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My Boy
The Long Journey Home My Boy He’s not my boy, but when his hand Is held in mine I understand The problems that he has to face; I glimpse his goal in life’s long
race, And then a thrill akin to joy Sweeps over me— He IS my boy. He’s not my boy, he has no dad; He’s just a lonely, little lad Who’ll have to battle all the way. And, in trust, if he will lay His hand in mine, I’ll count it joy To help that lad— I call my boy.
“My
Boy” is a submission for CWP
2.5, Fathers, Heroes, and Leaders. “My
Boy” is the third and final story in The Journey Trilogy. In “At the Crossroads: A
New Journey Begins”, the Wheelers came to Autoville in hopes of adopting
Jim Frayne. Jim agreed, although it seemed he was a bit hesitant. In this
story, we journey to Sleepyside and see how Jim is adjusting to life as a
Wheeler. Will the transition be smooth, or will the demons from his past
haunt? And though The Cameo rarely gives
“hanky warnings” (fear of false advertising, you know), consider yourself
officially warned to grab a box of Kleenex as we continue our rough journey
home…
Early August, after “The Red
Trailer Mystery”… In what seemed like the
blink of an eye, Jim Frayne had gone from homeless orphan to son of a
multi-millionaire. And Jim wasn’t at all sure which role he preferred. The ride home from
Autoville had been a bit awkward for him. Miss Trask asked Trixie to ride
back to Sleepyside in the station wagon hauling the Silver Swan with her so Jim could get acquainted with his new
parents. Jim knew the governess was trying to be thoughtful, but during the
long trip home, he wished the blonde chatterbox had ridden with the Wheelers
in the midnight-blue Cadillac. If she’d
been there beside him, he knew he would’ve felt more at ease. Something about
Trixie always made him feel comfortable,
and that was a wonderful feeling. He could tell the
Wheelers were making an effort to be friendly, but after a while, the
conversation would taper off to periods of strained silence. During those
lulls, Jim looked to his sister to begin the banter anew, expecting her to
jump right in with a steady stream of Honey-speak. Surprising to Jim, it
appeared even she was a bit shy
around the adults. When Matthew finally pulled up the driveway and parked the
sedan outside the two-story garage of the palatial estate, Jim had to pick
his jaw off the car’s floorboard. He knew the Wheelers were well-to-do, but
he’d no idea how wealthy they
actually were. In his wildest imagination, he never could’ve imagined a home
like this. He leaned over to Honey and whispered, “This is your house?” Honey giggled.
“No, silly. This is our house.” Jim’s neck
reddened as he saw Matthew and Madeleine exchange amused smiles. Though the backseat of
the Cadillac was very spacious, Jim felt a bit claustrophobic, so he eagerly
opened the door and stepped outside. He couldn’t help but gawk as he took in
his surroundings. To view the entire estate, he’d to turn around in a circle
and, even then, he knew the property passed beyond his range of vision. Though he’d seen the
top of Manor House peeking through the trees at Ten Acres, and at night from
the estate stables, Jim wasn’t prepared for the grandeur that surrounded him. The sprawling three-story mansion sat
proudly atop a western hill. The white exterior paint gleamed as though it
had been freshly applied that morning in anticipation of his arrival, and
each one of the house’s many windows sparkled in the sunlight like diamonds.
Broad stone steps led up to a wide veranda that wound all around the
home. Lofty white columns graced
either side of the steps, appearing to hold up the second-story balcony. Not only was the home
majestic, Jim found the surrounding land equally as impressive. The
well-manicured lawn was the perfect shade of green, and it was obvious that
keeping the grounds in pristine order was a full-time job. All the hedges and
flowers were methodically chosen, carefully arranged so that there would be a
bloom of color three seasons of the year. A huge blue spruce stood on one
side of the estate and a big oak on the other, their thick, tall trunks and
widespread branches proudly proclaiming their precedence to the dwellings. To his west, Jim saw
the Manor House Stable. Through the veil of night, he’dn’t noticed how
immaculate it was. The exterior had been newly white-washed to match the
house. Even though the large structure was a barn, great care was taken with
the landscaping. Pink and red hollyhocks were planted all around the barn,
their large, showy flowers adding a soft touch to the roughly-hewn texture of
the exterior walls. Thick woodland
surrounded the property. Large hedges and vines separated the northern border
between Manor House and Crabapple Farm, a well-worn footpath visible amongst
the thicket. Directly to his east, Jim knew the charred remains of Ten Acres
stood. However, the woods were so dense that he couldn’t clearly see any sign
of his uncle’s… no, his land. By
the stable, there was another trail leading into the forest. The woodsman in
Jim longed to saddle up Jupiter and go exploring down that path. The buildings were some
of the most beautiful Jim had ever seen; the landscaping was a work of art.
But to Jim, nothing was as tempting as the vast, thick forest; the woods
would be his sanctuary. As grand as the outside
of the estate was, it couldn’t compare to the interior. Eager to show off the
new member of the family, Honey grabbed Jim by the hand and proudly marched
him inside. After introducing him to Celia, Cook, and the rest of the staff,
Honey gave him the grand tour. Jim joked that he’d need a map to find his way
around, but there was a lot more than a mere ounce of truth to his words. Matthew and Madeleine
helped him get settled that first night. They allowed him to choose his
bedroom from among the many empty ones on the second floor. Truthfully, none
appealed to Jim; he thought they felt like cold mausoleums. He preferred
small, cozy rooms like the ones in the farmhouse at His new bedroom and
bath was almost as big as the entire apartment he and his mother had shared
before she married Jonesy. Jim had no idea why anyone would need this much
space, but it relieved him that the Wheelers were pleased with his choice.
Their approval was what really
mattered. Though his adoptive
parents had done their best to put him at ease, Jim felt as though he were
walking on eggshells whenever they were around. He spent two uncomfortable
hours with them in the formal living room, discussing the pending adoption.
Thankfully, Honey was there with him; however, she didn’t say much, a fact
that confused Jim greatly. Madeleine, realizing
Jim had little more than the clothes on his back, made plans to take him shopping
the next day in The change of plans
didn’t bother Jim; frankly, he was relieved. Without his imposing
guardians in the house, Jim relaxed a bit. He found Miss Trask to be a good
friend, even if it was insulting having a “babysitter” after he’d taken care
of himself for so long. Celia and Cook immediately began treating him as
prince of the manor, and although his new station unnerved him, he didn’t
feel pressured to please them, which helped put him at ease. In Regan, Jim
discovered a kindred spirit. Jim had met him briefly before his Before his arrival, the
Manor House staff had worried if Matthew was being foolhardy in adopting a
strange runaway. However, Jim quickly proved himself to them with his mature
demeanor and respectful attitude. The women especially, with their motherly
instincts, developed a soft spot for the determined boy. More often than he
would’ve preferred, Jim had his cheeks pinched and his hair ruffled. Honey happily adjusted
to the new family member. In fact, she told Jim often that she couldn’t
remember what life was like without him. She quite cheerfully relinquished
her role as the “only child”, treating him as if he’d been her older sibling
since birth. It was obvious that she idolized him and longed for his
acceptance, and Jim didn’t take that lightly. He fretted over her, doted upon
her, and teased her affectionately. He mastered the role of big brother just
like he accomplished all the other things he tried— with great ease. An adoring sister,
friends who cared about him, a bed to sleep in, food in his stomach, a roof
over his head… These were all some of the benefits of his new life. However,
although Jim would never tell a living soul, his favorite thing about being
adopted by the Wheelers lived in a little white farmhouse down in the hollow.
Each morning when he awoke, her dimpled smile, tousled curls, and shining
eyes were the first things he thought about. And each night when he fell
sleep, his last thought was the he would never be worthy of her. But he vowed to try. Deep in his heart, Jim
knew that he never would have come back to Sleepyside had it not been for a
certain sandy-haired girl. Though he longed for a father figure, his fear of
being beaten like an unwanted mutt would’ve eventually grown too strong to
risk being adopted by Matthew Wheeler. But, his fear of never seeing Trixie
again was greater than his fear of abuse. He’d gladly endure a beating every
morning, noon, and night if it meant spending even an hour that day with the
girl who’d captured his broken, battered, frightened heart.
It had been almost two
weeks since the Wheelers brought Jim home, but Jim hadn’t spent much time
with them since. If he were to be brutally honest, he would have to say that that hadn’t necessarily been a bad
thing. The time he’d spent with them was uncomfortable. According to the court
system of Part of him feared the
adoption would be stopped. Another part was
terrified that it wouldn’t. The solace he’d
experienced while the Wheelers were in As soon as he was
dismissed from the table, he snuck off to the barn. Jim knew Regan had gone
to buy feed for the horses, so he hid in an empty stall until his stomach
settled. Once he felt better, he decided to go for a horseback ride. Though
he preferred Jupiter, he saddled Strawberry instead, worried Matthew would be
angry if he knew Jim was riding his horse. Jim’s conscience burned, knowing
he’d already ridden the large black gelding without Matthew’s permission. He
wondered if he should admit that to his new guardian, but he was afraid what
would happen if he did. Matthew Wheeler’s temper was infamous around Manor
House, and after Jim’s experiences with Jonesy, he knew how dangerous a big
man could be when he was angry. After his ride, Jim
felt somewhat more relaxed. Once he properly groomed Strawberry, led him back
to his stall, and returned the riding equipment he’d used to its proper spot
in the tack room, he decided it was time to go back to Manor House. As he
ambled up the path, a pang in his belly reminded him that he’d not eaten much
at lunch. The farther he walked,
the stronger that pang grew. By the time he slipped in through the main
entrance, his stomach was making horrible noises in hopes of being appeased.
He bent over to take off his boots, grimacing slightly as a loud growl came
from the general direction of his midsection. Too nervous to go to the
kitchen in search of food, Jim tiptoed up the long staircase to the sanctuary
of his bedroom, determined to wait until dinner. The second floor of
Manor House was deserted. Miss Trask had taken Honey and Trixie on an outing
and wouldn’t return until later that afternoon. Although there was a sense of
safety in his room, there wasn’t much to do besides think about how hungry he
was. He tried to read the book he’d brought up from the library a few days
ago. However, no matter how interesting The Military Life of Hannibal,
Father of Strategy was, it didn’t take his mind off his empty stomach.
