If not now...-2 contact at RitchChristopher@cs.com
"If not now..."
by
Ritch Christopher
(Copyrighted September 2001 by the author)
All rights reserved. Copyright held by the author. This is a work of gay fiction. It contains graphic sex and explicit language. If you are offended by such, underage, or live in a city or territory where literature of this nature is illegal or unlawful, please exit now.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
CHAPTER TWO
The funeral home was empty except for Cyrus Turner, who owned the mortuary. Aaron had been the last to leave. Cyrus was turning out the lights and had pulled his long key chain out to lock the doors for the night. He'd been the only undertaker in Lumpkin for all his life and his father and grandfather before him. He had grown up looking at the face of death and had gone to sleep at night with the aroma of formaldehyde burning his nostrils. He didn't believe in ghosts and was unsure about an afterlife, so when he heard noises in the darkened parlors, he was sometimes frightened because that meant some living soul was about the premises. He hurriedly locked the front door from the inside when he heard the sound of footsteps on the veranda just outside his establishment. People in town knew that he worked all night, sometimes embalming or fixing up the bodies for public viewing. His old black Cadillac which he used as a funeral car was always parked outside, next to the black hearse with the opaque windows on either side, with just enough clear glass images etched for people to see he was on duty carrying a casket.
Cyrus heard the steps stop just outside the door, followed by a light tap on the frosted windows.
"Mr. Turner?" one of those voices said. He was relieved to know that whomever the stranger was, they must know each other.
"Yes?", he replied, tentatively.
"Mr.Turner, it's me, Ryder."
"Oh, it is, is it?"
"Yessir."
"Well, who's that you got with you. I heard two people walking up to the door."
"I have Bret with me...and he wants to see his momma."
"Is that you, Bret?"
"Yes, Mr. Turner. It's me."
"Well, wait a minute until I find the key to unlock the door. I'm supposed to be closed, but under the circumstances I can open for a little while for a boy to see his mother."
"Thank you, Mr. Turner."
It seemed to take Cyrus a long time to unlock the door, as he had to go through his whole key ring of 40 or so keys again, to find the one he'd just used.
"There it is...the last one." Cyrus opened the door and turned on the light in the foyer. "Your momma's down here in Parlor A, since I knew there'd be a big crowd to come visit her. Just follow behind me and don't trip over nothin' until I turn the rest of the lights on."
"Thank you, sir."
Cyrus went around the room switching on all the floor lamps that shot a ray of green light toward the ceiling, due to the green glass lampshades.
"I 'spect you want me to open up her casket, so you can see her."
"Yessir. Thank you." Bret and Ryder said together.
Cyrus reached in his pocket and pulled out a tiny key which unlocked the upper lid of the coffin. He raised it and stood back for Bret to admire the work he'd done on Alma. He reared back, expecting some kind of compliment.
"Well, there she is...I done my best to make her look as natural as possible." Cyrus bragged.
"Thank you, sir. You did a great job." Bret said, quietly as he looked closely to his mother in the casket.
"I told you I did," Cyrus continued..."Now I shouldn't stay open too much longer. So, take as much time as you want but be quick about it. I have to go over to Cuthbert in the morning and pick up old lady Cowell. She died tonight and they want me to come and get her. I hope there's someone there to help me pick her up and put her in the hearse. As I recall she was a big woman with diabetes and all. 'Bet she'd weigh 300 pounds the last time I saw her. I'm not quitely sure she's gonna fit in one of my caskets. I could fold part of her under, I guess. I remember one time my daddy had to embalm this big old fat lady and we all knew she wasn't gonna fit inside that white metal coffin the family had picked out. So while she was laying naked on the table back in the back where we do our work, my daddy did a bad thing that no one ever knew about except me. He told me, 'Son, there's one word I want you to look up and remember in Webster's. And that is if you can't make somethin' in life fit the way you want it to, you have to improvise. That's spelled I-M-P-R-O-V-I-S-E. I didn't know what he meant, but after he'd drained all the body fluids out of fat woman, he took this big knife and started slicing chunks of flesh off each side. I didn't know how he was gonna get away with this, but he asked me to go get that old ice chest and put about a five pound block of ice inside. Then Dad started putting the removed fat into the cooler. I had to ask what he was gonna do with it and he said that everyone assumed she had died from a heart attack by being so big and fat, but just to make sure, he was removing some biopsies and sending them to the big hospital in Macon. Later, when I went to the mortician's academy, I learned that a biopsy was so small you needed a microscope to see it. But I bet my daddy had sent close to 50 pounds of flesh to be analyzed...also, he was able to fit her in the coffin. My daddy had 'improvised' and I didn't even know it!" The old man chuckled a "tee-hee" as he left the two boys standing near the bier that held Alma.
Ryder stood back and let Bret approach his momma by himself. At first, Bret was taken back by what he saw. Alma's hair was almost snow white, now, not like salt and pepper mix he had last seen a few months ago. Her face was still pretty. In applying Amy's make-up, Cyrus had covered up most of the pre-mature wrinkles on her forehead. Bret had to fight the urge to reach down and give her the "hug" he wanted to give her on the night of his sudden departure from Lumpkin. Bret felt a pang of guilt, feeling that his leaving might have put the unneeded extra stress on Alma's heart, causing her fatal attack. Bret didn't cry audibly, but tears had formed in his eyes and began slowly trickling down his ruddy cheeks. Ryder, eased slowly up beside his "brother" and put his arm around his shoulder. The two of them looked down at the woman they'd both known as "Momma".
