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Suffer the Slings and Arrows

Who Gives This Woman

TTHE WIND TRILOGY:
Where the Wind Begins
Where the Wind Will
Wings of the Wind        

See: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B005FX2JD8                        

From: Who Gives This Woman by Wayne Wilson; Available on Aamzon

Chapter Fifteen

Blanco

            “One…..two…….three……four…...” counted Allen and Jamaal as Tom strained at the 150 pound barbell he was pumping while lying on the weight bench.

              ”OK,” said Gavin to his foster dad, “you said that you would tell me how things were going in my, my situation.”

“Mr. Barnard and I discovered that one of our witnesses was injured in the fray.”

“Hunter,” reported the teenager.

“That’s right,” said Randal somewhat surprised.  “How did you know?  You didn’t mention it in your rendition of the events you gave us the other day.”

“Fifteeeen, come on you can do it,” cried the spotters.  “Sixteeeeen”

“I thought that I heard Hunter cry out expressing something that was more than just a battle cry.  Your bringing up the injury thing reminded me of it.  He must have gotten into some of the broken glass.”

“Beat that!” challenged Tom to his spotters as he jumped off the bench.           

“Four stitches worth,” answered Randal.  “He had it wrapped up pretty good.”

“So how did he explain the injury?  What did he tell his grandpa?” asked the recovering delinquent.

”Tweeeeeelve, thirteeeen…..don’t stop!”

“He made up something about some tin on a shed…very plausible actually,” admitted Randal as he and Gavin watched the competition. “But, hopefully, I planted some fertile seeds of discord and destruction that could bring the whole thing down on their heads.   I cannot tell you where it will go from here or promise that everything will work out.

“Not bad, but watch this and weep,” said Allen as he settled on the bench.

“Oh, that is just great,” cried Gavin as he raised his arms in the air several times as if signaling a touchdown.  “So what did Hunter actually say?”

“Nothing.”

“NOTHING!”

“Nothing.  Hunter said that he could not tell me anything because he was not there and his grandfather quickly ushered me out after it was clear that Hunter was not going to talk,” Randal reported as Allen finished his reps.  “But, on the way down the driveway I sent a text to Ben’s cell phone informing him that I just had a talk with Hunter who shared some interesting information about all the blood on the floor in the lab.  I then requested that he call me……”

“Where did you get his phone number?” asked Gavin.

‘I have my ways,” answered the foster dad.  “Anyway, I did manage a hint to both boys that Mr. Barnard will be conducting DNA testing on the blood left on the floor…”

“DNA!! He is going to test…..”

“No,” replied Randal.  “I embellished a bit on that one.  Hopefully the seeds of instability have been planted and the conspirators will soon crack…..”

“Thirteeeeeeen, Fourteeeeeen,” counted the spotters as Tom strained again at the weight on his second round.

“I explained my suspicions to Skip and asked him to hold off on issuing any conclusions on the matter until we talk to everyone involved.  He is going to call the boys into his office in a couple of days to talk about a ‘report’ [he made a quotation gesture with his fingers] that just came in. It seems as if he may believe our story, but I have not exactly asked him where he stands.  I plan to go up there to be a ‘witness’ as he interrogates the kids…..Hey, you guys are going to have to add 100 pounds to that if you expect it to do me any good,” said Randal as he prepared to go under the weight.

“What am I supposed to do in the mean time?” asked Gavin exasperated.

“Well, you can’t go back to school till this is resolved one way or the other, but Terri has called all your teachers—even Mr. Hitchins--and they have agreed to email your assignments every day till we get this cleared up,” explained Randal as he settled back on the bench.  “Terri can be very diplomatic.”

“If I get expelled, I’m toast…out of here….gone,” protested Gavin. 

“And I cannot guarantee that you won’t be, but I can guarantee that I will have your back all the waaaay.”  Randal spoke that last word as he lifted the bar and weights off the rack and proceeded to pump. 

 “One, two, three….,” sang the spotters as Gavin turned and headed out the door.

“After Randal showed off a bit on the bench he went in search of Gavin.  He found the boy out by the punching bag in the back sitting on another one of the homemade deck chairs.  There were about six of these along with a bench all placed in a circled around the fire pit.  The pit was about 8 feet in diameter, dug down a bit, and surrounded by large rocks.  This area not only served as a place where Randal came to burn off steam on the hanging bag,  but it also served as an evening gathering spot where folks could gather around a blazing fire to chat or sing (church folks have been gathering to sing for centuries).  As a matter of fact, the youth group was out here last evening so there were still some hot coals deep under the ashes.  It was about 38 degrees this evening.  Randal came out, threw some kindling sticks and some logs in the pit, stuffed some newspaper down underneath, and poked at it a few seconds till a flame appeared.  It was not long till a full-fledged fire was burning.   Then he sat in one of the chairs and said nothing for about five minutes.

“I am just one observer here, but from what I have seen, circumstances do not really ever get easier.  Chances are, buddy, that the older you get, the more pressing the circumstances become.”

“If that is your way of encouraging me, then I think you are going the wrong way here.  Weren’t you supposed to say, ‘Cheer up, things will get better,’ observed Gavin.