Deciding he was too hungry to read, he pulled out the old harmonica he’d
brought with him from Albany, and blew a few strains of “Someone’s in the
Kitchen with Dinah”. However, that
only made him think about what Dinah was cooking and wonder what it would
taste like. Finally, his stomach’s
howls of hunger grew so strong that Jim could no longer bear it. He
remembered that dinner was served late when Matthew and Madeleine were there,
and knew he wouldn’t be able to wait several hours to eat. He hesitantly
crept out of his room and down the steps in search of food. He slipped deftly
through the large double doors separating the foyer and formal living room,
after first checking that the room was unoccupied. While there, he peeked
outside the French doors and saw Madeleine sitting on a glider, being served
tea by Celia. Upon exiting the living room, he’d to make his way down the
long hall, hoping no one would exit any of the adjacent rooms. Aware that footsteps
echoed off the marbled floors and reverberated throughout the entire mansion,
he took special care to pad softly. He wanted to make sure that he didn’t
disturb anyone with his presence, especially the man who was adopting him.
Though it was late afternoon, Jim feared Matthew was on the telephone with
one of his business associates. He treaded quietly through the long corridor,
praying he wouldn’t make too much noise. As he passed the big
grandfather clock in the hallway, it began to loudly chime as it did at the
top of every hour. Jim jumped at the sudden noise, expecting Matthew to be
standing over him, belt in hand, demanding to know what he was doing. Once
his pulse slowed to a normal speed, he continued the long trek to the
kitchen. When he slipped past the library, he stuck his head through the
doorway and noticed it was empty. The half bath next door was vacant as well.
However, the door to Matthew’s study was shut, and Jim thought he heard
movement inside the room. Holding his breath, Jim
leaned closer to the thick door. Just as the tip of his ear touched the wood,
a loud bellowing from the other side of the door made him jump. He was
tempted to quickly retrace his steps and return to the security of his
bedroom, but since he was so close to the kitchen, he forced himself to
continue. He breathed a loud sigh
of relief when he finally reached the kitchen and found that it was
empty. He saw a bowl of fruit on the
counter and hastily selected two apples. Deciding he may need a snack later
that night, he tucked both apples in the crook of his elbow and, with his
free hand, grabbed an orange. Securing his booty, he turned to leave and ran
right smack dab into Matthew Wheeler. With wide green eyes,
he looked up at the taller man. His heart began to thump loudly as he remembered
what Jonesy would do when he caught Jim sneaking food. His brain told him to
run, but his legs refused to cooperate. “Jim!” In slow motion, Jim
watched Matthew lift one arm, pull it back, and swing it towards him.
Instinctively, Jim cringed. He held his breath, and closed his eyes tightly,
bracing his body for the forthcoming blow. But instead of a slap,
it was merely an affectionate clap on the back. “Good to see you, son,”
Matthew said, smiling broadly. “I was hoping those footsteps I heard were
yours.” Jim tried to lick his
lips, hoping that would help him speak, but his mouth was too dry to gather
even that bit of moisture. “I-I tried to be quiet…” Matthew threw back his
red head and chuckled heartily. “That’s how I knew it was you. Maddie always
wears high heels, even in the house, and I can hear her shoes clicking from a
mile away. Honey’s a bit quieter, but ever since she met that little Belden
girl, she’s been so excited that she can’t seem to walk anyplace anymore.” Once his laughter subsided,
Matthew shifted his gaze to Jim. “Ah, it looks like somebody is having a
snack.” Jim hoped Matthew
couldn’t hear the loud gulping noise he made. “Uh… yeah…” “Mind if I join you?”
Matthew patted his firm stomach. “I should wait until dinner, but that’s a
long way off. Someday I’m going to chuck these formalities and eat my supper
at a reasonable hour. Maybe if we have something healthy it won’t do too much
damage.” He opened the huge steel-faced refrigerator and pilfered through the
fruit and vegetable bins. “Even though I don’t need the extra calories, a
growing boy like you does. I remember when I was your age; my mom couldn’t
keep enough food around. I ate her out of house and home.” Jim watched silently as
Matthew pulled out strawberries, pineapple chunks, and a container of fruit
dip. After he laid those on the counter, he disappeared back in the
refrigerator, resurfacing a moment later with a bag of cheese cubes and two
cans of cola. In no time, he’d sliced a few apples and laid them out on a big
platter with the strawberries, pineapple chunks, and dip. On another plate,
he dumped some of the cheese cubes and added a sleeve of crackers that he’d
pulled out of a cupboard. “Jim, why don’t you
grab those two Cokes while I get the fruit and cheese?” Jim reluctantly put his
fruit back in the bowl and obediently did as his guardian requested. He
meekly followed the older man out of the kitchen and into the luxurious
study. Matthew went to the sitting area of his office and set the trays down
on the table in front of the black leather sofa. He sat down on one end of
the couch and motioned for Jim to claim the other. Clenching his fists
tightly so Matthew couldn’t see his hands shaking, Jim hesitantly lowered
himself on the opposite side of the couch. Although his stomach was growling,
he didn’t touch the food. Sensing Jim wouldn’t
eat until he did, Matthew gathered some of the fruit onto a napkin and popped
a strawberry into his mouth. After he
chewed up the bite, he nodded to the trays. “Pretty good stuff. Go ahead and
get something, Jim.” Jim nervously leaned
forward and heaped some food onto a napkin, making sure not a single,
solitary crumb spilled onto the fine leather sofa. Although at first he was
afraid he wouldn’t be able to eat with Matthew there, hunger took over and he
devoured several helpings of the fruit, cheese, and crackers. The two munched
quietly, only murmuring occasionally about how good something tasted. In no
time at all, the trays were empty. “Now, don’t tell your
mother that we had this little picnic in here,” Matthew teased with a wink.
He noticed Jim stiffen beside him when he called Madeleine Jim’s mother, and
decided to change the subject. “Is your room all right, Jim?” The young boy nodded,
and then answered the question in a polite tone. “Yes, sir. It’s very
comfortable. Thank you again for all you’ve done for me.” “It’s been our
pleasure.” Matthew smiled kindly. “Did you get all the clothes and shoes you
need when Miss Trask took you shopping?” “I got more than I needed,” Jim admitted with
a guilty flush. “I tried not to spend too much money, but…” Unwilling to
place the blame on Miss Trask and Honey, he left his sentence unfinished. However, Matthew didn’t
look angry. In fact, he looked amused. “But Honey and Miss Trask pressured you
to get more?” When it became obvious that Jim wasn’t going to confirm nor
deny that statement, he continued. “Miss Trask had orders from Mrs. Wheeler
to make sure you purchased a certain amount of clothes. Honey probably didn’t
know that, but if I know her, she was just excited to play along. Don’t be
too angry with them for making you into their own Ken doll.” “Oh, I’m not mad at
them,” Jim amended, shaking his head slowly. “I was worried that you would be mad at me.” Matthew studied him
with surprise. “What makes you think I’d be angry?” Jim looked down at the
floor. “Those clothes were kind of expensive, and well… Well, I… I didn’t
know if you were… were keeping a log of all the money you spent on me…” “What kind of man would do a thing like
that?” Matthew interrupted. “As your father, it’s my responsibility to feed
and clothe you.” He immediately noticed the way Jim squared his shoulders in
defiance when he said the words, “your father”. Instead of pushing further,
he chose to ignore it. “Jim, I assure you that both Mrs. Wheeler and I have
your best interest at heart.” Jim remained silent,
but he bobbed his head up and down to acknowledge what Matthew said. A frown marred
Matthew’s brow as he watched Jim’s shoulders sag. “I know this has all been a
big change for you, Jim,” he said gently. “If Mrs. Wheeler or I can help your
adjustment in any way, please feel free to speak to us.” “Yes, sir.” The reply
was polite, but it lacked confidence. “Are you making
yourself at home?” “Yes, Mr. Wheeler,” Jim
responded courteously. Trying to lighten the
mood, Matthew teased, “We’re glad you’re here, even though we really don’t
have the room for you. This place is so cramped, you know.” Jim looked up, and a
hint of a smile wiggled at the corners of his lips. “I have to admit that
even though I have a good sense of direction, I’ve gotten lost a time or
two.” Matthew chuckled. “I
know what you mean. When we first moved in, I got up in the middle of the
night to get a snack and couldn’t find my way back to the bedroom. I almost
ended up in bed with Miss Trask.” He was rewarded by a full smile from Jim.
“I guess you’ve explored the lake and the stable?” Jim’s green eyes
brightened at the mention of the stable. “Yes, sir, Mr. Wheeler. Well, the
stable, at least. I haven’t been to the lake yet. I’ve spent most of my free
time at the barn. You’ve got some nice horses, sir.” “Regan is very wise in
choosing mounts for the stable,” Matthew agreed with a nod. “Has he shown you
where the tack is? Honey mentioned in one of her letters that you were an
accomplished horseman.” “Yes, sir. Regan’s been
swell.” “Feel free to ride all
you want. I’m sure Regan would appreciate the help exercising them.” “I went riding earlier
today, on Strawberry.” Jim wrung his hands nervously, trying to ignore his
nagging conscience. “Good, I’m glad to hear
it,” Matthew murmured. “Strawberry is a fine animal. A bit too docile for my
taste, but still an excellent horse.” Jim’s conscience seemed
to speak with his late father’s voice. All Win Frayne’s countless lectures on
the importance of honesty and integrity flitted through Jim’s mind at warp
speed. Finally, he decided any punishment Matthew could mete out would be
more endurable than failing his father. His real father. “Mr. Wheeler,
sir?” He held his breath as the older
man leveled his eyes at him. Jim made sure to look Matthew right in the eye,
just as Win had taught him. “I hope you aren’t too angry, but I’ve also
ridden your horse Jupiter. I know I should’ve gotten your permission first.
It was wrong of me, and I hope you’ll accept my apology.” He sat back and waited for the inevitable
explosion of fury. But it never came. Instead, Matthew smiled
in admiration. “I appreciate your honesty, son. Regan had already told me
that you’d ridden Jupe. I was worried at first, for your safety more than the
horse’s, but Regan assured me that you were as fine a rider as he’d ever
seen. I trust his judgment; he’s always been truthful with me.” Jim’s ginger brows rose
in surprise. “You mean you aren’t kicking me out, or sending me back to
Jonesy?” “Of course not,”
Matthew said, his tone expressing his disbelief. “In fact, you’ve given me an
idea. I’m away a lot on business and Jupiter is not the sort of horse who’ll
wait patiently to be ridden. Regan has his hands full as it is, and you’d be
doing me a favor if you would
exercise the old boy for me.” “You’d let me ride
Jupiter?” Jim gasped. “Sure, I would. You’re
my son now.” Matthew carefully studied Jim’s pinched features. “How about we
go out to the stable later and you show me how you keep Jupe in line?” “Okay,” Jim agreed. He
felt comfortable enough to give Matthew a crooked grin. “I think someday I
could manage him without a curb bit, after he gets to know me, that is.” “Did Win teach you to
ride?” Matthew asked. Jim nodded. “Dad had a
big black gelding, just like Jupiter. He taught me to ride Blackie bareback,
with nothing but a halter rope to guide him.” “No wonder you’re such
a good horseman. I remember how well your father rode,” Matthew said, his
tone expressing how impressed he was.
