Two Crows Joy, Chapter 33
Two Crows Joy
a "Brokeback Mountain" fanfiction by Mad Lori
Prologue -- Chapter 1 -- Chapter 2 -- Chapter 3 -- Chapter 4 -- Chapter 5 -- Chapter 6 -- Chapter 7 -- Chapter 8 -- Chapter 9 -- Chapter 10 -- Chapter 11 -- Chapter 12 -- Chapter 13 -- Chapter 14 -- Chapter 15 -- Chapter 16 -- Chapter 17 -- Chapter 18 -- Chapter 19 -- Chapter 20 -- Chapter 21 -- Chapter 22 -- Chapter 23 -- Chapter 24 -- Chapter 25 -- Chapter 26 -- Chapter 27 -- Chapter 28 -- Chapter 29 -- Chapter 30 -- Chapter 31 -- Chapter 32
Author's Note: Okay, everybody. I thought long and hard about whether or not I should post this. My problem was that...well, it doesn't end with everything resolved. Things are still quite up in the air at the end, and Jack has not yet arrived back in Farmingdale. But the chapter was as long as all the previous chapters, and there was a good stopping point, and if I kept going there wouldn't be another good stopping point for quite some time and I felt that I had already taken enough of your time and patience with this chapter's delay. So I decided to go ahead and post it.
Now, if I'm able to keep going on the continuation of this chapter (I had already written more of it before I decided to end it here and post) and can finish another one soon, I will go ahead and post it rather than doing a Zero chapter next as is my usual habit. Or I may take a break and write a new Zero chapter. Then again, the Zero boys are in a pretty comfy place, which is not the case for the Vermont boys. I'll just have to see.
Anyway. Don't be too mad at me for posting this and leaving you still up in the air. I can't rush these things!
Liz careened into the hospital parking lot and stopped the car near what she hoped was a parking spot. She jumped out and ran to the emergency room doors. Junior was pacing the tile floor of the waiting area, her father’s blood staining her shirt. Her drawn, pinched face sagged into a folded mass of trying-not-to-cry when she saw Liz and she let herself be embraced, keeping her own arms wrapped securely around her midsection.
Junior had accompanied Ennis in the ambulance; Liz had lagged behind to give Walter the quick-and-dirty version of what had happened. She’d spared a moment to make two phone calls, one to Fred and one to Marianne. Fred was on his way to the ranch to corral all the people out on the now-pointless hunt for Ken, and Marianne would be meeting them here soon.
The knowledge that she would soon have to call Jack was heavy on her heart. She had considered doing it when she’d made the other calls, but decided against it. For one thing, she didn’t have his number and would have to hunt for it, but the more pressing concern was that she didn’t want to call Jack until she had something to tell him about Ennis’s condition. She couldn’t justify calling him only to say “Ennis has been beaten with a fireplace poker, but I don’t know how badly he’s hurt, I’ll have to call you back in half an hour.” Better to just wait the half hour and spare him the agony until she could give him something concrete.
“Have they told you anything?” Liz asked Junior, although she doubted it. She’d been no more than ten minutes behind the ambulance.
Junior pulled back and shook her head, dashing tears from her eyes. “They took him back there,” she said, pointing toward the emergency room doors. “They were…they seemed real concerned.” Her lower lip began to tremble again. “He looked so pale, Lizzie…so much blood comin from his mouth…”
“I know, honey,” Liz said, hugging Junior again, as much for her own comfort as the girl’s. “He’ll be okay.” He has to be. He HAS to be.
The emergency department was eerily quiet. The nurse at the reception desk had her head down, writing on something. Liz felt a sudden stab of resentment. How dare you do paperwork? Don’t you know my best friend could be dying in there? How can you sit there and answer the phone and write on charts while he’s lying on a gurney with blood coming out of his mouth?
She didn’t hear her name being called until the second time. She jerked and turned to see Peter coming toward her in his white doctor’s coat, looking concerned. She sagged as he approached. “Jesus, am I ever glad to see you,” she said, surprising herself a little with just how glad she was to see him.
“Liz, I heard Ennis was brought here! What happened?”
Junior had wandered off to stare out the window, so Liz led Peter a short distance away. “His brother beat him up with a fireplace poker.”
Peter stared at her. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah. He didn’t know Ennis was gay and Marty let it slip before Ennis could break it to him. He got drunk and lost it.”
“Oh my God.”
“Ken went out on some drunken bender and we were all out looking for him while Ennis waited at the house. I was out on the ranch, Junior was down at the bungalow. Ken must have come back on his own. She went up to the house to get some cake and heard them arguing. She called me on the shortwave and then hung back, but when I got to the house…well, Ken had gone at him with the poker. Junior beat him off with a frying pan. He’s…I don’t know. He looked bad,” she said, her voice catching and tears rising to her eyes again. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Oh, Lily Shankman’s in labor, I told her I’d stay with her until her OB gets here. You want me to find out what’s going on with Ennis?”
Liz looked past his shoulder. “Don’t think you’ll have to.” A doctor in scrubs was coming toward them; Liz didn’t recognize him. Junior hurried over from the window.
“Miss Del Mar?” he said.
“Yes?” Junior said, admirably holding her composure even while her voice shook.
“I’m Dr. Peakman, I’ve been taking care of your father.”
“How is he?”
Peakman sighed. “He’s badly hurt, I won’t lie to you. We have him stabilized but he’s bleeding internally. We need to get him into surgery as soon as possible. They’re getting ready to move him now.”
Junior nodded. “Okay,” she whispered. “But…is he gonna be all right?”
The doctor hesitated. “His condition is very serious.”
“What about his head? He got hit on the head.”
“He’s lucky. The head wound was incidental. I suspect it was a glancing blow, or the person wielding the weapon wasn’t swinging very hard. I’m much more concerned with what’s going on in his chest and abdomen, so we need to get him into the OR immediately.”
“Okay.”
Peakman glanced at Liz. “Are you his wife?”
“No, I’m a family friend.”
“Who is Mr. Del Mar’s next of kin?”
“His partner, Jack Twist.”
Peakman hesitated. “This…man…has a power of attorney document?”
“Yes, it’s at home.”
“I’ll need to see it.”
“It doesn’t matter, he’s not here.”
“If this man is next of kin, why isn’t he here?” Peakman said, one eyebrow arching.
“He’s in Wyoming taking care of his sick mother!” Liz snapped.
“I’m his daughter, can’t I consent to treatment for him?” Junior said.
“Are you a minor?”
“No, I’m nineteen.”
“Then yes, you can.”
Junior shot Liz a look. “Fine, let’s just do that, then.” The doctor looked relieved at this suggestion. “I’m sure Jack won’t mind,” Junior added, an edge to her voice. “Just…do whatever you have to do for my father, please,” she said.
“We’ll be taking him upstairs in a few minutes. There’s some, uh…paperwork…”
“I’ll handle it,” Liz said, reaching for the clipboard.
“There’s a waiting room up on the third floor. We’ll keep you informed.” The doctor nodded and backed two steps away, then turned and hurried into the emergency department.
Peter put a hand on Liz’s arm. “He doesn’t know them,” he said, quietly, not needing to be told that Liz would be angry about Peakman’s attitude.
“What do we do now?” Junior said, wiping at her eyes.
“Wait and pray.”
“We have to call Jack,” she said, her voice catching again. “Liz, he’s gonna…I can’t imagine.”
Liz nodded. “You want me to do it, honey? Or do you want to?”