"She loved you more than life itself, Bret."
"I know," Bret said, "and she loved you just as much after you moved in when your own folks died."
Thoughts from the past ran through Bret's mind. He wondered if his momma would have loved him if she'd known the real reason he'd had to leave. That, in itself, might have killed her. Bret was certain that Aaron would never've had the guts to tell the truth to Alma. Bret knew he didn't have the courage to relate the incidents of "that night" to Ryder. Hopefully, the exact details would forever remain a secret with Aaron, Bret, and a third person whose identity might never be revealed. God knows, if anyone else in the county knew, there's no tellin' what would happen...murder, double murder, suicide, a lynching, a trial ending up with the electric chair...All these horrible things were possible. This secret must be taken to the grave of the parties involved.
"I'm sorry she's gone, but I'm glad for her sake she won't have to put up with my daddy any more. Ryder, you're about the only person besides me that ever saw the way he treated her. The rest of the whole county thought he was the ideal husband who loved her and cared for her...even putting her up on a podium....God, if they only knew." Bret said through his tears.
"I know, but he'll never do it to her again." Ryder began, but Bret quickly interrupted by exclaiming,
"NOR TO ME!! I'll NEVER LET MY DADDY DO NOTHING TO ME AGAIN, AS LONG AS I LIVE." Bret shouted, "He was bad enough on you, Ryder, but he held back some because you weren't his own flesh and blood,"
"I still saw and heard enough to last me for a lifetime." Ryder added.
"What are you gonna do now with momma gone? You gonna keep on living there on the farm with just you and him?" Bret asked, concerned.
"Right now, I don't have much choice." Ryder said, hopelessly.
"You know darn well, with Momma dead and me gone, you're gonna be the brunt of all the anger he unleashed on the two of us." Bret said.
"He's never really been that rough on me." Ryder replied.
"Just you wait. He's gotta take out that mean streak of his on someone...and you're all that's left."
"I'll take my chances until I find out I have somewhere else to go."
"That's what I've been tryin' to talk you into." Bret interrupted. "You can pack up and leave everything and come to Atlanta with me."
"Bret, I've already told you why I can't do that."
"Well, at least think it over." Bret pleaded.
"You want me to take you over to Mae's? She's probably already gone to bed. It looks like you don't have no other choice." Ryder offered.
"You know what I'd really like to do?" Bret asked.
"What?"
"I wish there was somewheres I could crawl in bed with you and hold you all night." Bret replied.
"I don't know where that would be...without drawin' suspicion and all to us."
"To hell with all of them! Let them think what they want to think."
"That's easy for you to say," Ryder said. "I don't fancy the idea of being tarred and feathered just now."
"I know," Bret said, "I was just sayin' what I'd like to do. I didn't say we was gonna do it."
"Bret, are you really serious about the way you feel about me or are you just pullin' my leg to get me to do what you want to get back at your daddy?"
"Ryder, I swear to you, standin' right here in front of my dead momma. I really care about you that much."
"Bret, I really want to believe you. I wisht I could kiss you right now, but I'm afraid that old Cyrus would ketch us...then I'd have to leave for Atlanta before you did."
"That would be all right, too."
"Let's just cool it until after the funeral and see how we feel then." Ryder said.
"OK...but you know how I feel...and I ain't backin' down from it."
"I gotta make everyone think that Marge and I have this thing goin'"
"Well, if you do," Bret added, "just don't drive me stark ravin' mad by makin' out with her as long as I'm here."
"I promise," Ryder said, "That's the least I can do. Do you want me to leave you alone with your momma for a minute or two?"
"No, I've seen her...Just take me to Mae's and see if she'll put me up until after the service."
<><><><><><><><><
As soon as Marge had gotten out of the truck and gone into her house, she knew she couldn't get the thoughts of seeing Bret again out of her mind. She really, truly cared for him...much more than she cared or ever could care about Ryder. The thing that worried her the most was the fact that she was almost a week late for her period. Usually, she had always been as regular as clock work...but if she was pregnant, she must've gotten that way the last time she was in the barn with Ryder. Heck, everything always seemed to work out the wrong way. She'd never gone all the way with Bret the whole time they were going steady...now she was sorry in more than one way that she hadn't. If she were pregnant and could prove Bret was the father, she could get him back again. He'd do the honorable thing and marry her, but then, if the baby belonged to Ryder, she knew her father would make Ryder marry her. Ryder would be happy, but the idea of spending the rest of her life with Ryder left her short of being satisfied. Rhonda, Marge's best friend, had one dream...to get the heck out of Lumpkin for good, the sooner the better. Marge thought she could always run away with Rhonda before she began to "show" and no one would ever know she was pregnant. Why did life have to be so complicated?
