Smoky Mountain Dreams (40 page)

Christopher shot Gran an annoyed glance. “Mom, it’s a new
thing.”

“Of course he’s ashamed to confess to us how he reviles the
word of God and flaunts his commandments—”

“Oh, lawd save us all,” Gran murmured.

“Preferring to roll in his lusts and sins like a pig in
excrement. A dirty sodomite. A pig in
filth
,” Bob
finished.

The kids were gaping at Bob, who was growing redder by the
second, sweat pouring down his forehead and his eyes bulging. Then they looked
back to Christopher and waited, and he realized they expected him to respond.
And he realized that he
wanted
to respond, because
he would
not
let Bob talk about him in front of the
kids like that.

“I’m
not
ashamed of who I love,
or how I express that love,” Christopher said, fists clenching and heat roaring
through him so that he felt sweat prickling all over as he fought to remain
composed. “I just hadn’t planned to talk about it today during our
special
family meal.” He shot Lee a look. “Thanks, kid. I
thought we had an understanding.”

Lee shrugged and smirked an apology, but he was clearly
still pretty excited to see what was going to happen next.

“An
understanding
?” Bob said. “Are
you keeping secrets for him, Lee?”

“What? No, sir.” Lee looked flabbergasted to have Bob’s
frothing rage directed at him.

“Boy, he’s a sinner.”

“Ain’t we all sinners, Grampa Bob?” Lee asked.

“A sodomite isn’t just any sinner. Do you know what that
word means? It means he—”

“Bob, shut up.” Joe said. “Lee’s my kid and I’ll damn well
teach him what it means.”

“He should know by now, what with the devil lurking in this
family,” Bob ranted.

Joe wasn’t done. “But let me start out by saying what it don’t
mean. It don’t mean Christopher’s a bad man, and it don’t mean we don’t love
him.”

Bob snarled at Lee, “If he’s trying to tempt you into his
lifestyle—”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Bob. I’m gay, not a pedophile!”
Christopher exclaimed.

The gasp that went around the table was hilarious except
that it wasn’t, because Christopher hadn’t meant to curse or yell. He’d meant
to try to brush it under the table and find a way to get the meal back on
track.

“Mama, Bob, you both need to just take a breather now.”
Jackie’s voice was shaky, but she put her hand out and covered Christopher’s
fingers with her own. “Christopher is still one of God’s children, and it’s God’s
greatest commandment to
love
him.”

“I don’t have to love him while he’s sinning in my face!”
Bob barked.

“He’s not sinning in your face, you ignorant jerk. He’s
eating turkey!” Jackie cried.

Christopher blinked at her and then looked at Joe, who was
staring at his wife with his eyes full of hearts and an expression of pride.

“Yeah, turkey,” little Sarah Beth said.

Lee nodded. “Turkey. And green bean casserole.”

“I want pumpkin pie,” Aaron, the youngest, piped up.

“The number of prayers I’ve sent up for his soul! And he
comes to my house fresh from sin and eats at my table? He comes here and smiles
like a wolf in sheep’s clothing seducing these children into believing that—”

“And I’m out. I didn’t drink enough whiskey for this shit.”
Joe stood, throwing his napkin on the chair. “I’ve just about had enough.
Jackie, you can get leftovers from your mom tomorrow. Christopher, don’t sit
here another second, bro. Get up and fucking leave.”

Bob’s face grew red and bright, his neck bulging with veins
and sweat pouring down his forehead. “Get me aspirin,” he gasped, clutching at
his collar and tearing it open.

“Didn’t you take your aspirin today? The doctor said to take
it every morning,” Sammie Mae muttered as she bustled off to the bathroom.

Bob glared at Christopher. “
You
.
You did this.” His wife returned, and he got the bottle open with shaking
hands, swallowing two aspirin with a gulp of water. “You came in this house and
brought chaos and hell in with you. I’ve known since the day I met you that you’d
spend eternity burning in hell and I married your mama anyway! Saved her from a
life of poverty and sinfulness! But you!
You!
”

The kids were crying now. Aaron demanded pumpkin pie, and
Jackie tried to get Sarah Beth to go find her jacket, but the little girl was
too scared to even stand up from the table. Christopher reached out and covered
her hand, and when her tear-bright eyes met his, he whispered, “It’s gonna be
all right, Sarah Beth. I promise.”

“What good is the promise of a hell-bound pervert!” Bob cried.

Sarah Beth’s chin quivered and Christopher shook his head,
rolling his eyes gently at her and then twirling his finger by his head to
illustrate that Bob was cuckoo. But she didn’t smile at all.

“Jackie, forget about her coat,” Joe said. “You can get it
tomorrow. I don’t want them hearing a single second more of this crap. I’ll get
Aaron, you grab her up, and we’re going. Lee, come on, son, get your headphones
and iThingy. Hurry up now. And Christopher, you should leave too. Let Sammie
Mae take Gran back later when this is all over. I think Gran’s reaped the
punishment of listening to all of Bob’s bullshit anyway, don’t you?”

Gran cackled and shook a finger at Joe. “Oh, you naughty
one. I love you so, Joe. Such a good man you are.”

Bob was still gasping, sputtering, and trying to preach or
rail, but he seemed to be having a hard time breathing.

“Bob, honey, calm down!” Sammie Mae ran to the sink and wet
a rag. She brought it back and started mopping at his forehead while he tried
to bat her hand away. It would have all been comical in a horrible way if
Christopher wasn’t kind of scared that Bob really was going to burst a blood
vessel and die right there.

Bob cried out, gripped his head. His face went a livid
purple.