Junior shook her head. “No, I don’t want to. I’ll lose it. I’m gonna go up to that waiting room.”
“I hate to think of you up there alone.”
“Marianne’s on her way, right?”
“I’m sure she’s not the only one.”
“I won’t be alone for long. Just…find Jack and tell him, Liz. He’s gotta come home right now. Daddy needs him here.” She sniffed. “So do I.”
Jack was too nervous to make small talk in the car. His mother seemed content to ride in silence, but he knew that he wasn’t fooling her. Putting one over on his mother was a skill he’d yet to master.
“Have you met Alma’s husband?” she finally asked.
“Nope,” Jack said. “Heard his voice on the phone once or twice.”
Grace nodded, and said nothing more, watching out the window as the limited scenery of Gillette passed by.
“It’s Francine I’m worried bout,” Jack blurted out, unable to contain himself any longer.
“Why’s that?”
“Well…what if she goes off on some kinda tear and starts spoutin her fire-n-brimstone craziness?”
“Then we pretend we don’t hear her,” Grace said, with a little nod.
“We pretend we don’t hear?” Jack repeated, surprised. “Not sure if I can do that.”
“You can and you will, John Henry,” she said. “We are invited ta dine in someone’s home, and Francine ain’t yer child nor mine. It ain’t our place ta correct her, much as we might want to. If she acts hateful it’s up ta her folks ta speak, not us.” She sighed. “Ya know, plenty a young folks act out cause they want attention, or say things they hope’ll shock you jus so’s ta get a reaction. Best thing is t’ignore em.”
Jack pondered this. “Maybe we won’t hafta deal with it at all,” he said. “Wouldn’t be surprised if she flat-out refused ta set at table with the likes a me.”
Grace smiled a little. “I think her mamma might have somethin ta say bout that.”
They pulled up to the house and parked. Jack shut off the ignition and just sat there for a moment. He could feel his mother watching him.
“Ain’t gonna get no easier, son,” she said gently.
He smiled at her. “Well, let’s get this over with.” He got out of the car and went around to help Grace from her seat, shutting the door after her. They went up the steps and Jack rang the bell. Within moments Monroe opened it, as if he’d just been lurking on the other side waiting for them.
He smiled, a tight this-wasn’t-my-idea sort of smile. “Evenin,” he said, holding the door open for them to enter.
Jack stuck out his hand. He didn’t have any quarrel with this man, after all. “Nice ta finally meet ya, Mr. Hudson.”
He hesitated just a moment, then shook Jack’s hand. “Call me Monroe.”
“All righty. If you’ll call me Jack, then. Like ya ta meet my mother, Grace Twist.”
Monroe’s smile warmed up a bit as he shook Grace’s hand. “Pleasure, ma’am. I’ve heard a lot about you from my wife.”
“She’s been so sweet ta keep me comp’ny,” Grace said.
“Well, we’re pleased ta have you in our home.”
Alma came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel which she then slung over her shoulder. “Grace,” she said warmly, coming to hug her.
“What a sweet, cozy home ya have here, honey,” Grace said.
Alma glanced around. “It’s nice, ain’t it? Actually we are thinkin a movin to a place closer ta Monroe’s work.” Her gaze shifted to Jack and drew back slightly. “Evenin, Jack.”
He whipped his hat off, embarrassed that he hadn’t done so sooner. “Evenin, Alma. Nice a you ta have us over.”
Alma just nodded. “Well…it was my pleasure,” she said. Jack imagined that there wasn’t a gracious way to say “I only meant to have your mother over but I suppose there wasn’t any way to avoid inviting you too, so we’ll all just make the best of it.”
Jack glanced around, looking for Francie. “Is…uh…”
Alma sighed and flapped a hand. “She’s up in her room, a course. She will be down for supper, though,” she said emphatically, and Jack could hear the echoes of the battles that had clearly already been waged on this topic.
“Smells real good,” Jack said, meaning it. Ennis had always spoken highly of Alma’s cooking, and having sampled a good bit of it during his stay in Gillette Jack could see why.
“Can I help you in the kitchen, honey?” Grace asked, as Monroe took her coat.
“Well…might be ya could frost the cake for me? I’m afraid I cain’t never make it look as nice as you do.”
“Be glad to,” Grace said, heading for the kitchen. Jack smiled a little. His mother was nowhere as comfortable as in a kitchen, any kitchen, and could be depended on to finagle her way into the nearest one at the slightest hint of encouragement. Alma followed her, leaving Jack and Monroe standing in the entryway.
If Monroe felt awkward, he covered it pretty well. “Come sit down, Jack,” he said. “Getcha a drink?”
“Uh…scotch if ya got it.”
“Sure enough.” He went to the small bar by the dining room table and returned with two glasses of Scotch on the rocks, taking a seat opposite Jack in what was evidently his favorite chair, judging by how it was molded to his shape.
Jack sipped his drink, looking around at the evidence of lives he knew nothing of, save what Junior told him. “Good,” he said, holding up his glass.
Monroe nodded. “Listen, Jack,” he said, staring at his own glass. “I know this is awkward for you n Alma.”
Jack sniffed. “I guess that’s one way ta put it.”
“Jus so ya know…I ain’t got no quarrel with ya.”
“Uh…thanks.”
“In fact, times I’ve thought I oughta thank you.”
“Why’s that?”
“Ain’t no secret that I…well, always thought Alma was a fine woman. Sweet a temper n face. Course she was married ta Ennis and he ain’t the kinda man ya cross in that way.”
“No, he ain’t.”
“So, uh…I guess I owe ya one. Fer helpin things along.”
Jack just blinked, a stupid-ass smile on his face, wondering if he was really sitting in Alma’s house while her husband thanked him for breaking up her first marriage. “Don’t know that I played no part in their troubles,” he said.
“Oh, that ain’t so and we both know it.”
Jack sat back. “I gotta say, yer pretty open-minded fer a churchgoin Wyomin man.”
Monroe thought for a moment, turning his glass around and around on the arm of his chair. “I done my share a judgin. But you n Ennis been real good ta Junior and…well, ya seem like a decent fella. What do I care what ya get up to behind closed doors?”
Jack nodded. “I appreciate that.” Ennis had described Monroe as uptight and irritating, but he seemed nice enough to Jack. Then again, Jack wasn’t the man’s ex-husband.
“Besides, listenin ta some a the crap comin out a Francie’s mouth…well, it’s enough ta make a man think real hard bout his own attitudes.”
Alma came into the living room then. “Dinner’s served. Wanna take yer seats at table?” Jack nodded and rose, Monroe doing the same. Alma stepped to the base of the stairs and shouted up. “Francine! Dinnertime!”
Jack paused and watched the upper hall as Francine’s door opened. She emerged from her room and walked down the stairs, right past Jack without so much as a glance, and into the dining room. Alma called up the boys from their basement playroom and sat them down next to Francine. Jack sat next to Monroe with Grace at his side, next to Alma. “You must be Francine,” Grace said, smiling warmly across the table. “I’m Jack’s mamma, you jus call me Grace, okay? My, aren’t you a pretty little thing?”
Jack had to smile at his mother’s back-country charm…Francine was a pretty girl but seemed to be doing her best to hide it. Her hair was pulled back in an unflatteringly tight ponytail, her face ashy-pale and hidden behind huge glasses. Francine managed a tiny smile in return. “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” she said, quietly. Jack saw her eyes flick quickly to his face; her jaw set again and she looked down at her plate.