Except for one dim light in the living room, the house was totally dark when Marge entered her house. Lois was already asleep. She hadn't waited on Marge and Chad to return from the funeral home. Marge tiptoed down the hall, quietly, so that no one would know she had come home. When she passed Jem's room, she heard familiar sounds, sounds she had often heard. The first time she'd heard them, just a couple of years ago, she had gone down and cracked the door of Jem's room, almost in horror, because it sounded exactly like someone had put a pillow over Jem's face and was trying to smother him. Instead she was shocked and amused by what she saw. Jem's room was dark except for the full moonlight beaming across the room and lighting Jem's bed. Jem was lying on top of his covers stark naked and was playing with his penis with vigor. Marge was confident that Jem had no idea that she was watching him. Her surprise and Jem's "thing" had come to a climax at the same time. She hadn't realized that Jem knew about such things that the girls AND boys whispered about separately in the gym locker rooms. She watched to see how Jem was going to dispose of the milky debris he had just mustered up and almost gotten sick when she saw Jem begin to lick the liquid off his hand and fingers. She had almost revealed her presence in the cracked doorway as she started gagging at the sight. Jem was far more advanced in such knowledge than she had ever imagined. She silently returned to her room, thinking this would give her something to blackmail him with, should he ever catch her in the barn again, doing things with Ryder. Again, she sighed, wishing she'd had relations with Bret instead of his "substitute."
It was impossible, no matter how much Rhonda tried, to renew her damaged "virginity". Randy Simmons had seen to that. The rumors he spread among his teammates had made her "open game" for propositions and presents from the guys who hoped that they would receive the same favors she supposedly had given Randy. No girl at Lumpkin High School was known for giving guys a blow job until Randy had lied about her. She was the object of every guy's dreams. Rhonda was not only a looker, she was a licker. Rhonda pondered the position she was in. She could date any guy at school and say, "No" to him as she had done to Randy. Her jilted lover would certainly tell his friends that he had scored anyway. This would only increase her popularity while staying pure only to herself and God. She could even charge money if she wanted to instead of the plies of flowers and bon-bons she received from each "gentleman caller".
If she didn't choose to go that route, she had to find some secret about Randy as leverage to stop his rumors. Rhonda had told the truth to many of her girlfriends, but her one stalwart companion was Marge. Marge not only believed Rhonda, she believed IN her. Marge had convinced Ryder that Rhonda had been truthful and they both agreed to help Rhonda in her plight against Randy. Ryder had wondered if Randy had "experimented" with his best friend, Jerry Clemens, the way Ryder had with Bret. If there was only some way to find out. Better still, if Ryder could find a way to let Rhonda catch Randy in some scandalous act, that would just be too good. Ryder couldn't let Marge and Rhonda know anything about boys' rites of passage; he would incriminate himself as well. So if this plan of Ryder's was going to work, it must be done with the utmost care and caution. He knew he was taking a longshot because it was more than possible that no such act had ever occurred between Randy and Jerry.
In the meantime, the only person who was left suffering was Rhonda. She hated all the boys in school. She hated everyone in Lumpkin and she swore to God that somehow she would get out and run away from her miserable life. She had saved her tips waiting on tables at the "malt shop". A ticket to Atlanta was only $9.90...but Atlanta wasn't far enough away. She had to make it at least to Chattanooga or some place farther like Knoxville or Nashville and that would be in the neighborhood of twenty dollars...one way. She'd need a place to stay. Food wasn't important. She could get by on cheese and mayonnaise sandwiches. Fifty dollars would enough to make her getaway, but just to be on the safe side, she set her sights on one-hundred bucks. Nickel and dime tips would take a long time to achieve her goal. Heck, if she was going "one way" what did she care what people thought about her reputation. What if she did start charging the guys for dates...then she thought..."What if I actually DID lose my virginity and started 'putting out' for money?" In spite of her natural born beauty and sex appeal, she'd never really seen a boy's penis up close, let alone, touched one. She'd seen her daddy's big old ugly thing when he went to the bathroom to pee and the idea of getting near it disgusted her. She didn't like to think that her mother had allowed that thing to go inside her to create her as a baby...and to think Randy Simmons had the nerve to tell the other boys that she'd put his nasty thing in her mouth!!! Why, who'd believe such a thing in the first place? Rhonda knew that if she kept her virginity until she was married, she'd never have to put one of those things in HER mouth, because wives didn't do that kind of thing to their husbands. Only whores and sluts did that!
Life went on and Ryder kept waiting on his chance...but the opportunity never arose...that is until one afternoon at Clyde's Service Station where he worked as a mechanic. It was about 4:30 in the afternoon. School was out. Usually a bunch of the Lumpkin High schoolboys came by for a cold nickel coke out of the machine. They'd mill around and talk about cars and motors and "guy things". Ryder had gone into the bathroom to take a dump and had closed the door on the single booth. A few minutes later, he heard three voices enter the men's room to pee in the long trough. He recognized Randy's and Jerry's voice, right off the bat. The third belonged to David Little, the varsity tight end. The three of them unzipped, whipped out, and started peeing.
"How tall are you, David?" Randy asked.
"Six feet, two inches." David replied.
"And how much do you weigh?" Randy continued.
" 'bout 320 or 330, I guess. Why?" asked David.
