Dear Readers, first of all, I apologize! Several readers have commented that they are worried that Jack will die. I would never do that! As many of you know, my stories always have happy endings. In almost every chapter of 'Reversal of Fortune', it ends with humor and love. Even "bad" Jack in 'Devious Scheme' turned out to be a sweet sap with a tortured past who fell in love with Elizabeth despite his best intentions. And my Vignettes, even with Jack being blinded in #5 and Elizabeth almost dying in #8, always end happily. . So, please, sit back, relax, and enjoy some emotions as you journey with Jack as he tries to make his way back to his family.
Chapter 2 - A Father's Visit
After thirty minutes of lying in the grass, Jack's leg wound was still stinging. He thought he would have become immune to the pain, but he hadn't. It was the only wound that he was willing to look at. The sight of the large gash in his stomach had made him gag. And his shoulder was too painful to move to allow him to get a better view.
So he concentrated on his leg. If he survived, he would have a scar to add to the other two he already had there. There was the scar that he had told Elizabeth about when they had first become friends and she was learning to sew. And then there was the very small faint scar on his leg. The scar that he still blamed Tom for causing.
"Bet you can't do this!"
"Can too!"
"No you can't. You're the smart responsible brother. I'm the wild daredevil!" a six-year old Tom exclaimed proudly as he teetered on the top rail of the spilt rail fence.
"I can too. I've got a great sense of balance!" Jack bragged to his younger brother as he grabbed hold of the fence and hoisted himself up onto the top rail, straddling it and then placing the soles of his feet on the narrow piece of wood.
He took a deep breath, held out his arms to his sides, and gingerly began walking along the fence, his feet high above the ground. At eight year's old, Jack refused to let his little brother surpass him in anything.
"You're too cautious. You need to move faster", Tom said scornfully.
"Shut up. You're trying to distract me so I'll fall."
Tom skipped off to play some more as Jack moved the back of his hand along his runny nose, wiping away the snot. He sniffled as his father finished dapping iodine on the four-inch gash in his young leg.
"I got out all the wood splinters and you'll have a scar, but I don't think you'll need stitches."
"I'm sorry I cried, Pa."
Thomas Thornton placed a fresh piece of gauze around the wound and looked up at his forlorn son before speaking.
"Son, there's no shame in crying. You fell and got hurt. People have emotions and there's no reason boys can't cry if they're hurt."
"You're a Mountie. You never cry", Jack objected.
"Oh, I've cried plenty. Just ask your ma."
"When have you ever cried?"
Jack's father chuckled. "Every time I have to eat your ma's cooking."
Jack couldn't help but giggle at his father's words even as a part of him wondered if his father had ever really cried.
"Pa –"
The older Thornton began wrapping a thin cloth bandage around Jack's leg as he waited for Jack to finish his sentence. When Jack seemed hesitant, his father paused and looked at him.
"What is it son?"
"Do you –"
"Do I what? Go ahead son. You can ask me anything."
Jack's voice was quiet, barely above a whisper as he looked downcast. "Do you love Tom better than me?"
His father couldn't have been more surprised by the question; he sat back on his haunches and looked at his oldest son's tear-stained face.
"Why in the world would you ask that?"
"Do you?"
"Of course not! I love you both equally! What's this about?"
Jack's words, held back for so long, came out in a tumble now that he had been brave enough to ask despite the tears which began running down his face again.
"Because I was born first but you didn't name me after you. And then Tom was born, and you named him after you. Cuz you loved him more."
His father reached his arms around Jack and pulled him down to him, hugging him close and holding his boyish head to his strong chest. His own eyes became watery as he thought about how brave Jack was to have asked.
And how miserable a father he must be for Jack to even have to ask.
"Son, I didn't name you after me because I knew right from the moment that I first saw you that you were better than me. You were less than a day old but I knew you were already stronger than me."
"Stronger than you?" Jack's confusion caused him to momentarily stop sobbing. "How could I be stronger than you if I was just a baby?"
"Not physical strength. Inner strength. I knew it cuz when I looked at you, I saw me, but I also saw a lot of your ma. It was like you were the strongest parts of both of us. You deserved your own name. I knew one day that you'd make me proud. That you would be a better man than me."
"You're a great man, Pa!"
"I try. . . . But something about the way I held you when you were born . . . well, I just knew that you'd go farther than me. Be a better man."
Jack sniffled and wiped his wet nose and eyes on his dad's shirt.
"What about Tom?"
His father chuckled. "Tom's a lot like me. I'm afraid you may have to keep him in line sometimes. He can be a handful."
"So you don't love him best?, Jack asked timidly one more time, feeling the need to be reassured.
