Like a Promised Sunrise
By:
JWSmith
(© 2012 by the author)
Editor:
Rock Hunter
The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's
consent. Comments are appreciated at...
Prologue:
T.R. Deason was proud of his two young sons. As he watched them playing, his love bubbled up, giving him a lump in his throat. He glanced at his wife, pregnant again, sitting in the metal rocker he'd bought for her when Tommy was born. That was eight years ago. The old Elm tree shaded her and his youngest son, his third son, who was nearly three years old.
They'd named him Henry after his wife's brother. And of course he'd immediately been called 'little Hank'. Hank was a loving child who always wanted to be held. T.R. loved the way the child clung to him when he held him.
When he was born the umbilical cord had been wrapped around his neck. He came out blue from lack of oxygen. The midwife had quickly cut the cord and blew air into his lungs. He'd started breathing right away, but it took a while for the blueness to leave his skin. Even then he'd never been red like his two older brothers. No, he'd always been pale. T.R. wondered if he would be retarded. But other than being smaller and more delicate than his brothers, there seemed to be nothing wrong with the boy.
He turned back to watch the two older boys. Tommy, the oldest, was such a great kid. He loved his younger brothers. Always ready to give them his full attention; never shunning them, like other kids did their siblings. Joey was only four years old and Tommy was already teaching him how to ride a stick horse and shoot his toy pistol.
T.R. leaned against the barn door and recalled how he'd fought his father when he'd insisted that he get married and live on this ranch. He'd been a playboy growing up in Austin. Through high school and college he'd played the field and never been serious about any one girl he'd dated. He'd been popular with all the girls with his tall, towheaded handsomeness, his broad shoulders and slim hips.
As he watched his boys, his heart was filled with love and pride. He was glad his father had won.
<<<><><>>>
To Ken
Had I known that you would slowly break my heart
into unrecognizable bits of misery.
Had I known that my agony would leak publicly
in front of strangers.
Had I known that the solitude would stifle my breath,
leaving me wordless in the end.
Had I known that the loneliness would rampantly grow,
twining itself about me, crushing me.
Had I known all this -
Still I would have left you complete.
You could have done the same for me.
Jace Deason
<<<><><>>>
Chapter 1
"Hi, Uncle Jace? This is Judd," the voice on the phone said. My mind went into active overdrive. The baritone voice on the phone didn't fit the little boy image in my head. I took too long to answer. He added more information. "I'm Tom and Betty's oldest son."
"I know who you are, Judd, your voice just doesn't match up with what you looked like the last time I saw you," I said as I visualized the beautiful little towheaded boy that I remembered crying the morning I left the Pecos ranch.
"I'm twenty-two, Uncle Jace," he chuckled. "You haven't seen me since I was thirteen. I've grown up."
'No shit,' I thought to myself. "So, to what do I owe this call, Judd?" I asked.
"Dad told me to call you. He thought you might be willing to put me up for a bit."
What the hell was Tom thinking? He knows I‘m gay. That's why I live in L.A. and not somewhere in Texas near the rest of my family.
><
I was 19 when I exiled myself, after getting caught in the barn playing around with a hired hand. My father fired the man and tried to whip me with a rawhide rope – not for interfering with the hired help's work – but for being queer. He snarled that he was going to whip the queerness out of me. He laid that doubled rawhide across my bared back one time before I wrenched the stiff braided rope out of his hand and yelled, "This is so much bullshit." I stuck my face in his and hissed, "You lay your hate-filled hands on me again and I'll beat the living shit out of you, Ol' Man."
Then I decked him. He sat spraddle-legged in the dirt with a surprised look on his face. I squatted in front of him... got right down in his face. "I don't know what I ever did to lose your love, Daddy. But know this... if I’m a queer, it's because you bred it into me. It's in your blood, Daddy." I stood up, looking at him in disgust. I threw the rope into his lap and walked into the house.
I still have the scars across my back from that rope, but the emotional scars are even more vivid. I'd been the apple of the ol' man's eye. I think he loved me more than any of my brothers. He took me everywhere with him when I was little. And then as I grew into puberty he seemed to distance himself from me, giving me a cold shoulder.
I was four years younger than Hank. He and Joe were almost like twins. There was only eleven months difference in their age. I don't suppose that they ever experienced our father's love like I had. I wondered if Tom had; he was nearly six years older than Joe. I knew there had always been an animosity between our father and Tom; I still wondered why.
As Mom doctored my back, she scolded, "That was mighty disrespectful, Jace, striking your father and talking to him that way." I realized that she had watched and hadn't intervened in my behalf. That hurt more than the stinging welts on my back.
"Mom, I may have chosen the wrong time to be playing around. I should have been punished for that, not for being what I am. I didn't choose to like men instead of girls, I was born this way. When Dad caught Joe and Hank playing around with each other last year all he did was tell them to be more discreet."