"You know if you hadn't grown so tall and gained so much weight, your pecker might've had a chance to catch up." Randy joked.
"Aw, shut up, asshole." David said, half in jest.
"Lemme see!" Jerry said. "Good golly, David, if my pecker was that small, I'd have to squat to pee."
"You can go fuck yourself, too, Jerry." David said, angry now.
"Look here, Dave. Look at this 'un...Now, that's what a real dick's suppose to look like...Eight whole inches." Randy bragged.
"I don't need an eight inch piece of garden hose to pee through." David answered.
"I know, but don't it make you just a little bit jealous?" Randy asked. "Hey, Jerry, show Dave, here, what you hide in your shorts."
David was not only angry. He was getting embarrassed. "Hey, what you guys tryin' to do, showin' me your hard-ons and all? We've showered together in the gym since we were sophomores and you never got hard before!"
"You mean you've been noticin' Jerry and me for three years. I thought so...didn't you, Jerry?"
"Sure, I can tell when someone's starin' at me with my back turned."
"I didn't say I been starin' at you. I was just wonderin' why you were showin' hard right now?" David said, stammering.
"Does the sight of these two hard dicks do something to you, Dave, old boy? Do they excite you?...Maybe you'd like to feel 'em. Have you ever sucked one before?" Randy said, moving closer to David.
"NO! I ain't never sucked one NOR felt one...and I ain't gonna start now with yours. Whatsamatter? You and Jerry queer or somethin'? Get away from me! I'm gittin' the fuck out of here!" David screamed as he went out the door.
Randy and Jerry burst out laughing. Ryder was hearing what he wanted to hear. He quietly raised his feet and rested them against the door of the booth so that they couldn't see his legs while he was sitting on the commode.
"What do you think of that one?" Randy asked Jerry.
"It looks yummy to me." Jerry said.
"Wanna taste it a bit, right now?" Randy tempted.
"Nah, I'd rather wait until after the game Friday night, like usual."
"Mind if I put yours in my mouth for a couple of seconds?" Randy asked.
"Be quick! I sure as hell don't wanna get caught." Jerry cautioned.
Randy didn't get on his knees, he bent low enough to place just Jerry's tip between his lips.
"Damn, Randy! Just that little bit and I almost came...Man, when you touch me down there I get chills all over my body...Hey, listen you better stop before you start somethin' we don't have time to finish." Jerry said, pulling himself out of Randy's mouth and putting his penis away in his jeans.
"That's just a preview, babe...Wait for the main attraction Friday." Randy said,
"And you get ready for the double feature." Jerry added.
"I can't wait!" Randy said.
"Me, neither...Shoot, I'll have to go home and beat off now, my hard-on is showin' through my jeans." Jerry said, trying to smooth his pants.
"Just think of me when you're cummin'." Randy told him.
"I always do."
"You better...and I'd better not ever catch your mouth on somebody else's dick, if you know what's good for you." Randy warned.
"You won't...and don't you. either." Jerry replied.
"Why, Jerry...baby...you know you're the only one for me." Randy mockingly wooed,
"Shut up, faggot, before someone hears you?" Jerry said.
"Who's here to hear?" Jerry asked as he opened the door for the two of them to leave.
"I was." Ryder said to himself. He was free now to wipe and flush,
Ryder waited until they left and went inside the station to use the phone. He whistled as he dialed.
"Hello?" Marge answered.
"Hey, sweetie."
"Oh, hi, Ryder."
"Whacha got planned Friday night?" Ryder asked, innocently.
"Ryder Andrews, you know we're going to the game!"
"Well, do you think you could ask Rhonda to go with us?", again innocently.
"I suppose...but why?" Marge asked.
"I have something special planned after the game and I thought Rhonda might enjoy it, too."
"Well, that's awfully nice of you...but I think you have some trick up your sleeve...but with Rhonda and me both there, the two of us will out-number you...so I guess it's safe...I'll call her and invite her."
"Thanks, honey. Tell Rhonda I really want her to go with us." Ryder said.
"You certainly are sounding mysterious. I just wish I knew what you're up to."
"Trust me, honey. You, nor Rhonda, won't be disappointed."
"OK. Is that all?" Marge asked.
"Yep, except to tell you I love you." Ryder whispered.
"Now, Ryder, don't start that over the telephone...just say 'bye' and I'll see you Friday."
"OK...Bye".
Ryder hung up the phone and whistled as he went back to the carburetor he was working on.
Never in the history of the world had two blond-headed boys been as red all over their bodies...from embarrassment...as were Randy and Jerry when Rhonda surprised them by the river bed while they were going down on each otherin the moonlight, Friday night after the game. Ryder had followed about a half mile behind them as Randy and Jerry had sped off to their secret place. Ryder had kept his purpose and destination a secret from the two girls. He just promised they would see something the likes of which they'd never seen before. Marge and Rhonda were totally unaware that Ryder was following Randy's car. He had seen Randy's Chevy turn off on the old river road and was sure where it was headed. He parked about 100 yards away and talked about the game before inviting the girls to get out of the car. Ryder wanted to make sure that Jerry and Randy had ample time to undress and begin whatever ritual they had decided to embark on. He had timed it just perfectly, as the two boys had assumed a sixty-nine position and had just engulfed a hefty mouthful of cock. Ryder still didn't tell Rhonda what to look for, but he told her to walk quietly about 25 feet ahead of him and Marge. The moon was bright and full. Rhonda thought she was going down to the river to see the grunion run as she used to when she was a kid, She was a bit startled when she heard men's voices as she approached. But she trusted Ryder and continued forward, for whatever reason. Then she saw the spectacle of spectacles. Ryder had given her the best present ever...like her birthday, Christmas, and graduation all rolled into one. Her mouth dropped open about three inches before she let out a howl, turning into the biggest laugh ever heard in three counties.
