Crossing (23 page)

“Probably one of those evil women,” Clay said, grinning, but then he grimaced and grabbed his ribs again.

“Shut up, Clay,” Morgan said. “Don’t you ever get tired of this every year?”

“Yes,” Clay answered smartly. “But by the time next December rolls around I’ll probably forget how tired I am of it.”

Morgan rolled his eyes and muttered something unintelligible. Then he took his brother’s arm very gently. “C’mon, dummy. No, no, I’m not going to take you home for Mother to work you over. I’ll take you to your place and get the doctor.” Morgan looked over his shoulder as he helped his brother out the door. “Are you two all right, Uncle Daniel? Is there anything else I can do?”

Daniel shook his head. “No, thank you, Morgan. I’m indebted to you for coming to get me.”

“No, sir, there is no debt,” Morgan said firmly. “We’re family. Call on me and mine anytime for anything.”

They went out the door and Yancy’s sharp ears caught the low sound of Clay still grumbling.

Yancy pulled himself up straight and gazed into his father’s stern blue eyes. “Sir? Are you going to punish me?”

“Before I answer, I need to ask you some questions.”

“Yes, sir,” Yancy answered solidly.

Daniel narrowed his eyes and studied Yancy’s fractured face carefully. “So, did you have fun?”

Yancy hesitated for long moments then answered, “It seemed like fun last night. But it’s no fun now, no sir.”

“I see. But was it worth it?”

Again Yancy thought carefully. “No sir, it was not. Now that I realize I have to face you, and Becky, and Grandmother, and—and—Major Jackson, I know it wasn’t worth it. Not at all. I’m so very sorry, Father.”

Daniel nodded. “It’s good for a man to take responsibility for his actions.”

Yancy looked up at his father with appealing, vulnerable dark eyes. “Sir, will you forgive me?”

Daniel laid his hands on his son’s shoulders. “ ‘Neither do I condemn thee.’ Just don’t do it again, for my sake and your sake and Becky’s sake and Grandmother’s sake.”

“Don’t worry, I’m going to find some other way that doesn’t hurt so much to have fun. But sir, what do you mean about not condemning me? What was that?”

Daniel answered, “It’s a Bible verse, and it means that I can’t condemn you for anything that you’ve done, son. I’ve made my own mistakes, and I’ve seen my own sins. I can’t condemn you or anyone else. I just want to protect you and try to help you to have a good life. That’s all. And I’m hoping that a black eye and a fat lip will help you learn that lesson.”

“Do you think my nose is broken?” Yancy asked anxiously.

Daniel chuckled. “No, I think your pride is, which may be a very good thing. Just remember always, son, ‘Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.’ And that’s even worse than a broken nose.”

Slowly they rode home, Yancy dreading every hoofbeat that brought him closer. It was a dreary day, with the sun hidden behind looming snow clouds. He shivered in the biting air, and it seemed as if every inch of his body ached. His left eye was swollen shut, and his lips felt like raw meat. He fully expected Becky and Grandmother to be very angry with him, but he was wrong.

Becky met them on the veranda and threw her arms around him to hug him. “Oh, Yancy, you look awful! And with you so handsome, too!”

They went in and then Zemira hugged him. “You are your father’s son, that’s sure enough,” she said drily. “Come on in. Lie down on the sofa in the parlor. Daniel, take a rag and go get some icicles to put on that eye. Otherwise it’ll be swollen for days.” She bustled around, getting quilts to put over Yancy and pillows for his head.

Becky said, “I’ll go heat up some soup. I know you’re probably starving, Yancy, but I doubt you’ll be able to chew anything much for a day or two.”

Zemira finished making Yancy comfortable then pulled up a straight chair close to the sofa. “Looks like you and Clay had quite a party,” she said with a glimmer in her dark blue eyes.

“Seems like I remember something about a party,” he sighed, speaking with difficulty because of his sore mouth. “But then it seems like it wasn’t very much fun, for a party.” He looked up at her woefully. “Grandmother—I’m so, so sorry. I know I’ve disappointed everyone so much. I can’t tell you how sorry I am. And I thought—I thought that you’d be really mad at me.”

She smiled and gently smoothed back the lock of his hair that always seemed to fall over his forehead. “Being angry with you is not going to teach you anything. If you were younger, Daniel would probably feel obliged to punish you in some way. But in spite of the fact that you’re only sixteen, in the last year you’ve taken on a man’s job and a man’s burdens. And since you have a repentant attitude, we see that you’re taking responsibility for your actions. So there is no need for us to be angry with you, Yancy. I suspect you’re angry enough at yourself.”

“You’re right about that, Grandmother,” he agreed caustically. “Talk about acting like a fool. I know you’re not supposed to swear to things, but right here and now I’m telling you I’m going to try very hard not to get myself in such a stupid position again.”

“Good boy,” she said softly.

Daniel came in with a rag with crushed icicles in it. “Here, Yancy, lay that down on your eye. Maybe after a while the swelling will go down and it’ll open back up.”

“Thanks.” Gingerly he put it on his eye. “Father? Would you sit down for a minute? I want to ask you both something.”

“Sure,” Daniel said. He stoked up the fire to a comfortable roar then pulled another straight chair up by Zemira’s.

“Father, I’ve been thinking about what you said, about not condemning me because—maybe because you’ve seen—you’ve been in some—kind of—”

Daniel put up his hand and then winked at his mother. “Son, I’ve been there, and worse. Your grandmother may not know the details, but she knows me, always has. So don’t worry you’re going to surprise her with some dark secret about my past.”