"I've always hoped that you'd come around like Tom did. He never paid a speck of attention to girls until his best friend, Jim Brady, got married. Then he up and married Betty Jean. Just like that.... He and that Jim Brady still see a lot of each other, going off hunting and camping all the time. Still.... he and Betty Jean are happy together with their brood of kids."
><
Dinner that evening was strange. After I'd decked Dad and stormed into the house, he'd jumped into his pickup and left in a trail of dust. Hank, Joe, Mom and me quietly ate our dinner... conscious of Dad missing from the head of the table.
Hank came into my room after everybody had gone to bed. I was packing my clothes and a few books. He stood in the doorway watching me for several minutes before he spoke.
"I guess it is best that you get away from here, Jace. Dad always seemed to like you the best... expected more from you... so his hate will probably be stronger than it is for Tom. Go make something of yourself - but I sure am going to miss you, Little Brother." He hugged me and went back to his room. I stood staring at the empty space where he'd been standing in the doorway wondering what he knew that I didn't.
After breakfast, before my brothers went out to work, Joe shook my hand, gave me a hug and said he'd see me sometime. He never had a lot to say. Hank gave me a hug and just turned and walked out the door with Joe. Tom had stopped in for breakfast; I guess to keep the peace. Mom had probably called him. He'd been very pensive all through breakfast, staring at me most of the time. If he wasn't looking at me, he was staring balefully at Dad. When Tom got up from the table, he nodded at me, glared at Dad and walked out. Tom never said anything to me before I left. Betty Jean, Tom's wife, stopped over later. She hugged me, kissed my cheek, wished me the best of luck and then walked back across the yard to her own house.
When I left later that morning, only Mom and little Judd were there to say goodbye. Judd cried and clung to my waist for a moment before he fled into the house, letting the screen door slam behind him. That was the last time I’d seen him.
><><
I talk to all three of my brothers two or three times a year. And my mom, well, I talk to her every month or so, but I haven't seen her since that day I left the ranch. I still resent that she had passively condoned the ol' man using a rawhide rope on me. My two middle brothers, Joe and Hank, have come out to visit. They’re both still bachelors. I suspect there's something between them, but they’ve never said anything to me about it. I haven't asked, because it's really none of my business. But my oldest brother Tom and his family have never come out to visit. I've often mused over my childhood and wondered if Tom's marriage was really a cover-up for the 'friendship' between him and Jim Brady, Betty Jean's brother, who ran the ranch just north of ours.
>><><<
Now Tom wants me to take his oldest boy in. There's something fishy going on here. But, hey... the kid’s family. I can't turn away family, so I said, "Well, sure, Judd, but there's one thing, I live in a loft. I've only got one bed. You'll have to sleep on a sofa or bring a bedroll and sleep on the floor."
"That's no problem, Uncle Jace."
I couldn't think of any other reasonable objections, so I said, "Okay then, come on out."
><
It was set that he would fly into LAX Thursday morning. That was only two days away. Shit, that meant that my privacy was going to be nonexistent for at least a week or more. I had lived by myself for the last five years. I was accustomed to not being disturbed for hours on end as I worked at my word processor.
I was feeling a little guilty telling Judd he had to sleep on the floor. My brothers always stayed at a motel near Disneyland when they came out. After I thought about it, I decided to go shopping for an old fold-up cot at the Army surplus store. I could keep it in my storage space out by the elevator after he leaves.
Thursday morning I was working at my word processor and had paused for a slug of my fourth cup of sludge. That's what I call the extra strong coffee I drink mixed with Ovaltine and dry milk... ‘mocha ala Jace’. It gave me a few vitamins and minerals without any fat. I realized that I had no idea what Judd looked like and I'm quite sure he didn't know what I looked like either. Eleven years can bring a lot of changes, especially to a thirteen year old kid. I got a piece of foam board and printed his name in bold black letters... JUDD DEASON.
><><
At 10:15, I was standing across the room from the gate that he’d soon be coming through. I watched his plane taxi up to the building, and in a couple of minutes passengers were pouring out. I held the sign above my head looking for recognition of the name. A few seconds after the last passenger walked through the gate, a little elderly woman was brought out in a wheel chair. Her family gathered around her and whisked her away.
I waited a couple of minutes and no one else came out. I'd just started toward the attendant behind the check-in desk, when a short male flight attendant came staggering through the gate carrying a canvas covered bedroll just like a real cowboy carries on the back of his saddle. Behind him came a tall lanky young blonde fellow who could be no other than my nephew. He looked just like his dad and uncles. My heart stuck in my throat as I looked at him. Damn, he was good looking. I’d always had this weakness for long, lanky towheaded cowboys.