"RANDY SIMMONS! WASN'T IT YOU THAT TOLD THE WHOLE FOOTBALL TEAM THAT I WAS A COCKSUCKER?!!! WELL, NOW I KNOW WHERE YOU GOT THE IDEA!! WHAT'S THAT YOU'VE GOT IN YOUR MOUTH? PEEYEW!! OH, I WISH I HAD MY BROWNIE HAWKEYE TO TAKE A PICTURE OF THIS...MARGE! COME HERE! YOU'VE GOT TO SEE THIS!!!" Rhonda screamed, as her voice echoed and carried way down the riverbed.
Randy and Jerry were so startled, their penises had contracted completely up inside them. They had been caught!! They were ruined and would probably have to leave town before their daddies heard about this and killed both of them. The two of them were dressed and running before Marge even got a look, They were gone. Ryder couldn't hold his laughter any more. The three of them nearly split a gut in convulsion.
When they finally caught their breath enough to talk. Ryder looked at Rhonda and said, "Now, do you feel better?"
"Ryder, I swear, if you weren't goin' steady with Marge, I'd ask you to marry me. Nobody has ever done that much for me in my entire life. I don't know how I can ever repay you,,,but if you ever want anyone shot or somethin', just let me know."
It had been a dirty trick to pull on anyone, but Marge knew that Ryder had gone to a lot of trouble to make Rhonda feel better, and Marge loved him for it. She was actually proud. The three of them laughed all the way home and for many weeks, thereafter.
This was one funny story that Ryder wanted to tell to Bret to cheer him up over his momma's death, but somehow, it just didn't seem proper. With Alma gone, Ryder felt lonely for the first time since he'd lost his own parents. The fact that he and Bret had "shared" her made him want to feel closer to Bret than ever before. Maybe the two of them together could keep a part of Alma alive. He kept his arm around Bret as the two of them exited the funeral home and got back into the truck. It was only then, that Bret burst into a loud cry. Bret knew he'd lost the biggest part of his world. Ryder pulled Bret close to him and then they both cried. A brotherly bond had been born between the two of them years ago...but now, with only the two of them, minus Alma, they felt something deeper and more profound between them. Bret felt safe and secure in Ryder's arms, while Ryder felt a bit confused. Was he feeling love for his brother and best friend?...real love?,,,like the kind a man was supposed to feel for a woman? It was something more than just friendship or brotherhood, because now when Ryder held Bret, he was emotionally and sexually excited. Ryder's mind raced. Could two men...real men...not effeminate faggots...really fall in love and live together like man and wife? Was there a place in this world for such a thing? Surely not in Lumpkin or any place like it. Some far off place...where nobody knew them...or cared.
Ryder cradled Bret's chin in his hands and looked directly into his eyes. The look said so much. Ryder wiped Bret's cheeks with his thumbs and moved in slowly for a gentle kiss...no tongue...just lips.
Bret pulled back just enough to whisper, "She's gone, Ryder."
"I know," Ryder whispered back to him. "but I'm still here."
"I'm glad." Bret replied, softly. "If I could only have you forever."
"You can, little bro." Ryder said.
"But not the way I need you...It's impossible."
"Maybe for now...but not for always." Ryder replied.
"Oh, God, I wish the two of us could just run away to some desolate island where there was only you and me." Bret sighed.
"And if we could, what would we do?" Ryder asked, smiling and brushing Bret's hair back off his forehead.
"We'd build a treehouse with palm fronds for a roof to protect us from the sun and the rain and we'd lie naked in bed all day and hold each other as we're holding each other now. We wouldn't need anyone else...no phones, no mail, no visitors, no one to bother us until we're eighty..."
"And then what?"
"We'd get on the raft we'd built and sail off into the sunset, loving each other until we were no more."
"That's a great dream, Bret, but what can we do here and now?"
"I don't know, Ryder, that's mostly up to you...and your decision to come with me."
"I wish I could say 'yes', but not just now."
"But..."
"Please, Bret...later...Now, we've got to find some place for you to stay...Want me to drive you over to Mae's?"
"May as well start there," Bret said, "I sure as hell can't go home with you...not with Daddy there."
"Are you ready to tell me what happened?" Ryder asked, again.
"Nope...not yet." Bret said, staring into space.
Ryder started the engine and headed the truck toward Mae's.
