After he was reasonably sure the boys were asleep, Jason got out of his bed, lit a lamp and picked up a book. If he'd wanted to, he'd have been able to read more easily if he turned the lamp up, but he kept it dim, so as not to awaken his brothers
Not that he was actually reading. The words were there, on the page, in front of his face, but his thoughts were elsewhere.
He knew he would not sleep tonight. He'd known it almost since he'd come in and found his brothers huddled together over that chest. And when Jeremy looked up at him,with his eyes a bright washed blue rimmed with red, and greeted him with enthusiasm he just knew it would be a long night.
He had tried to act unsurprised. (Well, that really wasn't an act; he'd know when he'd left that Jeremy would be exploring the box.) Let him rephrase that. He had tried to act normal. Normal, calm, and rational.
Except that normally they didn't wallow in memories.
Not even the good ones.
Or the recent ones.
Jason was thinking of his recent visit with that skinny crone of an old woman, Ms. Amelia Johnson. He had, after years of fuming over her bossy, interfering tendencies, gone to her for advice.
Because Jeremy was getting very attached to her.
Because she was dying.
Because, damnitall, her 'advice' had too often been right, correct, and proper! And intended to help.
And god knows, Jason needed help. Taking care of, guiding and guarding children – well, a child, was one thing, but dealing with two brothers on opposite ends of the becoming-a-man process was overwhelming. Especially when one was as too-eager as the other was reluctant.
So, when Jeremy said she wanted to see him, he had been secretly relieved. He knew he needed help, or, at least, advice.
And he had gone to see her.
She sent him in (with the door open, of course, and just off the kitchen, while she fixed up a tea) to visit the bedridden Sarah Simms, her fellow Wyrd Sister , although the three old women were not at all related while They had each started on the wagon train with a husband, and Ms. Ellen had had a couple of children, too. But the trip had been rough, and the children had died of illness – he didn't know what; Mama and Da had kept him away from them, mostly by giving him the job of keeping an eye on her, because she was going to have a baby. Their men had been killed in separate and different accidents, First Ms. Amelia's and then Ms. Sarah's. Ms. Ellen's husband had been lost during the incident that had caused some of the wagons, and a lot of property, to be abandoned. Lightening the load for the remaining oxen and three women had consolidated to one, and had been together ever since, although each had a separate home when they settled in Seattle.
They had become the wise women of the abbreviated train, because they had more life experiences than the rest of the party. They treated the sick, delivered the babies (Joshua foremost among those), organized the chores and schedules, and tried to educate the children. They became the chaperones or duenas for the younger people.(Even the married ones.) They were in charge of food distribution, and of hunting parties for weeds, herbs, and berries. They had been said to have wanted to join real hunting parties, but the men wouldn't have that. They hunted while on the move, and the women had to mind their wagons and the children, and the Ladies had made themselves in charge of both. No hunting.
The conversation with Ms. Sarah had been, thankfully, brief. What could one say to a woman who had been in bed for months? Who was dying, and the whole town knew it?
And what did you say when the Sister you had come to visit called you from the kitchen to join her on the porch for tea? You probably shouldn't say "I hope you're better soon" or "I'll see you at the next dance; you've already missed too many"
Come to think of it, Jason wasn't sure what he had said. It must not have been too bad, because Ms. Amelia hadn't been disturbed. Probably something like he'd see her later and it was nice talking with her. (Both lies.)
He carried the laden tray out to the porch. It looked like it weighed more than the woman, and was as wide as she was tall.
"It's easy to see where Jeremy gets his manners from," she said, as they seated themselves and she poured tea for them both and handed around nice thick sandwiches. (Thank god. He'd been afraid of little uncrusted cucumber sandwiches, on thin sliced white bread, or something equally fancy and unsatisfying.)
"I try," Jason said, and took a big bite of the sandwich so he wouldn't have to talk. (Inside his head he heard Josh laughing at the idea of him not wanting to talk. And Jeremy saying that he liked Jason to talk, he did it so good.) "Ms. Amelia. Why did you ask to see me?"
"Jeremy is worried about you."
Jason choked on his tea. "Jeremy. Is worried? About me?" Jason couldn't have been more surprised.