“I should say not,” Zemira grumbled. “Just come out with it, Yancy. I got over being shocked by what men do a long, long time ago.”

“Okay,” he said and took a deep breath. “I can understand, Father, that you may have been like me when you were younger and feel like you can’t be angry with me because of that. But Grandmother, I know you’ve never done stupid, wrong things like I’ve done. So—so what did you mean? About teaching me something by not getting mad at me? It seems like you’d have the right to, if you get my meaning.”

Zemira shook her head. “Jesus said, ‘He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone….’ I’m not without sin. No one is, except Jesus. Only He has the right to condemn anyone for sin. And as far as teaching you, Yancy, we only want you to learn one thing from us. That’s Christ’s love. In the scriptures it’s called charity. ‘Charity suffereth long, and is kind; charity envieth not; charity vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up….’ All of that means that when you love a person with Christ’s love, you seek out and do what’s best for them. For me to be angry with you would not be Christlike. For me to show you love and be kind is like our Jesus Christ. And that you will remember a long time, Yancy, much longer than any selfish anger. I love you, and I forgive you, and Jesus loves you and will forgive you.”

Uneasily Yancy shifted then turned the compress on his eye. Already some of the swelling was going down. “I understand, Grandmother. But I have one big worry left. I know Major Jackson is a good Christian man, and I know he knows a lot about the Bible and Jesus and all that. But I don’t think that in his position he’s going to be able to forgive me. I’m so afraid I’ll get expelled.”

Zemira reached over and took his hand. Softly she said, “Yancy, no one ever said there are no consequences for sin; there always are. And you’re right. Major Jackson’s position regarding you, under the circumstances, is very different from your family’s position. But why don’t we, right now, get Becky, and all of us will pray for you, that God might spare you and allow you to stay on the path you have chosen? It may be that in His great mercyand understanding, He will spare you this shame.”

“Knowing how you feel about soldiers, you’d do that for me, Grandmother?” Yancy asked.

“Of course, because I have the Lord’s charity in my heart, and the Lord is kind and merciful and understanding,” she answered firmly. “And will you pray with us, Yancy?”

He closed his eyes and a single tear rolled down his cheek. “I can’t. Right now I would feel like the worst kind of hypocrite and like a liar. But please—please—do pray for me.”

“Always,” Daniel said. “Always, son.”

Major Thomas Jackson’s classes at VMI always began at 8:00 a.m., and as he was always a punctual man, he always arrived at his office at 7:30 a.m. to prepare. On this Monday, January 2, 1860, Yancy Tremayne was waiting for him in the hallway. When Major Jackson came up the stairs, Yancy came to strict attention.

Because of his shame, he hadn’t worn his VMI uniform; he was dressed in plain brown wool trousers and a cream-colored linsey-woolsey shirt. He clutched his plain wide-brimmed hat in his hand, turning the brim over and over nervously.

When Major Jackson reached him, Yancy saluted and muttered, “Major Jackson, sir! Cadet Tremayne at your service.”

Jackson looked him up and down sternly, and Major Thomas Jackson’s severe once-over was stern indeed. “You are out of uniform, Cadet, and you are also out of countenance.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Come into my office.”

He unlocked the door, led Yancy in, and seated himself behind his desk. Yancy stood at attention, and Jackson did not put him at ease.

“What have you done?” Jackson asked abruptly.

Yancy took a deep breath, his back as stiff as a board, his arms aching at attention at his sides. He sighted somewhere beyond Jackson’s right shoulder. His eye was still swollen but had opened, and his lip had gone down somewhat, but his speech was still slurred. As clearly as he could speak, he said, “Sir! I got drunk, running with the wrong crowd. Then I got into a fight and got arrested. My father bailed me out, sir.”

Jackson’s blue-light eyes glowed balefully. “I see. And so this wrong crowd, they got you into this trouble, and you couldn’t help yourself?”

“No, sir. I—I misspoke, sir. I made my own decisions, went my own way, and chose to do the things I did. The—the wrong things.”

“You see that now, do you?” Jackson asked sharply.

“Yes, sir.”

“And how do you propose to undo the wrong things you did?”

Yancy dropped his head wearily. “I can’t, sir. I know that now. It’s done. All I can do is apologize. I’ve gone to my family and begged their forgiveness. And now, sir, I ask you to forgive me and give me another chance. I want to redeem myself.”

“How will you do that?”

Yancy lifted his head and stood at strict attention again. “I will be a better cadet, sir. I will work harder, I will study harder, and whatever punishment you feel is appropriate, I will bear. I will regain my honor and my integrity, sir.”

Jackson rose and looked out the window, out at the parade ground of the institute. “This is a proud and honorable school, sir, and you have a charitable scholarship here. You have betrayed that trust.”

Yancy almost choked but managed to say, “Yes, sir, I know that, all too well. Please, if you will give me another chance, I promise you I will make you proud. I will make the institute proud. I know I have it in me, sir. I know I can achieve, and achieve excellence.”

For long moments Jackson stood at the window, staring out. Finally he turned around. “Cadet Tremayne,” he said quietly.

Yancy met his ice blue gaze.

“All of us fail,” he said firmly, “but the test of our faith and our military life is when we fail, do we just lie there or do we get up and start over again? Do we fight much harder so as to regain the ground we have lost? I’ll be watching you, Cadet Tremayne. You know everyone here at the institute has heard about this disgrace. You’ll have to work much harder, and longer, to regain your honor and the respect of the faculty and staff and that of your fellow cadets. If you can do it, you will indeed be a fine addition to the institute and a fine soldier.”