Alma brought out a large platter of pot roast and vegetables. Jack dug in after everyone was served, grateful for an activity to deflect all the different levels of awkwardness that were percolating around the table.
Liz flew down the driveway at inadvisable speeds and braked hard, yanking herself against the seat belt before flinging it off and launching out of the car and up the porch steps. She didn’t want to be away from the hospital any longer than she absolutely had to be, but she couldn’t put off calling Jack for another minute.
After finishing Ennis’s admission paperwork she had joined Junior in the third-floor waiting room. Marianne was already there, sitting at her side and holding her hand. She’d met Liz’s eyes as she entered and shook her head to let her know that they still didn’t know anything.
Liz sat on Junior’s other side and put one arm around her shoulders. They waited for what seemed like hours but was in fact less than twenty minutes before the surgeon came to speak to them.
His words were like a half-remembered dream. Massive internal bleeding…spleen rupture…transfusions…blood pressure…hours of work ahead…know more later…
She’d gotten to her feet like her marionette strings were being yanked savagely upwards. “I’ve got to call Jack now,” she said. There still wasn’t much she could tell him but this was as good as it was going to get for awhile. The sooner he left, the sooner he’d be here.
Junior nodded vigorously, wiping her nose. “Yes, right away. Hurry.”
So now she was in her office, tearing it apart for his hotel number. Ennis had it, she knew, but she couldn’t remember if she’d written it down someplace.
She stopped and gathered herself. Think, Elspeth. Clear your mind. Where would Ennis have it written down?
Someplace close at hand. Where he’d have it near when he needed it.
She hurried down to their bedroom and rummaged in Ennis’s bedside table, finding nothing but an orphaned sock, a couple of dog-eared paperbacks and some lube, which she could have lived without seeing. Her eyes fell on the hardcover lying face-down on the table and she grabbed it up, flicking through the flyleaf and then to the back cover where, to her relief, she found Jack’s hotel and room number noted down in Ennis’s spidery handwriting.
She sat down on the bed and dialed the number, then asked the desk clerk to ring his room. She shut her eyes and waited, holding her breath, wondering how on earth she was supposed to tell Jack that the man he loved might be dying on an operating table right this second.
She didn’t get the chance. There was no answer. She left an urgent message with the desk clerk for Jack to call home, and if no one answered, that he should call the hospital and ask for her.
She flung the book aside in frustration. Where could he be? Probably with his mother…wait a minute…
She leapt from the bed and ran back to the office, searching out the statement they’d received from Grace’s assisted-living center and blessing her own organization when she found it right where it ought to be, in a file marked “Grace” in the filing cabinet under “Personal.” She dialed the center, but there was no answer in Grace’s room, either.
Maybe Alma knows where they are. Shit, do I have her number? I must have it around here someplace…
She knew she did; Ennis still sent child support for Francie. She flipped through her Rolodex and there it was. “Alma Hudson, Gillette, WY.” She sat down and dialed the number. Please know where Jack is, Alma. Please be willing to help me find him.
As Alma cleared the dinner dishes, conscripting a stone-faced Francine to assist, Jack felt himself beginning to relax a little. He’d offered to help clear but had been refused, so he just sat and listened to his mother chatting with Monroe like they were old high-school friends at a reunion. The boys had long since begged to be excused so they could return to whatever urgent business little boys had.
“Yer folks live in Cheyenne, then?” Grace was asking Monroe.
“Sure do, ma’am,” he said. “I try’n get down ta see em as often as I can. They come up sometimes, when they can, to see the boys.”
“I see,” Grace said, her eyes flicking to Jack’s face. He saw there the same thought that came to his mind: To see the boys. Poor Francine’s really a fifth wheel around here, isn’t she? It made him want to bundle her up and take her home to Farmingdale with him, no matter how much she kicked and screamed.
Francine came out with a stack of small plates which Jack guessed were for the cake. She silently placed one in front of everyone. “Thanks, Francie,” Jack said, looking up and meeting her eyes. She just stared at him; for a moment he thought she was going to snap at him, but then she seemed to think better of it and just sat down in her chair.
Alma brought out the cake. “That looks mighty good, hon,” Monroe said.
“Might that be yer carrot cake?” Jack said, hopefully.
She smiled a little. “It might be.” She was about to slice into it when the phone rang. “Oh, who could that be?” she said, a frown appearing between her eyes.
“Let it go, it’s dinnertime,” Monroe said. “Folks ought ta know better than ta call durin the supper hour.”
Alma sighed. “I better get it. I am expectin that call from Lynda about the church bazaar.” She put down the knife and went into the kitchen, leaving Grace, Jack, Monroe and Francine to wait in silence. “Hello?” Jack heard her say. “Who’s this? Oh, Liz!”
Jack sat up straighter. Liz? Our Liz? I guess Alma could know a Liz, too…
“What’s wrong? Ya sound real…What? Oh no, he’s here. Him n his mother are round fer supper. I’ll get him for ya right away. Hang on.”
Jack was already up out of his chair. “Alma?”
She came around the doorway. “Jack, it’s Liz. She sounds real upset.”
A million unsettling thoughts raced through Jack’s mind but none had time to coalesce into outright fear before the phone was in his hand. “Lizzie?” he said.
He heard Liz burst into tears at the sound of his voice. “Jack…”
“Take a breath, darlin. What’s wrong?” His other hand gripped the edge of the countertop. Alma was hovering at his side.
“Is it Junior?” she hissed.
He heard Liz suck in a deep breath and compose herself. “Ennis is in the hospital, Jack. You have to come home, now.”
A high-pitched rushing noise began to whistle through his head. Alma’s kitchen receded to a pinpoint. “What happened? Is he all right?” His voice had jumped half an octave but he couldn’t help it.
“Ken found out…you know…and he…he went out and got drunk then came back and beat him with a fireplace poker. He’s still in surgery. Internal bleeding, the doctor said. It’s bad.”
Jack shut his eyes and hung on to the phone, his only tether to the world at the moment. “When did this happen?”
“Just about an hour ago. Jack…I think Ken would have killed him, but Junior came in and stopped him. Hit him with one of Marianne’s frying pans.”
“Ya say he’s still in surgery?” Jack heard Alma gasp, hearing only his side of the conversation.
“Yeah. They say it’ll be awhile before we know anything else, so I came home to call you.”
“I’m comin, Liz. I’ll leave right now.”
“How are you going to…”
“I’ll figure somethin out,” he snapped. “Just…I’m comin. But Lizzie…you won’t be able ta reach me while I’m on the way, and…well…”
“Do you trust Junior? And me? She can…you know, make decisions. She’s his daughter and she’s over eighteen.”
“Yeah, I trust her. And you. But better get our papers from the house, just so’s we’ve got em.”
He heard Liz sniffling. “I’ll get them now. I’ll be heading back. If you get a chance to call again, call the hospital or call Arlene. I’ll keep her updated by phone in case you can’t reach us for some reason.”
“Okay.” Jack had his eyes shut tight so he wouldn’t see the room spinning. “Lizzie…I…”
“I know. I know. He’ll be okay.”
“I gotta believe that.”
“He will.”
“He has ta be.”
“He will.”
“But…aw Christ…what if he…while I’m on some plane…what if…and I’m not there? What if I don’t make it in time and he…without me? I fuckin promised him…”
“Don’t think like that. Just get back fast as you can.”
“I will.”