"Why are you surprised? You've raised a thoughtful, considerate young man."
"No, I think he was born that way."
"The only 'way' that child was born is stubborn."
"Mama used to say that."
"I haven't heard you call your mother Mama for a very long time."
"Sometimes it slips out. She was Mama when stubborn Jeremy was born."
Ms. Amelia laughed. "So she was, and you weren't but a boy yourself! Younger even than your Wee One has been for a little while."
Jason leaned forward, setting aside the cup and saucer. "Ma'am."
"Have you not noticed a change in the boy?"
"Every day, it seems like," Jason agreed ruefully. "He's been afraid recently. All that nonsense of ghosts and witches and will o' the wisps. Rougarous and sasquatches and godonlyknows what other nonsense. Now that the Festival is over, that should abate."
"Except, as you well know, Jason Bolt, that there are other sorts of ghosts. Some that can't be seen, but need dragged into the light. Your young brother – oh, I'm not sure how to put it into words."
"Then let's talk of something else for a while." Jason took up another of those man-sized sandwiches. "Jeremy says you talk about Mama as a person, not just a mother. Can you help me do the same? "
"Oh, I could do better than that," she replied mischievously, her eyes twinkling. "How would you like to see yourself as a boy?"
"I don't think I've ever seen myself that way. Do tell." Jason took a bite, so he wouldn't be able to interrupt.
"First children rarely do. Of course, they are rarely allowed to be children after the next one comes along and they automatically become the 'older' child. You were spared that, for a while, while your Da was off exploring and buying up entire mountains."
Jason nodded agreement with that, and the older woman talked lightly of the lovely young woman and her young husband, starting lives as a family, with one strong, healthy son, and another on the way. They had passed the honeymoon stage – most of the time, Ms. Amelia said with a wink – but for the first time they were living with one another and no kin nearby, and being on the road it was a tough adjustment for the couple. Often, one would roar and the other laughed. Or she would cry and speak with a tremble, and he would all but fall over himself for her forgiveness – which she always granted in the end. They were very different people, with very different outlooks and attitudes, but when they were in harmony the air seemed to hum, and the sun shone a little brighter.b Life was better for everyone in their vicinity.
It was their child at the heart of their conflict.
The father was, or wanted to be, a strict disciplinarian, a godly parent ("How people abuse that word" Ms. Amelia said in an aside.) He was all about getting things done. The boy had chores and they had to be done exactly so, and to his specifications.
The mother wanted to let the child be a child. She wanted him raised with pleasure, with joy, and the chores could wait, but the sunrise, or sunset, or rainbow, or the shadow of a mountain would pass in 'but a moment'.
She laughed, sang, and told stories.
He scheduled, planned, and preached.
They were both sincere, and true to their selves.
And, as impossible as it seemed, they were making their family work. The love between them was strong and consuming and brought out the best in both, and in everyone in their world. Even their poor child."
Jason choked, shook his head, and sipped his tea. He wasn't sure what to say to that.
"Yes," the woman said. "Their poor child. Later, the poor children. Love like that – it only seems like it embraces everyone. More often, while others are feeling blessed, they are also being excluded. Their world was theirs only. Others were welcome, until they weren't."
Yes, Jason had known that feeling. He'd always felt left out when Mama and Da had gone off alone, or , worse, when they rushed him to bed and then whispered and rustled and giggled and – other noises when he was thought to be asleep. And in the morning Da would laugh and talk and Ma would just sparkle, even in the sunshine, or maybe any light. When he'd ask why were they so happy, Mama would say 'because we're together', laughing, and Da would tell him to put out the breakfast fire and pack away the dishes.
"It wasn't quite that bad," he said. "Mom let us in. And she stood up for us. Always." He paused. "But I can see how a – an onlooker might not see that."
"Thank you for that," Amelia said. No need to burden the son with her memory of the young woman's many tears when she felt forced to choose between her husband and her children, even in small matters.
She refilled the teacups. She suddenly looked tired, and old. As old as sick Ms. Sarah.
"Do you think the little one will be alright when I die?" she asked quietly.
"If I can help it, he will be."
She nodded. "Then he will be. Do you know you are his safe haven, Jason?"
