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Though the rain pelted the windows like the sound of thousands
of bugs trying to intrude, the Johnson family continued to eat their supper in
relative silence. But this ritual of weak conversation had grown old for Buck,
and there was something important he needed to discuss with his father.
“I’m glad you’re home tonight, Pa,” Buck said. He
received some surprised looks from his parents and wondered if it was what
he’d said, or simply the fact that he’d spoken at all.
“Me too. It’s a nice change from eating in that
restaurant,” Brock replied. It seemed to be the best he could do at
complimenting his wife for the meal, though he didn’t bother to look at her.
“Well I need to talk to you and Ma about something.” He sat
up straight, chose his words carefully, and wanted to speak like a lawyer
defending his cause. Buck hoped that his mannerisms would catch his father’s
attention.
“What have you done now?” Brock asked with frustration.
“Nothing, honest. I ain’t done nothin’ wrong,” insisted
Buck, but he regretted sounding so awkward and defensive.
“What is it then?” Though Brock’s voice still harbored
some anger, he was able to relax a bit knowing that he didn’t have to rescue
Buck out of some sort of trouble. “Are you wanting money? Found something you
want to squander away my hard earned money on?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just that Nathan and
I…”
“Nathan?” Brock interrupted as he shot a stunned look at
his younger son; Nathan forced a smile, trying to disarm his father’s
sternness. “Going by your real names all of sudden? Hmm, this must be
serious.”
“Yeah, well, like I was sayin’, Nathan and I have been
thinking about something.” Buck paused for a second to build up his courage.
Though Nathan was in his brother’s corner, his support was little more than a
wide-eyed stare. “We want to start goin’ to church, and we want you and Ma
to come with us.” He managed to get it all out while holding his breath.
Brock looked at his son for a moment, then began laughing
sarcastically.
“So that’s it. Doing a little soul searching, are you?”
“Something like that,” answered Buck—or, rather, Daniel.
“Well, what do you say, Ma?” asked Brock with a raised
voice. His wife only responded with a blank, cold look on her face; she knew her
husband was about to let loose with some condescending, firy remarks. "We
could go for a picnic afterwards. The boys and I could do a little fishing while
you make us some sandwiches. Why, I bet if we had to, we could look and act like
a real family. Maybe we could even have us a few more young ones…”
At that insensitive comment, Elizabeth sprang from her seat and
left the room, sobbing.
For a few moments, the room was silent. No one looked at anyone
else; they were all lost, thinking about the same thing—Michael’s death.
“I guess that means you can count us out, boys,” Brock
eventually said. He tried to sound unemotional, but his face was pained with
regret and sorrow.
“You could still come with us, Pa,” suggested Nathan, in a
quiet, innocent way that only a young person could manage.
“It’s no use, boys. I’ve done just fine without the Lord,
and I doubt He’s missing me. I’ve got a lot of work to do.” Abruptly, he
left the table.
“You still wanna go?” Nathan asked after the sting of
disappointment started to fade.
“More than ever,” Daniel said with passion.
All the while, rain continued to fall, like angels crying from
above.
©2004 StoriesByEmail.com
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