Over half of Lumpkin's population turned out for Alma's funeral. The Negroes, of course, were not allowed into the church, but they gathered to one side of the parking lot and prayed while the service was going on inside the Baptist Church. The white people that couldn't get in, crowded around the church doors and the rest of the overflow of people lined the walkway. All the women had on hats...mostly black hats...some with feathers...all with veils, though. The women all had their freshly laundered linen laced handkerchiefs placed at the tip of their noses. First one lady would snivel and the rest of them replied as an echo.
Chad Larrimore had preached many funerals, but this was one of the most difficult. He was one of the few Lumpkin residents that knew how Alma had suffered with Aaron's secret belligerence toward her and Bret. Poor old soul, if the town folk only knew. Alma looked twenty years older than her actual age. Aaron's treatment of Alma had helped Chad to treat Lois and his children with more affection. Chad wondered just how much remorse and regret Aaron was feeling...if any.
Just before Amy Morse arose to start singing, "There's a land beyond the river..." Bret entered the church with Mae and walked down the aisle as all heads turned and whispers ran amok from one side of the church to the other. Everyone strained their heads to see if Bret would sit by his father. Bret didn't try. He and Mae stopped two rows of pews behind Aaron and the people on that pew scrunched together to make room for Mae and Bret. If Aaron was aware that Bret had entered the church or had caused the whispering commotion, he didn't let on. His eyes were transfixed on the open coffin in front of the pulpit. Tears were replaced with tension by the congregation. No one ever had any idea what had happened between Bret and Aaron but the speculation defied all stretches of the imagination. Nearly everyone figured that Marge was involved some way, but when Marge began dating Ryder, most of those rumors had subsided.
Amy finished the last strains of "When They Ring Those Golden Bells" and Chad arose to the pulpit to read the twenty-third Psalm. "Surely, goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Amen." Chad lowered his head to say a silent prayer. Then he looked directly at Aaron and his eyes wandered over to find Bret, sitting beside Mae. Then, he began his sermon.
"Alma Louise Petrie Teasdale was too good for this world...and God knew it. That's why He called her home to be with Him. I knew her and her parents, Robert and Constance Petrie since Alma and I were both children. Maybe some of you are old enough to remember that she and I were once sweethearts...way back in grammar school. I watched her grow and turn into a beautiful girl...and then a wonderful woman...and if my wife, Lois, will forgive me, if things had been different back then, I might've even married her...but that wasn't meant to be. God had other plans for her and He had other plans for me. It was meant for me to become a preacher, but God had even a greater task for her. She was to become the cradle of culture for all of Lumpkin...for everyone who needed her...no matter what time of day or night. Just call, and she'd be there. No matter what she had to do, she put her business aside to take care of someone else. I'm not speaking out of turn, but in circles where everyone can and does talk behind someone's back, she was never the topic of any such conversation. Nobody would say anything bad against her. Nobody could... because there was nothing bad about her to say. When she was still a young woman, she met Aaron and married him...and though she tried many times to have a baby, God saw fit for her to have only one...a son...Bret. I watched her raise him. I use to think about the scripture describing the way Mary raised Jesus...'And the child grew, waxed strong, filled with wisdom, and the grace of God was upon him.' That's what she wanted for her son...Bret, I see you down there in the fourth row and I wanted you to know that about your mother. She had a plan and a purpose for you. I hope you can still find it."
Bret was astonished to hear Mr. Larrimore preaching directly to him. He blushed as he felt all eyes in the church looking at him. A thunderous jolt of fear hit him as he wondered how much Mr. Larrimore knew about that troubled night he'd had with his dad. He knew that Aaron would never tell anyone...not even his momma...certainly not the preacher...But if Mr. Larrimore knew, who'd have told him? Bret felt like rising and bolting toward to door to flee before any of the secret was revealed to the whole town of Lumpkin. His thoughts were so railed, he didn't hear another word Chad said during the rest of the service. Ryder had held his breath, too. He didn't know the details of the rift and his heart stopped when he thought that Mr. Larrimore was about to reveal the secret. Ryder wished he were sitting by Bret to offer him moral support...to touch his arm or hand or something to let him know he was on his side.
The remark had made Aaron raise an eyebrow, also. He waited in anticipation for the other shoe to drop, but it didn't. He relaxed as Chad continued with the sermon, describing the beauties and joys of heaven that Alma was now enjoying. Then the service was over. The pallbearers came forward as Cyrus Turner temporarily closed the lid of the casket. The bier was rolled to the lobby in front of the church and the casket was re-opened for the entire congregation to pass by and get one final glimpse of Alma. The people rose, all except Aaron, and began exiting pew by pew. Marge couldn't keep from staring constantly at Bret. The two of them had not had a chance to talk and she wondered if he would apologize or offer an explanation of his leaving her in the lurch. Bret looked at no one. He kept his gaze firmly on the open casket as he slowly walked behind the crowd. When he reached the coffin, he leaned over and kissed Alma on the lips. There was a gasp among the crowd. Nobody but the undertaker ever touched a body once it had been embalmed and put in a casket. Call it respect, ignorance, or superstition...it just wasn't done...not even to one's own mother.
Ryder hoped that Aaron hadn't seen the kiss or Aaron might have charged and slapped Bret. Ryder was pretty sure if he hadn't seen it, someone was bound to tell him or ask him about it later. The crowd parted on either side of the long walkway to make room for Bret and Mae, only later to be followed by Ryder and Aaron...members of Alma's family. At the end of the walk, Nate, a colored boy, Bret's age, who had worked Aaron's crops, walked forward to face Bret. Bret stopped.