“What happened to Blackie?” Jim’s jaw set like a
flint. “Mom had to sell him after Dad died. We couldn’t take Blackie with us
to the apartment, and besides, we couldn’t afford to feed him or board him at
a stable.” “That’s a shame.”
Matthew paused, and then added, “But that settles something for me.” Jim glanced over at
him, the lines of his forehead creased in confusion. “I’ve been considering
buying another horse for myself, but I didn’t want to get rid of Jupiter,”
Matthew explained. “If you ride as well as your dad did, you and Jupe will be
a fine match. When I buy another horse for me, would you be willing to claim
him as your own?” Jim could hardly
believe his ears. He was so overcome with joy that he’d difficulty speaking.
“Well, sure! Jupiter and me get along great!” “Then consider it a
done deal,” Matthew said, a wide smile on his face. “You and I will share
Jupiter until I find another horse. Until then, please ride him as often as
you like.” Jim looked hard into
his guardian’s dark aquamarine eyes. “I don’t know how to thank you, Mr.
Wheeler.” “Well, you could start
by calling me something less formal than ‘Mr. Wheeler’,” he offered with a
chuckle. “Why don’t you call me ‘Matthew’, or ‘Matt’, if you prefer.” Jim nodded his head
slowly. “I could do that.” “Of course, Honey calls me ‘Dad’, and if you
call me ‘Matt’, it may get confusing when we’re out.” Though Matthew’s voice
was usually loud and booming, he lowered it to almost a whisper and suggested
kindly, “So why don’t you call me ‘Dad’?” Jim’s shoulders squared
defensively, his head lowered down. Through clenched teeth, he stated flatly,
“If that’s what you want me to do.” Matthew’s gaze softened
as he watched Jim. Not yet a man, not still a boy, the teenager had submitted
to his request although he clearly wasn’t happy about it. The broken expression on Jim’s face broke
his heart. “What I want is for you to call me whatever
you’re comfortable with. If you prefer
‘Matt’, or even ‘Mr. Wheeler’, that’s fine with me. You had a fine father;
I’ll be happy just being your friend.” Jim lifted his eyes. If Matthew wasn’t
mistaken, they were a bit misty. In a voice husky with emotion, the boy answered,
“Thank you, Mis… Thank you, Matt.” A few days later… Matthew had just
returned home from his office in Celia was
waiting in the foyer to take his briefcase. “Good evening, Mr. Wheeler. Shall
I take this to your study?” “That would be
fine, Celia. Is Jim around?” The pretty maid
nodded toward the staircase. “He’s upstairs, supposedly cleaning his room.” A giggle accompanied the sentence. “Supposedly?” Matthew repeated
curiously. “Did Mrs. Wheeler ask him to straighten his bedroom? I know
teenage boys aren’t the neatest creatures around. Perhaps you could sneak in
and help him.” “Jim’s room
isn’t messy, sir,” Celia corrected. “I said ‘supposedly’ because I don’t know
how it could get much cleaner. It’s neat as a pin in there, and I don’t have
to do a thing.” Matthew’s sandy
eyebrows narrowed into a deep crease. “You don’t say? That’s strange.” “His mother
must’ve taught him well,” Celia commented, smiling. “Yes,” Matthew
murmured thoughtfully. “Celia, I need to talk to him, but I’ll take him to my
study. I brought something home from the office that I need to show him.” “I’ll take your
briefcase in there right now, Mr. Wheeler,” Celia promised as she exited the
foyer. Matthew climbed
the winding staircase leading to the second floor. He was filled with
apprehension, although he wasn’t sure why. It seemed to get worse as he
neared Jim’s bedroom. Shaking his head in disgust at himself, he knocked on
the door and heard a muffled, “Come in.” He opened the door and stepped
inside. However, Jim was nowhere to be seen. “Jim?” he
called. “In here!” The
reply came from the direction of the closet. A moment later, Jim’s freckled
face poked out of from the closet’s doorway. “Hey, Matt.” “Hey.” Matthew
smiled in relief. “What are you up to?” “Just getting my
closet in order.” Jim stepped out into the room, a wooden hanger in one hand
and a short-sleeved plaid shirt in the other. “Let me get this hung up and
I’ll be back out. You can have a seat, if you like.” He disappeared back
through the doorway. As he moved
through the room, Matthew looked around. The dresser by the door shined, as
though it had been recently polished. On the top, Jim’s christening cup sat
perfectly in the middle. Not only were the two twin beds made, their
coverlets were pulled taut, like the bedding on a soldier’s cot right before
inspection. The nightstand was just as shiny as the dresser. On the lower
shelf, Jim had placed Uncle James’ Family Bible, and on the top a lamp had
been centered. An old picture of his parents, which Jim had found in the
Bible and framed, was in one corner, and an alarm clock was in the opposite
one; both objects were placed so that they formed perfect right angles. Matthew reached
over and brushed his index finger along the top of the nightstand. Just as he
expected, his finger came back free from dust. A quick glance around the room
proved that there wasn’t even a speck of lint on the carpet. Curious, he
stood and walked over to the closet just as Jim stepped out. “Finished?”
Matthew questioned. Jim nodded his
head eagerly. “Yes, sir. Did you need to speak with me?” “Just for a
minute or two. I’m sure it won’t take long.” Jim’s broad
shoulders sagged. “Did I do something wrong?” Matthew reached
out one hand to pat Jim’s back. Was it his imagination, or did the boy
flinch? He cleared his throat. “No, of course not, son. I just got some
information today that I wanted to share with you. Something to help build
your inheritance so you have enough to start your school someday.” “Oh.” Jim
visibly relaxed. “Do you want to talk here or in your study?” “The study would
be better,” Matthew answered. He shifted his gaze to the closet. “While I’m
thinking about it, Jim, did you pick up a suit in “Yeah, a blue
one.” Jim turned back to the closet, but stepped over to the side so that
there was room for Matthew to stand beside him. While Jim thumbed through the
section containing jackets, Matthew studied the rest of the clothes hanging
there. In the closet, there
were two long rods on which things were hung. Shirts and jackets went on the
top rod, pants and shorts on the bottom. The clothes were organized by type,
and then all similar types were organized by color. Short-sleeved shirts and
shorts were on the left side of the closet, and long-sleeved shirts and pants
were on the right. His shoes were placed neatly on a shelf above the top rod,
casual shoes on the left and dressy shoes on the right. Jim pulled out a
protective bag, and then handed it to Matthew. “What do you think?” Matthew unzipped the bag and inspected the
garment carefully. “This will be perfect,” he replied with a smile. He thought
he could feel Jim’s relief. He
placed the suit back in the closet, purposely hanging it in the wrong spot. As he expected,
Jim immediately took it off the rod and re-hung it in its proper place. As
the pair began to walk out of the room, Jim stopped suddenly in front of his
bed. A frown on his face, he fastidiously smoothed out the wrinkles Matthew
had left behind when he’d been sitting there.
A few days
later, Matthew arrived home early from work. He walked around, searching for
any sign of his family; however, they were nowhere to be found. Honey and Jim
were often outside or at the Beldens’ house, but if his wife went out, he
usually knew about it beforehand. “Maddie?” he called out
loud. “Are you here?” Celia scurried out of
the hall, feather duster in hand. “She’s on the veranda with the children,
Mr. Wheeler.” He looked out the
living room’s French doors, and sure enough, there sat his wife and Honey.
“Thanks, Celia,” he said, smiling. He went outside and
stood by the patio table where Madeleine and Honey were sitting. “Here are my
favorite girls,” he greeted, bending down to kiss Honey’s forehead. “Hi, Daddy!” Honey
smiled up at him, her wide hazel eyes sparkling happily. “Matthew,” Madeleine
murmured as she lifted her lips to receive his kiss. “You’re home early.” “My last meeting of the
day was cancelled,” he explained. He glanced all around the veranda for a
glimpse of his son. “Where’s Jim?” Madeleine smiled as she
pointed to the big oak tree in the yard. “Over there.” Matthew’s eyebrows
knitted together in puzzlement as he looked over and saw Jim propping a
ladder against the tree. “What on earth is he doing?” “Hanging a birdfeeder,”
Honey said with a giggle. “He made it today for Mother. Isn’t he just
wonderful?” “Why, yes, he is.”
Matthew shifted his gaze to Madeleine, who was beaming. “What a thoughtful
thing for him to do.” “Jim knows I like to
sit on the veranda in the morning and watch the birds,” Madeleine told him.
“After breakfast, he was heading out to the preserve, and stopped to talk to
me. We chatted about the different birds that are native to this area; Jim’s
so knowledgeable about those sorts of things. He asked if we had a feeder
that he could hang, and when I told him we didn’t, he said he’d take care of
it. That afternoon, he found some wood and tools, and made me one.” “He made that himself?”
Matthew grinned proudly. “I remember that Win was skilled with his hands. He
must’ve taught Jim how to build things before he passed away.” “You should see it
close up,” Madeleine boasted. “Jim even carved little designs into the wood.
The boy is very talented.” “I told you that Jim knows something about everything,” Honey
insisted enthusiastically. “Why, I think he’s the smartest boy in the whole
wide world, and if you don’t believe me, just ask Trixie. She’s all the time
talking about how wonderful he is.” Madeleine snuck a
glance at her husband and winked at him. Matthew patted his
daughter’s hand affectionately. “Yes, you tried to tell us, sweetheart. I
think you must be the smartest girl
in the whole wide world for knowing so much.” “Daddy!” Honey tried to
remain serious as she pretended to scold her father; however, it was
impossible not to laugh. Just then, Jim shouted
to them from his spot by the tree. “How’s this?” “Perfect!” Madeleine
called back. “Perfectly perfect!” Honey
had to add. Once the birdfeeder was
in place, Jim climbed down the ladder and jogged over to his waiting family.
