A Marine Called Jason
(Revised)
by: Peter

(© 2007-2015 by the Author)
 

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 103
Our Life Takes a New Twist 

The phone rang inside the house. Jason was kicked back with his feet up on the porch railing, sipping a beer and watching the sun sink behind the tree line. He ignored the phone but when I didn't get up to answer it and it didn't stop ringing he got up and went inside to answer it.

How It Happened 

"Is this Jason or Brad?

"Jason."

"This is Alex Walker."

"Judge! Sorry I didn't recognize your voice."

"Well, we've never talked on the phone, it's always been in person."

"What can I do for you, Judge?"

"You can start by calling me Alex. Then you can agree to meet me at the cafe tomorrow morning."

"That depends on who's buying," Jason joked.

"That would be me."

"Why are you being so generous?" Jason asked.

"I'm not. It's a bribe."

"Better men than you have done time for less, Judge."

"Okay, call it a proposition."

"What kind of proposition?"

"I'll explain tomorrow. Bring Brad along."

We arrived at Barb's Cafe to find Judge Alex Walker at his table in the back, at the window. It wasn't his table but it was unofficially reserved for him and nobody sat there except when they knew the judge was out of town.

"She's got biscuits and gravy, made to order especially for you," Alex told Jason.

"Well, you certainly do know how to bribe a man," Jason said as we sat down.

"I thought we corrected that to a proposition," the judge said.

"You're a judge, it's a bribe," Jason chided him.

Barb herself came over with the coffee pot to take our orders.

"My, my, what's this all about, that you stoop to offering bribes in public?" she asked. When she'd left with their orders, Jason voiced the same question.

Judge Thompson squirmed in his seat. "I've got this problem that's been gnawing at me for a long time and I think you can help me with it. It's how I have to deal with strays and delinquents. The system sucks. A boy gets in a little trouble, there's an arrest, and I don't like how I have to deal with it. I've got three choices. One, I can let him go, release him to his parents with a good lecture. Problem is, a lot of these kids don't have parents, or the family is completely dysfunctional and the parents are the problem in the first place. Two, I can send him to a foster home, but most of them border on dysfunctional as well. I wouldn't say it to anybody else, but I see a foster home as little more than a cash cow. I've never had a boy sent to a foster home that didn't end up back in my court. Third, I can send him to juvenile detention. That's a blueprint for trouble. Juvenile detention is nothing but a stopover to prison."

"So, you have a fourth option bouncing around in your head and that would have something to do with us," Jason said dryly.

"Well, I was thinking, you've got that big place out there in the country, and.....”

"No," Jason cut in, holding up his hand.

"Hear me out," Alex said.

"There's no reason to hear you out. I know where you're heading with this and it's no,” Jason said sternly. “We raised our boys, it's up to those other parents to raise theirs."

"That's the point. You raised your boys. These boys I'm talking about, they don't have a chance in hell of making it in life. All I'm doing is putting off the inevitable. It breaks my heart knowing that every time I send a boy out of my courtroom, all I've done is put him on a different path to real jail time. Meanwhile, justice has been served, for the time being," he said with great sarcasm. "You could make a difference. A tremendous difference."

"How could we make a difference? Hell, we're too old to start raising boys again. Besides, you know our situation. It could be political suicide, you sending young boys to live with us."

"I do know, and by God I believe your situation just might be part of the reason I never found either of your boys in my court."

I laughed. "If you'd had them in your court, they would've begged to be sent to juvenile detention rather than be sent home," I joked.

"That's my point. You raised your sons, you didn't just let them grow up like a couple of weeds. I have to believe that your 'situation' just might have created a unique bond that most boys don't have with their fathers."

I nudged Jason's knee. Jason glanced at me then looked at Alex. "He's kneeing me under the table," Jason said. We all laughed.

"You've said yourself, Jason, the boys leaving has left a huge hole in our lives," I reminded him. "This would be a chance to fill that hole."

Jason sighed then got up and went to get the coffee pot. He came back and poured us all coffee then returned the pot. He came back and sat down.

"All right, Judge, we'll hear you out. What's your proposition?"