Lizzie hung up. Jack let the phone drop, leaned over the kitchen sink and lost the lovely dinner Alma had just served in a decidedly unlovely heave. Shuddering, he sagged against the countertop and let his head drop down, his chest sawing in and out. He felt Alma’s hand on his shoulder. “Jack, what is it? Somethin happen ta Ennis?” Her voice was shaking and her hand was like an iron claw on him; she’d heard enough to know it was bad.
Jack spit in the sink and ran the water, cupping a handful to his mouth. “His brother beat him nearly ta death when he found out,” he said in a low voice. “Still in surgery and he’s hurt bad.”
“Oh dear God,” Alma said.
He straightened up. “I gotta go. Right now.”
She nodded. “A course ya do.”
He met her eyes for the first time; they were wide in her pale, pale face. He could only imagine how he himself looked. “How much ya want Francie ta know?”
Alma blinked like the thought was just occurring. “Guess she oughta know he’s hurt. Maybe…jus he had an accident.”
Jack nodded and strode out into the dining room. His mother was watching him with anxious eyes. “Jack, what’s wrong? Somethin happen at home?”
He took a deep breath and tried to push everything into a tight little dark corner so he could be rational. “Yeah, Ma.” He looked at Francine, who had risen and come around the table to join them. “Francie, I’m sorry ta tell ya that yer dad’s had an accident, and he’s in the hospital. I gotta go home now n look after him.”
She frowned. “What kinda accident?”
“Now, that don’t matter right now, just…”
“No, you tell me! What kinda accident’s my father had?”
Jack glanced at Alma, who gave a little shrug, then nodded. “All right. Yer dad’s brother, who I guess you ain’t never met, well, he’s been visitin past few days. He found out about yer dad n me before he could be told proper and he kinda lost it.”
Francie rose to her feet, her jaw clenching. “He hurt my dad?”
Jack nodded, wishing he could just lose it, just let go and yell and scream and cry and throw things and somehow teleport himself home so he could throttle the life out of Ken Del Mar and offer up his own life or anyone else’s if only Ennis could be okay. “Fraid so. He beat on him, and yer dad’s hurt bad. Now, don’t you worry, he’s gonna be fine, but I gotta go home now.”
Grace came around the table, her face stricken. “Oh, Jackie…oh sweet Jesus…” She put her arms around his chest and hugged him. Jack patted her shoulders.
“Now Ma, don’t you take on so, everything’s gonna be fine.” He looked down into her face and spoke quietly. “Please, Ma. I am hangin on by a thread and if yer too emotional on me I’m jus gonna lose it.” She nodded and stepped back, her hands to her mouth.
Monroe was getting to his feet. “Can we help?” he said, simply.
Jack glanced at Alma. “Can ya…maybe take my mother home? Look after her?”
She nodded. “Course we can, no trouble at all.”
“I gotta helluva drive ahead so I’ll jus…”
“You,” Francine said suddenly, her voice low and choked with unshed tears.
Jack frowned. “What?”
“You n yer…perversions,” she said.
He sighed. “This ain’t the time, Francie.”
“My daddy might…he might die?”
The word cut through Jack like a hot lance. He harrumphed. “He’s hurt bad.”
She drew herself up and thrust her chin at him, defiant, that zealot’s light coming into her eyes again, the light he’d seen in the hotel room when she’d called him the devil. “Then it’ll be on yer head, Jack Twist.”
“Francie!” Alma exclaimed.
“You drug my daddy down with ya now it’s God’s retribution on ya! He’s hurt cause he’s queer and he’s queer cause you made him so!” She was shouting now. Jack was just clenching his jaw and looking away, frozen in place. “God damn you, Jack!” she cried, her tears coming hard now. She stepped forward and cracked her hand hard across Jack’s face before anyone could stop her. “If he dies it’ll be on yer head! Yer head!” She made to hit him again but Jack caught her hands and held her fast.
“My head?” he yelled, feeling his self-control leaving him fast. “His brother beat him cause he listened too much t’all the hateful trash comin from the likes a yer precious Reverend, Francie! You wanna know who’s ta blame fer yer daddy bein hurt? How bout all the fuckin hatemongers spreadin ignorant poison t’anybody who’ll listen? You feelin guilty, huh? Cause you sit in what you call a church and stand up ta be counted with folks who’d be only too glad ta beat yer daddy, too? Or maybe ya wish you’d been the one ta beat him!” Francie gasped and Jack pushed her away, afraid of what he might do or say next if he didn’t put her from him.
Monroe stepped closer. “Jack, that’s enough!”
Jack pulled himself back. It was difficult. “It ain’t enough, Monroe. Ain’t never enough. She ain’t blamin me fer somethin what can be laid at the door a folks she calls friends and I don’t hafta listen ta this crap. My man needs me and I am goin ta him jus as fast as I can.” He tossed an apologetic glance at his mother, then turned and hurried out the door.
He was to the car before he realized he’d left his jacket inside. He turned to go back but Alma was coming out, the jacket in her hand. She joined him at the car and handed it to him. “Jack, I’m…sorry ya had ta hear all that.”
“I shouldn’ta yelled at her like that, no matter what she said. She’s just a kid bein led astray.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Ennis wouldn’t like me bein harsh on her,” he muttered.
“I swear I don’t know what I’m gonna do with her. My land, she sounded outta her head in there.”
“Get her away from those church folks, that’s what ya gotta do.”
“It ain’t so easy.”
Jack blinked hard. “I gotta get goin.”
“Jack, listen…you’ve got a long drive, right?”
“Yeah, real fuckin long.”
“Well…we got a regional airport here in Gillette. I don’t know, maybe you can get a short flight ta Denver, save you some time. They could maybe find yer flight home too, so’s ya don’t hafta worry bout that once ya get there. You could even hire a plane if there ain’t no flights.”
Jack nodded. “That’s a fine idea,” he said, grateful. “It’ll surely save me some hours. Thanks, Alma.”
“I’ll, uh…look after yer ma, don’t you worry none.”
He sighed. “Thankin you’s getting ta be a habit.”
She flapped a hand. “Ya know I’m fond a Grace.”
“Seems like lately yer doin stuff fer me that’s beyond jus bein fond a Grace.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. “You ain’t so bad, Jack. Maybe…” She shifted, and looked at her feet. “I guess I can maybe see why he…well.” She cleared her throat.
Jack watched her lowered head. “Shit,” he said. “That hadta hurt ta say.”
“Oh, you’ll never know,” she said, glancing up at him. “Did I hear somethin bout Junior in that call? She okay?”
He nodded. “She’s my damn hero, is all. Liz said Junior stopped Ken beatin on Ennis. Went after him with a fryin pan. Probly saved Ennis’s life.”
Alma put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, dear Lord.” She shook her head, then chuckled a bit. “Guess I oughtn’t worry so much bout her bein at school on her own.”
“Alma, I gotta…”
“I know, you gotta go. Jus…you call, okay? Let us know how he’s doin?”
Jack nodded, seeing concern in her eyes. He wondered, not for the first time, if some part of Alma still loved Ennis. Not so much if there’s a part, he thought, as how large a part. “I surely will.”
