Dear Emmaline, Chapter 7
Title: Dear Emmaline
Author: Bud [cwby30]
Genre: au
Disclaimer: Brokeback Mountain and these characters (except the OCs) belong to Annie Proulx, Jake Gyllenhall, Heath Ledger and others. I'm just borrowing them for a short time. No disrespect intended. I do this for me for fun, and make no money off any of it.
Summary: A letter forces Ennis to rethink his relationship with Jack, and sends him on a trip to Lightning Flat, where he meets more than Jack's parents.
Author’s Note and/or Warnings: PG13 [M/M situation suggested]. Follow the links!! I appreciate all the comments.
Thanks again.
Bud
Chapter 7
Boots stomping on the back porch broke their reverie. The kitchen door flung open, revealing an upset older man, hat in one hand, wiping the sweat from his forehead with an old blue bandana in the other. Startled, Ennis tried to pull away from Jack, but Jack held on tight and would not let him budge.
“What the hell’s going on here? All these comins and goins! Who’s old Chevy truck is that parked in the way next to yours? And who sped off in that fancy rig? Could a hit someone! And who’re you? You that fella from Texas? Don’t look nothin like any foreman I ever met. And why’re you holdin that dirty shirt? Been here five minutes and already you expect Jack’s momma to do your laundry? And do you two have to hug like that in front of me? Christalmighty!” He slumped down with a grunt into a chair next to the kitchen table, throwing his hat down onto the table as he did. “I’m too old for this damn crap.”
He looked up at the two men standing in front of him, still holding onto each other. “Well?” he demanded, shaking his bandana at them.
Reluctantly they broke apart but remained connected by one arm around each other. Ennis held onto the shirts with his left hand, but kept his right arm around Jack, and looked downward at his boots. Jack wiped his face with the cuff of his shirt, and stood a little straighter, taking strength from the nearness of Ennis.
“Dad, this here’s Ennis Del Mar, come up to stay and help us lick this place back into shape, like I been tellin you. Ennis, this here’s is my dad, John Twist.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir.” Ennis disentangled himself and held out his right hand.
John studied it, the shirts in the other hand, and Ennis himself, before grasping the outstretched hand with his own, without leaving his seat at the table. “So you’re the famous Ennis Del Mar.” The sarcasm dripped from every word.
Ennis flushed a bit more, but gave better than he got from John, not backing down one bit. “Yep.”
John grunted and released the hand. Ennis moved his right arm back around Jack, still holding the shirts protectively with his left hand.
“You look like you know your way around a ranch.”
“Been doin it all my life, full time since I was fifteen.”
“Huh. You aimin to stay, or just visitin like Jack here? Comes and goes, never stays long enough to matter.”
Before Jack could cut in with his protest, Ennis replied evenly. “To stay, long as Jack wants me to. If I wear out my welcome, I’ll move on.”
Jack spoke up. “We’re both stayin, and if Ennis goes, I go too, package deal, ain’t that right, Cowboy?”
“Yep,” affirmed Ennis.
“Place is gonna be overrun. I tell you…”
John drummed his fingers on the tabletop, wordlessly, contemplating this unexpected turn of events, especially considering the phone call on Monday, then stopped suddenly.
“So what took you so damn long?” he demanded of Ennis.
“Huh?”
“I said, what took you so damn long? Jack’s been talkin about you non-stop since that sheepherdin job back in the Summer of ’63. Every time he deigns to come up here to play at bein a ranchhand, it’s ‘Ennis Del Mar this’, and ‘Ennis Del Mar that’, and ‘Ennis Del Mar’s gonna come up and the two of us are gonna build a us cabin and lick this place into shape like it was years ago.’ Humpf. Another fool idea in a long string of fool ideas he’s had, if you ask me. Didn’t believe a word of it. Just a few days ago he called some other fella, someone down in Texas or some such place. But, now here you are, sayin you’re stayin, bold as brass. So, what took you so damn long?”
“Um, things.”
“What things?”
“Dad? Leave him alone, he’s here and…”
“John, be polite to our guest,” chastised Emma quietly as she placed a tall glass of ice water in front of John, hoping to end the inquisition.
“Guest? He’s no guest, not if he’s plannin on comin to live here. He’s gonna be part a our lives, workin this ranch, my granddaddy’s ranch, your great-granddaddy’s ranch. Got a right to know about him.” He took a long drink of water nearly draining the glass, and looked hard at Ennis. “What took you so long to say yes to my boy’s idea? And why are you suddenly up here now sayin yes? And what makes me think you’ll stick to it? Huh? Jack here never did, so why should you?”