"Well, first, I wouldn't send a boy to you. There would be no official court order, no legal papers at all.

"How would we have custody?" I asked.

"You wouldn't, technically. I wouldn't remand the boy to your custody. Rather, I would strongly suggest that he simply find his way to your place."

We waited for more. When the judge was silent, Jason said, "That's it? We just have strays come knocking on our door and we take them in?"

"That's about the size of it," Alex said. "There wouldn't be any remuneration. Everything would be at your expense, that's how un-legal it would be."

"Damn, what the hell bribery school did you go to?" Jason joked.

"The money wouldn't be a problem," I put in quietly, one of the few contributions to the conversation.

"Yeah, he's got more fuckin' money than he knows what to do with," Jason said.

"If the boy does come, what if the he doesn't want to stay?" I asked.

"There would be nothing legally binding to keep him there," Alex said. "Well, I would rely on you to try to convince him to stay. If he doesn’t, then I would just have to wait till he got in trouble again and then go the legal route. We won't win them all but I know we can make a difference."

Jason was shaking his head as he said, "We'll have to think about it."

But the judge didn't let it drop. "I know you would give these boys a good, loving home, and both of you being military, you would know how to handle them in a tough manner and make them tow the mark, turn them into men."

"Well, one of us would die trying," Jason said.

"I would want a report from time to time on how the boys are doing. Nothing formal. More like this, just getting together for coffee and you tell me how things are going. If they're causing you trouble, then I might have to call them in for a good talking to," the judge said.

"No," Jason said flatly. "If there was any trouble, you wouldn't know about it. We would deal with it. I would have to have it understood that the police and the sheriff understand that if one of our boys got in trouble, he would be brought directly to us. We would deal with it ourselves, in our own way."

I was smiling inside, trying to keep it on the inside, how Jason was adamantly refusing yet he was laying the ground rules.

"If he's broken the law, the police and the sheriff have a responsibility......," the judge started.

"You're talking out of both sides of your mouth, Judge," Jason cut in. "Breaking the law would be what brought him to me in the first place. And what about your legal responsibility that you're willing to ignore by sending the boys to me in the first place, no strings attached? That's breaking the law. Sorry, but you didn't deal yourself any cards in this game, Judge. You dealt me all the cards. I'd also have to have it understood that there would be no interference--I mean none--from child protective services or any other do-gooders from the county. Once a boy came to me, he'd be mine. Those are my conditions, take 'em or leave 'em."

"You will think about it then," Judge Walker said.

"I said we would," Jason said.

Going home, we drove a good many miles in silence. Finally, I broke it.

"Well?"

"Naw," Jason said, shaking his head.

"You were mighty detailed with your conditions for it to be no," I said.

"It was all hypothetical."

I laughed. Jason looked at me with a scowl. "I recall you saying, those are my conditions, not they would be my conditions. You know you're not going to sleep nights knowing there are boys out there that you could help go straight."

"Watch me," he said. He looked around at me again at my snort of laughter. "Brad, for chrissakes, if we let this get started, we’ll have kids beating a path to our door when we’re on social security! We got no business trying to take care of a bunch of snot nosed boys. How are they going to relate to a couple of old coots like us?"

"Fuck, Jason, you look forty and you still act like you're twenty. They'd relate fine. They would be scared shitless of you till they got to know you but they would come around. Devon did." “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well, at first he was afraid to talk to you because you were gruffer.”

“Yeah, I remember now.” He said, smiling.

“Well, gruffer worked on him.”

It was a couple of weeks later, we were doing the supper dishes and cleaning up the kitchen. Jason often joked how we--this old, odd couple--had fallen into these little routines. It was moving past dusk, a chill in the October air, with the promise of getting colder, when there was a knock at the door. I muttered something like "Who the hell can that be" as Jason went to the door.

"Well, Shit!" he swore quietly, looking out without opening the door.

"What?" I said over his shoulder.

"It's a boy," he said.

I picked up the dish towel to dry my hands as I went over to the door where Jason was just standing there. "Well, are you going to answer it?"