He grinned broadly when he saw Matthew there. “Hey, Matt!” “Hello, Jim,” Matthew
responded, matching Jim’s grin. “That’s some birdfeeder you made.” “Well, it would’ve been
better if I had a different type of wood,” Jim mumbled, embarrassed by the
praise. “I’m not happy with the grain on this poplar. Maybe I can pick up
some quality oak and make another one.” “I think it’s
beautiful, dear,” Madeleine assured him. She reached out and squeezed his
arm. “You’re very talented.” The boy’s cheeks turned
almost as red as his hair, but his green eyes sparkled with pleasure. “Thank
you, Mother.” He looked at Madeleine in an almost reverent manner, almost as
if she was so fragile that she would break if he touched her. The affectionate term wasn’t
lost on Matthew. He couldn’t help but wonder when his wife and Jim had gotten
so friendly; when Matthew had described Madeleine as Jim’s mother a few weeks
ago, Jim had reacted with hostility. Was
it because I suggested it? he wondered. Or does he just like Maddie better? Although Matthew was
reluctant to admit it, a twinge of jealousy nipped at his heart. He’d felt
confident that Win’s boy would call
him “Dad” long before he referred
to Madeleine as “Mother”. Chiding himself for begrudging Jim’s affection for
his own wife, Matthew focused his attention on the boy. “I still need to put
some birdseed in it,” Jim was saying, “but I wanted to make sure that you
could see it from here.” Madeleine stood. “I
think Regan bought some seed to put in the birdhouses by the stable. I’ll go
in the house and call him. If he can spare some, I’ll walk down and get it.
After snacking on Cook’s delicious tea cakes, I need some exercise.” “Maybe Honey could go
with you,” Jim suggested thoughtfully. “Those bags of seed can be kind of
heavy, but I’m sure between the two of you, you could carry it.” “That’s a perfect
idea,” Madeleine said. “You might even say perfectly perfect.” Honey giggled in
delight as she rose from her chair. “Mother, before you know it, you’ll even
be saying ‘gleeps’!” Madeleine’s tinkling
laugh made her husband and son smile. “Honey dear, a lady of my station
wouldn’t even know how to use such a word.” “Well then, I’ll have
to teach you.” Honey seemed to hold her breath, waiting for her mother’s
response. Madeleine looked
tenderly at the frail girl, running her slender fingers through Honey’s soft
hair. “I can’t think of a single person who would do a better job, or with
whom I’d rather spend time. Perhaps you can give me my first lesson on the
way to the stable.” She held out her hand to her daughter, which Honey
eagerly clasped. “Shall we go, my love?” Honey looked up at her
mother, her hazel eyes shining with pleasure. “We shall.” The pair walked
down the yard, merrily swinging their clasped hands between them. Matthew watched them
go, and then turned to Jim. “That was a nice thing you did, son.” “Aw, it was just a
birdfeeder. I like making stuff like that.” “I was talking about
sending Maddie and Honey off together,” Matthew corrected, his eyes twinkling.
“Honey needs that time with her mother.” Jim nodded. “Yeah,
Honey told me how things used to be, but she and Mother have gotten a lot
closer the past few weeks.” “Yes, they have.” Once
again, the affectionate term referring to Madeleine stung his heart. Pushing
his jealousy away, he pointed to the birdfeeder. “Did Win teach you to build
things like that?” “Yeah,” Jim answered,
smiling sadly. “Dad could build anything, and he didn’t even use plans. He
just knew how things should be put together.” “Your father was a wise
man, even in college,” Matthew replied, remembering several of his friend’s
lectures. “He knew how to put together more than just a birdfeeder. He
certainly fixed my life a time or two.” Jim narrowed his eyes
in surprise. “You and Dad seemed so close. Why did you stop talking to each
other?” Matthew sighed loudly,
realizing he could never answer that question with complete honesty. Some
things Jim was better off not knowing. “I guess life got in
the way, Jim. I had just married Maddie and started Wheeler Enterprises when
we got your birth announcement from your parents. I think Maddie and I sent
them a congratulatory card, but that was the last time we corresponded. I was
busy trying to get my business off the ground and your dad was teaching as
well as working on a game preserve somewhere.” Matthew shook his head
in despair. “When you’re young, you think you have all the time in the world
to contact people and renew friendships. If I’d only known what was going to
happen, I guarantee I never would’ve lost touch. Losing my friendship with
Win has been one of my biggest regrets, especially now that he’s gone.” “I’m sure it was one of
Dad’s too,” Jim observed. Matthew looked hard at
the teenager. For one so young, Jim seemed to know so much. He’s wise beyond his years, just like his
father, he thought. Probably even
more so, since Jim has had to grow up so quickly. He attempted to clear
the emotion from his voice. “Your father would be very proud of you, Jim. He
always dreamed of having a son to follow in his footsteps. I’m sure he’s
looking down on you from Heaven right now, smiling.” Jim lowered his head,
shielding his face from Matthew’s view. “Sometimes I worry that I won’t be
the kind of man Dad would want me to be.” Discreetly wiping a tear
before it fell down his cheek, Matthew put a gentle hand on Jim’s shoulder.
“You already are, son. You already are.” In a voice so quiet
that Matthew had to strain to hear it, Jim whispered, “Thank you… Matt.”
On Saturdays, Matthew
had begun making an effort to stay home so he would be near his family. After
breakfast, he and Madeleine spent some quiet time in the library of Manor
House, reading together in companionable silence. He sat in one corner of the
comfortable sofa, his wife’s slippered feet resting in his lap as she
reclined on the opposite end. A sigh of contentment escaped his lips as he
counted his many blessings. A knock on the door
interrupted his pondering. “Come in,” he called, expecting one of his
children or perhaps even Celia to enter the room. Much to his surprise, Regan
walked over to him, nervously brushing his big, freckled hands against his
dark blue jeans. “Hullo there, Mr.
Wheeler,” the groom greeted. He looked over at Madeleine and nodded his head
to acknowledge her presence. “Mrs. Wheeler.” “Good morning, Regan,”
Madeleine replied, sitting up in a more ladylike position. “Have you had
breakfast yet? Cook would be happy to fix you something.” “No, thank you, ma’am,”
Regan said politely. “I just came over to ask Mr. Wheeler a question, and
then I’ll get out of your hair.” Matthew smiled up at
the young man. “What do you need, Regan?” “Well, I hate to bother
you on a Saturday morning, but I thought today would be a good time to go
look at that horse I told you about. The chestnut gelding.” “Chestnut gelding?”
Matthew echoed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Oh, yes, Tim Hardway’s
Tennessee Walker. Starlight, wasn’t it?” Regan nodded his head.
“Full name ‘One Starlit Night’, sired by ‘Nightwalker’. That’s the one.” “Are you able to get
away?” Matthew questioned. “I thought you’d be too busy to go to “Well, Marge has the
day off and offered to take me since there’s nothing for me to do at the
stable,” Regan explained. “You know how I hate to drive.” Matthew chuckled, and
slapped his thigh in amusement. “Did I hear you just say that you didn’t have
anything to do at the stable? Why, last night you spent fifteen minutes
telling me all you had to do this morning.” “It was all finished
this morning when I got there,” Regan said with a shrug. “I watched the
wrestling matches late last night and didn’t head to the barn until ten. When
I opened the door, there was Jim, cleaning the tack. He must’ve gotten there
at the crack of dawn because he’d already mucked the stalls, fed and watered
the horses, and exercised Jupiter.” “Jim did all that this
morning?” Matthew’s sandy brows met in a deep groove above the bridge of his
nose. “He sure did.” Regan
chuckled. “Why, that boy o’ yours is gonna work me out of a job. I’ll be glad
when he goes to school so I won’t feel guilty when I cash my paycheck.” Madeleine lightly
touched her husband’s hand. “Matthew, how long would it take to do all those
chores?” “Several hours,”
Matthew murmured. “Did you ask him for help, Regan?” “I sure didn’t!” Regan
retorted, showing his redheaded temper. “Why, I wouldn’t ask Jim to help and
then not show up till the work was done!” “I know that, Regan.
Calm down,” Matthew said in a soothing tone. “I’m just curious what possessed
Jim to get up so early and do all
that. I know he’s helpful, but that a lot of work for one teenage boy
to get done so quickly. I worry he’s taking too much upon himself.” His temper in check,
Regan nodded in agreement. “I’ve never seen a boy so anxious to please. I
don’t think he’ll hurt himself, though. He’s young and strong. But I can talk
to him if you want me to.” “No, I’ll take care of
it,” Matthew answered. “You go on and look at Starlight. If you think he’s
worth the money, make a deal with Hardway.” “Do you think we’ll
need the horse trailer?” Regan asked. “If so, we can take the Chevy I keep at
the stable. I’m not sure if Marge can handle that big doulie or not…” Matthew shook his head.
“Take the station wagon so Marge can drive. I know you’d prefer to be a
passenger. If you like the horse, we’ll pick him up next weekend in the
trailer, and I’ll drive the truck.” “All right then, Mr.
Wheeler.” Regan reached out to shake his hand. “I’ll call you if Mr. Hardway
has any questions for you.” “That’ll be fine,
Regan.” Just as the groom turned to leave, Matthew held up a hand to stop
him. “One more thing. Has Gallagher arrived to do the yard work?” “Yes, sir,” Regan
answered. “He just pulled up the driveway in his truck. A riding lawnmower is
on the trailer hitched to the back.” “Can you please tell
him to leave the mower on the trailer? I’d prefer that he work in the shade
and wait until evening to cut the grass. It’s supposed to be a scorcher today
and he’d be wise to wait until it’s cooler to work out in the sun.” “Sure thing, Mr.
Wheeler. I’m sure you won’t get much argument out of Gallagher,” Regan
commented. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll see if Marge is ready to leave.” “Go ahead, Regan. Enjoy
your day off.” “Have a safe trip,”
Madeleine called as the groom exited the library. Once the door was shut, she
slid closer to her husband and placed her hand in the crook of his elbow.
“Matthew, I didn’t want to say anything earlier, fearing I was overreacting,
but I’ve been worried about Jim the past several days. I know we shouldn’t
coddle him, but since Regan brought it up...”