“Call nine-one-one,” Gran ordered calmly.

“Bob!” Sammie Mae fell to her knees and stared up at her
husband’s face. “What’s going on? What hurts, baby?”

Bob groaned and moaned, rocking back and forth in his seat.

Joe, Jackie, and the kids stopped in their scramble to stare
wide-eyed. Jackie whispered, fear lancing through her tone, “What’s happening?
What’s he doing?”

Gran sighed. “Looks like a stroke to me.”

Christopher pulled his cell phone from his pocket and called
the ambulance. Jesus, Gran just might have killed Bob after all.

“Jesse, sweetheart, before you go there’s something I’ve
been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Okay, but we’re about to sit down for dinner,” Jesse said
into the phone. “You talked to the kids already, so can we pick this up later?”

His mother went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “Nova called a
few days ago to help me arrange the children’s Christmas presents. She always
knows what they like, and I have no idea, so I just let her buy for me and I
reimburse her.”

“I know.” She used to reimburse Marcy the same way.

“Well, we were talking and she mentioned that you might be
seeing someone. A young man.”

Jesse sat back in the La-Z-Boy and turned his head toward
the kitchen, where he could hear Nova and Tim talking the kids through the
intricacies of carving a turkey.

“Sweetheart?”

Jesse sighed. Might as well get it over with. “His name is
Christopher. I was going to tell you when the time was right.”

“I understand, darling. I’m not upset about that. Do you
care about him?”

“Yes. He’s a wonderful guy.”

“I’m glad. You deserve to be happy, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Mom. You do too.” He waited uneasily. Maybe that’s
all she wanted to say.

She cleared her throat uncomfortably. “I’m truly happy for
you. It’s just that I’ve been thinking.”

Jesse’s stomach clenched. “All right.”

“How about you go ahead and let Nova and Tim deal with Marcy’s
day-to-day care from now on? Your dad and I…well, we think it’s time you
consider a divorce. Of course we’ll pay for Marcy’s care—only the best, I
promise, for as long as it’s required. There’s no need for you to spend your
funds on that when we can handle it easily.”

“I can handle it easily too,” he gritted out. “It’s not about
the money. You know that.”

“But, Jesse, darling, if you’ve found a person to care
about, don’t you think it’s only right to move on and give that person your
focus and full affection? How could anything less be fair to him? He already
has to make allowances for the kids. You wouldn’t want to put the
responsibility for Marcy ahead of him too, would you? Not to mention the
pressure of a lawsuit if you pursue an appeal.”

Jesse remembered sunset colors on Christopher’s face and the
peace of the cove around them as Christopher had insisted,
“Like
I said, I’m second choice here. I have to be. I get that and it’s okay.”
If Jesse stayed married to Marcy, if he pursued the appeal, was he making
Christopher
third
choice? Christopher deserved so
much better than that.

“What are you thinking, sweetheart?”

“I don’t know, Mom. Thanks for your generosity.”

“Anything for our children. You know that.”

Jesse almost snorted but didn’t because he didn’t need to
rattle their cages with a stick made up of his childhood grievances. “Dinner’s
ready. Happy Thanksgiving.”

After dinner, Jesse lingered at the table. He pushed the
pumpkin pie guts around on his plate, unable to get his conversation with his
mom or run-in with Ronnie off his mind. She’d been her usual insufferable self
and gotten under his skin. He knew he shouldn’t let her, but he still felt
unsettled and accused—like he was back on the witness stand defending his
reasons for wanting control over Marcy’s healthcare. Only he didn’t quite know
who he was trying to convince this time. There was no jury or judge. Just the
itching in his brain that just wouldn’t quit.

Sitting alone at the dining room table, he glanced up
at Tim in an easy chair, reading to Brigid and Will from a hippie book about
how the story of Thanksgiving was a big old lie and that white people were a
plague that destroyed the cultures of Native Americans. Brigid folded cranes,
of course. Jesse looked over to Nova, who had her arm around Will on the sofa
as he ignored Tim in favor of watching the football game—his small helmet and
jersey on—rooting for the Rams with all his little heart. Jesse hadn’t seen any
guilt on his in-laws faces during dinner, but still he wondered. Had they
decided to take his interest in Christopher to his mother and work on her to
get him to back off from the lawsuit?

Had they honestly thought that would work?

Still, between Ronnie’s surprise appearance and the phone
call with his mother, he was having twinges of doubt for the first time about
his motivations in staying married to Marcy. Was he really doing
anyone—himself, the kids, his family, and now Christopher—any good? Maybe he
wasn’t even doing Marcy any good.

“If you’re done murdering that poor pie, why don’t you put
your plate in the dishwasher,” Nova called out, ruffling her fingers through
Will’s hair. “And then why don’t you call your boyfriend? It’s Thanksgiving
after all. You should wish him a happy one.”

Brigid looked up sharply from her cranes, her pale face
going a little paler as she glanced between Nova and Jesse. Jesse gripped his
fork.

Will tore his gaze away from the television. “You’ve got a
boyfriend, Dad?”

“It looks like I do. You remember Christopher.”

“Noodle-war Christopher?”

“Yeah.”

“Awesome. He’s cool. He should come play again.”

Jesse exhaled a shaky breath. “Maybe on Saturday. He’s
coming over to help your sister with cranes.”

Brigid glared at her brother, who was oblivious, his eyes
back on the game. Then she shot an anxious glance at Jesse, obviously worried
he’d seen her. She looked vaguely ashamed, and ducked her head, going back to
her folding, seeming to work with renewed concentration.