"I told the judge we would think about, dammit," he growled.

"Well, you'd better think fast," I said. He still hesitated, which surprised me a little. I couldn't help laughing at his dilemma. Jason scowled at me.

 "What?" he snapped.

 "Nothing, I'm just waiting to see how you tell that boy to get off your porch." Then I said, "Jason, you know damned well you're not going to let that boy walk off the porch into the cold night."

 He went to the door.

 "S-Sir, I was t-told." He had to pause to swallow the lump in his throat, he was so scared. "….told I might f-find a p-place to sleep here?" he stammered in a pitifully timid voice.

 I felt for the boy and the courage it must have taken for him to stand there looking up at Jason's big, rugged frame. He was one of those guys who still looked like a Marine and he always would. The boy must've been terrified.

 "Who told you that?" Jason asked.

 "The man at the court house. I don't know his name,” he replied timidly.

 I waited for the inevitable.

 "Well, get on in here," Jason said as he pushed the screen door open.

 It was hard to guess the boy's age, I guessed around fourteen, painfully cute with a mess of blondish hair with darker eyebrows that set off his dark, empty eyes. He was disheveled, his jeans were torn and the once white T-shirt under his light jacket was stretched way out of shape. He wore old, dirty, tattered sneakers, no socks. He shivered every now and then.

 "What's your name?" Jason asked.

 "Jacob," he said meekly, shoving his hands in his pockets, as if he were afraid he might have to shake hands. But Jason put his hand out to force him to put his dirty, grubby hand in his grip.

 "Well I'm Jason and this is Brad," he said as the boy and I were shaking hands. "You had your supper?" he asked.

 "No, sir, but I'm not hungry," he replied.

 "Sure you are. Boys your age are always hungry. I oughta know, I raised one of my own," Jason said as he went to the refrigerator. "It's going to be a little bit before I get you some supper warmed up," he went on. "You've got time to go up and have a hot shower and change clothes."

 The boy looked confused, and he didn't move. "I….don't have any….clothes….except what I've got on," he said. We hadn’t noticed that the boy hadn’t brought a thing with him.

 "Well, of course you don't," Jason said. "You go on upstairs and get in the shower," he said, pointing the way to the stairs. "One of us will be up to get you some clothes."

 I showed him through the house to the bottom of the stairs. The boy moved up the stairs like a timid deer. He glanced back at me with a pitiful look as he reached the stop of the stairs. I smiled.

 "I'm betting he slept in a ditch," Jason said as he left supper to me to go upstairs. There was anger in his voice. There was even anger in his stride. I heard the shower running and he was back a few minutes later. "Goddamn this cold, ugly world!" he swore. He snatched up the phone.

 "Who're you calling?"

 "The judge."

 I glanced at my watch. Jason ignored me and kept dialing. I heard the pickup on the other end.

 "Judge, I've got a boy named Jacob just showed up here. Wherever he came from, whatever foster home it was, you get every boy out of that place right now." I could hear the seething in his voice; he was so angry he was ready to explode, and I could see it getting worse as he listened to the judge's response.

 "I don't give a royal fuck what the sheriff's doing, you get him on the horn and tell him to get the boys….Well, you interrupt the sheriff's dinner and tell him to get his sorry ass out here! Or, tell you what, I'll drive into town and tell him myself." There was more from the judge then Jason said, "Hell yes, have him bring 'em all here. And I mean now, judge. Right fuckin' now!" He slammed down the phone.

 "How many?" I asked calmly when he'd slammed the phone down.

 Jason strode past me to go upstairs. "Shit, I don't know, I forgot to ask. What the fuck difference does it make?" God, he was spittin' mad.

 Jacob had come down, dressed in Devon's or Kyle's old clothes that fit him pretty well. I motioned for him to sit down at the table. He did, rather timidly, and put his hands in his lap. When Jason set his plate in front of him he just stared at it.

 "What's the matter?" Jason asked him.

 "I never saw this much food before," he said.

 "Well, there's plenty more where that came from, so eat."

