"What A Mother Leaves Behind" by Ridley C. James

Chapter 2

"And so our mothers and grandmothers have, more often than not anonymously, handed on the creative spark, the seed of the flower they themselves never hoped to see -- or like a sealed letter they could not plainly read." -Alice Walker

Jim Murphy opened the door to the small room off Mr. Reynolds’s office and stepped inside. The two hour drive had given him far too much time to stew, so the three sets of innocent eyes had none of their usual effect. Jim would be the first to admit he tended to be overindulgent, but there were limits even to his patience.

Sam was the first to speak. He gave a halfhearted wave. “Hey, Pastor Jim.”

“Samuel.” Jim noticed the second grader was sitting closest to the door, paper and crayons in front of him.

The cleric shifted his gaze to Dean, who was beside his little brother, math book opened, pencil in hand, attempting what Jim deciphered as a contemplative look. “Dean, I would find it more believable that you were actually doing something constructive if the book wasn’t upside down.”

Dean tried for a smile. “My particular learning disorder works in strange and mysterious ways, Jim.”

"You don't have a learning disorder," Jim quickly dismissed the teen's not so humorous quip.

“How’s the parishioner?” Caleb asked. The eldest of the Musketeers was across from Dean, ice pack held over his knuckles. He gave the preacher a sheepish smile. “I hope this doesn’t mean she croaked.”

“Your concern is touching.” Jim moved across the room to stand in front of Dean. He reached out and lifted the teen’s chin, getting a better look at his bruised face. He looked the worst of the three. Jim let him go with a sad shake of his head. “You’re also lucky she made a miraculous recovery. Evidently all she wanted was a bit of attention. I think you all can understand that.”

Caleb rolled his eyes. ”Yeah, because we’re obviously acting out.”

Jim sent him a disapproving scowl. Sometimes he wondered if Caleb would get through his adolescence before Dean became completely immersed in his. Honestly, Jim wasn’t sure if The Triad could deal with more than one teenager at a time. “I take it the police car outside is waiting for you?”

“Caleb’s going to prison?” Sam cried.

“Is that true?” Dean looked to Caleb. “Is that what Reynolds talked to you about?”

Jim watched the carefree smile slide into place as Caleb tossed the ice pack aside. It didn’t surprise him the older boy had spared the other two that bit of information. Mr. Reynolds had informed him over the phone that Caleb convinced the officer to let him stay until someone else could come for the boys. “It’s no big deal,” Caleb said. “And it’s county jail, Runt. Nothing like prison.”

“But your brain will shrivel up like a stone,” Sam said. ”I don’t want you to go.”

Caleb reached across the table and bumped his fist against Dean’s hand. “Deuce, tell your little brother I’ll be out in no time. Jim won’t let the future Knight rot in prison.”

Dean slouched further in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He bit his lip, not replying, but Jim noticed the teen’s face had reddened, his green eyes growing brighter than usual.

The pastor exhaled heavily, leaning on the table. Despite the circumstances he was reminded how vulnerable his charges could be. “My boys, I think I may be able to spare your ‘uncle’ a trip to the big house and prevent Dean’s expulsion if only one of you would care to explain how a simple disagreement between two second-graders turned into a cafeteria free for all.” Jim had yet to be informed of the details.

“The food fight was not our fault,” Caleb said. “I’m guessing those kids were just waiting for a reason to revolt against your Highness Hitler. She got everything she deserved.”

“It’s my fault,” Dean said.

“No, it isn’t,” Caleb countered. “I knew better.”

“But I started it,” Sam looked up at the preacher. “I lost my cool, Pastor Jim. I should have turned the other cheek and let God smite Gregory.”

Jim fought hard to keep the smile from his face at Sam’s earnest confession and literal interpretation of Bible verse. “I agree that you did not show the greatest restraint, Samuel, but I’m more concerned about what took place with Gregory’s father.” The pastor turned his gaze on the two older boys.

“Caleb only hit the guy once,” Dean defended. “It wasn’t his fault the Hulk Hogan wannabe had a glass jaw.”

“Don’t help me, Deuce.”