He looked like he'd just come in off the range. He wore scuffed up old boots. His Levi's, worn low on his near nonexistent hips, were held up by the ubiquitous wide tooled leather belt, fastened by a big silver and turquoise buckle. The striped western shirt, unbuttoned halfway down to his navel, exposed a furry chest. His shirt sleeves were rolled up above his elbows, the material stretched to the max by his biceps. He looked like a real Texas cowboy. He was as tall as I am, but probably fifty pounds lighter.
He saw me and there was instant recognition in his slate-blue eyes. How not, I looked just like his dad. He grinned and pushed his wide brimmed hat to the back of his head, letting his white-blonde hair fall over his forehead. Leaving the little flight attendant to struggle with the bedroll, he headed toward me carrying two small bags. He dropped them and wrapped me in a hug.
There was a big 'whump' next to us as the bedroll was dropped to the floor. Judd turned and gave the little guy a one-armed hug. "Thanks, Danny, I don't know how I could have managed without you," he said.
The flight attendant looked like he had just received a special dispensation from the Pope. He adoringly smiled up at Judd; there was such gratitude in his eyes. "My pleasure, totally," he replied, then turned to wander back toward the gate.
Judd reached down and took both bags in one hand and grasped the tie-rope on the bedroll with his other and slung it up onto his shoulder with ease. I raised an eyebrow at him and he blushed and grinned. Damn, he was cute when he did that. "He insisted, so I let him," he explained with a shrug.
I left him at the luggage carousel and went to get my Cherokee. When I pulled up to the curb, Judd was waiting with two large suitcases plus the bedroll and the two bags he had carried off the plane. He was shaking a man's hand, apparently another volunteer helper.
"Looks like you're planning on staying awhile," I said, as I opened up the rear of my Jeep.
He looked at his luggage, blushed and shrugged. "Mom." Just the one word of blame was his explanation.
><
I merged with the traffic on the 105 heading east. As I relaxed in the center lane, I looked over at Judd. I should have known what he would look like; hell, he's a Deason. He's tall, slender-hipped with wide shoulders, and sexy as all get out, too. I studied him with quick glances as he watched the heavy traffic speeding 70 miles an hour down the wide freeway. He was a wide-eyed country boy getting his first view of L.A. "Okay, Judd, what has pushed you out of West Texas? And why come to L.A... other than to see your favorite, hither-to ignored, Uncle?" I asked, breaking the silence.
He looked at me for a bit before he answered. "A couple of reasons. One, you've worked in the movie industry and I thought you could maybe help me," he said.
I laughed. "Hey, you're a damn good-looking kid, but this city’s full of good-looking wannabe actors."
"I don't want to be an actor. Hell, I couldn't act my way out of a burlap bag. No, I want to be a writer like you, Uncle Jace."
Well, that really threw me for a loop. I'd been sure he’d have dreams of being a movie star. "Can you write?" I asked.
"Well, I've won a couple of short story contests. And I took what classes were offered at UTEP (University of Texas at El Paso). My advisor suggested I check out the programs offered at UCLA, especially script writing."
I turned north onto the San Pedro Freeway. It's funny how I never refer to it by its number. Hell, I don't even know its number. It's just the San Pedro Freeway. "Yeah, UCLA has a great writing department. That's where I went to school." I paused. "It's a very competitive field. Few make a big success of it," I said.
"You've done pretty well. I've seen your name on several TV shows."
"I've yet to do a film," I replied.
"You've got two successful books in print. I've read them both."
"You've read my novels?" I asked.
"Sure."
He didn't volunteer what he thought about them and I was afraid to ask if he liked them. But then, I don't know that I cared whether he did or not. To me, writing is a very personal thing. "Those books represent four years of labor. Not much money in return," I said.
><
He was quiet as I turned east onto the 10 and exited on Central. I drove the few blocks to my alley, turned left and then a sharp right thru the two security gates and into the parking garage inside the old factory that had been turned into condos. My condo is half of the top floor facing north, so I look out over the downtown area with the mountains as a backdrop. It's a mighty impressive view.
We unloaded and carried his luggage into the old freight lift. I pulled the cage door down and we headed for the fourth floor. I unlocked the heavy metal sliding door and rolled it aside. Judd stepped in and caught his breath; my studio condo was not what he was expecting. He walked directly to one of the big plate glass windows across the room, gazed out over the I-10 freeway at downtown L.A. and the magnificent San Gabriel Mountains, then turned back to me.
"I was wondering why you would live in an old factory in this run down area. The view is fantastic. And so is this place," he said, pivoting to take in the whole room. "It’s huge."
"Over thirty seven hundred square feet. It's big all right, seventy-five by fifty. The original owner of the building had planned on splitting this place. I got to see it before the wall was put in and bought the whole space."
