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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 went from homeless orphan to son of a
multi-millionaire. And Jim was not 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
had been there beside him, he knew he would have felt more at ease. Something
about Trixie always made him feel comfortable. 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 had no idea how wealthy they
actually were. In his wildest imagination, he never could have imagined a
home like this. He leaned over to Honey and whispered, “This is your house?” Honey merely
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 could not help but gawk as he took in
his surroundings. To view the entire estate, he had to turn around in a
circle and, even then, he knew the property passed beyond his range of
vision. Though he had seen the top of
Manor House peeking through the trees at Ten Acres, and at night from the
estate stables, Jim was not 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 had not 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 could not 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 could not 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 would 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 did not 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 did not
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 had 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 did not 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 have
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 could not remember
what life was like without him. She quite cheerfully relinquished her role as
the “only child”, treating him as if he had been her older sibling since
birth. It was obvious that she idolized him and longed for his acceptance,
and Jim did not 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 have 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 would gladly endure a beating
every morning, noon, and night if it meant spending even an hour that day
with the girl who had captured his broken, battered, frightened heart. It had been almost two weeks
since the Wheelers brought Jim home, but Jim had not spent much time with
them since. If he were to be brutally honest, he would have to say that that had not been a bad thing. The
time he had 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 would not. The solace he had 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 had 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 had 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 had not eaten
much at lunch. The further 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 would
not be back until later that afternoon. Although there was a sense of safety
in his room, there was not much to do besides think about how hungry he was.
He tried to read the book he had brought up from the library a few days ago.
However, no matter how interesting The Military Life of Hannibal, Father
of Strategy was, it did not take his mind off his empty stomach. Deciding
he was too hungry to read, he pulled out the old harmonica he had brought
with him from 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
would not 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 had 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 did not 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
would not 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 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 could not
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 dug 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 had 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 had 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 could not see his hands shaking, Jim hesitantly lowered himself on
the opposite side of the couch. Although his stomach was growling, he did not
touch the food. Sensing Jim would not 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 would
not 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 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 did not look
angry. In fact, he looked amused. “But Honey and Miss Trask pressured you to
get more?” When it became obvious that Jim was not 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.” 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, good,” 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,” 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 had 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 was not 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 was not
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 was not 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 was not 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 had 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.” “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 was not
lost on Matthew. He could not 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 had 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 would not 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 brimming with joyful tears. “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 aquamarine 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 had 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 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 on
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 how driving bothers you. 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 had 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,” Madeleine observed sadly. “I’ve thought the same thing,
but I hoped I was imagining things,” Matthew 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 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 had 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 had
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, Madeleine 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
had 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.”
Matthew 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 did not
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 are 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,” Honey 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 was not 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 did
not 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 would not 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 would not
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 jus---” 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 had 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 had 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 did not 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 did not 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 had 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 had 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 had 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 did not 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 was not his own flesh and blood, Matthew could not 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 did not 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 could not 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 yo---” “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 had 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 had 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 had 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 had 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.
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 was
not 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
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 could not 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
was not 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 did not 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 had 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
|
Author’s
notes:
