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...

Chapter 7
And The Truth Shall Set You Free

Judd’s diary
Jan 7, ’02

Jace left this morning for six weeks of flying around the country signing his new book. This is only the third time he’s had to do this since we became a couple... certainly not often enough for me to be used to it yet, and I’m already lonesome for him.

I've spent the day thinking about the Deason family... some notes on my thoughts:

I was 13 and small for my age when Jace left home. Speaking of me, Grandpa was always saying, "He's going to be just like Jace. When he hits sixteen, you'll think he's never going to stop growing." Well, he was right in more ways than that, because I turned out to be just like Jace in more ways than anyone expected. Not only was I just as tall as him, I looked more like him than any of his brothers, and to top it off, I turned out to be gay just like him.

That's another thing that’s very curious. When Jace got caught playing with a hired hand in the barn, why did Grandpa lose it, taking a raw hide rope to him while swearing that he'd beat the queerness out of him. And yet when he caught Joe and Hank a couple of years earlier doing the same thing, he only reprimanded them for not being more discrete. Why the discrepancy in his behavior towards his sons?

Then there's the whole mystery of Dad's strained relationship with Grandpa. They barely abide each other's presence. And yet nobody seems the least bit curious about it, except me. When I asked my uncles about it, they referred me to my dad, and Dad's reply was for me not to worry about it and to just stay out of Grandpa's way.

I've studied the interaction of my grandparents, parents, and uncles for years. There're definitely some terrible things that have happened in this family that no one is willing to talk about. I sometimes feel that my mother is blissfully ignorant of it all, then at other times that she's simply putting on an act and just ignores all of the animosity between the men. Another thing, she doesn't seem to question at all is the many hunting and fishing trips that Dad takes with my uncle, Mom's brother Jim Brandis, who owns the ranch east of us. The two of them are the best of friends, but Mom and Mrs. Brandis (we've never called her aunt) don't socialize at all. Personally, Mom would make a good Stepford Wife; she sees to her husband and sons' needs without any complaint, and she seldom shows that she’s upset. Of course, she’s been known to lose her patience and her temper, but those times are rare and over with almost as fast as they come on.

When Dad is home, he’s a completely different person than the one that’s uptight and on edge whenever Grandpa’s around. He's relaxed, loving, and gentle when he’s home, but once he steps out into the yard he becomes a hard, no nonsense man... especially if Grandpa’s near. I've never heard Dad call Grandpa 'Dad', it's always ‘Old Man’.

Joe seems to always be just Joe – always the same. Nothing bothers him. He's always got a ready joke, a kind word and a smile for everyone. Then there’s Hank. I think something terrible must’ve happened to Hank when he was a kid. Whatever it was, I get a feeling that’s the crux of the whole situation. He’s afraid of Grandpa, although he tries to act like he's not. He’s very close to Joe and spends most of his time with him. I sometimes feel they’re married to each other, but I've never witnessed any PDA between them. But Hank’s always near Joe, no matter what they’re doing. Also, I’ve always thought that Hank looks at Dad like he’s some kind of god.

 Joe and Hank live in the middle house, which they had built after Jace left home. Our house, or rather my parent’s house, sits a couple of hundred feet beyond and at an angle to my grandparent’s and Joe and Hank’s houses. I've never been in Joe and Hank’s house except when it was being built. It has one very large bedroom and bath at the back with just a big kitchen and living room in the front.

That leaves the last brother – the youngest – Jace. Jace is different from his brothers. He doesn't have that protective shell the other three seem to have. One could almost say that compared to them, he’s delicate. Yet delicate is not a word that fits Jace at all, but Jace has a vulnerability about him that’s lacking in Dad and Joe. Hank seems to have a similar vulnerability, but it's more like he’s been very badly abused or something – kind of like a mistreated animal.

When I tried to talk to Jace about Grandpa and his relationship with his four sons, Jace's response was that the subject was closed. Taboo was the word he used. I could feel his contained anger even though he tried to hide it.

All of these things keep floating around in my head. I know there’s a story to be told about this family, and I think I shall someday soon write one. It obviously will be a fiction based solely on my conjectures, since no one will out the truth to me.