She held his gaze for a moment. Jack didn’t know how it happened but all at once they were embracing, a tight squeeze of be-careful and he’ll-be-fine and I-know-he’s-yours-now and I’ll-take-care-of-him-for-ya and you-ain’t-so-bad. Almost as soon as it had begun, it was over. Alma stepped away and walked quickly back to the house without a look back, as if she were a little embarrassed to have just hugged the man she’d spent so much time hating. Jack watched her go, then got in the car and drove away as fast as he could safely do.
a "Brokeback Mountain" fanfiction by Mad Lori
Prologue -- Chapter 1 -- Chapter 2 -- Chapter 3 -- Chapter 4 -- Chapter 5 -- Chapter 6 -- Chapter 7 -- Chapter 8 -- Chapter 9 -- Chapter 10 -- Chapter 11 -- Chapter 12 -- Chapter 13 -- Chapter 14 -- Chapter 15 -- Chapter 16 -- Chapter 17 -- Chapter 18 -- Chapter 19 -- Chapter 20 -- Chapter 21 -- Chapter 22 -- Chapter 23 -- Chapter 24 -- Chapter 25 -- Chapter 26 -- Chapter 27 -- Chapter 28 -- Chapter 29 -- Chapter 30 -- Chapter 31 -- Chapter 32
Author's Note: Okay, everybody. I thought long and hard about whether or not I should post this. My problem was that...well, it doesn't end with everything resolved. Things are still quite up in the air at the end, and Jack has not yet arrived back in Farmingdale. But the chapter was as long as all the previous chapters, and there was a good stopping point, and if I kept going there wouldn't be another good stopping point for quite some time and I felt that I had already taken enough of your time and patience with this chapter's delay. So I decided to go ahead and post it.
Now, if I'm able to keep going on the continuation of this chapter (I had already written more of it before I decided to end it here and post) and can finish another one soon, I will go ahead and post it rather than doing a Zero chapter next as is my usual habit. Or I may take a break and write a new Zero chapter. Then again, the Zero boys are in a pretty comfy place, which is not the case for the Vermont boys. I'll just have to see.
Anyway. Don't be too mad at me for posting this and leaving you still up in the air. I can't rush these things!
Liz careened into the hospital parking lot and stopped the car near what she hoped was a parking spot. She jumped out and ran to the emergency room doors. Junior was pacing the tile floor of the waiting area, her father’s blood staining her shirt. Her drawn, pinched face sagged into a folded mass of trying-not-to-cry when she saw Liz and she let herself be embraced, keeping her own arms wrapped securely around her midsection.
Junior had accompanied Ennis in the ambulance; Liz had lagged behind to give Walter the quick-and-dirty version of what had happened. She’d spared a moment to make two phone calls, one to Fred and one to Marianne. Fred was on his way to the ranch to corral all the people out on the now-pointless hunt for Ken, and Marianne would be meeting them here soon.
The knowledge that she would soon have to call Jack was heavy on her heart. She had considered doing it when she’d made the other calls, but decided against it. For one thing, she didn’t have his number and would have to hunt for it, but the more pressing concern was that she didn’t want to call Jack until she had something to tell him about Ennis’s condition. She couldn’t justify calling him only to say “Ennis has been beaten with a fireplace poker, but I don’t know how badly he’s hurt, I’ll have to call you back in half an hour.” Better to just wait the half hour and spare him the agony until she could give him something concrete.
“Have they told you anything?” Liz asked Junior, although she doubted it. She’d been no more than ten minutes behind the ambulance.
Junior pulled back and shook her head, dashing tears from her eyes. “They took him back there,” she said, pointing toward the emergency room doors. “They were…they seemed real concerned.” Her lower lip began to tremble again. “He looked so pale, Lizzie…so much blood comin from his mouth…”
“I know, honey,” Liz said, hugging Junior again, as much for her own comfort as the girl’s. “He’ll be okay.” He has to be. He HAS to be.
The emergency department was eerily quiet. The nurse at the reception desk had her head down, writing on something. Liz felt a sudden stab of resentment. How dare you do paperwork? Don’t you know my best friend could be dying in there? How can you sit there and answer the phone and write on charts while he’s lying on a gurney with blood coming out of his mouth?
She didn’t hear her name being called until the second time. She jerked and turned to see Peter coming toward her in his white doctor’s coat, looking concerned. She sagged as he approached. “Jesus, am I ever glad to see you,” she said, surprising herself a little with just how glad she was to see him.
“Liz, I heard Ennis was brought here! What happened?”
Junior had wandered off to stare out the window, so Liz led Peter a short distance away. “His brother beat him up with a fireplace poker.”
Peter stared at her. “Holy shit.”
“Yeah. He didn’t know Ennis was gay and Marty let it slip before Ennis could break it to him. He got drunk and lost it.”
“Oh my God.”
“Ken went out on some drunken bender and we were all out looking for him while Ennis waited at the house. I was out on the ranch, Junior was down at the bungalow. Ken must have come back on his own. She went up to the house to get some cake and heard them arguing. She called me on the shortwave and then hung back, but when I got to the house…well, Ken had gone at him with the poker. Junior beat him off with a frying pan. He’s…I don’t know. He looked bad,” she said, her voice catching and tears rising to her eyes again. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Oh, Lily Shankman’s in labor, I told her I’d stay with her until her OB gets here. You want me to find out what’s going on with Ennis?”
Liz looked past his shoulder. “Don’t think you’ll have to.” A doctor in scrubs was coming toward them; Liz didn’t recognize him. Junior hurried over from the window.
“Miss Del Mar?” he said.
“Yes?” Junior said, admirably holding her composure even while her voice shook.
“I’m Dr. Peakman, I’ve been taking care of your father.”
“How is he?”
Peakman sighed. “He’s badly hurt, I won’t lie to you. We have him stabilized but he’s bleeding internally. We need to get him into surgery as soon as possible. They’re getting ready to move him now.”
Junior nodded. “Okay,” she whispered. “But…is he gonna be all right?”
The doctor hesitated. “His condition is very serious.”
“What about his head? He got hit on the head.”
“He’s lucky. The head wound was incidental. I suspect it was a glancing blow, or the person wielding the weapon wasn’t swinging very hard. I’m much more concerned with what’s going on in his chest and abdomen, so we need to get him into the OR immediately.”
“Okay.”
Peakman glanced at Liz. “Are you his wife?”
“No, I’m a family friend.”
“Who is Mr. Del Mar’s next of kin?”
“His partner, Jack Twist.”
Peakman hesitated. “This…man…has a power of attorney document?”
“Yes, it’s at home.”
“I’ll need to see it.”
“It doesn’t matter, he’s not here.”
“If this man is next of kin, why isn’t he here?” Peakman said, one eyebrow arching.
“He’s in Wyoming taking care of his sick mother!” Liz snapped.
“I’m his daughter, can’t I consent to treatment for him?” Junior said.
“Are you a minor?”
“No, I’m nineteen.”
“Then yes, you can.”
Junior shot Liz a look. “Fine, let’s just do that, then.” The doctor looked relieved at this suggestion. “I’m sure Jack won’t mind,” Junior added, an edge to her voice. “Just…do whatever you have to do for my father, please,” she said.
“We’ll be taking him upstairs in a few minutes. There’s some, uh…paperwork…”
“I’ll handle it,” Liz said, reaching for the clipboard.
“There’s a waiting room up on the third floor. We’ll keep you informed.” The doctor nodded and backed two steps away, then turned and hurried into the emergency department.
Peter put a hand on Liz’s arm. “He doesn’t know them,” he said, quietly, not needing to be told that Liz would be angry about Peakman’s attitude.
“What do we do now?” Junior said, wiping at her eyes.
“Wait and pray.”
“We have to call Jack,” she said, her voice catching again. “Liz, he’s gonna…I can’t imagine.”
Liz nodded. “You want me to do it, honey? Or do you want to?”