"Mr. Bret," Nate said, "I'm so sorry about your momma. She was so good to me."
Bret put out his hand to accept Nate's condolence and said a simple, "Thank you."
Bret was unaware that Aaron and Ryder had caught up with him during the recessional, but he froze when he heard Aaron's booming voice behind him.
"GET AWAY FROM HIM, NIGGER!" Aaron said, firmly.
The words rang out across the courtyard of the church like the first cannon fired at Fort Sumter. Heads turned. Mouths dropped open agape. Bret did not turn around to face his dad, he just squeezed Nate's hand more firmly and repeated, "Thank you, Nate." Nate pulled his hand away from Bret's and backed up cautiously about ten feet before he turned and ran out of the church's premises and headed down the road, turning into the woods.
The hush was deafening. Chad had seen what had happened and appeared baffled at the reason for the occurrence but finally, he broke the silence by announcing. "The interment will be held at the Lily of the Valley Cemetery. Those that can join us, please do so, and we will continue the service there."
The shock of the moment consisted of many levels. First of all, Aaron shouting to anyone like that...and secondly...no one ever used the word "nigger", when colored folks were present. The whites couldn't look at their black friends and employees and the blacks had all lowered their heads in dismay...some out of fear. NO ONE KNEW what had prompted Aaron's actions...except Aaron apparently...but by nightfall there would be a 1,000 speculations.
Aaron got into the Turner family limousine to ride to the burial site. He waited for Ryder to join and accompany him. Ryder knew he was the "acting" son but his emotions wanted him to be near Bret. He walked over to Aaron and lied, "Mr. Teasdale, Mae had asked me to drive her car, so I hope you won't hold it against me if I don't come with you."
"I guess you want to talk to HIM!" Aaron blared.
"No sir. You know Mae's eyesight isn't what it used to be and she just asked me to drive her." Ryder lied.
"Why didn't she ask HIM to drive her?" Aaron snorted.
"I don't know, sir. Maybe he doesn't have his driver's license with him or maybe he's too upset to drive after sitting through his mother's funeral."
"Well, GO ON!...But when you come back home tonight...don't you bring HIM with you. He's not welcome...now...nor will he ever be."
"Yessir, I won't." Ryder said, as he shut the door of the funeral car.
Ryder knew this was going to be he longest drive in history. He HAD to know why Aaron had acted the way he did, but he knew he couldn't bring up the subject to Bret with Mae in the car with them.
Bret held the door of Mae's car while she scooted into the front seat. He sat on the passenger's side at the same time Ryder took his place behind the steering wheel. Not one word was said for the entire four mile drive to the cemetery. Bret looked straight ahead, while Mae kept her head down, pretending to dab her nose with her handkerchief.
The congregation was already assembled around the open grave which yawned beneath Alma's casket, when the two "family" cars arrived. All eyes were on Aaron and Bret as they got out of the cars. Most of the people had forgotten why they were actually there as everyone's attention had focused away from the matter at hand...Alma's burial.
Lois stood near Chad, with Marge and Jem on either side of her as Chad said the closing remarks at the grave. The crowd slowly dispersed and everyone left with the same puzzled look. SOMEONE HAD TO KNOW SOMETHING...BUT WHO? Ryder went over to give Marge a hug, leaving Bret to escort Mae back to her car.
As Ryder embraced Marge, she whispered, "Do you know anything?"
"I'm just as much in the dark about what happened as everyone." Ryder said in a low voice.
"Do you think Bret knows why his daddy did it?" she asked.
"If he does, he didn't say anything." Ryder replied.
"Well, did you ask him?"
"You know I couldn't ask him with Mae sittin' between us. You might as well get on the radio and broadcast it to the entire world if she'd heard anything. You know how she is....I'll have to wait until I take her home and then I'll talk to Bret." Ryder said.
"Will you call and tell me?" Marge asked.
"Sure, sweetheart, you know I don't keep secrets from you."
"Well, you better not...especially this one....that is...if you find out."
Lois walked over to the two of them and said, "Ryder, I don't know if you and Bret have plans for supper, but if Mae hasn't cooked yet, why don't the two of you boys come over. I made a big supper, not knowing who might drop by."
"Thank you, Mrs. Larrimore. I'll talk to Bret about it and see if he feels like coming over."
"I'll understand if he doesn't," Lois said.
"I gotta go, sweetheart" Ryder said, giving Marge a quick peck on the lips and hurrying to the car where Bret and Mae were waiting. It was Mae who broke the silence by starting a conversation among the three of them.
"That was a mighty fine service for Alma," Mae said. "She would've been proud knowing her two 'sons' were standing there side by side. I'm so glad you made it back in time, Bret. There's just something wrong about a child not being able to attend his parent's funeral."
"Yes, ma'am", is all either Bret or Ryder could say.
"Oh, Mrs. Bradley, Mrs. Larrimore invited me and Bret to come over to her house for supper, if that's all right." Ryder said.