Jim ran a hand through his silver hair. A part of him was deeply touched by the way the boys were protecting one another. It heartened him to see his future Triad work together, but in spite of their prospective positions, possibly because of them, he could not let the boys think that careless actions were without consequence. “Caleb should not have hit anyone, especially on school property.”

“But Caleb doesn’t like it when people say bad things about me and Dean.” Sam pleaded. “It’s a brother thing.”

Jim looked at Caleb. “What did Cory’s father say to you?”

Caleb cut his gaze to Dean, glanced to Sam. “Just the usual crap.”

“That doesn’t give me much to go on.”

“It’s not going to save you from the chair,” Sam said.

Dean banged his fist on the table. “He said it was a good thing our mom was dead.” The teen’s voice trembled with barely controlled emotion and Jim’s resolve wavered. “He called her trash and said we were the result of bad breeding, like a bunch of mutts. They were laughing at us, laughing about our mom being dead.”

“That’s not what he meant.” Caleb shook his head. “That bastard was just blowing off steam. He doesn’t have a clue about you or Sammy.”

“Then why did you go after him like that?”

“I wasn’t thinking. Like Sammy said, I lost my cool.” Caleb glanced up at Jim, quirked his lip. “My faith in God’s shit list isn’t that great either.”

Dean quickly swiped at a tear that breached his hard fought defenses. “God punishes the wrong people all the damn time.”

“My boy.” Jim knelt in front of the teen, placed a hand on his knee. “God has little to do with punishment.” He cut his gaze to Caleb. “Or cosmic checks and balances. His role is one of forgiveness, not retribution.”

“Then why is there a Hell?” Sam asked. “Isn’t that where God sends bad people?”

Jim was spared the impossible reply by a knock at the door. Mr. Reynolds stuck his head inside. “Mr. Murphy, Officer Mendez and I can speak with you now.”

“I’ll be right out.” Jim stood. “Any last words before I go.”

“Talk to Katie,” Caleb said. “She’ll explain everything.”

RcJSnsnsnsnsNRcJ

Jim’s meeting with Principal Reynolds and Officer Mendez ended with Dean serving an in school suspension of three days and sitting out the next baseball game. Sammy would not be allowed to participate in recess for a week. Making an arrangement regarding Caleb was difficult, but inventive, although Caleb hadn't appreciated the creativeness. He would be building new pantry shelves for Stella, the cafeteria director. All in all, it could have been worse.

The boys were expecting worse. Jim had remained quiet during dinner; the boys avoided any conversation pertaining to the school. He wasn't planning their demise, as he imagined they assumed if their atypical contrite behavior was any indication. On the contrary, Jim believed Caleb, Dean and Samuel had suffered enough punishment for a lifetime. It worried him how they all had acted impulsively, but it wasn't unusual since base emotions were involved. Jim’s only mission was to spare them further harm. He wanted them to be happy.

The pastor brought Scout with him upstairs, allowing the dog to jump into Caleb's bed, and lick the college student's face. He watched as Caleb groaned, smiling. He wasn’t above a modicum of harmless retribution. Caleb cracked an eye open before shoving Scout’s head away from his face as he tried unsuccessfully to burrow deeper under his quilts.

“Rise and shine, my boy! You’ll get nowhere moving that slow.”

“That’s good because I really have no place to be at…” Caleb turned towards the alarm clock. “Six forty-five on a Saturday morning.”

“I would have to disagree with that.” Jim leaned over the psychic's bed, jerking the covers away. “Breakfast will be ready in five minutes, I’m counting on you to get the boys up and inform them of our trip.”

“Trip?”

“Yes.” Jim smiled. He had planned it during dinner, and was glad the boys had gone to bed early. “We’re going hiking.”

“Hiking?” Caleb moaned. “Couldn’t we just walk out back to the woodshed and get it over with.”

“I don’t deal in that kind of punishment, my boy.”

“Right. This is about forgiveness.”

“In a way.” Jim's voice faltered for a moment as he thought about the significance of the place he was taking them. “That is exactly what this is about.”