 Jacob had just finishing eating when the phone rang again. I picked it up and handed it to Jason. He didn't say anything except "Hello." He listened for a moment then said, “You be sure to tell the sheriff when they find ‘em, they come to me.” He didn't even say goodbye when he hung up.

 "There won't be any more coming," he said. Then he turned to Jacob. "Where'd you come from, Jacob? What foster home?"

 "I'd rather not say."

 "Were you the only one living there?"

 "No, there were others."

 "Where'd they go? That was the judge, and he said those boys all vanished in thin air. I'm not mad at you Jacob, I just want to find out what happened to the other boys, so maybe we can help them."

 "When I told them I was running off they said they were coming with me. But I told them no, and we made a plan."

 "What kind of plan?"

 "We decided to all go in different directions, so it would make it harder for them to find us. The plan was for all to end up here, but none of us were exactly sure of the way. I guess I found you first."

 Jason was nodding thoughtfully. "All right. I want you to go up and crawl in bed when you're done eating and get some sleep. Take the room across from the bathroom," he said as he got his jacket off the peg by the door.

 Jacob looked at me and I gave him a little nod and motioned him to the stairs. When the boy had gone upstairs I asked Jason where was going.

 "There's a bunch of cold, hungry, scared boys roaming around out there, trying to find this place. I'm going to try to find them."

 I couldn't hold back a smile.

 "What?" Jason barked.

 "You are one tough son-of-a-bitch, and when you say no, by God, you mean no."

 "Fuck you," Jason growled. He paused to shake his head. "Devon and Kyle are gonna shit when they find out," he said.

"They're going to be damned proud," I said. "By the way, do you know how many boys you're looking for?"

"No, I guess I don't."

"I'll ask Jacob." I went up stairs where Jacob was sitting on the edge of the bed. He got to his feet when I came in. "How many other boys were living there, Jacob?" I asked.

"There was….." But he seemed hesitant to tell me.

"Jason has to know how many boys he's looking for."

"Four others."

I went back down to Jason. “He said four.”

“That’s four besides him?”

“He said four others,” I said

Jason left and I went back upstairs and got some long-unused pajamas out of a drawer and handed them to Jacob.

 "Here's some pajamas if you want them."

"Thanks, but I don't use pajamas, just my shorts."

"All right."

 "I slept naked after the lights were out so I could wear my shorts more times ‘cause nothing got washed very often."

 "That's all right too, but you'll get your clothes washed here," I said as I turned down the covers. Then I went to the door, thinking he would want to be left alone to undress, but the boy was already taking his clothes off.

 "Mr. Jason probably told you I've got some bruises on me."

 Now I understood Jason's anger. "No. No, he didn't." I tried to hide my own anger as the boy bared his beautiful young body. There were bruises everywhere. I made no comment, I just stood beside the bed with the covers lifted, fighting back the tears.

 “Can I ask you something? Is Mr. Jason mad because I came here?”

 “He’s very angry but not because you came here. He’s not angry with you.

 "I think Mr. Jason's not as tough as he wants you to think," he said. “He’s gruff and he talks mean but he’s not.”

 I laughed. "He would not want to know you've seen through him," I said. "But he is tough. You'd better always do as he says."

 "Thanks for supper, I really was hungry, and I never seen so much food on a plate," he said as he crawled in under the covers which I lay over him.

 "You don't have to be hungry anymore, Jacob. There's always plenty to eat, just help yourself."

 "And for the clothes," he said.

 "Nobody was wearing them."

 "Mr. Brad, did you mean I can help myself anytime I want?"

 "Yes. If you get hungry in the middle of the night, go down and help yourself."

 "Tell Mr. Jason thanks, too. But don't tell him I know he's not as tough as he acts," he added with a tight smile, the first I’d seen.

 "I won't. It's not Mr. Jason or Mr. Brad, by the way. It's Jason and Brad."

 He hesitated. "I think I want it to be Mr. Jason and Mr. Brad for now."

 I nodded and smiled then left. I closed the door behind me but then opened it part way. I left the hall light on. Downstairs I opened several cans of soup and set about making sandwiches. While the soup was warming I called Judge Thompson again. His housemaid said he was having dinner.

