Lifetimes
Adam exhaled slowly and met the minister's gaze. "Honestly? I don't know that I do. I mean I never consciously determine to act as one or the other." He paused and added apologetically, "I probably should think about the question a bit before I finish that answer."
"Adam! Adam! Adam!" Ford's voice called from the side of the barn and Adam stopped tightening the hinge on one of the stalls to gauge for fear in the voice. Ford yelled for him again and Adam relaxed.
Something had excited Ford, not scared him.
"In here," he shouted back, giving the iron hinge a final twist before testing his handiwork. The clasp's position satisfied him. He wiped the palms of his hands down the sides of his jeans and gathered his tools.
Ford burst into the barn and Adam glanced up and saw a mouth smeared with blood. Panic slammed and he reached out and pulled the child to him.
"Look!" the little boy ordered, opening his mouth wide and pointing toward one of his back teeth. "My tooth's almost out right this very second!" To illustrate his contention he shoved one grubby finger into his mouth and wiggled the tooth.
"Wait, stop sticking your fingers inside your mouth," Adam directed. "Your hand's dirty. Don't touch it. Tilt your head back and let me take a look."
Ford followed the order, throwing his head all the way back and opening his jaws comically wide. He practically throbbed with his excitement and attempted to talk while Adam examined him.
Adam started laughing. "You are so silly. Quit talking for a minute."
Ford did and Adam gained a better look. "Come on," he motioned the little boy. "I can stop what I'm doing here. Let's head to the house and wash our hands and see just how close you are to losing that one."
Ford grabbed his older brother's hand and swung it, his tiny fingers intertwined with Adam's strong ones. "Walk fast, Adam, 'cause if it comes out today the Tooth Fairy visits tonight and that hasn't even happened to me for a long, long time!"
"True," Adam confirmed, automatically shoving a hand into the pocket of his jeans to check for change or a stray bill. "Let's get to the kitchen though before you count your largesse."
"What's margest mean?"
"Largesse, not margest," Adam corrected. "It means a gift."
"Know what I'm planning to do with my tooth fairy money?"
"Save it, I hope," Adam replied. "Your piggy bank needs a donation."
"Nope, when I go to town I'm going to buy candy or Legos or something I love a whole lot."
Adam tried to offer an alternative as they climbed the porch steps and entered the house. "If you put it in your piggy bank you could save it with your other money. When you have enough money saved, you could buy something really special."
That suggestion horrified Ford. "No, I want to spend my tooth fairy money now!" He hurried to the kitchen sink and stood frowning.
Resigned, Adam lifted Ford up to wash his hands before washing his own. As soon as he touched the tooth in question it tilted. "Hmmm…." Adam regarded the little boy. "This one wants to adios. Ready?"
"Uh huh," Ford confirmed. He patted Adam's hand. "Don't worry. I won't cry."
"Glad to hear it. Let me make you some salt water first so we have it ready." Adam ran the water tap until it was warm, filled a tumbler, and stirred in a spoon of salt. "How about the porch steps?"
Ford followed obediently and as soon as he settled on the wooden stair Adam reached in and yanked the tooth into a napkin. He held it out for Ford's inspection and the little boy grinned. "Here," Adam directed, handing him the tumbler of water. "Remember not to swallow, please. Gargle so the salt water can help the empty tooth socket, then spit it out. Keep at it until the water is finished."
That night Ford could barely slip into sleep, so excited was he at the prospect of the tooth fairy's visit. He reminded Adam several times to leave his bedroom door ajar, just in case the tooth fairy flew in but decided to leave from an alternate route. Sliding the money under Ford's pillow that night and exchanging it for the tiny tooth Adam spent several moments just marveling at the little boy. He loved the child's sweet innocence.
In his bedroom Adam slipped the tooth into a small envelope and labeled it with Ford's name and the date. He wanted to deposit the tooth in the strongbox at the top of his parents' closet, the one they had designated to house childhood treasures and memorabilia they wanted to keep.
Adam maneuvered the box carefully so that the contents did not rain out all over the floor. He set it on the chest of drawers before lifting the lid and adding the tooth. A letter on the top caught his eye, one addressed to Santa, and he recognized it as one Evan had written a few months before, for the first and only Christmas they had celebrated without their parents.
Adam picked it up and rotated it to study the drawing the little boy had added to the paper's edge. Evan had colored yellow and green reindeer, cut them out, and attached them to a picture of a Christmas tree. Adam marveled at the artistry and recalled the way the boys had sat around the coffee table in the living room to write those letters. Adam and Brian had watched as they wrote first, then decorated, spelling words when the kids asked and handing over markers one at a time. Crane pitched in by occupying Guthrie to keep him from interrupting his brothers. Surprisingly after all the preparation, the boys had only listed a couple of things each that they hoped Santa would bring.
Adam had felt a weight lift from his shoulders when he saw their choices- those were gifts he could make happen.
Despite the loss of their parents just months earlier, the family managed to enjoy the Christmas festivities. The boys were excited with their presents, and Adam watched their eyes light as they took stock of what Santa had brought as well as the gifts under the tree.
Somehow he had pulled off a great holiday, complete with a traditional meal. The food did not quite meet the caliber of his mama's cooking but it came close, thanks to her insistence that her boys learn to cook specific dishes over the years.
Brian had insisted they decorate the house the way their parents always had for the Christmas season. The decor delighted the boys and helped to infuse Adam with some Christmas spirit.
Still he missed his mama and daddy so sharply that the smothering, overwhelming feeling of loss almost cut him in two. Maintaining those traditions established by his parents acted as a double-edged sword. On one hand, he found immense joy in participating in the routines and rituals begun with his own very first Christmas and modified to accommodate more little hands year after year. On the other hand, his mother and father were gone.