She rubbed the temples
of her head, sighing wearily. “Maybe I’m just being silly.” “Tell me why you’re
worried,” Matthew pleaded, wondering if they were thinking the same thing. “All the work Jim does
just isn’t normal,” Madeleine began. “He should be fishing, swimming, riding…
All the things boys love to do during their summer vacations. But I’ve watched him the past few days, and
all he does is work.” Although he’d been
thinking the same thing, Matthew decided to play devil’s advocate. “Hard
work’s good for a strong, young man like Jim. It helps build character.” “I agree,” Madeleine drawled out slowly, as
it she was reluctant to continue. “However, I think Jim’s obsession with
manual labor goes beyond ‘building character’. He comes across so confident
upon first glance, but I feel there’s something lingering underneath the surface.” A strong feeling of
dread swept over Matthew. He tried to swallow the lump that had risen in his
throat, but it only seemed to grow. “Like what?” “I could be wrong, but I suspect that he’s
afraid we’ll send him away if he disappoints us,” she observed sadly. “I’ve thought the same
thing, but I hoped I was imagining things,” he admitted. He took a deep
breath, massaging his forehead with his fingertips. “But if it’s just
cleaning the stable—” “It’s not.” Madeleine’s
lips pressed in a thin line. “Do you remember on the way home from Autoville
when I mentioned how beautiful the honeysuckle shrubs we saw were? Jim went
out in the woods a couple of days ago, dug up several, and brought them back
to plant. He spent all afternoon digging in this heat, right out in the sun.” “Haven’t there been
heat warnings on the news lately?” “Yes,” Madeleine said with a nod. “I tried
to tell Jim that, but he’s just as stubborn as you. He insisted he’d be all
right; he was used to working outside in weather even hotter than this.” Matthew’s brow wrinkled
with concern. “I know Win wouldn’t have worked the boy like that.” “What about Mr. Jones?”
Madeleine grimaced as she spoke Jim’s stepfather’s last name, as if the word
tasted as vile as the man himself acted. Her husband grunted, burying his
head in his hands. “There’s more. Remember when you complained about the deer
getting in the garden? I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but somebody built a
fence around it yesterday.” “I thought Gallagher
did that,” Matthew murmured. Madeleine shook her
head. “I did too until I commented to the children about how glad I was that
the gardener had finally done something to keep the animals from eating all
our vegetables. Honey began to say something about how it wasn’t Gallagher,
but Jim quickly interrupted her and changed the subject. He looked a bit
guilty, so I suspect he did all the work while Gallagher was on break,
flirting with Celia. And who knows what else the boy has been doing. He’s
outside all day, as well as most of the evening.” Matthew sat up and
leaned against the back of the sofa, his face turned upward. “I’d been hoping
I wouldn’t need to have a fatherly chat with Jim for quite some time, but I
can’t let this go on. First thing Monday, I’ll call Dr. Ferris and see if he
can recommend a therapist that could help Jim.” “Oh, Matthew,”
Madeleine said with a gasp. “Is that really necessary? You know what horrible
experiences I had with the psychiatrist I saw when I was drinking so badly.
If he’d gotten to the root of my problems instead of plying me with sleeping
pills, maybe I wouldn’t have overdosed that night.” “He needs help,
Maddie!” Matthew insisted firmly. “Then we’ll give it to him.” With a weary
sigh, she wrapped her arms around her husband. “We’ll shower him with love
and make him see he doesn’t need to be perfect to be loved. Matthew, this boy
has done so much for our family… done so much for me. Do you realize that he’s the reason Honey and I have grown
closer? “After you and I
reconciled, my heart had ached to reach out to Honey, but I was afraid it was
too late. I’d already accepted that she and I might never be close. With Jim
here, it’s been different. I don’t know if, since his parents died while he
was so young, he’s a reminder that life is short, but he’s given me courage.
And Honey has been so receptive! It was like she loved me all along and was
just too shy to make the first move.” Madeleine wiped a tear
that had slid down her cheek. “We can’t lose him, Matthew. He’s restored our
family, and it’s our duty to restore his heart.” He leaned down and
kissed her on the cheek. “Don’t fret, love. I’ll talk to him. I’m sure, with
a little time, he’ll be okay.” “That makes me feel
better.” Madeleine curled up next to him, laying her head on his broad
shoulder. “Jim looks up to you, darling. He’s just too afraid to tell you.” Unfortunately, Matthew
didn’t share her confidence.
For the next hour,
Matthew rehearsed the speech he planned to give. He thought about speaking to Jim after
lunch, but before he got the chance, Jim had already gone back outside. A
call from Regan further distracted Matthew. Just as he was hanging up the
phone, there was a light tap on the study door. “Come in.” Once the door was open,
a honey-colored head poked into the room. “Daddy? Are you busy?” “Not at all,
sweetheart. What do you need?” Honey walked across the
room to her father’s side. She timidly hooked her arm through his and laid
her head on his shoulder. “Daddy, just this once can Jim skip the rest of his
chores and go to the lake with Trixie and me?” “Chores?” Matthew
repeated in disbelief. “What’re you talking about, Honey?” Honey stood upright, a
puzzled expression clouding her pretty features. “Why, the jobs you’ve asked
Jim to do.” “Sweetheart, I haven’t
asked Jim to do anything. He’s taken it upon himself to do these jobs.” “Oh.” Honey wrinkled her nose thoughtfully.
“Well, I guess he just likes working, then. But I sure wish he’d take a break.
He’s been so busy lately that Trixie and I have barely seen him. We were
hoping he’d go swimming with us. It’s so hot out, and Jim hasn’t even seen
the boathouse yet.” “What all has Jim been
doing the past few days, sweetheart?” Matthew questioned, wondering if Jim
had done more than what Regan and Madeleine had mentioned. “Lots of things,” she
said with a shrug. “He’s washed and waxed both the station wagon and the
sedan, chopped wood so we can roast marshmallows in the fireplace, cleaned
the stable for Regan, helped Gallagher in the garden, moved furniture to help
Celia clean…” Matthew exhaled loudly
to show his exasperation. There was definitely something amiss. “Good grief.
When does the boy have time to go to bed?” “I-I don’t think he’s
sleeping very well,” Honey observed, worrying her lower lip when she wasn’t
speaking. “What’s he doing now?” Honey could tell her
father was annoyed, and she knew the answer to his question would irritate
him further. “Mowing the lawn,” she whispered. “Mowing the lawn!”
Matthew slammed his fist down angrily on the desk. “I thought I told
Gallagher to leave the mower on his trailer!” “He did,” Honey
murmured, cringing at her father’s furious tone. “Then what is Jim using
to cut the grass?” Matthew asked through clenched teeth. Honey braced herself
for the fallout after she dropped the bomb. “Some old push mower he found in
the tool shed.” She jumped backwards as
Matthew bounded out of his chair and stalked towards the door, mumbling
something about “teenage boys not having a single brain in their heads”,
followed by “sounding just like my own father”. “Where is he?” he
barked, flinging the door open. Honey sighed, wishing
she didn’t have to respond. “Where
is he?!” Matthew repeated as he turned around to stare at his daughter.
He was quickly losing what was left of his scant patience. “What part of the
estate is he mowing?” “He’s cutting the grass
around the driveway,” Honey replied, her voice soft. Matthew whipped around
to look at her. His dark green eyes were wide with shock, and he was
trembling with anger. “Please tell me that he isn’t pushing that old mower up
and down the hill.” Honey looked down at
the floor, her golden-brown hair shielding her face. “For the love of all
things holy!” Matthew shouted, waving one fist in the air. “Does that boy
have a death wish? Holy s…” hearing his daughter’s disapproving gasp, he
hastily amended, “Holy crap! It was
bad enough when I thought he was mowing on level ground! Why on earth is he
cutting the grass there?” “Trixie and Bobby were
walking up here yesterday,” Honey explained, her hazel eyes filling with
tears. “Trixie thought she saw a snake slithering in the high grass, and Jim
was worried that it might be another copperhead. Bobby was bitten by one last
month, you know. Jim was just trying to protect him.” Matthew groaned as he
buried his hands in his reddish-gold hair. “That boy has to figure out that
he’s not Superman! Why didn’t he tell someone else about it?” “He didn’t want to
bother you,” Honey whimpered. Suddenly, she began crying in earnest. “Daddy,
please don’t send him away! I’ve never been as happy as I am now. I’ll just
die if Jim has to leave.” Matthew walked over to
his daughter and wrapped his arms around her slender form. He clamped his
lips tightly together for a moment before he spoke, willing himself to calm
down so he wouldn’t upset tenderhearted Honey further. “Sweetheart, I’m not going to send him away. He’s part
of our family now, and no matter what he does, nothing will change that. But
since I care about him, I can’t let him keep working like this. He’s not
sleeping, and he’s barely eating. As hard as he’s working in this heat, he’ll
make himself sick.” Honey pulled away,
wiping her tears with the back of her hand. “I don’t want him to get sick. I
guess maybe you should talk to him. Just please don’t be mean. He might run
away if you make him mad.” “I won’t be mean,
sweetheart.” Matthew kissed his daughter’s forehead. “Stay in the house, and
soon Jim will be ready to go down to the lake with you.” Once he was sure Honey
was no longer distressed, Matthew left the house to have his talk with Jim.
He walked across the rolling lawn to where the driveway began. Sure enough,
within a few minutes a red head came bobbing up the hill. Matthew stood on
the most level spot he could find, right in Jim’s path, waving for him to
stop. Jim, grimacing because
of the strain of pushing the heavy mower uphill, finally looked up and saw
Matthew. He released the throttle and stopped the mower in a spot where it
wouldn’t roll. He brushed an arm upward against his reddened face, allowing
the accumulated sweat to drip on the ground. “Matt,” he panted, out
of breath from his labor. “Did you want something?” “As a matter of fact, I
do,” Matthew replied, straining to keep his tone even. “I want you to put
that lawnmower back in the tool shed where it belongs, and then go inside and
take a shower.” “I will, sir, just as
soon as I get finished here.” Matthew took a deep
breath before speaking. “No, you will do it now.” Jim’s sunburned face
clouded over. “You mean you don’t want me to cut the rest of this grass? It’s
getting pretty high.” “No!” Matthew failed to
keep the anger out of his voice this time. “Put the mower away and get
in the house. Now.” “I was just—” Jim
inhaled sharply as he noticed Matthew’s hand move. Acting on his instincts,
he stepped backwards and closed his eyes tightly, wincing as he waited for
the beating to begin. A gentle squeeze on his
shoulder forced Jim to open his eyes. “Go in the house and
clean yourself up. I’ll be waiting for you on the veranda when you’re
finished.” “Yes, sir,” Jim mumbled
as he reached for the mower. “I’ll take that back
for you, son,” Matthew instructed. “Just go take a shower and cool off.” “Thanks, Matt.” Jim
hustled up the driveway towards the house. Matthew shook his head as he
watched the boy go, wishing he’d told Jim to take his time. In all his life,
Matthew had never seen a boy with such a broken spirit.
