Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [40]
“It’s more money, and that’s important. I don’t want to live here all my life. Do you?”
“No way. But I don’t know what I want to do.”
“Just get out, I hope.”
“Long as I can live with you.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to be easy. Soon as I get out of school or get a car, I’m gone. I’d have to fight Ma to let you live with me, and how would that work anyway? I couldn’t watch you, be home when you get out of school, all that. Maybe I can still talk Uncle Carl and Aunt Lois into taking you till you get out of school.”
“Ma’ll never let that happen.”
“Let me worry about that. She touched you since I warned her?”
Peter shook his head.
“You tellin’ me the truth?”
“Yeah. She hollers at me a lot. Threatens me.”
“Just one more time . . .”
“I know. And she knows. But when she’s drunk, I get scared because I think she forgets.”
“That I warned her? She’d better not.”
“Why does she hate me, Brady?”
Brady shrugged. “She hates everybody. She’s had a hard life, but you’d think she’d want to keep us close. I hate her.”
“Families on TV look like they have fun sticking together.”
“That’s just made up, Petey. You know anybody but Carl and Lois whose family is still together and seems to get along?”
Peter shook his head.
When they got home, Erlene Darby stood in the doorway, staring at them.
“What are you thinking, keeping Petey out this late? Give me one reason I shouldn’t whip your tail.”
Brady pushed Peter past her and told him to get to bed. “Because I’d kill you, Ma, that’s why. You think I’m gonna leave him here with you when you come home drunk and mad?”
“I’m not mad at him, Brady! I’m mad at you!”
“Just don’t worry about me. If Petey’s with me, you know he’s okay. If he’s with you, I never know.”
“He deserved that beating, and you know it.”
“Nobody deserved that.”
She flipped him an obscene gesture.
“Yeah, that’s nice. I’m so glad I’ve got a classy mom.”
She swore. “Get out of my sight.”
“Gladly.”
Brady stomped back to his and Peter’s bedroom and undressed, banging doors and drawers and dropping onto the bed.
“Sorry, Brady.”
Brady fought his rage. He didn’t want to break down in front of Peter.
“Oh, it’s not your fault, little man. I shoulda known she’d be ticked. I can’t take you with me every night, so just get along with her any way you can. Stay out of her way. Do what you’re told. And if you ever feel scared, like she’s gonna do something to you, you know where I am, and you come running.”
15
Noon, Wednesday | Denny’s Restaurant | Adamsville
Thomas didn’t have much of an appetite, and he wished Jimmie Johnson would get to the subject: the Careys’ future.
But Jimmie was eating ravenously, sometimes talking with his mouth full and about only inconsequential matters. Finally he wiped his mouth and pushed his plate forward and his chair back. “Ever done prison ministry, Thomas?”
“Cook County Jail when I was a student in Chicago. Jail stuff in small towns. A prison in Alabama. Nothing extensive.”
“How’d it go?”
Thomas shrugged. “I always felt terribly for the prisoners. But I could never tell if I was getting through. Just preached Christ, you know. Never got into teaching or discipling, anything like that.”
“But you could.”
“Sure.”
“Ever thought about becoming a prison chaplain?”
“Can’t say I have. You have no more churches that need an old expository preacher?”
“You’re not that old, Thomas, but you do carry yourself that way. Ever been told that?”
“I have. I don’t guess I care that much about appearances.”
“Sure you do. You’re well groomed, clean, neat. A little dated, but more than presentable.”
Thomas sipped his coffee. “Now there’s high praise.”
Jimmie laughed. “I’m just trying to encourage you, because I’ve got to tell you, if I’d been through what you’ve been through, I’d have thrown in the towel a long time ago. All I hear about you is that you’re a wonderful servant, but people tend to walk all over you. If I have to be honest, and I know no other way to help, your preaching doesn’t get high marks. Nobody says you don’t know your Bible, but you’re no—”
“—Billy