><><

I'm nearly twenty- eight now and I'm following in my beloved's footsteps. Since graduating from UCLA, I've had two successful sitcoms on TV and I've got a novel being published. The release date is in three months. I guess I'll be doing the same thing Jace is doing right now – out on tour, signing books.

With those accomplishments under my belt, my inheritance will allow me to just sit back and write what I want, which is exactly what I shall do at the end of my present contract with HBO.

><><

Feb 23, 02

Jace returned last night from the book signing tour for his latest novel The Rainbow's Reflection. His last four novels have been best sellers. He says mine is better than his. Well, I guess sales will show the truth once it gets published. God, it’s so wonderful having him back, being able to touch him and be touched by him.

Feb 27, 02

Grandpa died in his sleep last night. Dad called first thing this morning. Jace and I will be flying back for the funeral. Dad's meeting us in El Paso. Midland- Odessa is a lot closer, but Dad insists on us flying to El Paso. I guess he wants some time with us without the rest of the family.

I was never close to my grandfather. I tried to be, but he seemed to shy away from me. I remember once when I was about ten, he was trying to correct the way I flicked my wrist when throwing a rope. He was kneeling behind me with his hands on mine holding the rope. Both of us were intent on the lesson and didn't hear my dad walk up. When he cleared his throat Grandpa nearly jumped out of his skin. He stood up and tried to explain to Dad that he was only instructing me.

"You keep your hands off my son. You hear me, Old Man?" Dad said.

His voice scared me; it was so cold and emotionless. It must have scared Grandpa, too, because he just affirmed that he’d heard, turned on his heels and walked into the house. The next time I saw him, his eyes had such a pained expression when he looked at me. I wanted to run to him and tell him everything was okay, but even though I didn’t know why, I knew it wasn't.

Feb 30, 02

The funeral was a weird experience. The service was at the grave side. There was no preacher to preside over it. Several of the neighboring ranchers spoke, telling of their memories of the man they knew and remembered. Dad stood at the foot of the grave with his hat clasped in both hands, his head bowed. After a minute of silence he looked up to the sky and prayed aloud.

"God," he said, "on behalf of my father, I beseech You to forgive him his sins and trespasses. I believe he suffered enough on this earth to make up for the things he did. Let him have the peace and love every man deserves at Your side. Amen."

With a nod from Dad, my three brothers and I lifted the casket with one of us on each end of the two ropes while Dad and Joe pulled the two 4X4s away that it had rested on. We then gently let the ropes play out, lowering the casket to the bottom of the hole. We pulled the ropes from under the casket and moved away. I went to stand next to Uncle Jim, while Dad and his three brothers each took a shovel. Dad was the first to toss a shovel full of dirt that was piled on each side of the hole and toss it on the casket. Each of his brothers took a turn, then they all worked simultaneously to fill the hole. While I watched with Uncle Jim's arm around my shoulders, I wondered what Grandpa had done that Dad referred to in his prayer.

Grandma and Mom sat together at the head with my three brothers – the two oldest with their wives at their sides, and the youngest with his fiancée. We all watched until the earth was piled high on top of the grave.

When the job was finished, those four men, my three uncles and my father, looked at each other with a sigh of relief and grinned at each other, then Hank started bawling. He collapsed into Joe's arms. Dad and Jace strode over Grampa's grave to get to him. The four men stood in a huddle, hugging and consoling Hank. In that moment, I realized a truth that had been around all my life. A nightmare that they’d lived with most of their lives had ended somehow with Grandpa's death.

While I stood at the foot of Grandpa's grave watching Dad and his brothers hugging, I remembered the day when I was thirteen that Grandpa had caught Jace with the hired hand and whipped him with a rawhide rope. Dad was away that day.

It was one of those hot white days. The air was so dry that there was hardly any blue in the sky. The wispy little clouds were almost indiscernible; white on a near-white sky. It was quiet. The birds that usually twittered in the leafy shade of the single tree in that barren backyard were still. Out past the corral a big old black bird sat on fence post occasionally shattering the silence with a loud raucous squawk.

I was sitting in the old tire swing under the big old elm tree that grew near the corner of my grandparents' house. All the grownups were out of sight. Grandpa had left in his pickup. I knew Jace was in his room with Grandma doctoring his back where the skin had been cut by the rawhide rope that Grandpa had used on him.