Junior shook her head. “No, I don’t want to. I’ll lose it. I’m gonna go up to that waiting room.”
“I hate to think of you up there alone.”
“Marianne’s on her way, right?”
“I’m sure she’s not the only one.”
“I won’t be alone for long. Just…find Jack and tell him, Liz. He’s gotta come home right now. Daddy needs him here.” She sniffed. “So do I.”
Jack was too nervous to make small talk in the car. His mother seemed content to ride in silence, but he knew that he wasn’t fooling her. Putting one over on his mother was a skill he’d yet to master.
“Have you met Alma’s husband?” she finally asked.
“Nope,” Jack said. “Heard his voice on the phone once or twice.”
Grace nodded, and said nothing more, watching out the window as the limited scenery of Gillette passed by.
“It’s Francine I’m worried bout,” Jack blurted out, unable to contain himself any longer.
“Why’s that?”
“Well…what if she goes off on some kinda tear and starts spoutin her fire-n-brimstone craziness?”
“Then we pretend we don’t hear her,” Grace said, with a little nod.
“We pretend we don’t hear?” Jack repeated, surprised. “Not sure if I can do that.”
“You can and you will, John Henry,” she said. “We are invited ta dine in someone’s home, and Francine ain’t yer child nor mine. It ain’t our place ta correct her, much as we might want to. If she acts hateful it’s up ta her folks ta speak, not us.” She sighed. “Ya know, plenty a young folks act out cause they want attention, or say things they hope’ll shock you jus so’s ta get a reaction. Best thing is t’ignore em.”
Jack pondered this. “Maybe we won’t hafta deal with it at all,” he said. “Wouldn’t be surprised if she flat-out refused ta set at table with the likes a me.”
Grace smiled a little. “I think her mamma might have somethin ta say bout that.”
They pulled up to the house and parked. Jack shut off the ignition and just sat there for a moment. He could feel his mother watching him.
“Ain’t gonna get no easier, son,” she said gently.
He smiled at her. “Well, let’s get this over with.” He got out of the car and went around to help Grace from her seat, shutting the door after her. They went up the steps and Jack rang the bell. Within moments Monroe opened it, as if he’d just been lurking on the other side waiting for them.
He smiled, a tight this-wasn’t-my-idea sort of smile. “Evenin,” he said, holding the door open for them to enter.
Jack stuck out his hand. He didn’t have any quarrel with this man, after all. “Nice ta finally meet ya, Mr. Hudson.”
He hesitated just a moment, then shook Jack’s hand. “Call me Monroe.”
“All righty. If you’ll call me Jack, then. Like ya ta meet my mother, Grace Twist.”
Monroe’s smile warmed up a bit as he shook Grace’s hand. “Pleasure, ma’am. I’ve heard a lot about you from my wife.”
“She’s been so sweet ta keep me comp’ny,” Grace said.
“Well, we’re pleased ta have you in our home.”
Alma came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel which she then slung over her shoulder. “Grace,” she said warmly, coming to hug her.
“What a sweet, cozy home ya have here, honey,” Grace said.
Alma glanced around. “It’s nice, ain’t it? Actually we are thinkin a movin to a place closer ta Monroe’s work.” Her gaze shifted to Jack and drew back slightly. “Evenin, Jack.”
He whipped his hat off, embarrassed that he hadn’t done so sooner. “Evenin, Alma. Nice a you ta have us over.”
Alma just nodded. “Well…it was my pleasure,” she said. Jack imagined that there wasn’t a gracious way to say “I only meant to have your mother over but I suppose there wasn’t any way to avoid inviting you too, so we’ll all just make the best of it.”
Jack glanced around, looking for Francie. “Is…uh…”
Alma sighed and flapped a hand. “She’s up in her room, a course. She will be down for supper, though,” she said emphatically, and Jack could hear the echoes of the battles that had clearly already been waged on this topic.
“Smells real good,” Jack said, meaning it. Ennis had always spoken highly of Alma’s cooking, and having sampled a good bit of it during his stay in Gillette Jack could see why.
“Can I help you in the kitchen, honey?” Grace asked, as Monroe took her coat.
“Well…might be ya could frost the cake for me? I’m afraid I cain’t never make it look as nice as you do.”
“Be glad to,” Grace said, heading for the kitchen. Jack smiled a little. His mother was nowhere as comfortable as in a kitchen, any kitchen, and could be depended on to finagle her way into the nearest one at the slightest hint of encouragement. Alma followed her, leaving Jack and Monroe standing in the entryway.
If Monroe felt awkward, he covered it pretty well. “Come sit down, Jack,” he said. “Getcha a drink?”
“Uh…scotch if ya got it.”
“Sure enough.” He went to the small bar by the dining room table and returned with two glasses of Scotch on the rocks, taking a seat opposite Jack in what was evidently his favorite chair, judging by how it was molded to his shape.
Jack sipped his drink, looking around at the evidence of lives he knew nothing of, save what Junior told him. “Good,” he said, holding up his glass.
Monroe nodded. “Listen, Jack,” he said, staring at his own glass. “I know this is awkward for you n Alma.”
Jack sniffed. “I guess that’s one way ta put it.”
“Jus so ya know…I ain’t got no quarrel with ya.”
“Uh…thanks.”
“In fact, times I’ve thought I oughta thank you.”
“Why’s that?”
“Ain’t no secret that I…well, always thought Alma was a fine woman. Sweet a temper n face. Course she was married ta Ennis and he ain’t the kinda man ya cross in that way.”
“No, he ain’t.”
“So, uh…I guess I owe ya one. Fer helpin things along.”
Jack just blinked, a stupid-ass smile on his face, wondering if he was really sitting in Alma’s house while her husband thanked him for breaking up her first marriage. “Don’t know that I played no part in their troubles,” he said.
“Oh, that ain’t so and we both know it.”
Jack sat back. “I gotta say, yer pretty open-minded fer a churchgoin Wyomin man.”
Monroe thought for a moment, turning his glass around and around on the arm of his chair. “I done my share a judgin. But you n Ennis been real good ta Junior and…well, ya seem like a decent fella. What do I care what ya get up to behind closed doors?”
Jack nodded. “I appreciate that.” Ennis had described Monroe as uptight and irritating, but he seemed nice enough to Jack. Then again, Jack wasn’t the man’s ex-husband.
“Besides, listenin ta some a the crap comin out a Francie’s mouth…well, it’s enough ta make a man think real hard bout his own attitudes.”
Alma came into the living room then. “Dinner’s served. Wanna take yer seats at table?” Jack nodded and rose, Monroe doing the same. Alma stepped to the base of the stairs and shouted up. “Francine! Dinnertime!”
Jack paused and watched the upper hall as Francine’s door opened. She emerged from her room and walked down the stairs, right past Jack without so much as a glance, and into the dining room. Alma called up the boys from their basement playroom and sat them down next to Francine. Jack sat next to Monroe with Grace at his side, next to Alma. “You must be Francine,” Grace said, smiling warmly across the table. “I’m Jack’s mamma, you jus call me Grace, okay? My, aren’t you a pretty little thing?”
Jack had to smile at his mother’s back-country charm…Francine was a pretty girl but seemed to be doing her best to hide it. Her hair was pulled back in an unflatteringly tight ponytail, her face ashy-pale and hidden behind huge glasses. Francine managed a tiny smile in return. “Nice to meet you, ma’am,” she said, quietly. Jack saw her eyes flick quickly to his face; her jaw set again and she looked down at her plate.