"I hope not too much. But, yes. And it worries me. Accidents happen every day. Illnesses, too. We've been fortunate, and we take precautions, but no one controls the wind and sickness cannot always be predicted, let alone prevented. What else can we do? Or should we do?" Leave it to the old woman to hit him right in the sore spot!
She smiled. " 'We' is a very good start. You've given your brothers a circle of friends that they can count on. Have you put it to paper?"
"Yes ma'am."
She nodded. "Good." She sat up straighter (if that were possible.)
Jason waited. The pleasantries were over now. He sat up straighter, too.
"It is a high compliment to you that Jeremy is allowing himself to be afraid."
"Ma'am?"
"Your father was a most fearful man, even when sane."
"Yes, ma'am, he was. I was afraid of him myself for a long time."
"As well you should have been. He knew he couldn't control you – just as he couldn't control your mother – under certain circumstances, and for certain reasons – and so he sent you away frequently."
"And sometimes called me back. As if I were a child still."
"You know that he was not in his right mind."
"I suspected so."
"And that he drank excessively and became ugly."
"Yes. But at least he was getting out then."
"At first. Then he started staying home, sending those brothers of yours to bring him a new bottle when the old one was emptied. When they returned, he would be raging at them for being too slow or too quick, for talking to people or not talking to them. For talking to one another or for not speaking. He would get loud and he would get violent."
"I know. Josh has – said things, from time to time."
"Joshua. Yes. He followed your example well, Jason. He protected his brother as best he could." The old woman smiled briefly. "The problem with that is that his brother tried just as fiercely to protect him."
"That I can well believe. He surprises me every day. They both do. Ma'am, how bad was it? From your perspective?"
She looked at him straightly. "It was bad enough that the neighbors intervened. What does that tell you?"
"That Josh isn't exaggerating. As I've been trying to convince myself. Why are you bringing all this out? Because – because of your health? And Jeremy's attachment to you?"
She was silent for several minutes. "I suppose. Jeremy started asking me about his mother. He said he didn't want to make you or Josh get as sad as he did. He said that when your father talked about her was when he turned into not-him. He – I don't know if I can explain it in words, young man. He's still so fearful. That worries me."
Jason considered that. "And what advice would you give me?"
"Stay calm. I don't know exactly what your father threatened your brothers with, on his bad days, and maybe even his good ones where he was still not himself, but Jeremy has been bottling it up for years. He's afraid, and I think he's afraid of your reaction should you find out all of it. He needs you to stay his safe place, Jason, and not give in to your temper. YOU are his safety, and the closer he gets to seeing you as a man instead of a brother, the more afraid he becomes of losing his brother. Beware your own righteous indignation for him.".
"I'll try." Jason put down his cup and stood up. "Would you like me to carry your tray back inside for you?"
"Yes, thank you. I'll pack the rest of the sandwiches for you to take home." Her eyes sparkled and she smiled. "I may even sneak in a few cookies for that voracious young brother of yours. Thank you for your time and attention."
"Thank you for taking the time and paying attention. You've given me a lot to think about."
"Good night, young Mr. Bolt." She handed him the packet and followed him to the door.
She stood in her doorway watching him stride up the road, and smiled as first one brother and then the other joined him, and the three of them went into their town home.
"Well, little Mama," she said to her long-gone friend, "I've done what I can."
Sarah called out, asking her who she was talking to, and she went inside, soothing the sick woman with a joke about thinking out loud.
And Jason returned to his present day to find Jeremy standing in front of him, anxiously looking him over. "Well, hello. You can't sleep, either?"
Jeremy shook his head.
"Want to sit with me?" Jason patted the small space beside him in the chair.
"I'm too b-big."
Jason pulled the boy close, and put him on his lap, no matter how big he was getting. "I promise you something. When we're old and grandfathers, with grown children of our own, if you want to sit with me, no matter how big or how old we are, I'll make a way for it to happen. You'll never be too big for me."
Jeremy leaned his head against Jason's chest, and made himself comfortable. "Tha's nice. Did you ever see grandfathers holding grandfathers on their lap?"
"Maybe we'll be the first."
Jeremy sighed contentedly, and his eyes drooped back into sleep.
Jason stroked the boy's hair, and waited for the memories to fade and the morning to dawn.