Chapter Twenty Two
John sat on the porch in a dark brown chair he'd built himself. He and Steve had just finished transporting Jarrod, who was under the doctor's orders to stay in bed for at least three days and to take it easy for a week, back to John's home on the Davies' ranch. Once Jarrod was comfortable in the bed he'd been using, Steve had left with William Davies-who had just returned from his honeymoon-to mend some fence lines. Meanwhile, John had gone into his small "attic"and pulled out the very first journal that the Davies' had bought him. Mama Davies had written John Summers across the book's cover. "Write anything and everything you need to." Mr. Davies had told the still very angry twelve-year-old. "When you've filled it up, we'll buy you another one."
John ran his fingers over his name and sighed. He'd forgotten much of what he'd written inside this book; he'd filled it up, set it aside and started in on another journal. Now, with everything that had happened-and all he'd been told-he couldn't help but wonder if he had, by some wild chance, written anything down that would back up what Jarrod and Steve had told him. However, before he had a chance to decide whether or not to open the old journal, he saw 'Mama Davies' driving up in her surrey. Setting the book on the small brown table that set next to the chair-a table he kept on the porch should he want to do his paperwork outside-he stood up and made his way to the side of Mrs. Davies' surrey, which had by that time stopped in front of his home.
"Didn't expect to you see before supper time." John admitted as he helped her down, and then led her up onto the porch where he pulled the only other chair that sat on the porch away from the wall. He kept a hold of it until Mrs. Davies had sat down, and then he sat back on his own chair.
Nothing was said as Mrs. Davies looked at the journal that sat on the table. It had surprised her to see the old book out, though she had to admit she didn't know why. After all, after learning what Kyle Jensen-now a wanted man-tried to do in town, and hearing what Steve and Jarrod were claiming, it was only natural that this 'son' of hers would be thinking of the past.
Finally, she broke the silence, though she did not talk about Steve, Jarrod or their claims as John thought she might. Though, she did begin talking about the past.
"I still remember the day you were brought to us." She rubbed the palm of her hand as she sat back in the chair she was using. "You didn't want us; you wanted your own family, but the chief didn't have that information. My husband had no clue where to look either, though he did ask the sheriff if he had any ideas. However, without your real name or any other information, the lawman was at a loss as what to tell us. Naturally," she shook her head, "he suggested sending you to an orphanage, a suggestion we obviously did not see as an option." She looked at John with sympathy in her eyes, and then shocked him by admitting he'd cried out a few things in his sleep; that is, during the first twelve months or so he was with them. "Don't take that confession wrong. You never said enough to tell me exactly who you were. Though," she sighed, "Maybe if I had written what you did say down, you could have eventually come up with some answers. I don't really know. Though I will say," she jutted her chin out a bit-as if to point at the book on the table, "maybe you wrote enough in there to back up at least some of what Mr. Brighton and Mr. Barkley are telling you."
While John could have asked Mrs. Davies what she thought he had brought the book out for, he didn't. She had done too much for him and had come to encourage him to do what he could to verify in his own mind whether or not Steve and Jarrod were right in what they were telling him. He stood up, walked over to the edge of the porch and slid his hands into his pockets. Aside from losing his wife and child, it had been years since he'd felt this torn up inside. "If they're right, I'll have to travel to Stockton, California with Jarrod and Steve. Well, at least for a little while I would." He kept his face forward, hating what he knew his words must be doing his 'Mama Davies'.
If she was to be honest, Mrs. Davies would have admitted just how tempting it was to do everything to discourage John and to get him to drop the subject, even to the point of sending Jarrod and Steve away. After all, John might not be her son by blood, but that didn't matter to her. However, it was a thought she chastised herself for even entertaining. Hadn't she had loved and lost a son? Weren't there still days her heart ached to hold her son, long since buried, in her arms just one more time? No, no matter what she might feel towards John, she would not withhold him from the woman who had borne him and then lost him so many years ago. Slowly, she stood up and walked over to John.
Raising her hand, she laid it on his upper arm and gave him the best smile she could muster. "Read that journal. Who knows, maybe you wrote something in it that will actually help. Maybe not, but there's still a chance." She then removed her hand and headed for the few steps that led up to the porch. However, before she could step onto the first step, John had taken a hold of her shoulders and, turning her around, pulled her him.
"No matter what," his voice was full of emotion and rough, "You'll always be Mama Davies to me."
Mrs. Davies bit her lower lip and returned the embrace before stepping back and repeating what she'd said about the journal. Moments later she was driving away and John was sitting down with the book in his hands once more. Nervously, he opened the book and began to read.