Confident Caleb was up for the task Jim went to check the animals in the barn. Returning, he heard Dean’s voice from the screened porch, eaves dropping on the familiar exchange before going in.

“Why do we have to go on a stupid hike? I hate the woods,” Dean said.

“I like the woods,” Sam spoke up. “Maybe we’ll see a bear.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It was kind of funny,” Caleb replied. “Maybe we should take some honey just in case.”

Jim didn't know when Dean had gained his phobia about bears or why, but he entered the house clearing his throat as he saw Dean was in the midst of a outlawed hand gesture to Caleb. “I see everyone is back to behaving as usual this morning?” He took in the disgruntled shrugs as he strapped on his pack, handing off some extra supplies to Caleb. “Would you be so kind to carry these, my boy?”

Caleb looked at Dean. Jim had handed him a collapsible shovel and box of fertilizer. “Uhh…only if I can ask what these are for.”

“You ‘may’ ask, but I would rather it be a surprise.” The boys often saw him as a doting grandfather; sometimes it was fun to act the part of the devious Guardian.

“We don’t like surprises,” Dean replied.

“I like surprises,” Sam countered.

“Then you go with Jim and Damien and I will stay here and hold down the farm.”

“We’re all going,” Jim smiled. “And a good time will be had by all.” He took Sam’s hand and started for the door, Atticus Finch and Scout in tow.

“Are we there yet?” Sam asked for at least the tenth time and Jim worked hard to ignore the eight-year-old, whistling as he forged ahead up the rugged trail.

“We should be in Tennessee by now,” Dean muttered. “Maybe even North Carolina.”

“We’re still in Kentucky, my boy.” Jim kept moving, glancing over his shoulder. He knew the trail by heart. “It’s not much further now.”

“That’s what you said two hours ago.” Dean wiped a hand across his forehead. “I think I would rather have mucked the horse stalls.”

“Careful what you wish for, Deuce. He’s probably saving that for after the forced march.”

Jim kept attuned to the conversation behind him as he absorbed the beauty around them. It was a perfect May morning, crisp and cool, not a cloud in the sky. Emma would have loved it.

“But Scout’s hungry,” Sam whined.

The Black Labrador had her nose to the ground the entire trip, rooting under piles of dead leaves and tangled tree limbs. “Some poor squirrel is going to pay the ultimate price.”

Caleb laughed and Jim cast a glance heavenward. “Sammy, when have you known Scout to catch anything but a baseball and on a lucky day her own tail. She’s not exactly a credit to her breed.”

“She’s a Black Labrador Retriever, the best hunting dog ever!”

“I don’t know about that,” Dean said. “But Atticus Finch might nab us a couple of cute baby bunny rabbits. We could cook us up a stew.”

Jim glanced down to the Golden Retriever padding along at his side and warm brown eyes gazed up at him in what Jim imagined was a guilt-ridden grimace. It had been last spring when Atticus playfully dragged in Bunnicula as a gift for the boys. Sam was not impressed with the injured baby rabbit, but rather traumatized by its plight.

“Maybe Scout will scare up a bear and the bear will make a meal out of you,” Sam said.

“There aren’t any bears in these woods. Right, Jim?”

Jim stopped, leaning on his walking stick. “On the contrary. I’ve spotted quite a few black bears on this very mountain.”

Atticus whined, but Jim felt little shame in lying to the older Winchester. After all, Dean was merciless when it came to dishing out his fair share of teasing.

Jim watched as Caleb elbowed Dean. “Maybe we could check out a few caves on the way back down.”

“Maybe you won’t be coming back down, Damien. “ Dean gestured to the shovel handle sticking out of Caleb’s pack. “Jim holds you ultimately responsible. He probably brought me and Sammy along to help dig the grave.”

Caleb shoved Dean. “I’ve seen you dig. Jim didn’t bring enough food for an overnight stay.”

Dean punched him. “I can work circles around you.”

Jim sighed at the typical horseplay and carried on, grinning to himself as Samuel offered his own theories on the need for a shovel.

“Maybe we’re digging mushrooms or roots to make root beer? We could be digging a foxhole?”