The wording of that statement and questions took both Ennis and Jack by surprise. Part of our lives. My boy’s idea. Stick to it. Seemed like John was more interested in Ennis’ character than the fact that Ennis slept with his son. Sonofabitch, thought Ennis, meaner than hell to his son, even now, and me, for that matter, but actin all protective like? More interested in us helpin him? In my character?
“So?”
Ennis decided that, since he was ‘gonna be a part of their lives’, he had better start off with the truth. So he stammered out, “Scared.”
“Scared? Of what?”
“What would happen if we did… get together… what people would do… you know…”
“No, I don’t know. What? Well? Cat got your tongue?”
What are you waiting for? Do it! Face your worst fear! The voice again gave him strength.
Ennis held the blood-stained shirts tight, and spoke quietly, painfully, “That someone would come after Jack and hurt him on account a me, on account a us bein together.”
Jack jumped in. “When he was a kid… 8, 9 years old… some guys jumped a neighbor one afternoon when his… his partner was gone, beat him, dragged him behind a pickup truck by his … until it… it… they left him in a ditch to die… all bloody down….” He gulped before continuing, shaken himself by the imagined thoughts of that scene. “Next mornin his daddy took him and his brother to see…”
Ennis broke his connection with Jack and collapsed back into his chair, pale, sweating, trembling, overcome and terrified by the scene that began circling about him. He put his elbows on the table, and covered his eyes with the shirts.
Emma gasped, came quickly over to Ennis, sat down next to him and wrapped her arms around him. Even John gave a look of disbelief.
“Where this happen?”
“Outside a Sage,” whispered Jack, while rubbing Ennis’ back.
“Hmm.” John was silent, thinking, then spoke slowly while dredging up long-forgotten memories. “Seem to remember somethin about that, early Fifties it was, made all the newspapers. Couple of tough older guys, right? Quiet types, good people, been there for decades? Folks here talked about it, some of the church-goin crowd sniffed and said it was God’s punishment for them being that way. As if they would know anythin about God’s doins.”
“Now John, you shouldn’t…”
“Well it’s true, standin there all holier-than-thou, spoutin all kinds of Bible passages, forgettin their own failins. Some of us told em that it weren’t up to us to judge or punish them two guys for their ways of livin, God would decide the punishin when they met Him up there, not us down here before then.” John paused and looked over at Ennis.
“Sheriff caught the fellas that did it.”
Ennis’ head shot up, and he asked, “What? Who? How you know that?”
John shrugged. “Was in the newspapers a couple a weeks after that. Three guys, seasonal types, drifters, out of work, drunk, stealin stuff to sell, figured no one would care about em stealin from two queers, thought they both were gone anyways and the three of em would be long gone before the stuff was missed. Then that one fella walked in on em, recognized one of em, so they… did what they did. Got caught a week later tryin to sell some a the stolen stuff to a rancher next county over, he called the sheriff. One got away, never found him, the other two admitted what they done, got hung for it.” John spat into his empty glass. “Like they should have, bastards. Murder’s still murder, any way you looked at it, Fifth Commandment.”
“Then it wasn’t…” Ennis breathed, the relief in his voice evident to all of them.
“Wasn’t who?”
“My daddy.”
“What made you think it was him?”
“What he said when he showed us… laughed at him and said that’s what happens to queers.”
“Humpf. Maybe back then down in Sage, but not around here it don’t,” John stated with finality. “Don’t have to do business with em, or be social and all that. Geez, and now you’re gonna… oh good Lord have mercy. But, like I said, no call to do stuff like that to… to… you know. Like I said, it’s God’s business.” He looked straight at the both of them, letting the words sink in.
That thought hung in the air, the silence broken by the pendulum of the wall clock ticking down the remaining time, second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour, then suddenly announcing that it was 12:00, time for lunch. Emma got up, patted Ennis on the shoulder, then John on the shoulder, and moved across the kitchen to finish her preparations for lunch. John again spoke up, not letting go of the situation until it suited him, even facing the prospect of eating late.
“So, what about that Randall fella? Thought he was gonna come up here instead.”
Jack’s eyes got big, and Ennis stiffened in his chair, at the given name of Mr. Somebody New.
“He did, dear,” interjected Emma, as she placed the plates and utensils on the table. “That was him leaving just before you and Jack got back in.”