I could see Mom at her kitchen window doing something at the sink. She kept glancing down the road. I guess she was watching for Dad or Grandpa to return. She saw me looking at her and smiled at me. My brothers were playing with their toy trucks in the shade of the tree. I could tell that they instinctively knew that something major had happened by the way they were behaving. My other two uncles had gone off somewhere by themselves right after Grandpa left. Hank had been acting kinda weird, like he was scared of his own shadow. Joe was being very solicitous to him.

Grandpa drove into the yard and parked near the barn. He sat there staring straight ahead for a long time before getting out and trudging inside the barn. After a bit, I wandered over and peeked around the edge of the big double doors. It was dark inside, flies were buzzing around in lazy circles. I didn't see Grandpa at first, then he swatted at the gnats. He was sitting on a bale of straw resting his forearms on his knees. His head hung down in defeat. When he let out a big audible sigh, I turned and meandered back to the swing and the cool shade of the tree. I knew Dad would be angry with me if I tried to talk to him.

A while later I saw a cloud of dust rising behind Dad's pickup as it flew up the road towards us. He came to a crunching, skidding stop by the back door of Grandma's house, leapt out of the pickup before it completely stopped, sprinted up the steps, and through the back door. I turned and looked at Mom watching from her kitchen window. She was intent on the door Dad had gone through.

Just moments later, Dad came back out, pushing the screen door out of his way so hard it slammed against the wall and bounced back hitting his shoulder. Grandma and Jace followed him out, but stopped at the edge of the steps. Grandma yelled out to him, "Tom, don't do anything you'll regret."

He strode to the barn, ignoring Grandma. I jumped out of the swing and ran over to listen. Dad had stopped just inside the door. In the quiet heat I heard him talking to Grandpa in a sad low voice.

"I should whip you within an inch of your life, with the same rope you used on Jace... but Jace begged me not to. Why'd you do it, Old Man? You know you've now lost the only son that still loved you, don't you?"

I’d crept over to stand behind Dad. I heard Grampa sigh and then say, "You'll never understand. So there's no reason for me to try explaining it to you."

"No, I don't understand. You must have some hellacious demons inside you that make you do the things you've done to your own sons."

I kicked a stone with the toe of my boot, and Dad turned and looked down at me.

"Judd, go see if your mother needs any help."

I cocked my head to the side and looked up at him, trying to convey that I wanted to stay. One side of his mouth quirked in an almost smile, and his eyes sparkled with love for me.

"Go on, Son. You don't need to hear this."

When Dad looked at me like that, it always made me feel good and made me want to do what he told me. I turned and ran across the dusty yard into our house. I've always wondered what was said after I left. My brothers didn't seem interested at all. They just went on playing with their trucks.


Mar 3, 02 Mon

Dad and Uncle Jim took us back to El Paso to catch our flight back to L.A. Jace again rode in the front with Dad while Jim kept me company in the back., I tried to hear what Dad and Jace were discussing, but Jim kept up a constant discussion with me. I swear it was on purpose. Every once in a while I'd catch Jace looking at me, but I couldn't decipher his expression. And occasionally I'd catch Dad looking at me in the mirror, too. They were definitely talking about me.

Standing at the gate ready to board, Dad and Uncle Jim hugged us one last time. As Dad hugged Jace, I heard him murmur to him, "In two weeks, then."

We waved goodbye and got on the plane. When we settled into our first class seats, Jace reached over and squeezed my hand with a big sigh. I looked at him with a silent query, he just smiled at me, laid his head back and closed his eyes. I looked around; it appeared that we would be the only ones in this section.

"What's happening in two weeks?" I asked.

"You heard that, huh?"

I mentally called him a damned Yankee for answering my question with a question, but I kept silent. He opened one eye and glanced at me. Seeing that I was still looking at him waiting for an answer, he closed his eyes again.

"Your dad and Jim are going hunting," he said.

"Yeah?" I urged.

"You want to join them?"

"You're joking. No one has ever been allowed to join them."

Without opening his eyes, he raised his eyebrows.

"Times have changed. Mom's moving to Dallas. Your mom and Nan, Jim's wife, are both seeking divorces. Your brothers, Tommy and Jimmy are building themselves houses over at the springs at Flat Top. And Bobby has been given permission to move into the big house when he gets married this next spring."