Caleb snorted. “A foxhole?”

“Dad makes us when we’re on maneuvers.”

Jim frowned with a shake of his head. The Knight was an enigma at times.

“I don’t think Pastor Jim brought us up here to play war,” Dean said.

“Why did he bring us here?” Sam asked wearily.

“For this.” Jim stopped suddenly, turning to face the boys. The sweet scent of new blooms tickled his nose.

Caleb propped his hands on his hips, looking around them. “We have trees on the farm.”

“There is more here than meets the eye.” Jim thought it ironic that he had told Principal Reynolds and Officer Mendez the very same thing concerning the boys. What they saw as opposition and defiance, Jim recognized as survival. Protectiveness was ingrained by circumstance, as was fierceness and unyielding loyalty. He motioned for the three to follow, pushing through a stand of spruce and fir.

“Wow.” Sam had moved to his side. “Is this what Heaven looks like?”

The pastor smiled, inhaling deeply. “I like to think so.” Not more than ten yards before them nature opened up like a grand ballroom. A sprawling mass of wildflowers ran the length of a football field. From crimson red and flamingo pink to canary yellow and sky blue, the blossoms were various shapes and sizes fanning out in a sea of waving colors. Jim’s chest tightened, his eyes stinging.

“Cool,” Dean said with a hint of awe Jim hadn’t heard from the teen in a while. “It’s like a secret garden.”

Jim nodded, squeezing his shoulder. “A secret I haven’t shared with anyone in over twenty years, at least until now.”

Scout took off in a sprint, sending a flock of yellow butterflies scattering about, which she took great joy in snapping at. Atticus yawned and sauntered towards a large single oak in the center of the field.

“It looks like a painting.”

Jim glanced to Caleb. “Maybe you’ll do one of it someday.”

The twenty year-old shrugged off the suggestion, following after Atticus.

“Are we going to plant more flowers, Jim?” Sam asked. “Is that why you brought the shovel?”

“We’re going to plant something even better.” Jim motioned to the tree. “Come with me.”

He led the boys to the strapping oak which stood nearly fifteen feet high. “This is what I wanted you to see.”

Caleb and Dean exchanged a look and then Caleb cleared his throat. “We hiked to see an oak tree?”

Jim patted the bark. “Not just any tree. Emma’s tree.”

Sam gazed up at the expansive limbs covered in a coat of shiny green leaves. “Did Miss Emma plant this tree?”

“She did. We did,” he corrected himself. “It was only a tiny sapling when we brought it up here.” Jim slid out of his pack, dropping it gently to the ground. “It was the spring before she died. I like to think she wanted to leave something behind. A living thing that could take strong roots, reach for the sky, a testament that she had once been here. ”

When neither boy said anything Jim bent down and began unloading his bag. “After she was gone, it took a while for me to work up the courage to come back here.” He took out three brown paper packages and spread them on the ground. “And when I did I came with every intention to cut the damn thing down.”

“Why would you do that?” Sam asked, softly.

“Because I was angry, Samuel. Angry at Emma for leaving me behind. And more than a little mad at God for taking the person I loved most in the world.”

“What stopped you?” Dean asked.

“Nothing at first.” Jim rocked back on his heels, pointing to an ugly gash in the tree’s bark. “I took a couple of good swings at her. Then I remembered the way Emma looked when she studied our finished work that day. The loving way she touched each tiny leaf before we took our leave. She put a part of herself into that tree, and I just didn’t have it in me to lose one more piece of her. ”

Sam studied the tree in grave seriousness for a moment, before lifting his face to Jim’s once more. “Do you think Dad remembers the way my Mom looked at me?” he asked.

Jim smiled. Sam’s ability to see beyond the surface amazed him. He cupped the boy’s cheek. “My dear child, I’m sure he thinks about it every day.”

“I’m surprised the tree didn’t die.” Caleb said. He kept one hand on Dean’s shoulder, but used his other to trace over the deep scoring. “You damaged it pretty good.”

“I imagine Miss Emma had something to do with that.”