"That's perfectly all right," Mae replied, "I imagine there's plenty you two boys need to talk about...Bret, have you talked with Marge since you've been home?"
"Yes ma'am, I saw her the night I arrived...just for a few minutes." Bret said.
"Well, I imagine there's quite a bit you and Marge have to say to each other, too."
Bret was silent. He didn't respond. He had all but agreed to go to the Larrimore's for supper, forgetting about leaving Marge so abruptly, the way he did.
"Bret, I'm sorry. I didn't even ask you if you wanted to go to the Larrimores...Are you up to it?"
"Not really, but I suppose I should have a heart to heart with Marge. I guess I owe her that much." Bret said,
"That's just exactly what Alma would've wanted you to do. " Mae interjected.
Ryder looked at Bret for a response, but again, there was none. Ryder pulled into the long driveway that led to Mae's farm house.
"You wanna go over to Marge's early? I mean, would you like to go now?" Ryder asked.
"I want to get out of these church clothes." Bret replied.
Mae had let Bret have the use of one of the bedrooms upstairs, which let them both maintain their individual privacy. Once inside the house, Mae went into her bedroom on the main floor to change into a house dress and an apron. Bret slowly climbed the stairs, followed by Ryder. Bret was walking as if he were in a stupor or rather like a zombie in the movies. He walked with his head down and his arms straight at his sides. The two boys entered the bedroom and Ryder put his hand on Bret's shoulder to turn him around, but Bret's body was like dead weight. It wouldn't turn. Ryder then moved around so that he was facing Bret and Bret's eyes would not even glance up to look into Ryder's.
"What is it, Buddy?" Ryder asked, genuinely concerned.
No answer from Bret.
"Here, let me help you off with those clothes." Ryder said as he reached for Bret's tie and began to untie the knot. Ryder might as well've been undressing a mannikin like that had in the store downtown because Bret just stood there motionless while Ryder undressed him piece by piece. Bret offered Ryder no help even in removing his shoes and socks. Ryder had to lift each of Bret's legs as if they were shodding a horse. He then looked around the room for the knapsack Bret had worn home for extra clothes. He found pair of Bret's jeans, some white socks and three or four pullover polo shirts. He selected a bright red one, hoping the contrast of color and mood would revive Bret to some state of normalcy.
Item by item, Ryder dressed Bret again even down to his white socks and loafers. Ryder hadn't realized how nervous he was until he saw his hands shaking trying to put socks on his best friend. After he had pulled the shirt over Bret's head, he dug his comb out of his back pocket and combed Bret's hair as they once had done many years ago when they both were trying to see how they would look in ducktails. Once Bret was presentable by Ryder's standards, he took both hands and gently slapped both of Bret's shoulders.
"There...all done! And you look great, if I say so myself." Ryder said, trying to lighten the tone. "OK...You ready to go?" Ryder started out the door hoping Bret would follow. Bret was still standing in the middle of the room. Ryder noticed Bret's mouth opening as if to speak. Finally, he did.
"I hate that goddamned son-of-a-bitch and I hope he rots in hell." Bret said in a monotone.
"What?...Who?...Your daddy?" Ryder ran to him to ask.
"Yes...that fuckin' bastard."
"Why do you say that, bro?"
"He ran me off...and ran Momma into her grave...and if I could...I'd kill him and not bat an eye."
"Jesus! Bret! Why are you sayin' that? What happened between you two?"
"I can't tell you!" Bret blurted out.
"You can't or you won't?" Ryder screamed back.
"Both! I told you I'm not ready to tell you...and I'm not. So you can just keep asking and I won't tell you."
"Good Lord, Bret, Nothing could be that bad. We've got no secrets from each other. I know every inch of your body and every thought in your brain, why won't you trust me with this secret?" Ryder pleaded.
"I just won't!" Bret said with finality.
"OK. I promise not to ask again...now can you put yourself together enough for us to go see Marge and the Larrimores?" Ryder was on the verge of tears. The person he loved most in life...the person who had practically BEEN his life for over ten years was crumbling before him and he could do nothing to stop it. Maybe Marge or Pastor Chad could reach him. Ryder had done everything he knew to try. "Can we go now?"
"I suppose," Bret said, flatly.
Ryder wanted to hold Bret or kiss him or something...but at the moment he felt it was safer not to invade Bret's privacy. Instead, he took Bret by the hand and led him out of the room like a child..down the stairs...out the door...and opened the passenger side of the car for him...just like a date. Ryder hadn't asked Mae for the use of her car, but under the circumstances he knew it was all right.
Before he started the engine, he turned to Bret, "Look at me." Bret slowly turned his head toward Ryder. "I swear to you on our love and brotherhood that I will never ask you about yours and Aaron's incident again. But I want you to know...No matter what happened...however bad it is or was...it could never change the way I feel about you...NOT NOW...NOT EVER! I just wanted you to hear that and always remember it....Did you hear me?..I asked if you heard me, Bret."
"Yes, I heard you."
"You do know that I love you, don't you?"
"Yes...and I love you, too."
"That's all I need to hear."
With that declaration, Ryder started the car and drove down Mae's long drive, turned right on the highway and headed for the Larrimores.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
(To be continued in Chapter Three)