A half hour later, Jim
opened the French door from the living room and joined Matthew on the
veranda. He looked more like a prisoner heading to the gallows than a son
coming to talk to his father. “You wanted to talk to
me, sir?” “Sit down, Jim.”
Matthew smiled as he pointed to the chair next to him. He picked up a big
pitcher of lemonade and poured some into two tall glasses containing ice. He
slid one of the drinks in front of Jim. “You’re probably thirsty after being
in the sun all day.” Jim glanced over at
him, his green eyes troubled. He obediently gulped down the cold liquid, and
all too soon the glass was empty. “I
must’ve been thirsty,” he said nervously. Matthew nodded and poured
more lemonade into his glass. “That’s what happens when you work out in the
heat,” he said kindly, yet firmly. “It’s almost a hundred degrees out here.
Use your head, son.” “I guess I wasn’t
thinking,” Jim muttered a bit sheepishly. “I’ll wait till later to finish
it.” “Gallagher will take
care of it.” Trouble was etched on
Jim’s face as he looked at his guardian. “Did I do something wrong? I made
sure not to miss any spots, and I tried to keep my lines straigh—” “You didn’t do anything
wrong,” Matthew interrupted in a gentle tone. “I had asked Gallagher to wait
since it was so hot this afternoon and do the mowing this evening.” “What do you want me to
do to help him?” Jim shook his head in confusion. “You’ve done
Gallagher’s work enough lately,” Matthew answered with a wry laugh. “I want
you to relax. From what I hear,
you’ve been busy the past week or two.” “Don’t you want me to
help you around the house?” Jim asked. “Of course I do. Once
you’re settled, I plan on giving you a list of chores to do every day.
However, there’s a difference between chores and manual labor. Not that
manual labor isn’t good once in a while, but too much of it isn’t healthy,
especially when it’s a hundred degrees outside.” “What am I supposed to
do?” Jim rolled his eyes in frustration. “Sit around in the kitchen all day
with Cook, eating scones?” Matthew had to chuckle in spite of himself.
“Your sister was just complaining to me that she never sees you. Why don’t
you go with Honey and Trixie to the lake?” Jim scowled. “I’m not
in the mood for swimming. I’d rather help Gallagher.” “Go horseback riding
instead,” Matthew suggested with a shrug. “I heard someone polished the
tack.” Jim looked down at the
ground, carefully studying the toe of his tennis shoe. After a long pause, he
leveled his gaze to Matthew’s, his emerald green eyes clouded over. “Aren’t I
doing a good job? I’m trying really hard to make you and Mother happy.” “Son, I don’t think you
could make us unhappy.” “Yes, I could.” The
words were almost inaudible. Matthew carefully
examined the boy’s features. His entire face was burned red from the sun,
except for under his eyes. There, bluish-black bags indicated a lack of rest.
“Are you sleeping well, Jim?” “Guess so,” Jim mumbled
with a shrug. “I don’t need much sleep, though. I’d rather get up and do
something. Habit, I suppose. Besides, when you work you can’t think.” Matthew nodded. He
clasped his hands and bent over to rest them on his knees. After a moment of
thought, he looked up. “Are you in the habit of working like this?” “I guess,” Jim answered
a bit hesitantly. “Even Regan was talking
about it, and nobody works harder than Regan,” Matthew said in an offhand
manner. Jim remained silent. “Did you work like this before you came to
Sleepyside?” Jim’s focus was fixed
on a faraway place, out in the woods. His jaw clenched so tightly that his
chin trembled. “Son, did you work like
this before you came to Sleepyside?” Matthew repeated in a gentle tone. “Yes,” was Jim’s
clipped response. “What kind of work did
you do?” “Farm work,” Jim
replied flatly. “My stepfather had a truck farm. He was too cheap to pay very
many people to work for him, and he scared off most of the workers that he did have. I was stuck doing almost
everything.” Matthew cleared his
throat. “Honey told us that he was a cruel man.” Jim’s entire body began
shaking. He stiffened his spine in an effort to keep from trembling. His
fists were clenched in his lap, and his jaw was so locked that he could
barely choke out, “Yes.” “Did he work you hard,
son?” “Yes.” Suddenly, Jim
looked away, shielding his eyes with his hand. “He’d get real mad if I didn’t
finish all my work. He would…” He shook his head, almost as if he were
physically ridding his mind of the thought. “What would he d—” “I don’t want to talk
about it,” Jim jumped in angrily. “It makes me have… I just don’t want to
talk about it.” “That’s fine,” Matthew
said softly. “Why don’t you go inside and talk to Honey? She’s been concerned
about you.” “She’s going to the
lake with Trixie.” “You could go with them,” Matthew pointed
out. Jim’s eyes almost
seemed to glow. “I told you that I
didn’t want to go swimming.” It was the closest he’d ever come to being impolite.
“I’m not going to force
you to go to the lake, Jim,” Matthew said patiently. “You can do whatever you
want. Except cutting the grass with
that ancient lawnmower. You’re under strict orders to relax for the rest of
the day.” Jim shook his head as a
troubled sigh blew through his lips. “I don’t understand why you won’t let me
do anything,” he said, standing up from the table. Matthew rose and moved
over to him. He placed a gentle arm around the teenager’s shoulder. “Jim, I
want you to help around the house because you want to, not because you think you have to. You’re my son,
not some slave that I crack the whip at. You’re part of this family, and
we’ll love you no matter what you do or don’t
do.” This time, Jim didn’t
bother hiding the tears that misted his eyes. He turned to the older man, and
whispered, “Thank you, Matt,” before walking away.
With a heavy heart,
Matthew retreated to the master suite late that night. His conversation with
Jim played over and over in his mind. He knew the boy had issues, serious issues, but he didn’t know how
to help. He tried not to disturb his wife as he tossed and turned, wearily
battling his nagging fears and helplessness. A bloodcurdling wail
coming from somewhere in the house caused him to sit upright. For a split
second, he wondered if he’d imagined it, but Madeleine stirred from her spot
beside him. “What was that?” she
asked groggily. Another piercing scream rang through the house, causing her
to lift her head so she could glance around the room. “Did you hear that,
Matthew? It sounded like a wounded animal!” Matthew had already
gotten up from the bed and was wrapping his robe around him. “I’ll go see
what’s going on. Go back to sleep, love.” He made his way through
the huge suite. Just as he opened the door, another tortured cry reverberated
through the second floor. Out in the hall, he saw Honey and Miss Trask
standing in front of the governess’ room, Miss Trask fighting to restrain
Honey. “Daddy!” Honey sobbed.
Miss Trask released Honey and allowed her to run to her father. The trembling
girl buried her face in his chest as he enveloped her in a comforting
embrace. “D-daddy, please! You’ve g-g-got to help J-Jim!” “Is he the one making
that horrible noise?” Matthew asked, surprised a human could make such
haunting sounds. Honey nodded her head,
tears streaming down her cheeks. “H-he m-must be h-having a n-n-nightmare!” Bewildered, Matthew
shifted his gaze to Miss Trask. “Has he screamed like this before during a
dream?” “A few times,” Miss
Trask admitted, wiping a tear of her own. “Why doesn’t he just
wake up?” Matthew questioned, shaking his head in disbelief. “He won’t wake up until
he finishes the dream,” Miss Trask explained, her voice choking with emotion.
“I won’t let Honey go in there with him. He’s… very violent when he has this
nightmare. He thinks she’s Jonesy and that she’s trying to kill him.” “Jonesy?” Matthew echoed.
The mere name brought bile to his throat. Miss Trask nodded
glumly. “Yes, his stepfather. In his dream, Jim is defending himself. Last
time Honey went in there, he almost knocked her out.” “H-h-he didn’t m-mean
to!” Honey was near hysteria, her voice a desperate shriek. “H-he just
th-th-thought I was that wicked b-beas—” Another spine-tingling
caterwaul echoed throughout the hall. “Let me go!” Honey
screamed, trying to claw out of her father’s grip. “M-m-my brother n-needs
me! H-h-he needs h-h-help!” Matthew gently shook
his daughter, afraid she would hyperventilate. “I’ll help him,” he commanded sternly. “You stay here with Miss
Trask.” Honey obediently did as
her father ordered, collapsing tearfully into Miss Trask’s sheltering
embrace. Her sobs became hiccups. “H-help him, Daddy. P-please.” Matthew ran hastily to
Jim’s bedroom and flung open the door. He stumbled through the darkness, each
one of Jim’s laments breaking his heart. He turned on the lamp by the bed,
hoping the light would wake Jim from his torment. However, the light only
illuminated Jim’s torment for Matthew to see more clearly. His blood ran cold
as he beheld the writhing, weeping form on the bed. It was a vision he would
never forget, no matter how hard he tried. Hell was a gruesome sight. Jim thrashed about his
bed, his body swathed in perspiration. His lanky legs were kicking wildly and
his arms were swinging around like he was fighting bees. His dark red hair
was soaking wet and matted to his forehead, sweat pouring off like a torrent
of rain. Though he was sunburned, his face was a ghastly shade of gray, and
blood dripped from his lip from where he’d bitten it to hold back his cries
as his mind’s attacker hurt him. The muscles in his bare chest strained as he
exerted all his strength to fight his imaginary assailant. On his face was a
grimace like Matthew had never before seen, and never wanted to see again.
Suddenly, Jim began to cringe like a wounded animal, just like he’d done when
Matthew reached out to him. His face distorted into mask of pain as he wailed
in agony. The worst part for
Matthew was realizing this was more than a nightmare; this was a memory. Shielding his face in
case Jim began swinging his arms again, Matthew knelt down by the bed.
Hastily, he gripped the teenager’s shoulders firmly and shook them hard.