"I already knew about my brothers, but I hadn't heard about Granmom moving or about the divorces. You'd think that Mom would have told me."

Jace just shrugged.

I thought about all this for several minutes – the implications – my conjectures.

"So we're invited to join them?" I asked.

"In a sense,’ he replied, paused, then said, “actually, they’re coming out to stay with us."

"Oh. You just up and invited them?"

"No. Your dad just informed me that that was what's going to happen."

"Sounds like Dad."

Silence fell between us. We were in the air now and Jace had his eyes closed, so I stared out the window, watching an occasional puff of cloud whisk by as the plane flew over the sere New Mexico landscape.

"Jace?"

An eyebrow raised.

"How long have Uncle Jim and Dad been lovers?"

"Who says they are?"

"Oh, come off it!" I laid my seat back so we were eye to eye, even though his eyes were closed. "You know they are as well as I do."

Both of his eyebrows shot up in surprise, then he said, "I suppose since they were young boys."

"That's kind of what I figured. Where are we going to put them?"

"How would you feel about getting another bed and setting it up next to ours? There’s plenty of room, just move things around a little."

"Don't you think they'd enjoy a bit of privacy?"

"It was Tom's suggestion."

This was making me very uneasy. Jace has always referred to his brother when talking to me as ‘your dad’ and here suddenly it's Tom.

"What about our privacy?"

He shrugged.

"We'll put a couple of partitions between the beds if that will make you more comfortable."

"They'd still be able to hear us," I said.

"We'll be able to hear them, too."

"Well, yeah... doesn't that make you uncomfortable?"

Jace opened both eyes and looked at me.

"So what do you want to do?" He asked.

I brought my seat back to an erect position and stared out the window. There was an undercurrent here... I was missing something... I turned and looked at Jace... he was watching me. I looked back out the window. I refused to let myself think the thoughts that kept trying to emerge, but they sneaked in anyway.

I’d never seen my dad naked. Even when he took his shirt off, he wore an undershirt, one of those kind that some call a wife beater. Now, here I was wondering what he looked like naked, then I thought about Jim. He and Dad were like salt and pepper. Where Dad was blonde, Jim had brown hair. I conjectured that he was as hairy as us, judging from his arms and the hair sticking out of his shirt collar. I looked back a Jace, he was still watching me. I wondered if he could detect my thoughts, and I know I blushed. He gave me a knowing smile... did he know where my mind was? I lay my seat back and faced him again.

"Jace, I've never had sex with anyone but you," I murmured.

He grinned. "And I’ve been true to you all these years."

I nodded, but didn't smile. This conversation had me totally weirded out. Not what had been said, but what had been left unsaid... the implications of what might happen. Jace was being close-mouthed, so I had no idea how he felt about this. Maybe I was just building towers out of clouds. I undid my seatbelt, stood up, and looked down at him. He was still staring at me - his expression unreadable.

"Where're you going?" He asked.

"Gotta pee."

"Mmm."

He closed his eyes. I moved toward the toilet. Once inside, I stared at my reflection as I relieved myself. I washed my hands and then splashed my face. I studied myself in the mirror as I blotted off the water. There was a frightened rabbit look in my eyes. I wondered if Jace saw it. And if he did, why was he being so unresponsive? He's my lover; he should be comforting me instead of just watching me like he was expecting something more out of me.

I stepped out of the cubicle. Jace's eyes were closed. If he heard me, he gave no indication. I hesitated and then went to the back row and sat down. The steward asked me if I'd like a drink. I shuddered – I hadn't touched alcohol since nearly killing myself with it, so I asked for a Coke. When he brought it, he tried to strike up a conversation, but seeing that I was distracted he left.

Crazy thoughts fluttered through my mind as I stared over the seat backs at the top of Jace's head. Over the years, we’d ogled good-looking guys together, but the thought of anyone intimately touching me other than Jace was verging on the abhorrent. And I couldn't quite imagine Jace wanting to get intimate with someone else either... it just wasn't in his nature. I wondered if something in our relationship I wasn’t aware of had changed.

When we landed at LAX, Jace looked momentarily surprised that I was sitting by myself in the back row and then acted as though nothing was out of the ordinary, so I decided to act the same, still wondering what was going on.

To be continued...

Posted: 05/11/12