Both parents had made certain that each son had a specific role in which to embrace the holiday.
As he had done with Adam, Mr. McFadden always relegated the placing of the angel on the top of the Christmas tree to the baby boy. Brian's tenure with the angel came to an end with the birth of Crane, who had four Christmases as angel placer before Daniel arrived. Evan usurped him. Then little Ford reigned until Guthrie's birth. Adam's dad would make a big to-do and the whole family would gather around the decorated tree, smiling and waiting with anticipation for the finishing touch and most prized ornament to be added to the tip top. His mother would stand poised with the camera ready to record the climactic moment. Their father would swing the little one onto his shoulders and shrug his own broad shoulders a bit to secure the little body. Inevitably the baby would fist one hand in his dad's hair as he gripped the angel with the other.
Their dad never complained.
With his siblings acting as yuletide cheerleaders the youngest would fit the angel to the very top branch. His dad would reach up and adjust the figure to make sure it fit snugly and would not topple, secure against the aromatic pine branches and nestled among strings of lights, ornaments, and handmade decorations.
Hoisting Guthrie to his own strong shoulders to situate the angel just a few months earlier Adam met Brian's eyes. For a hauntingly poignant moment Brian's eyes reflected the explosion of heartbreak in his own.
One sleepless night a couple of weeks before their first Thanksgiving and Christmas holiday season Adam lay awake mentally projecting his worries onto his hopes for the upcoming season.
How could he pull off days of jolly happiness when he still fought the shroud of depression every single moment? He knew his healing still needed time, and more time, but ironically, the calendar changing day after day had done little to make his heart hurt less.
Adam repositioned himself to lie on his side. Evan had crept into bed with him earlier, and Adam smoothed the blanket over the little boy.
Protecting that little boy was now his duty.
Adam brushed back the child's blond bangs. Despite himself- despite his own emotional state- he had to make November and December good for his brothers.
Perhaps creating a couple of new traditions would allay some of his own misgivings, as well as establish a new normal for them all.
So the McFaddens celebrated with a blend of mostly old traditions but also some new ones just introduced.
For the first month after the death of his parents Adam acted and reacted from his stance as eldest son. Two months later he straddled the line between everyone's big brother and newly appointed parent. Another couple of months later he had almost entirely tipped into a permanent parental role- while only a residual Adam-the-big-brother remained.
His entire world adjusted incrementally.
One evening the family returned home long after dark, having spent the evening and into the night at one of Brian's football games. Stooping to unlatch restraints from Guthrie's car seat and around Daniel he shifted both sleeping children into his arms and positioned them so that their heads could rest on his shoulders. Evan, Crane and Ford blinked sleepily but followed obediently.
Trudging carefully up the steps he motioned Crane to open the front door so that they could enter, then waited patiently in the little foyer for Evan to engage the lights. Once the living room was lit and they could see, Crane, Ford, and Evan climbed tiredly, and Adam followed quietly. Halfway up he paused and regarded the pictures framing the staircase, photos of the seven boys taken, framed, and arranged before the tragedy. How much had changed since then! How he had changed! He couldn't even recognize himself as the carefree teen he had once been.
Adam nuzzled the side of Guthrie's head before dropping a soft kiss onto Daniel's dark hair. More than anything, he dreaded failing the boys, terrified of somehow damaging them beyond repair.
Reverend Samuels interrupted Adam's reverie and prodded. "That self-doubt, Son? The worry deep inside that you need to do more? Hmmm?"
"You have most definitely confused me," Adam admitted.
"Actually I had more to say. The point is that all parents feel that way. Every day. But what I want you to understand is that your misgivings are normal."
Adam twirled a pencil through his fingers. "Even the mistakes?"
"Even the mistakes."
"Sometimes I start yelling before I find out…"
"…normal," Reverend Samuels interrupted.
Adam licked his lips. "My vocabulary and repertoire of phrases now-" he raised his shoulders and shrugged. "Now I sound exactly like my folks used to sound. The words just pop out of my mouth like I'm pre-programmed or something."
"Again, perfectly normal," the pastor smiled.
Adam added, "I don't care who started it, I'm ending it! March right upstairs, young man, and straight to your room! Don't make me tell you again!" He took a breath. "I have more."
"Sure you do. Those are survival phrases."
"I have spanked."
"So have I," Reverend Samuels conceded. "And grounded, and yelled. For that matter, I have been short tempered and downright wrong at times. But Adam, none of those flaws necessarily make me a bad parent. They do make me human."
Adam shifted in his seat and whispered, "Thank you."
Reverend Samuels nodded his acknowledgement. "So let's take an honest inventory. Are the boys doing well in school under your care?"
Adam nodded.
"Healthy?"
"All of them," Adam assured the older man. "…and up to date on immunizations."
"Kissed? Hugged? Told you love them?"
Adam rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Always."
Reverend Samuels pushed his chair back and stood. "Son, somewhere and sometime in these long months you transitioned from full-time brother to full-time parent. I don't mean that you just jumped into the role because you had to step up and do it. What I want to show you is that you yourself have changed. You have matured. Emotionally, physically, spiritually, mentally, socially- you have evolved into a fine and commendable parent."
Adam closed his eyes and focused on the words for nearly a full minute. He couldn't deny that truth.
He had changed.
Reverend Samuels navigated to the front of his desk and perched against it. "Forgive yourself for mistakes, Son."
"That's a tall order, Reverend. I second guess my own self quite a bit. I do worry, especially I get worried that I'm too quick to discipline." Adam regarded the older man thoughtfully.