“Jim! Wake up! You’re having a nightmare! Wake up, son! Wake up!” After a few moments,
Jim’s eyes popped open as wide as they could. He bolted upright in his bed,
his entire body trembling so violently that Matthew feared he was going into
shock. His breaths came in labored heaves as he tried to discern between
nightmare and reality. “Jonesy… beating me…,”
he panted, fighting to speak. “Studded… belt… broke… on my back… Tied me up…
black bull… bull whip…” He moaned and clutched
his hair with one hand, slapping the bed with the other as he finished. A
tortured wince passed over Jim’s features each time his hand came in contact
with the mattress; each strike represented Jonesy’s whip biting into the
flesh of his back. And though the demons were only in Jim’s mind, their
haunting presence dominated the room. Matthew shivered, wondering if the
sound he heard of a whip cracking was really only in his imagination. Jim, trapped inside the
hellish memory, shook his head back and forth repeatedly, as if the rest of
the dream was too frightening to even say aloud. His slaps against the bed
suddenly ceased as sobs overtook him. He buried his ashen face in his
trembling hands, allowing the tears to cleanse his anguished soul. Not knowing what to
say, Matthew clutched the boy’s head to his chest and cried with him. He
rocked back and forth, much like he did with Honey when she was small. Helpless to do anything
else, he just rocked. Wanting to shield his
boy from further demons, he wrapped his arms around Jim and patted his back
soothingly. And then he knew. Matthew felt the scars before he actually saw
them. By the dim light of the bedside lamp, he peeked down and saw the angry,
red welts that were just now beginning to scar. The thick lines covered Jim’s
entire back, and when Matthew looked a bit closer, he saw that, in addition
to the fresh wounds, there was a layer of stripes that had already healed. Jim had endured more
than one beating. Matthew held his boy
just a bit closer, fighting the vomit that had gathered in his throat. He
took deep breaths in and out as he held Jim, tears streaming off his cheeks
and onto Jim’s marred back. Unable to say a word, he rocked Jim until he fell
asleep. An hour later, after he laid an exhausted
Jim back onto his bed, Matthew trudged back to his room, bearing the weight
of the entire world on his weary shoulders.
Sleep didn’t find
Matthew Wheeler that night. Fearing he would wake Madeleine with his weeping,
he resorted to one of the spare bedrooms. He first bowed on his knees,
praying for wisdom to help his son. The more he poured out his petitions to
the Almighty, the more desperate he became for guidance. Forsaking all pride,
he lay prostrate on the floor, his tear-streaked face buried in the plush
carpet. Though the boy wasn’t his own flesh and blood, Matthew couldn’t have
loved him more. Matthew would have given all his wealth in exchange for Jim’s
peace. Early the next morning,
the soft click of a door jarred Matthew from his meditation. He hurried to
his own room and threw on the first clothes he found. After he was dressed,
he raced out of Manor House in search of Jim. There was no sight of
him on the veranda or in the woods surrounding the house. Matthew ran to the
stables, but they were empty also. Just as he began to worry that the boy had
run away, he caught a glimpse of a red head by the boathouse. Mustering all
his strength, Matthew jogged down the hill to the lake. Dawn had just broken.
Drops of dew glistened on the grass surrounding the lake. The air was still a
bit cool, and a misty fog rolled up from the water. The only sound came from
the frogs that were enjoying the respite from the heat. Matthew searched the
area surrounding the boathouse, and finally saw Jim on the dock. He looked
five-years-old. He was sitting down
with his knees tucked up by his chin, his arms wrapped tightly around his
legs. The cool breeze was blowing his hair, and a thick shock of red blew in
his face. He appeared to be shivering, from the cold or the dream from the
night before, Matthew didn’t know. Cautiously, he made his
way to his son. He cleared his throat to announce his presence, in case Jim
had not noticed his arrival. “Mind if I join you?” “No, sir.” Matthew sat down on the
dock beside him. With as much empathy as he could muster, he asked gently,
“Rough night, son?” “Yeah.” Jim brushed his
face against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I woke you up.” “Oh, Jim…” Matthew
began, but he couldn’t verbalize his thoughts. “I’m sorry you have to go through that.” “I’ll be okay.” Jim
looked up with new resolve, setting his jaw in a determined manner. “Yes, you will.”
Matthew nodded his head in admiration. “You’ll be okay. But son, no young man should ever have to go
through what you’ve been through.” Jim looked out to the
shimmering water of the pond. “S’pose you saw my back.” “I saw it,” Matthew
admitted quietly, a tear coming to his eye at the mere mention of Jim’s
wounds. “Guess you know now why
I can’t go swimming with the girls.” “Jim, I don’t know
Trixie well enough to speak for her, but I do know my daughter. Honey would never think less of you because of
those stripes on your back. And from
what I’ve seen of Trixie, I’m sure she wouldn’t either.” Jim remained silent. “Did your mother know
that he beat you?” Jim shook his head. “He
didn’t beat me when Mom was alive.” “When did he start?” “The day she died,” Jim
answered without any emotion. Matthew took a deep
breath, hatred for Jacobson Jones consuming his entire body. “If he ever
touches you again, son, I’ll kill him. I swear to God, I’ll blow his brains
out if he ever lays one hand on you ever again.” “Stand in line,” Jim
murmured, a wry smirk on his face. “Son, what he did to
you was a crime. Let me contact my lawyers. We’ll have a warrant for his
arrest out before you—” “No!” Jim turned around
and stared at Matthew, his eyes wide with fear. “I don’t even want him to
know that I’m alive! Let him think I died in that fire. I never want to see
him again, and if he knows I’m alive he’ll hunt me down! You don’t know him
like I do!” “All right, Jim,”
Matthew agreed reluctantly. He exhaled loudly, hoping to release some of his
pent up anger. “Why on earth did your mother marry a man like that?” “We lost everything
after Dad died,” Jim answered, his voice thick with regret. “Jonesy started
coming around, and I guess he was good to her. We didn’t get along, though. I
hated him right from the start, resentful that he thought he could take Dad’s
place. Of course, the hatred was mutual.” “Didn’t Katie know that
he hated you?” “Jonesy was a regular
chameleon,” Jim explained, loathe dripping from every word. “He pretended to
be concerned about me, and Mom bought it. Then she started having health
problems…” A sob caught in his throat. He waited until it passed, and then
continued. “She was mourning
herself to death. She missed Dad so much that it literally broke her heart. I
think she married Jonesy because she was afraid of dying and leaving me
alone.” Jim chuckled ruefully. “It’s kind of ironic, really. She marries
Jonesy so I’ll be protected, and he ends up almost beating me to death.” “Jim, I knew your mom,
and I’m sure she only meant the best for you,” Matthew said, trying to bring
some sort of comfort to the troubled youth. Jim nodded his head
slowly. “I know. I don’t blame Mom. It was my fault more than hers, really.” Matthew gasped in
surprise. “How was it your fault, son?” “I provoked him,” Jim
stated matter-of-factly. “I reminded him every chance I got that he wasn’t
even half the man my father was and that Mom didn’t really love him.” “You were just a kid,
Jim. He’d no excuse to abuse you.” Jim shrugged his
shoulders. “Still, I got what I deserved.” “Nobody, nobody deserves what you got,
son.” “Things would’ve been
different if Dad hadn’t died,” Jim commented, lifting his eyes toward Heaven. “You miss him a lot,
don’t you?” Matthew asked sympathetically. “So much that it
hurts,” Jim croaked, sniffing back tears. “He was my hero.” “I miss my dad, too,”
Matthew told him. “I think about him every day.” Jim turned slightly to
face Matthew. “When did your dad die?” “Right before Honey was
born,” Matthew replied. “Heart attack.” “I don’t remember if I
told you, but Dad had a brain aneurysm,” Jim said quietly. “Was your father a
businessman like you?” “No,” Matthew corrected
with a chuckle. “Dad was an officer in the Marines. Toughest man I’ve ever
met.” Jim smiled. “Were you
close?” “Very. He was my best
friend, and I wanted to be just like him.” “Why didn’t you go in
the Marines then?” Jim questioned, his brow wrinkled with curiosity. “Actually, I had
planned on it,” Matthew said. “I went to a military academy when I was your
age. Although the government no longer uses the cavalry during wartime, our
school had a horseman division that recreated some historic battles. I was
leader of our cavalry, and the best rider in my squadron, if I do say so
myself.” Jim nodded
appreciatively, but was silent so Matthew could continue. “During one of our
reenactments, my horse got spooked by a canon blast. He reared, and we think
one of his back hooves stepped in a hole. My foot was tangled in the stirrup,
and I couldn’t get loose before he went down. He landed on my leg.” “Ouch,” Jim murmured. “Ouch is right.”
Matthew rubbed the leg that had been injured. “I was lucky though. The horse
landed in such a way that he didn’t completely crush my leg. The doctors were
able to put pins in, and it healed pretty well. Except for a slight limp
whenever I’m tired, you’d never know I was ever hurt.” “But it kept you out of
the Marines?” Jim guessed. Matthew nodded. “Yeah,
but it all worked out for the best. I got a scholarship to Harvard, where I
met your dad. We were assigned to be roommates, and became fast friends.” He
looked over at Jim and shook his head. “Sometimes when I see you, it’s like
going back in time and seeing Win for the first time. You’ve aged more
quickly than he and, like I told you at Autoville, you look exactly as he did
when I last saw him.” “What did your dad look
like?” “He wasn’t really tall,
just average height.” Matthew smiled at the memory of his father. “But to me,
he was larger than life. I remember he’d thick black hair and eyes almost as
dark. I thought he looked like an Indian.” “He didn’t look like
you at all.” “Of course he didn’t.”
Matthew looked Jim straight in the eye. “You see, I was adopted, too.” Jim cocked his head
pensively. “You were? Nobody told me that.” “I’m not sure Honey
even knows,” Matthew said. “My birth father was a military man also. When I
was a baby, he died in the line of duty. My mother remarried a couple years
later, and her husband, William Wheeler, adopted me. I loved him just as much
as if he’d been my biological dad, so I rarely even thought about being
adopted. To me, he was Dad.” “I’m glad your mom
married a man who was good to you,” Jim said in a somber voice. He sighed
deeply, gazing out into the distance. “Sometimes… Sometimes I wish Jonesy
just would’ve killed me. Then I wouldn’t be so messed up inside.” “Son, don’t talk like
that. You can’t give up now. There’s too much at stake,” Matthew insisted,
his voice filled with emotion. “It may take a long time, but your heart can
heal.” Jim instinctively
reached over his shoulder and rubbed the scars on his back. “Not everything can heal,” he whispered. Tears filled Matthew’s
eyes. He reached over and gripped Jim’s arms. “When I was a little boy, Dad
often took me with him to the military base. I loved watching all the people
walking around in their uniforms, and always noticed that certain soldiers
would stop and salute my father. A lot of times, they’d inquire about
something important, and after Dad helped them, they’d be on their way. “I remember one
Memorial Day in particular, Dad took me to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.