“Only God can make a prediction like that, son” responded the adult.  “I’m good, but not that good.”

“I really did not want to move out here in the sticks, but it hasn’t turned out all that bad.  I can’t believe that I am worried about having to leave.”

“The Hill grows on people.  Once you have stayed here a little while, you will never be able to leave altogether.  There will always be a part of you that stays,” explained Randal.

“I want all of me to stay,” confessed Gavin.  “Do you think God wants that?  Surely He does not want me to go back to the city, back to juvee.”

“I cannot, nor can anyone, profess to know the heart of God in that matter,” said Randal.  “But the one thing that I do know about God is that He wants you to know Him.  That can be accomplished anywhere on the planet….even in the darkest jail cell.  If it helps any, Terri and I do not want you to leave either.”

At this point Randal got up and went over to a metal cabinet that looked as if someone had just discarded it under the large mesquite tree on which the punching bag hung.  The galvanized cabinet was rusted and leaning to one side.  Apparently the legs on one side were missing and someone had placed rocks under that side as substitute legs.  Still the rocks were not tall enough to make it level.   The door to the cabinet was secured with a combination lock.  Randal opened the door, pulled out a copper box whose lid was hinged and latched.  The man then lifted a cigar out of it!  He put the smaller container back into its vault, re-secured the cabinet, walked over to the fire, and lit the cigar before relaxing back into the deck chair.   With feet stretched out as far as he could stretch them and his head tilted back as far as it would tilt, Randal took a drag on the cigar and blew a long stream of smoke at the stars above. 

“I bought these overseas years ago and paid an enormous amount for them.  My intentions were to share them in celebrating the wedding of my daughter and the birth of my first grandchild.  I admit that I have dipped into my stash a few times and felt a bit guilty at the indulgence, but now that there is no need for any celebrating along those lines, there is no need to hold back when I want a relaxing smoke.”

“Does Miss Terri know about this?” asked Gavin almost aghast at the sight of an adult smoking in real life.  While he had not lived a sheltered life by any stretch of the imagination, it appears that his benefactors were anal about protecting him from the evils of smoke.  Randal, on the other hand was a bit rebellious at all the pop culture trends especially the busy bodies who felt it was their mission to protect us from all the sharp objects in life.  One of his favorite movies is Apollo 13 and one of his favorite scenes in that flick is the shot of the control room where all the engineers are smoking in front of their control consoles-- all of which  have some sort of ash tray resting on them.  “It is a wonder the human race ever survived before the Department of Health and Human Services (and lawyers) ever came along,” he often joked to himself.   Randal doesn’t smoke regularly and he doesn’t recall ever buying a pack of cigarettes.  Constantly filling ones lungs with smoke cannot be healthy. Everyone knows that and they have always known it.   Still, trying to create a germ free, risk free, pain free, recession free totally comfortable existence leads to a race that is vulnerable to a universe that will always refuse to have all the hills lowered and the valleys raised.   He would rather see the Marlborough man on TV rather than a metro-sexual pawning male body washes.

“Are you serious?” Randal snapped smiling, feigning irritation.  “The last thing I would ever want to do is sneak around behind that woman’s back.   Most of the time, when I am out here enjoying these expensive things, she is right here next to me.”

“So, how does one go about knowing God?” asked Gavin still pondering what Randal said earlier about what God wants and secretly celebrating the man’s statement that he and Miss Terri did not want Gavin to leave the Hill especially after that lab thing and all.  

“Still working on that, son, but I can tell you that it is no different from trying to get to know another individual.  You get to know their friends.  You read their letters.  You talk with them. You listen to what they have to say.  You try to be around them as much as possible….stuff like that.”

“Do you pray, Mr. Randal?” asked the young inquirer.

“I am praying right now, Gavin.  I am asking God to open your young heart to the answers that will satisfy the question you asked about knowing Him.”

“You’re not praying that all this mess will go away?” asked the teenager almost incredulous.

“Things have often not worked out very well for me when the circumstances seemed to be crashing in around over my head and I did a lot of praying along the lines as you just suggested.  Fortunately I had men around me who understood that God was not some grand puppeteer constantly manipulating us around all the obstacles in life.  In the midst of some very trying times I was taught that God uses—not necessarily causes---trials to drive us into His arms, for it was there (safe within those arms) in which we were made to abide.  It is there where true escape and rest occur.  And you know what, Gavin; it appears that what those men taught me is the truth.  My prayers for resolution were never really answered, but I can honestly say that what I was really praying for, Joy with a capitol ‘J’, is being realized.”

Gavin just had a blank look on his face and Randal just knew that he must have looked the same to Morris and Pastor Mark as they tried to teach Him this truth.

“Do you have a place you call home, Gavin, that place you long to return, that place where all the world fades into the background, where nothing seems to intrude and nothing else matters but enjoying that one spot?”

The boy remained quiet for a few seconds as he pondered an answer to his foster dad’s question.  In the meantime, Jamaal had come out and quietly settled into one of the chairs.  He just stared into the flames not wanting to interrupt the discussion that Gavin and Randal were having.  He did hear Randal’s question though and was searching the recesses of his mind trying to find that spot that Randal was asking about.