Alma brought out a large platter of pot roast and vegetables. Jack dug in after everyone was served, grateful for an activity to deflect all the different levels of awkwardness that were percolating around the table.
Liz flew down the driveway at inadvisable speeds and braked hard, yanking herself against the seat belt before flinging it off and launching out of the car and up the porch steps. She didn’t want to be away from the hospital any longer than she absolutely had to be, but she couldn’t put off calling Jack for another minute.
After finishing Ennis’s admission paperwork she had joined Junior in the third-floor waiting room. Marianne was already there, sitting at her side and holding her hand. She’d met Liz’s eyes as she entered and shook her head to let her know that they still didn’t know anything.
Liz sat on Junior’s other side and put one arm around her shoulders. They waited for what seemed like hours but was in fact less than twenty minutes before the surgeon came to speak to them.
His words were like a half-remembered dream. Massive internal bleeding…spleen rupture…transfusions…blood pressure…hours of work ahead…know more later…
She’d gotten to her feet like her marionette strings were being yanked savagely upwards. “I’ve got to call Jack now,” she said. There still wasn’t much she could tell him but this was as good as it was going to get for awhile. The sooner he left, the sooner he’d be here.
Junior nodded vigorously, wiping her nose. “Yes, right away. Hurry.”
So now she was in her office, tearing it apart for his hotel number. Ennis had it, she knew, but she couldn’t remember if she’d written it down someplace.
She stopped and gathered herself. Think, Elspeth. Clear your mind. Where would Ennis have it written down?
Someplace close at hand. Where he’d have it near when he needed it.
She hurried down to their bedroom and rummaged in Ennis’s bedside table, finding nothing but an orphaned sock, a couple of dog-eared paperbacks and some lube, which she could have lived without seeing. Her eyes fell on the hardcover lying face-down on the table and she grabbed it up, flicking through the flyleaf and then to the back cover where, to her relief, she found Jack’s hotel and room number noted down in Ennis’s spidery handwriting.
She sat down on the bed and dialed the number, then asked the desk clerk to ring his room. She shut her eyes and waited, holding her breath, wondering how on earth she was supposed to tell Jack that the man he loved might be dying on an operating table right this second.
She didn’t get the chance. There was no answer. She left an urgent message with the desk clerk for Jack to call home, and if no one answered, that he should call the hospital and ask for her.
She flung the book aside in frustration. Where could he be? Probably with his mother…wait a minute…
She leapt from the bed and ran back to the office, searching out the statement they’d received from Grace’s assisted-living center and blessing her own organization when she found it right where it ought to be, in a file marked “Grace” in the filing cabinet under “Personal.” She dialed the center, but there was no answer in Grace’s room, either.
Maybe Alma knows where they are. Shit, do I have her number? I must have it around here someplace…
She knew she did; Ennis still sent child support for Francie. She flipped through her Rolodex and there it was. “Alma Hudson, Gillette, WY.” She sat down and dialed the number. Please know where Jack is, Alma. Please be willing to help me find him.
As Alma cleared the dinner dishes, conscripting a stone-faced Francine to assist, Jack felt himself beginning to relax a little. He’d offered to help clear but had been refused, so he just sat and listened to his mother chatting with Monroe like they were old high-school friends at a reunion. The boys had long since begged to be excused so they could return to whatever urgent business little boys had.
“Yer folks live in Cheyenne, then?” Grace was asking Monroe.
“Sure do, ma’am,” he said. “I try’n get down ta see em as often as I can. They come up sometimes, when they can, to see the boys.”
“I see,” Grace said, her eyes flicking to Jack’s face. He saw there the same thought that came to his mind: To see the boys. Poor Francine’s really a fifth wheel around here, isn’t she? It made him want to bundle her up and take her home to Farmingdale with him, no matter how much she kicked and screamed.
Francine came out with a stack of small plates which Jack guessed were for the cake. She silently placed one in front of everyone. “Thanks, Francie,” Jack said, looking up and meeting her eyes. She just stared at him; for a moment he thought she was going to snap at him, but then she seemed to think better of it and just sat down in her chair.
Alma brought out the cake. “That looks mighty good, hon,” Monroe said.
“Might that be yer carrot cake?” Jack said, hopefully.
She smiled a little. “It might be.” She was about to slice into it when the phone rang. “Oh, who could that be?” she said, a frown appearing between her eyes.
“Let it go, it’s dinnertime,” Monroe said. “Folks ought ta know better than ta call durin the supper hour.”
Alma sighed. “I better get it. I am expectin that call from Lynda about the church bazaar.” She put down the knife and went into the kitchen, leaving Grace, Jack, Monroe and Francine to wait in silence. “Hello?” Jack heard her say. “Who’s this? Oh, Liz!”
Jack sat up straighter. Liz? Our Liz? I guess Alma could know a Liz, too…
“What’s wrong? Ya sound real…What? Oh no, he’s here. Him n his mother are round fer supper. I’ll get him for ya right away. Hang on.”
Jack was already up out of his chair. “Alma?”
She came around the doorway. “Jack, it’s Liz. She sounds real upset.”
A million unsettling thoughts raced through Jack’s mind but none had time to coalesce into outright fear before the phone was in his hand. “Lizzie?” he said.
He heard Liz burst into tears at the sound of his voice. “Jack…”
“Take a breath, darlin. What’s wrong?” His other hand gripped the edge of the countertop. Alma was hovering at his side.
“Is it Junior?” she hissed.
He heard Liz suck in a deep breath and compose herself. “Ennis is in the hospital, Jack. You have to come home, now.”
A high-pitched rushing noise began to whistle through his head. Alma’s kitchen receded to a pinpoint. “What happened? Is he all right?” His voice had jumped half an octave but he couldn’t help it.
“Ken found out…you know…and he…he went out and got drunk then came back and beat him with a fireplace poker. He’s still in surgery. Internal bleeding, the doctor said. It’s bad.”
Jack shut his eyes and hung on to the phone, his only tether to the world at the moment. “When did this happen?”
“Just about an hour ago. Jack…I think Ken would have killed him, but Junior came in and stopped him. Hit him with one of Marianne’s frying pans.”
“Ya say he’s still in surgery?” Jack heard Alma gasp, hearing only his side of the conversation.
“Yeah. They say it’ll be awhile before we know anything else, so I came home to call you.”
“I’m comin, Liz. I’ll leave right now.”
“How are you going to…”
“I’ll figure somethin out,” he snapped. “Just…I’m comin. But Lizzie…you won’t be able ta reach me while I’m on the way, and…well…”
“Do you trust Junior? And me? She can…you know, make decisions. She’s his daughter and she’s over eighteen.”
“Yeah, I trust her. And you. But better get our papers from the house, just so’s we’ve got em.”
He heard Liz sniffling. “I’ll get them now. I’ll be heading back. If you get a chance to call again, call the hospital or call Arlene. I’ll keep her updated by phone in case you can’t reach us for some reason.”
“Okay.” Jack had his eyes shut tight so he wouldn’t see the room spinning. “Lizzie…I…”
“I know. I know. He’ll be okay.”
“I gotta believe that.”
“He will.”
“He has ta be.”
“He will.”
“But…aw Christ…what if he…while I’m on some plane…what if…and I’m not there? What if I don’t make it in time and he…without me? I fuckin promised him…”
“Don’t think like that. Just get back fast as you can.”
“I will.”