We had little flags to place in the ground in front of it to show our
respect. We saw some other men there in uniforms, and like they did on the
base, they saluted my father. After we got home, I asked him why all those
soldiers did that. I’ll never forget his words. He told me, ‘Matty, do you
see these bars on my uniform? I went through a lot to earn them; stripes
don’t come easy. When a soldier sees these, he knows I deserve respect. And
if someone below me in rank needs help, they know to look for the man with
the most stripes.’” Matthew pursed his
lips, trying to keep back the tears that were threatening to fall. He sniffed
loudly and, though his voice was hoarse, he continued. “Son, you didn’t ask for
those scars on your back, but you earned them bravely. You’ve been to Hell
and back, and looked the devil square in the eye, and you’ve got the marks to
prove it.” A sob rose in his
throat as he began weeping in earnest. He squeezed Jim’s arm tighter and
cleared his throat so he could continue. “You’ve been dreaming for a long
time about starting a school for boys. And if I have to give you every dime
I’ve ever earned, I’ll make sure it happens. No boy deserves to go through
what my boy has gone through. “You start that school
and give those children a place where they’ll be safe. And when one of them
asks who can help them, I only hope I’m around to point to you, and say, ‘The
man with the most stripes.’” The floodgate of tears
that Jim had been holding back finally exploded, releasing all the pain he’d
been harboring for years. He sobbed there on the dock, Matthew’s arm wrapped
around his scarred back. For the first time since his mother’s death, he
mourned openly and honestly. Several demons remained, but for the first time
in a long time, Jim felt hope. Though his journey would be long and at times
even treacherous, Jim knew that he could make it. With the back of his
hand, Jim wiped away the moisture from his cheeks. He smiled at Matthew, a
newfound peace in his features. He looked at the older man with admiration
and respect. “Matt?” “Yes, Jim?” “If Win Frayne can’t be
here to raise me, there’s no person I’d rather do it than you. I’m proud to
be your son,” Jim rasped. “For taking me in, for believing in me, for helping
me, for everything you’ve done, thank you.” Jim reached out one freckled hand,
hesitantly at first, and placed it on Matthew’s shoulder. His voice earnest,
he whispered huskily, “Thank you, Dad.” Matthew tenderly cupped
Jim’s face, his eyes misting over with happy tears. When he could speak, he
simply replied, “It’s an honor, my boy.”
Since he’d finished his
course five years before, Winthrop Frayne looked down through the portals of
Glory, ever beholding his beloved child. All tears behind the Gate would
eventually be wiped away, but until then, Win’s eyes remained misty as he
witnessed Jim’s suffering. Grieving, beaten, and alone, his boy had not
belonged to anyone since Katie’s death. Now, as he looked down
on the dock from the golden He was Matt’s boy now.
While
searching for the poem I used in “Good Night, Little
Man”, I ran across the poem “My Boy”. I knew immediately that it summed
up Jim and Matt’s relationship perfectly. I copied it and saved it until the
time was right, until the characters told me the completed story. I felt it
would be a wonderful Father’s Day submission. As I once heard said, “Any man
can be a father; however, it takes a real man
to be a daddy.” The poem’s author wasn’t given, and only listed as
“Selected”. One
thing that always bugged me in the books was Jim’s seemingly easy adjustment
to life with the Wheelers. Although the time span between Red Trailer
and Gatehouse was only a few weeks, Jim went from calling them “Mr.
and Mrs. Wheeler” to “Dad and Mother”. Considering how much he loved his
biological parents, this puzzled me. I decided there was a story behind those
terms. “My Boy” has been one of those stories that kept me awake at night,
imagining each scene so clearly that I felt I was a spider on the wall. I
only hope this story fills in the gap for the rest of the readers as well. I’m
not sure if you needed those tissues or not, but I went through a whole slew
of them while writing. Of course, I can be emotional, especially about topics
like this. I hope I won’t get any “false advertising” complaints. Thank
you to my faithful editors, Steph H, Kaye, and KathyW. As always your help
was instrumental in telling this story. Several
of The Cameo’s “features” were hinted at or alluded to during the course of this
story. For example, we know how Madeleine ended up in such a mess in “The Secret of the
Other Mansion”, and we see why she blames herself in “Why Do Fools Fall in
Love?” for Jim not getting help. “Good Night, Little
Man” hinted at Jim’s scarred back, and I’ve tried to remind you of that
story in the line, “Helpless, he rocked.” Jim’s scars were mentioned in “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg”
and this should provide some insight into his issues. Trixie being
“comfortable” was the infamous scene in Happy Valley, and has been
explained in “Ain’t Too
Proud to Beg”. The
Wheelers did have a midnight-blue sedan, and I decided it was a Cadillac,
although I’m sure two of my editors are insisting it was a Careful
attention was paid to the description of Manor House. Thank you to Susansuth
for providing such helpful details on her Sleepyside
Files pages. Big huggies to you, Susan! I love you! The
Military Life of Hannibal, Father of Strategy is a real book written by Trevor
Nevitt Dupuy. I’ve never read it, so if you have and it absolutely stinks, my
apologies. *G* If it’s about anything controversial, I just found it on
Amazon it seemed to be “guy” book a teenage boy may pick up. If it has
anything objectionable in it, be sure to tell Jim before he gets around to
finishing it. Of course, I have a feeling that in a week or two, his summer
vacation is going to get more interesting. And no, that’s not a plug for an
upcoming feature; it’s a plug for Gatehouse. J Matthew
Wheeler does have sandy eyebrows in the books, which is why I’ve given him
strawberry-blond hair. To make him a bit more different from the Fraynes, I
made his eyes a dark aquamarine color. Almost blue, but definitely a dark
green. Coke
is not used with permission; however, since I am a rabid Pepsi drinker, they
should thank me for the advertising. J Ken,
to those of us not growing up in the new millennium, was Barbie’s main
squeeze. Apparently ol’ Ken shuffled his feet in the relationship department
and was replaced by Blaine, a mysterious Aussie. And for the record, Jim’s
question about Matthew keeping a log of all his expenses is a reference to
Jonesy. It
was never said in the books how Mr. Wheeler found out that Jim had been
riding Jupiter. I decided that although Mr. Honorable-All-Over-the-Place would
confess, just as equally honorable Regan would tell his boss. I’ve always
stressed how honest Regan was with Matthew, so it seemed fitting that he
would’ve told his boss that he’d allowed a fifteen-year-old kid to ride
Matthew’s prize horse. Blackie
is the Fraynes’ big, black gelding on which Jim learned to ride. He was given
his name in “Keeping
Up With the Joneses”. Although
$500,000 was a boatload of money when the books were written, it just won’t
go far today in constructing and operating a school, especially a private,
nonprofit one like Ten Acres Academy will be. Apparently these stock tips
were profitable because in “Why Do Fools Fall in
Love?” the school is getting ready to open. Jim’s
behavior in this story is very typical of someone suffering from obsessive
compulsive disorders. His preoccupation with neatness, positioning, and
schedule was a result of Jonesy’s abuse. The
books never mention anything like a photograph of Win and Katie hidden in
Uncle James’ Bible; however, I couldn’t bear for Jim to be left memento-less.
So in MY universes a picture was tucked away inside and not discovered until
later, which is very likely in those thick, weathered pages. So,
I suppose the readers will be just as curious as my editors were about the
moment Jim began calling Madeleine “Mother”. I hope that caught you off
guard; it was supposed to. J
A scene had been planned which explained
that, but it disrupted the flow of the storyline, especially since the bulk
of this story is told from Matthew’s point of view. Maybe someday Madeleine
and Jim will share that moment with the rest of you (they have shared it with
me *G*). A lot is said by the simple action of Jim calling Madeleine “Mother”
before he calls Matthew “Dad”. That illustrates Jim’s protective nature
towards women (not intended to be patronizing), as well as his hesitancy
about trusting another man after enduring Jonesy’s abuse. Here
we are first introduced to Starlight, the mysterious hybrid gelding/mare that
conveniently appeared at the beginning of Gatehouse. No breed was ever
given; the Tennessee Walker is a tip of my hat to the horses in my father’s
stable. My
goodness, Regan’s hatred for driving is infamous. I wonder if I’ll talk about
it in an upcoming story. *whistling airily* A
truck wasn’t listed in the Wheelers’ stable, and poor Steph was aghast at the
thought of the station wagon pulling even a single horse trailer (although
after pulling the Swan, it wouldn’t be a big deal :p). She suggested the
Wheelers have a big truck which they kept at the stable for that purpose, and
I decided that she would INSIST I make it a Chevy. *ducking* BTW, a “doulie”
is a double-wheel based vehicle that is used to haul a lot of weight. Gallagher
was the gardener who left in Gatehouse. I decided since he was kind of
lazy in t hat book that he was a bit lazy here. The books never said he
flirted with Celia, but since she hasn’t married Tom yet when this story
takes place, I decided she was fair game. From
what I could tell, Jim didn’t go swimming with the girls until Gatehouse.
Of
all the scenes in this story, Honey’s scene where Miss Trask is keeping her
out of Jim’s room moved me the most. I think it illustrated to me how much
she cared about her new brother. It would make sense that she tried to help
him during one of his nightmares. For
some reason, Jim’s scars find their way into several of my stories. I see
them as his badges of courage, medals of honor he received after traumatic
battle. It
is quite typical for victims of abuse to blame themselves. No, I don’t think
Jim was responsible; however, it was logical to make Jim wonder if he’d
caused the abuse, thereby giving Matthew reason to harm him. The
books talk about Matthew being “the best rider in his squadron”, and I always
wondered about that. Matthew’s
family history was never given, so many liberties were taken with the Wheeler
family. The
inspiration behind “The man with the most stripes…” is taken from one of
Damon’s preaching illustrations. The man with the most stripes is Christ
according to Isaiah 53:5. But he
(Christ) was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our
iniquities: the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes
we are healed. Revelation
21:4 And God shall wipe away all tears
from their eyes; and there shall be no more death, neither sorrow, nor
crying, neither shall there be any more pain: for the former things are
passed away. Until
our tears are wiped away, they are stored in a bottle in Heaven according to
Psalms 56:8. Thou tellest my
wanderings: put thou my tears into thy bottle: are they not in thy book? As
stated previously, this was a CWP
2.5 submission. Thank you, Terry, for making the CWP pages so beautiful,
and being so prompt to put them up. You rock!!! •
Somebody in the act of doing something realizes that it is what his/her
father always did, too. (Matthew,
during his exasperated rant about teenage boys’ stupidity) (Tomb
of the Unknown Soldier (Matthew
and William Wheeler) (Win
Frayne, William Wheeler, Matthew Wheeler, and Jim Frayne) (
Matthew was the leader of his squadron) ( (The Military Life of (In
his frustration, Matthew says “Holy s….” and then amends it to “Holy crap!” I
chose a memento, which was an American flag put in remembrance of soldiers
who died. Carryover
element Jim’s
plaid shirt, CWP 2.2
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