"No, son. I could never love him best. You are my first born and I have loved you since the day I first saw you. Even before then."
Jack lifted his eyes and looked at his father's face when he heard the cracking in the man's voice.
"Pa, you're crying!" he said in surprise. "And ma's not even cooking dinner!"
The memory of his ma's cooking made Jack think of Elizabeth. Her cooking brought a smile to his face despite the pain in his thigh. And his shoulder. And his torso. She had gotten much better since they had first met, but he still remembered some of her disastrous meals. He thought he would barely survive the first months of marriage.
"Just a quick sandwich would be great, Abigail. I can eat it right here" Jack remarked as he had walked into the Café's kitchen at 4:30.
"Isn't Elizabeth making dinner tonight?"
"Yeah. I just need to eat first,"
"In case you can't stomach her food?" Abigail had asked with a knowing smile and raised eyebrows.
Jack chuckled. "Something like that. And please don't tell her. She's getting better, but I've probably lost ten pounds between her burnt meatloaves and her under-cooked chicken."
"You're a brave man, Jack. What you do for love is amazing", Abigail replied with a grin as she took some slices of ham and cheese out of the icebox.
The sun had gone behind the clouds and the sky was turning a dark grey as a wounded Jack closed his eyes again and felt himself drifting off in the field. He barely noticed the light rain when it began to fall in the early afternoon. The small droplets landing on his unmoving face.
In his mind, he was transported back to the first time he and Elizabeth had declared their love for each other. He remembered that she had been crying as she sat on the mine's cold ground with a blanket wrapped around her.
It scares me to think that, one day, you might not come home. That what happened to your father could happen to you. I need to be able to sleep at night, knowing you're safe.
I will be safe.
You can't guarantee that.
No one can. But I'm good at what I do. And I'm not afraid to face my fears.
Elizabeth didn't say anything. She just kept crying and so Jack begged her to stop. But she still wouldn't stop crying.
Stop crying, Elizabeth, he pleaded in his foggy mind.
Stop crying!
Jack could feel her tears falling faster and heavier as they hit his face. Stinging his cheeks. Soaking his hair. Causing his clothes, already bloodied, to cling to him even more.
Stop crying, Elizabeth!
Jack jerked his eyes open and was surprised that Elizabeth wasn't standing above him. He looked around and realized he was lying in a rainstorm.
Slowly he moved his uninjured arm until his fingers touched his hat on the ground next to him. He turned it over so that the rainwater would collect in the waterproof felt.
While the rain landed with a plunking sound in the cowboy hat, Jack opened his mouth to catch more drops, wetting his parched mouth.
He wondered if his father had sent him the memories to keep him company while he died alone. Memories of his father's love. His wife's love. The love of a man for his son. They would keep his heart warm despite the cold rain and the warm blood dripping out of his body.
"Thank you, Pa", he whispered.
Craaaccckkk
The crack of lighting ripped through the air, causing a startled Jack's body to react.
The sound reminded his tired mind of the sound of a baton hitting a table. One of the Academy instructors used to arrogantly walk around the classroom, carrying a heavy baton as if it were a omnipotent weapon. When a nervous cadet answered incorrectly or a tired one started to doze off after hours of physical demands and little sleep, the Sergeant would smack the thick wooden stick on the nearest desk, jolting everyone to attention.
When the lightning cracked again, Jack realized in an instant that he had been wrong.
His father hadn't sent him the memories to comfort him in death.
If his father was sending him a message, and for some reason, Jack believed he was, it was for just the opposite reason.
It was now remarkably clear to Jack what his father wanted.
Jack's father wanted him to get his ass of the ground and make his way home to Elizabeth and his infant son.
But, Pa –
No buts, son. What have I taught you?
You taught me that there's no shame in crying. . . .
. . .I'm stronger than you were .. . .
I'm a brave man. And will do anything for love.
. . . I'm good at what I do. . . .I'm not afraid to face my fears.
I've got a family waiting for me.
Jack thought about his predicament. He was bleeding from three wounds. The most serious was his stomach which was sliced open more than the others. He was alone in a field. No one knew he was injured. His horse had run off after bucking off his saddle bag.
Jack snorted in laughter as he thought about what was in his saddle bag for his son. The little boy whom he loved to call by his nickname, Thatch.
"Thatch, you are about to save your father's life", he said with determination as he began to crawl to his leather bag which lay on the ground ten feet away. He tensed in pain as he moved, using his uninjured arm to help drag him, leaving a bloodied trail in his wake.
"I'm coming home to you. Somehow. Someway. I'm coming home to you and your ma."
Up next: Chapter 3