“You talk to him?”
“Yes.” She brought over a platter of sandwiches and set them in the middle of the table.
“Well, why’d he take off?”
“Ennis convinced him it would be best if he didn’t stay,” she remarked simply, before walking over to the refrigerator and opening it. She pulled out a bowl of fruit and brought it to the table.
Jack shook his head ruefully. “Big mistake on my part, I shouldn’t a made that call, knew it as soon as I hung up the phone.”
Ennis squeezed Jack’s hand. “It’s okay, my fault really. If I’d a done what I should have years ago…”
“No, don’t say that, it’s not your fault. I pushed you too hard Sunday, let my frustrations get the best of me.”
“Jack, listen…”
“Geez, you two, let it go.” John banged his hand on the table for attention, causing his now-empty glass of water to wobble precariously, but grabbing it before it fell and setting it upright.
“You,” John growled and wagged his forefinger at Ennis, “you hurt my son over and over for twenty years, but that’s done with, and you’re movin in, right?”
Ennis nodded.
“And you,” John pointed at Jack, not giving and inch, “you’ve been cryin in your whiskey over him for twenty years, but now you got what you’ve been wantin, right?”
Jack nodded.
“So quit your damn bitchin at each other and get on with it,” John snapped at them. “You wanta hash it out between you, do it on your own time and out a my sight. I got a ranch to run, and you two are supposed to be helpin me. Can’t be refereein no more queer lovers’ quarrels, don’t have the time or the taste for it. Besides, it’s lunchtime and I’m hungry. And it ain’t polite to let your momma’s good cookin get ignored. Go wash up.” He dismissed them with a shake of his head and wave of his hand, then reached for a sandwich. Before he could, Emma tapped it and quietly reminded him to wash up himself first.
Feeling like two ten-year-olds caught with their hands in the cookie jar, Jack and Ennis mumbled their apologies to Emma and stumbled up the stairs. Jack splashed water on his face and washed his hands while Ennis hung the shirts on a hanger on a nail on the wall of Jack’s room, for all to see. No more hiding away in this house, regardless. They stole a kiss and made promises to keep, before walking downstairs to start the rest of their lives.
tbc
Chapter 8: http://cwby30.livejournal.com/34665.html
Author: Bud [cwby30]
Genre: au
Disclaimer: Brokeback Mountain and these characters (except the OCs) belong to Annie Proulx, Jake Gyllenhall, Heath Ledger and others. I'm just borrowing them for a short time. No disrespect intended. I do this for me for fun, and make no money off any of it.
Summary: A letter forces Ennis to rethink his relationship with Jack, and sends him on a trip to Lightning Flat, where he meets more than Jack's parents.
Author’s Note and/or Warnings: PG13 [M/M situation suggested]. Follow the links!! I appreciate all the comments.
Thanks again.
Bud
Chapter 7
Boots stomping on the back porch broke their reverie. The kitchen door flung open, revealing an upset older man, hat in one hand, wiping the sweat from his forehead with an old blue bandana in the other. Startled, Ennis tried to pull away from Jack, but Jack held on tight and would not let him budge.
“What the hell’s going on here? All these comins and goins! Who’s old Chevy truck is that parked in the way next to yours? And who sped off in that fancy rig? Could a hit someone! And who’re you? You that fella from Texas? Don’t look nothin like any foreman I ever met. And why’re you holdin that dirty shirt? Been here five minutes and already you expect Jack’s momma to do your laundry? And do you two have to hug like that in front of me? Christalmighty!” He slumped down with a grunt into a chair next to the kitchen table, throwing his hat down onto the table as he did. “I’m too old for this damn crap.”
He looked up at the two men standing in front of him, still holding onto each other. “Well?” he demanded, shaking his bandana at them.
Reluctantly they broke apart but remained connected by one arm around each other. Ennis held onto the shirts with his left hand, but kept his right arm around Jack, and looked downward at his boots. Jack wiped his face with the cuff of his shirt, and stood a little straighter, taking strength from the nearness of Ennis.
“Dad, this here’s Ennis Del Mar, come up to stay and help us lick this place back into shape, like I been tellin you. Ennis, this here’s is my dad, John Twist.”
“Pleased to meet you, sir.” Ennis disentangled himself and held out his right hand.
John studied it, the shirts in the other hand, and Ennis himself, before grasping the outstretched hand with his own, without leaving his seat at the table. “So you’re the famous Ennis Del Mar.” The sarcasm dripped from every word.