“No, I can’t think of such a spot, but there are vague memories of a warmness and smell.    This happens sometimes when I feel alone, or if I need a place to run away, or if I see parents loving on their children….not all the time but sometimes.  As a matter of fact, it is coming on me right now as if it were real.  I told this to one lady when I was very young and she told me it was my mind remembering the hugs of my mother.”  He turned his head away momentarily to hide wiping away tears.  “So every time it happens, I feel…” He couldn’t think of the word. 

“Mothered,” said Jamaal.

“Yeah, that’s it.  I feel as if I have a mother who will hug all the loneliness away.  I don’t even remember anything about my parents, but obviously, my mind still remembers something.  It brings me some comfort to believe that they had to have loved me a lot.” 

“Well, I remember my parents and I know that they do not love me,” answered Jamaal.  By now Allen and Tom had seated themselves by the fire and Terri was walking out toward the gathering.  Having seen the flames she knew that some group was enjoying the cool, quiet evening outside on the Hill.

Jamaal continued.  “I cannot think of such a place either except to take a place and put it with a time.  The day Grammy bought me that first bicycle is the time I remember as the most safe, the most fun, the most joyful time in my life.  I think back on that and I can still recall thinking that I was totally complete.  Time could have stood still right then and all would have been perfect with the universe.  Oh, then to recall getting on that little shiny bicycle and having the wind rushing my face as if I were going 100 miles per hour…..”

“We were talking about prayer and knowing God and I asked Gavin if he had a place where he called home….that utterly safe and comfortable place where the pressures and trials of the world just fade away,” reported Randal as he filled the new comers in on the topic at hand.

“My grandmother’s kitchen,” sounded Tom breaking the short silence that followed Randal’s update.

“Right now, I can smell the aroma of arroz, frijoles, tortillas, tamales, tacos carnes, and taste that cold leche dulce….delisioso!”

“There is nothing, absolutely nothing better than homemade flour tortillas made in the kitchen of someone who knows what they are doing,” said Terri.

“I can smell those smells and then I hear and see family mingling all about talking, laughing, kids running,” Tom continued.  “Life can’t reach me there.”

“Tom, you have a very old, very rich, very upright, very strong family,” said Terri.  “You have so much more than any boy we’ve had come through here.  I hope the Hill helps you to take advantage of that great blessing so that you can continue to build on that great foundation laid by your ancestors.  There will be other boys who will need what has been given to you with whom you can share.”

Tom silently nodded in agreement while staring into the flames.

“Where is your special place, Miss Terri?”  Asked Jamaal. 

“Relaxing in my bathtub,” she answered.  “It is a very nice, large garden tub decorated almost in accordance with my fondness wishes, but that is not what creates that special place for me.  It has mostly to do with the fact that I have a husband who built it for me because he cherishes me.  I can sit there in the privacy, the safety, the quiet, and ponder the fact that God has given me a man who thinks of me as his treasure….a treasure to whom he daily gives himself; indeed, a treasure he would give up everything for; a treasure he has committed to protect and provide for with all his power.   Randal has constructed a certainty deep in my soul that if he did not have the means to build that tub, he would sorely grieve the fact and nothing would hinder his diligence in exercising every practical—he is a practical man—extreme in lavishing upon me all that he could afford…..even if it was simply his ever-present devotion….all this, not because he thinks that these things are all that great, but because he thinks that I am great.   And I pray that I will be forever worthy of that devotion.  Unlike the first two men in my adult life, I know that this man [she extended her hand, palm up in Randal’s direction], my adoring husband, will be with me till his last breath.  Women need that.  You boys remember this when a young lady comes into your life.  So where is your spot dear?” she asked Randal with a smile enhanced by the glow of the fire, a smile that had the capacity to melt him where he sat.

“Right here.  Here on the Hill is my spot to run to when life invades with a vengeance.  I have done it for decades.  Even from the other side of the planet, I could come here in my mind, breath this clean fresh air, hear the cattle, see the hills, smell the river, feel the dry crunchy ground beneath my feet.”

“And this brings me to the point I was going to make.   These places of safety that we all run to in times of struggle are phantoms of a  reality we’ve lost…..a reality to which we all desperately  wish to return and that awaits the diligent.  The process of getting to know God is the same as the process of coming home….striving for that place where we are most at peace, the place that fits us and we fit it, that place where we were made for.  It is the same process because we were made to rest in the arms of the One who created us.  That is our true home.  Therefore, the most effective way to deal with life at its most destructive times is to more vigorously continue that journey home.  Do not take detours by praying to have everything fixed, because there will be another malady waiting with the turn of the next day, or the next week, or the next month.  You need to be home. I heard a preacher (8) say that when we pray, we visit our true home and I could not agree with him more,” closed Randal as he reached out to grab Terri’s hand.  “Well, I think it’s time for this old guy to go home…..home to the bed, that is.   You coming, Gorgeous?”

“How can I refuse an invitation such as that?” she said as they both stood.

“See you boys tomorrow,” said Randal as he and Terri walked back to the house hand in hand.