will not make it go away. Now, I want you to listen to me - "

Adam turned over suddenly and glared at him. "You promised!" he cried fiercely.

Ben was taken aback. "What did I promise?"

"That you'd always be there. That you'd always be my Pa. You promised me!"

Ben blinked. Had he? Probably…he hadn't wanted Adam to worry about being left alone, didn't want him to worry about it now, in fact, but he had to tell him about Abel - he had to know that he had someplace to go if anything did happen to his father. Ben was only too aware of how easily accidents could happen - what if he was hurt or killed? What would become of Adam then? An orphanage? Some well-meaning soul letting him work for his keep, like Mrs. Kittwell? Some less than well-meaning soul taking advantage of his youth and vulnerability? His heart hammered painfully in his chest. He couldn't bear the thought of him left defenseless in the hands of uncaring strangers. No - Adam needed to know about his grandfather. Needed to know enough to explain to people where he was in case worse came to worst. He could count on Abel to step in for him. Abel would love Adam. Abel would take care of him. He cleared his throat carefully, wishing there was someone to tell him how to say this.

"Certainly I'll always be your Pa, Adam - and I'll always be there for you. I just meant that in CASE anything ever happened to me you should - "

Adam promptly dropped his face back into the pillow and covered his ears again.

Ben pinched at the bridge of his nose. Well, this was going well. It had seemed so simple when he'd started. He desperately wanted to take Adam in his arms and assure him that of course he would always be there for him, forever and ever, but another part of him kept whispering, what if he wasn't? He reached down and rested his hand on the back of Adam's head this time.

Adam didn't look up from the pillow, but he didn't flinch away, either. He was so still that it almost broke Ben's heart.

He stroked the dark hair, thinking.

"Adam, " he said suddenly, "do you know what a grandfather is?"

There was a pause, then Adam cautiously turned his head to peer at him.

Ben wanted to smile, but he didn't dare. "Did you know that you have one?"

Adam turned his head a little more, studying him. "You mean like Grandfather Skinner in Schuylerville?" he said at last.

Ben shuffled through his memory. "Oh. Well, something like that. But I think everyone called Grandfather Skinner that as more of a - title of respect. I mean a real grandfather."

Adam rubbed at his damp eyes, frowning thoughtfully. "What's a real one?" he asked, almost against his will.

Ben forced his face to stay bland. "Well, you know how I'm your Pa?" Adam nodded a little warily, cautious of a trap. "Well, my Pa would be your grandfather. A grandfather is your parent's father."

Adam rolled onto his back, his eyes on Ben's. "My grandfather is your father?"

Ben flushed. "No - well, yes, of course, but my father is no longer alive. The grandfather you have is - " he coughed to clear his suddenly tight throat, "is your mother's father."

Adam was silent, looking at him.

Ben didn't know what to make of his expression. "Adam…" he began uneasily, a terrible suspicion dawning, "you do know you had a mother?"

Adam blinked, then nodded slowly. "Mrs. Callahan told me."

Ben wanted to weep. Mrs. Callahan. Hadn't he told him? He must have - surely, in four years he must have talked SOME about Elizabeth to Adam? Oh it was hard, and he actively avoided it, he knew that…even now he would like nothing more than to close the subject and move on, but…he cleared his throat again, but his voice came out husky anyway. "What did she tell you?"

Adam was watching his face carefully. "That she was beautiful."

Ben nodded. "She was. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen." He took a quick breath to get a hold of himself and tried to smile brightly. "What else?"

Adam was silent for a moment. "I don't remember," he said at last.

Ben was surprised. Adam's memory was surprisingly and sometimes even exasperatingly thorough. "All right. Well, then. " He tried not to sound relieved. "Her father is your grandfather. He lives in Boston. You know - where the clipper ships are."

Adam brightened. "Can we go see him?"

Ben smiled. "Some day. I promise. But it's very far away."

"Oh." Adam looked disappointed. "How far?"

"Well - it's taken us your whole life so far to get from there to here, and we're not even in California yet. So pretty far, wouldn't you say?" Adam nodded, trying to imagine it. "But you should always remember that you have a grandfather you can live with, Adam, in case - well, in case anybody ever asks."

Adam nodded again, his brain obviously puzzling this new information.

Ben saw his eyes droop and patted his arm. Poor little fellow. Tired himself out crying. He went over to the washbowl and dampened the towel in the ewer, then returned to the bed, gently wiping the sticky tear tracks from Adam's face, then letting the cool cloth rest over his eyes for a minute. "You know, " he said quietly, "I think you should get some extra sleep tonight. After all, you're starting a job tomorrow."

Adam nodded wordlessly, curling into a ball.

Ben laughed softly. "Not yet - let me get you into your nightshirt first."

He struggled Adam out of his shirt and trousers and into his nightshirt, leaning his sleep-heavy body against him as he maneuvered the sleeves over his hands. He held him for a minute then; thinking, remembering - wondering a thousand things, then eased him onto his back. "Come on now - under the covers." Adam slid under the covers more due to Ben's help than any conscious volition and Ben tucked the blankets tightly around his neck, kissing him on the ear. "Good night, son."

Adam snuggled into the cot. "Story," he mumbled from deep inside the pillow's depths.

Ben sighed. "Story? Do you really think you can stay awake for a story?"

"Uh huh."

Ben chuckled a little at the stubborn conviction in his tone. "Very well. What'll it be - the clipper ships?"

Adam opened his eyes and looked at him.

Ben felt his heart tremble in his chest. He grasped Adam's shoulder with a suddenly palsied hand, avoiding his gaze, fighting for his composure. "I see. So you think - " his voice came out in a strangled whisper and he cleared his throat and tried to start again. "So you think that tonight you might like me to - tell you a little about your mother?"

Adam's brows rumpled into faintly anxious lines. He nodded silently.

Ben nodded back, trying to sound calm around the great rush of tears in his throat. "Well, let's see…I met your mother by a clipper ship, you know…"

"Is that where she is now?"

Ben swallowed. "No - no, son."

"Then where is she?"

Ben's hand tightened on his shoulder. "She's - she's in heaven…"

Adam grew very still. "How come?" he asked faintly.

Ben turned away and looked hard at the opposite wall. A question he would like to ask his Maker himself. "Because - because that's where all good people go."

Adam was quiet, then, "Will I go there?"

Ben's heart turned chill. "Someday, Adam, I'm sure - but not for a long, long time."

There was a pause and Ben was convinced he had fallen asleep, but when he turned to check he saw his eyes were wide and open, fixed on him unwaveringly. "Will you go there, Pa?" his voice quavered slightly.

"I hope, someday…" he saw Adam's face and recklessly threw caution to the winds, damning the consequences, daring God to make a liar of him. "But not for a long, long time for me either, Adam. I won't leave you for a long, long time."

Adam clutched at his hand and held on. "Promise? For real this time?"

Ben stroked his hair with his free hand. "Yes, Adam - I promise. I promise for real. Cross my heart."

Adam fell asleep still clinging to him with a two handed grip and Ben stayed by his bed the whole night, wanting him to know he was there, even in his sleep, wanting him to be able to keep his hold on him all night long.

Or maybe it was him who had wanted to keep his hold on Adam. Looking back, he really couldn't be sure.

TBC