Ennis flushed a bit more, but gave better than he got from John, not backing down one bit. “Yep.”
John grunted and released the hand. Ennis moved his right arm back around Jack, still holding the shirts protectively with his left hand.
“You look like you know your way around a ranch.”
“Been doin it all my life, full time since I was fifteen.”
“Huh. You aimin to stay, or just visitin like Jack here? Comes and goes, never stays long enough to matter.”
Before Jack could cut in with his protest, Ennis replied evenly. “To stay, long as Jack wants me to. If I wear out my welcome, I’ll move on.”
Jack spoke up. “We’re both stayin, and if Ennis goes, I go too, package deal, ain’t that right, Cowboy?”
“Yep,” affirmed Ennis.
“Place is gonna be overrun. I tell you…”
John drummed his fingers on the tabletop, wordlessly, contemplating this unexpected turn of events, especially considering the phone call on Monday, then stopped suddenly.
“So what took you so damn long?” he demanded of Ennis.
“Huh?”
“I said, what took you so damn long? Jack’s been talkin about you non-stop since that sheepherdin job back in the Summer of ’63. Every time he deigns to come up here to play at bein a ranchhand, it’s ‘Ennis Del Mar this’, and ‘Ennis Del Mar that’, and ‘Ennis Del Mar’s gonna come up and the two of us are gonna build a us cabin and lick this place into shape like it was years ago.’ Humpf. Another fool idea in a long string of fool ideas he’s had, if you ask me. Didn’t believe a word of it. Just a few days ago he called some other fella, someone down in Texas or some such place. But, now here you are, sayin you’re stayin, bold as brass. So, what took you so damn long?”
“Um, things.”
“What things?”
“Dad? Leave him alone, he’s here and…”
“John, be polite to our guest,” chastised Emma quietly as she placed a tall glass of ice water in front of John, hoping to end the inquisition.
“Guest? He’s no guest, not if he’s plannin on comin to live here. He’s gonna be part a our lives, workin this ranch, my granddaddy’s ranch, your great-granddaddy’s ranch. Got a right to know about him.” He took a long drink of water nearly draining the glass, and looked hard at Ennis. “What took you so long to say yes to my boy’s idea? And why are you suddenly up here now sayin yes? And what makes me think you’ll stick to it? Huh? Jack here never did, so why should you?”
The wording of that statement and questions took both Ennis and Jack by surprise. Part of our lives. My boy’s idea. Stick to it. Seemed like John was more interested in Ennis’ character than the fact that Ennis slept with his son. Sonofabitch, thought Ennis, meaner than hell to his son, even now, and me, for that matter, but actin all protective like? More interested in us helpin him? In my character?
“So?”
Ennis decided that, since he was ‘gonna be a part of their lives’, he had better start off with the truth. So he stammered out, “Scared.”
“Scared? Of what?”
“What would happen if we did… get together… what people would do… you know…”
“No, I don’t know. What? Well? Cat got your tongue?”
What are you waiting for? Do it! Face your worst fear! The voice again gave him strength.
Ennis held the blood-stained shirts tight, and spoke quietly, painfully, “That someone would come after Jack and hurt him on account a me, on account a us bein together.”
Jack jumped in. “When he was a kid… 8, 9 years old… some guys jumped a neighbor one afternoon when his… his partner was gone, beat him, dragged him behind a pickup truck by his … until it… it… they left him in a ditch to die… all bloody down….” He gulped before continuing, shaken himself by the imagined thoughts of that scene. “Next mornin his daddy took him and his brother to see…”
Ennis broke his connection with Jack and collapsed back into his chair, pale, sweating, trembling, overcome and terrified by the scene that began circling about him. He put his elbows on the table, and covered his eyes with the shirts.
Emma gasped, came quickly over to Ennis, sat down next to him and wrapped her arms around him. Even John gave a look of disbelief.
“Where this happen?”
“Outside a Sage,” whispered Jack, while rubbing Ennis’ back.
“Hmm.” John was silent, thinking, then spoke slowly while dredging up long-forgotten memories. “Seem to remember somethin about that, early Fifties it was, made all the newspapers. Couple of tough older guys, right? Quiet types, good people, been there for decades? Folks here talked about it, some of the church-goin crowd sniffed and said it was God’s punishment for them being that way. As if they would know anythin about God’s doins.”