Lizzie hung up. Jack let the phone drop, leaned over the kitchen sink and lost the lovely dinner Alma had just served in a decidedly unlovely heave. Shuddering, he sagged against the countertop and let his head drop down, his chest sawing in and out. He felt Alma’s hand on his shoulder. “Jack, what is it? Somethin happen ta Ennis?” Her voice was shaking and her hand was like an iron claw on him; she’d heard enough to know it was bad.
Jack spit in the sink and ran the water, cupping a handful to his mouth. “His brother beat him nearly ta death when he found out,” he said in a low voice. “Still in surgery and he’s hurt bad.”
“Oh dear God,” Alma said.
He straightened up. “I gotta go. Right now.”
She nodded. “A course ya do.”
He met her eyes for the first time; they were wide in her pale, pale face. He could only imagine how he himself looked. “How much ya want Francie ta know?”
Alma blinked like the thought was just occurring. “Guess she oughta know he’s hurt. Maybe…jus he had an accident.”
Jack nodded and strode out into the dining room. His mother was watching him with anxious eyes. “Jack, what’s wrong? Somethin happen at home?”
He took a deep breath and tried to push everything into a tight little dark corner so he could be rational. “Yeah, Ma.” He looked at Francine, who had risen and come around the table to join them. “Francie, I’m sorry ta tell ya that yer dad’s had an accident, and he’s in the hospital. I gotta go home now n look after him.”
She frowned. “What kinda accident?”
“Now, that don’t matter right now, just…”
“No, you tell me! What kinda accident’s my father had?”
Jack glanced at Alma, who gave a little shrug, then nodded. “All right. Yer dad’s brother, who I guess you ain’t never met, well, he’s been visitin past few days. He found out about yer dad n me before he could be told proper and he kinda lost it.”
Francie rose to her feet, her jaw clenching. “He hurt my dad?”
Jack nodded, wishing he could just lose it, just let go and yell and scream and cry and throw things and somehow teleport himself home so he could throttle the life out of Ken Del Mar and offer up his own life or anyone else’s if only Ennis could be okay. “Fraid so. He beat on him, and yer dad’s hurt bad. Now, don’t you worry, he’s gonna be fine, but I gotta go home now.”
Grace came around the table, her face stricken. “Oh, Jackie…oh sweet Jesus…” She put her arms around his chest and hugged him. Jack patted her shoulders.
“Now Ma, don’t you take on so, everything’s gonna be fine.” He looked down into her face and spoke quietly. “Please, Ma. I am hangin on by a thread and if yer too emotional on me I’m jus gonna lose it.” She nodded and stepped back, her hands to her mouth.
Monroe was getting to his feet. “Can we help?” he said, simply.
Jack glanced at Alma. “Can ya…maybe take my mother home? Look after her?”
She nodded. “Course we can, no trouble at all.”
“I gotta helluva drive ahead so I’ll jus…”
“You,” Francine said suddenly, her voice low and choked with unshed tears.
Jack frowned. “What?”
“You n yer…perversions,” she said.
He sighed. “This ain’t the time, Francie.”
“My daddy might…he might die?”
The word cut through Jack like a hot lance. He harrumphed. “He’s hurt bad.”
She drew herself up and thrust her chin at him, defiant, that zealot’s light coming into her eyes again, the light he’d seen in the hotel room when she’d called him the devil. “Then it’ll be on yer head, Jack Twist.”
“Francie!” Alma exclaimed.
“You drug my daddy down with ya now it’s God’s retribution on ya! He’s hurt cause he’s queer and he’s queer cause you made him so!” She was shouting now. Jack was just clenching his jaw and looking away, frozen in place. “God damn you, Jack!” she cried, her tears coming hard now. She stepped forward and cracked her hand hard across Jack’s face before anyone could stop her. “If he dies it’ll be on yer head! Yer head!” She made to hit him again but Jack caught her hands and held her fast.
“My head?” he yelled, feeling his self-control leaving him fast. “His brother beat him cause he listened too much t’all the hateful trash comin from the likes a yer precious Reverend, Francie! You wanna know who’s ta blame fer yer daddy bein hurt? How bout all the fuckin hatemongers spreadin ignorant poison t’anybody who’ll listen? You feelin guilty, huh? Cause you sit in what you call a church and stand up ta be counted with folks who’d be only too glad ta beat yer daddy, too? Or maybe ya wish you’d been the one ta beat him!” Francie gasped and Jack pushed her away, afraid of what he might do or say next if he didn’t put her from him.
Monroe stepped closer. “Jack, that’s enough!”
Jack pulled himself back. It was difficult. “It ain’t enough, Monroe. Ain’t never enough. She ain’t blamin me fer somethin what can be laid at the door a folks she calls friends and I don’t hafta listen ta this crap. My man needs me and I am goin ta him jus as fast as I can.” He tossed an apologetic glance at his mother, then turned and hurried out the door.
He was to the car before he realized he’d left his jacket inside. He turned to go back but Alma was coming out, the jacket in her hand. She joined him at the car and handed it to him. “Jack, I’m…sorry ya had ta hear all that.”
“I shouldn’ta yelled at her like that, no matter what she said. She’s just a kid bein led astray.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Ennis wouldn’t like me bein harsh on her,” he muttered.
“I swear I don’t know what I’m gonna do with her. My land, she sounded outta her head in there.”
“Get her away from those church folks, that’s what ya gotta do.”
“It ain’t so easy.”
Jack blinked hard. “I gotta get goin.”
“Jack, listen…you’ve got a long drive, right?”
“Yeah, real fuckin long.”
“Well…we got a regional airport here in Gillette. I don’t know, maybe you can get a short flight ta Denver, save you some time. They could maybe find yer flight home too, so’s ya don’t hafta worry bout that once ya get there. You could even hire a plane if there ain’t no flights.”
Jack nodded. “That’s a fine idea,” he said, grateful. “It’ll surely save me some hours. Thanks, Alma.”
“I’ll, uh…look after yer ma, don’t you worry none.”
He sighed. “Thankin you’s getting ta be a habit.”
She flapped a hand. “Ya know I’m fond a Grace.”
“Seems like lately yer doin stuff fer me that’s beyond jus bein fond a Grace.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away. “You ain’t so bad, Jack. Maybe…” She shifted, and looked at her feet. “I guess I can maybe see why he…well.” She cleared her throat.
Jack watched her lowered head. “Shit,” he said. “That hadta hurt ta say.”
“Oh, you’ll never know,” she said, glancing up at him. “Did I hear somethin bout Junior in that call? She okay?”
He nodded. “She’s my damn hero, is all. Liz said Junior stopped Ken beatin on Ennis. Went after him with a fryin pan. Probly saved Ennis’s life.”
Alma put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, dear Lord.” She shook her head, then chuckled a bit. “Guess I oughtn’t worry so much bout her bein at school on her own.”
“Alma, I gotta…”
“I know, you gotta go. Jus…you call, okay? Let us know how he’s doin?”
Jack nodded, seeing concern in her eyes. He wondered, not for the first time, if some part of Alma still loved Ennis. Not so much if there’s a part, he thought, as how large a part. “I surely will.”
She held his gaze for a moment. Jack didn’t know how it happened but all at once they were embracing, a tight squeeze of be-careful and he’ll-be-fine and I-know-he’s-yours-now and I’ll-take-care-of-him-for-ya and you-ain’t-so-bad. Almost as soon as it had begun, it was over. Alma stepped away and walked quickly back to the house without a look back, as if she were a little embarrassed to have just hugged the man she’d spent so much time hating. Jack watched her go, then got in the car and drove away as fast as he could safely do.