“Her heart made it strong,” Sam said.

“That’s right, my boy.” Jim removed his touch, winking at him. He glanced to Caleb. “The love always tells.”

“Principal Reynolds told you,” Caleb said.

“He did.” Jim nodded, returning his eyes to Sam. “And Katie filled me in on the rest. Speaking of which, she gave me this.” Jim reached into his pack and pulled out a folded piece of construction paper. “I thought you might like to have it back.”

Sam took the card and carefully unfolded it. “Thanks.”

“What is it?” Dean looked over his little brother’s shoulder.

Sam pulled the picture to his chest. “Nothing.”

“It doesn’t look like nothing.”

“It’s just a stupid card.”

“On the contrary,” Jim opened the paper bags, revealing three small saplings. “I thought it was a lovely drawing.”

“It’s not very good.” Sam met the preacher’s gaze. “I don’t really remember what she looks like.”

“Like who looks like?” Dean asked.

“I believe you got the hair and eyes just right.”

Sam smiled. “That’s because Daddy says they were like Dean’s.”

Dean blew out a heavy breath. “You drew a picture of Mom.”

“Don’t be mad. It was for school.”

“But I told your teacher…”

“Ms. Karen didn’t make me.” Sam thrust the card towards his brother. “No one made me. It’s her day. I wanted to do something for her.”

“Sammy, she’s dead. She’s not here.”

“But a part of her is. We’re what she left behind. .”

“And what an amazing legacy for her to leave.” Jim stood, carefully cradling the young plants. “As incredible as the one Amelia Reaves left.” He cut his gaze to Caleb, who glanced away. “I know I have enjoyed the fruits of their labor, just as I have enjoyed watching Emma’s tree grow. As long as you boys are here, your mothers are never truly gone.

“Does Daddy know that?”

“Sure he does, Sammy.” Jim was pleased when Dean stepped forward and squeezed his brother’s shoulder. “That’s why he works so hard to protect us.”

“Can we go now?” Caleb asked.

Jim frowned. “I thought we would have a picnic lunch and then perhaps plant a few more trees to keep Emma’s company. It can be our family garden.” It wasn’t as if Jim could give the boys what they truly needed, but it seemed a way to somehow make a painful day easier.

The twenty-year-old shook his head. “I’d rather not.”

“I’ll help you,” Sam said. “You can make a card too. I brought crayons.”

Caleb knelt in front of the little boy. “How about you and Deuce plant mine for me, Sammy? You make a card too.”

“But I don’t know what your mom looked like?”

“Wing it.” Caleb ruffled his hair. “I take after my mom too.”

“My boy…” Jim started as Caleb stood and removed the shovel from his pack. “I didn’t mean…”

“I’ll see you guys back at the farm.” He handed the tool to the pastor and grinned. “Someone has to muck those horse stalls.”

“What about the bears, Damien?” Dean asked.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, Princess.” Caleb shoved him. “I’ll stay out of the caves.”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Take Atticus, just in case.”

“In case I’m attacked by a pack of rabbits?”

“No. In case you get lost. You’re not exactly Daniel Boone.”

“Funny.”

“I thought so.”

“Don’t feel bad, Jim. Damien just needs to brood.” Dean stepped beside the pastor as they watched Caleb and Atticus go. “It’s not so much about his mom, but what his dad might have left behind.”

Jim looked at the teen, pained by the fact Dean was every bit as insightful as his brother when it came to seeing past the surface but heartened that Dean was attempting to make him feel better. Still, failure tore at his soul. “If I could make things different for all of you, I would.”

“But you can’t, Merlin.” Dean smiled. “What you can do is feed us before your sappy Arbor Day project.” The teen took a deep inhale, patting his stomach. “Fried chicken and apple pie, I believe.”

“We’re having chicken and apple pie?” Sam crowed. Scout barked. “Yes!”

Jim sighed, shaking his head. “Is there nothing I can keep for a surprise?”

“Not around Dean. He has Daddy’s nose.”

Jim rubbed a hand over the teen’s hair, pulling him in for a quick hug. “And his mother’s heart.”

The End