“Now John, you shouldn’t…”
“Well it’s true, standin there all holier-than-thou, spoutin all kinds of Bible passages, forgettin their own failins. Some of us told em that it weren’t up to us to judge or punish them two guys for their ways of livin, God would decide the punishin when they met Him up there, not us down here before then.” John paused and looked over at Ennis.
“Sheriff caught the fellas that did it.”
Ennis’ head shot up, and he asked, “What? Who? How you know that?”
John shrugged. “Was in the newspapers a couple a weeks after that. Three guys, seasonal types, drifters, out of work, drunk, stealin stuff to sell, figured no one would care about em stealin from two queers, thought they both were gone anyways and the three of em would be long gone before the stuff was missed. Then that one fella walked in on em, recognized one of em, so they… did what they did. Got caught a week later tryin to sell some a the stolen stuff to a rancher next county over, he called the sheriff. One got away, never found him, the other two admitted what they done, got hung for it.” John spat into his empty glass. “Like they should have, bastards. Murder’s still murder, any way you looked at it, Fifth Commandment.”
“Then it wasn’t…” Ennis breathed, the relief in his voice evident to all of them.
“Wasn’t who?”
“My daddy.”
“What made you think it was him?”
“What he said when he showed us… laughed at him and said that’s what happens to queers.”
“Humpf. Maybe back then down in Sage, but not around here it don’t,” John stated with finality. “Don’t have to do business with em, or be social and all that. Geez, and now you’re gonna… oh good Lord have mercy. But, like I said, no call to do stuff like that to… to… you know. Like I said, it’s God’s business.” He looked straight at the both of them, letting the words sink in.
That thought hung in the air, the silence broken by the pendulum of the wall clock ticking down the remaining time, second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour, then suddenly announcing that it was 12:00, time for lunch. Emma got up, patted Ennis on the shoulder, then John on the shoulder, and moved across the kitchen to finish her preparations for lunch. John again spoke up, not letting go of the situation until it suited him, even facing the prospect of eating late.
“So, what about that Randall fella? Thought he was gonna come up here instead.”
Jack’s eyes got big, and Ennis stiffened in his chair, at the given name of Mr. Somebody New.
“He did, dear,” interjected Emma, as she placed the plates and utensils on the table. “That was him leaving just before you and Jack got back in.”
“You talk to him?”
“Yes.” She brought over a platter of sandwiches and set them in the middle of the table.
“Well, why’d he take off?”
“Ennis convinced him it would be best if he didn’t stay,” she remarked simply, before walking over to the refrigerator and opening it. She pulled out a bowl of fruit and brought it to the table.
Jack shook his head ruefully. “Big mistake on my part, I shouldn’t a made that call, knew it as soon as I hung up the phone.”
Ennis squeezed Jack’s hand. “It’s okay, my fault really. If I’d a done what I should have years ago…”
“No, don’t say that, it’s not your fault. I pushed you too hard Sunday, let my frustrations get the best of me.”
“Jack, listen…”
“Geez, you two, let it go.” John banged his hand on the table for attention, causing his now-empty glass of water to wobble precariously, but grabbing it before it fell and setting it upright.
“You,” John growled and wagged his forefinger at Ennis, “you hurt my son over and over for twenty years, but that’s done with, and you’re movin in, right?”
Ennis nodded.
“And you,” John pointed at Jack, not giving and inch, “you’ve been cryin in your whiskey over him for twenty years, but now you got what you’ve been wantin, right?”
Jack nodded.
“So quit your damn bitchin at each other and get on with it,” John snapped at them. “You wanta hash it out between you, do it on your own time and out a my sight. I got a ranch to run, and you two are supposed to be helpin me. Can’t be refereein no more queer lovers’ quarrels, don’t have the time or the taste for it. Besides, it’s lunchtime and I’m hungry. And it ain’t polite to let your momma’s good cookin get ignored. Go wash up.” He dismissed them with a shake of his head and wave of his hand, then reached for a sandwich. Before he could, Emma tapped it and quietly reminded him to wash up himself first.
Feeling like two ten-year-olds caught with their hands in the cookie jar, Jack and Ennis mumbled their apologies to Emma and stumbled up the stairs. Jack splashed water on his face and washed his hands while Ennis hung the shirts on a hanger on a nail on the wall of Jack’s room, for all to see. No more hiding away in this house, regardless. They stole a kiss and made promises to keep, before walking downstairs to start the rest of their lives.
tbc
Chapter 8: http://cwby30.livejournal.com/34665.html