At that moment, Gretchen and Liz decided to make an appearance. Both cats are blue ribbon Ruddy Abyssinians, even though they couldn't be less similar in appearance. Liz is long and lanky with a sleek coat, almost reptilian. Gretch is small and compact. Her coat is almost coarse in feel. Gretch came straight to me wanting to be picked up. Her most favorite spot in the world is on my shoulders. I squatted; she jumped up and settled on my right shoulder with her tail wrapped around my face. I pulled it down under my chin as I stood up. She rubbed her cheek against mine.
Liz had to check out the stranger in her domain. Judd stood transfixed as she sniffed his boots and then his pant legs. He sat down on the floor, cross-legged. Liz, who is usually rather standoffish with most people, stepped up into his lap, placed her front paws on his chest, sniffed him and then nuzzled his chin. That told me volumes about what kind of person Judd is. If my cats don't like you or at least abide your presence, then I have no use for you. And if you don't like cats, you must be subhuman.
"What kind of cats are these, Uncle Jace?" He was stroking Liz's back, hand over hand, and kissing her on top of her head.
"Abbies. Abyssinians."
"Never heard of 'em. They look like miniature mountain lions, don't they? And her purr sounds like one. I think she likes me."
"She’s an excellent judge of character. So you must be a good guy."
Just as I started to tell him not to pick her up because she goes kind of schizy, he stood up with her in his arms. She was completely relaxed. I’d never seen her do that. Judd petted her a bit, then walked over to the bed and set her down on it. She was disgruntled that he didn't continue to pay attention to her.
"Damn, Unk, this is the biggest bed I've ever seen."
"It's a California King," I said. He turned and looked at me.
"With a bed this big, you're going to make me sleep on the floor?" I ignored his question and envisioned him lying naked on that bed. I quickly thought about boiled turnips and turned to the big French Moderne armoire. I opened the side that I had emptied for his clothes. I bought this place after Ken had walked out of my life. I had furnished it for one person.... ME. "You can hang your clothes in here. And that chest of drawers is all yours. Why don't you get settled in while I fix us some lunch?"
"Sure, Uncle Jace."
><><
The room is divided into different areas with movable screens standing here and there to break the view. I walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. I had already prepared the makings for sandwiches and salad. I tossed a bowl of salad greens with made-from-scratch vinaigrette, set the platter of meats and cheese along with a plate of sliced tomatoes on the table and got out two place mats, plates, and flatware. I filled two glasses with ice and set a pitcher of sweetened tea and a bottle of Coke on the table. Lunch was ready.
Meanwhile, Judd opened one of the big suitcases on the end of the bed and emptied its contents into the chest of drawers. As he closed it, I told him to just set it over by the door, later we could lock it in the cage out by the lift.
"Thanks, Uncle Jace," he said as he carried it to the door. He carried the other large suitcase over to the door, too, and set it beside the emptied one.
"Judd, drop the 'Uncle' bit. I'm only six years older than you. We're both adults. Call me Jace."
He looked at me with mischief in his eyes. "Six years? That makes you sooo old. I think I'd better continue calling you Unk."
He’d turned to his other bags and didn't see me as I tackled him with a headlock. I noogied his scalp with my knuckles. He yelped and tried to throw me off. I had weight on my side. He didn't succeed. "Yell uncle and I'll let you go," I said.
"Okay, Uncle Jace," he giggled.
"Smart ass." I tightened my grip and gave him another noogy.
"Uncle, uncle, uncle," he yelled. I let go and stepped back. As he rubbed his scalp and smoothed his hair, he looked at me like he was trying to figure out whether he should be angry or not. I noticed that the physical contact had excited him. I grinned.
"Come on, let's have some lunch."
That decided it for him. He couldn't be angry and eat too. He made himself a 'Dagwood' and filled his glass with Coke. I made myself a regular sandwich and had iced tea. We ate in silence for a couple of minutes. I remembered that he’d said that he had a couple of reasons for coming out here and he had only given me one. "What’s the other reason, Judd?" I asked.
"Reason for what?"
"You said you had a couple of reasons for coming to L.A. What’s the other one?"
He ducked his head and laid his half eaten sandwich down." There's no other reason." He suddenly looked like he had lost his best friend.
"You react like that and expect me to believe you? Did you get into trouble back home?"
"No, but I probably would have if I’d stayed. Please, Jace, I don't want to talk about it right now."
"Okay, you don't have to. Finish your sandwich."
"Thanks, but I've had enough." He scooted his chair back and left the table. He went back to his unpacking, doing it in slow motion. It appeared that he was doing some serious thinking. The joy of life he’d been so full of minutes ago seemed to have suddenly gone out of him. His skin was splotchy, his eyes were red-rimmed, and his mouth was turned down in a grimace. We Texas tow-heads splotch when we get upset.
I sat at the table and watched for several minutes, wondering what his problem could be. It was obvious that it was something quite serious. I started adding up all the facts that I had. There weren't that many, but they all led to only one conclusion.
To be continued...
Posted: 03/02/12