Chapter Two: Miracle?

It had to be a family record. In the entire school year, the past nine months, they hadn't moved. The trailer was slowly being repaired. The water had been the first thing done, at Momma's pleading.

Lindsey was now in seventh grade, as was Bradley. Or as Bradley had been, prior to his expulsion the day before. Nothing could have made Lindsey happier. Well, maybe a few things, but not very many came to mind. Although there were only two weeks of school left, Lindsey now had ninety-eight hours, plus the walk home each day, away from Bradley.

Today was April the second, 1986. How symbolic that yesterday had been April Fools Day! Lindsey laughed to himself as he turned onto the overgrown dirt road to the house. With any luck, Bradley would never realize it had been Lindsey who had gotten him expelled. Bradley would probably have thanked him for it anyway, being no fan of school. It was Pa Lindsey was worried about...

Ten minutes later, he was home, and just about to disappear, thankfully unnoticed by Bradley, who he hadn't seen, or any of his other siblings, into his 'room', when Pa emerged from the tall grass directly in front of Lindsey. Lindsey took an involuntary step backwards.

"You son of a bitch," Pa muttered. Lindsey smelled the familiar alcohol scent his father was usually surrounded by. "You ruined my son."

Lindsey looked up and stepped forward.

"I dunno what you're..."

Pa raised his bony fists and swung, a sweeping roundhouse punch with the left, and a would-be sucker punch to Lindsey's abdomen with his right.

Lindsey danced backwards, out of the way, and called, "What did I do to ruin your precious son? In case you hadn't noticed, I'm your son too, as much as I'd like to deny it."

They glared through the grass for a moment, and Lindsey relaxed. Pa was too drunk to fight properly, and he could always run...

Pa ran at him and kicked one knee out from under him. Lindsey landed hard, cried out in pain, and Pa tore into him. Kicks rained down on his head and ribs with a torrent of curses as he tried to get up, but he was still only twelve. Finally, a worn steel-toed boot connected properly with Lindsey's skull and all sensation ceased.

He awoke to Momma's hard, worry-lined face, blotchy with tears, one livid eye swollen shut. Searing pain erupted in every inch of his body at once. His head ached, making any sort of rational, connected thought impossible. Momma was washing a wound over his eye with a cool, soft cloth. Probably an old flannel diaper. Lindsey winced, opened his eyes – painfully – and formed a sentence.

"You call the police?"

Momma bit her quivering lip. Lindsey suddenly realized he was still lying on the ground where he had fallen.

"No...'cause if they saw what happened, they'd take you all away..." Momma sobbed.

Lindsey swallowed, clearing his throat, and sat up slowly.

"No, no; you should lie down," Momma protested, but she helped him up just the same. The yellow and gray landscape whirled and settled slowly, bringing with it a sudden flare of pain in his knee. He reached down and felt something strange, out of place, but Momma made him look away.

"It's better that you don't look at it right now," she said in a trembling voice meant to be brisk and cheerful. "I'm gonna bring you to Dr Brenley, down the street."

"He hit you again too, didn't he," Lindsey whispered.

"Not the first time," Momma replied in a half-laughing sob.

"Call the police," Lindsey insisted.

"No. You have to go to Dr Brenley."

"Momma," Lindsey looked her straight in the eye. Oh, she had lovely blue eyes when she wasn't drinking... "Brenley is a horse doctor. Call the police."

"Why?"

Lindsey screamed then, a scream pent up inside for years. "Momma! Why can't you just be reasonable? Pa beats you, me, everyone..."

"And now he's gone," Momma's face became sorrowful. "He took Bradley too, but not the truck. A whore of a woman came and picked them up..."

Momma broke down into sobs and Lindsey waited, gritting his teeth against the pain that was overwhelming him like a sandstorm.

"Momma, where're the baby and everyone else?"

She sniffed, calming her sobs. "I gave him to Brenda and told them all to go play across the road when I heard you and Pa fighting. Good thing I did, too." She pointed at a bloody, dirtier spot on her faded dress. "He knocked me down."

Lindsey closed his eyes and sighed again, and lay back down gingerly.

"Call the police. Then get truck and bring me to the doctor."

Momma bit her lip again, hands fluttering by her hair, and ran towards the house.

"There's no phone," Lindsey whispered, and looked down at his leg.

It hadn't been as bad as they had feared. His leg would heal, and he would be able to walk. On the way home from Dr Brenley's, Momma drove slowly, crying.

"Dr Brenley's such a nice man, treating you for free with us new in town and all...your father was like that when I married him. So kind and thoughtful, and sweet to me..."

Lindsey turned away, groaning as the truck bumped over the rutted road. Momma immediately began apologizing.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I promise Brad will never come into my house again. Not either of them, as long as I live."

But three of her children died that year, and one the next.