 "Put him on the phone. I need to talk to him now," I said emphatically.

 "Judge Thompson."

 "This is Brad. Jason is out trying to round up the rest of the boys. They made up a plan to separate when they ran away so it would make it harder to find them. Judge, we've got a boy here with bruises all over him. I know I'm going to sound like Jason but I want you to revoke the license of the foster home these kids were in. You send the sheriff there with the papers right now. Tonight. Then we'll be in with the boy to talk about filing criminal charges."

 “I’m on it,” the judge said.

 The soup was barely warm when there was a knock at the door. I went to the door and took in a deep breath before I opened it. There stood a skinny boy of eleven or twelve looking forlornly up at me with the innocence of an angel, an innocence that was belied by his eyes that were set too deep with dark circles around them, and cheekbones that were gaunt and shoulders that needed more meat on them.

 "If you'd excuse me sir, would this be a place where I could stay for a little bit? I wouldn't cause no trouble and I don't eat much and I……."

 "Yes, son, this is the place," I said as I swung the screen door open for the boy to come in. I was more bewildered when I saw a car backing out of the end of the lane then it drove off down the road.

He made a swipe across his nose with his arm as he came inside, clutching a small suitcase. He looked so forlorn and frightened.

“Can I take that for you?” I asked, reaching for his suitcase. He pulled away from me; he wasn’t going to let me have it. “What’s your name?”

“Adam.”

“Who was that who let you off at the end of the lane?”

“My Mom. And her new boyfriend,” he replied as he kept a tight grip on his suitcase. He was so cute, made cuter by his smallish stature. Suddenly he planted his feet and looked up at me. “I guess I should ask how long you’re gonna let me stay here. I won’t need to stay long, she’ll be back to get me then we’re going on to Colorado.”

“You can stay as long as you want, Adam. Have you had anything to eat?”

“We ate at a diner.”

 “Then come on, I’ll show you your room.” Upstairs, I went into my bedroom and pulled out a folding cot from the closet and took it into Kyle’s old room; Jacob was in Devon’s room. The boy followed right behind me, still clutching his suitcase. “There’re some more boys coming in a little bit. We’re gonna have to bunk you on this cot for the time being. But we’ll go in town tomorrow and get you a real bed.”

“This’ll be okay,” he said. “And you don’t need to by an extra bed. Like I said, I won’t be staying long.” He was being very brave but I could sense fear and uncertainty behind the bravado.

 I opened and closed several of the dresser drawers, looking for a place for the boy to put his clothes, and wondered where I was going to put another dresser.

“I don’t need a drawer, I can use my suitcase,” he said.

“We’ll figure something out,” I said, ruffling his hair.

“What am I supposed to call you?” he asked.

“Brad. Now, come on, I was just getting ready to have some ice cream.”

 He followed me downstairs and took the chair I motioned to. “Do you like anything on your ice cream?”

“Whatever you’ve got,” he said.

I gleaned very little from talking to the boy as we ate our ice cream, but it was mostly because he didn’t know how he had come to be dropped off at the end of our lane; only that they had come from the courthouse earlier in the day and then they brought him here.

When he’d finished his ice cream he said he wanted to go to bed if that was all right. I hadn’t shown him the bathroom so I did that and asked him if he needed pajamas or anything to wear to bed. He told me no. When I checked on him later, he was on his knees beside the cot, in his shorts, arranging stuff on his suitcase that was shoved under the cot.

“I’m just putting some pictures and stuff out,” he said.

“We’ll figure out a way to get you a dresser in here,” I told him. I hung around till he crawled into bed. I wanted to tuck him in if he would let me. I thought he might think he was too old to be tucked in.

“How many boys you got here?” he asked.

“Just one, and you. I think we’ll probably have four more,” I said as I tucked the blanket in to his sides. He let me.

“You don’t need to get a new bed or a dresser just for me. I won’t be staying that long. Just till she comes back for me and we can go on to Colorado and I’ll get out of your way.”

 I squatted down beside the cot. “You’re not in the way, Adam. You can stay as long as you want, buddy.”

His lips tightened and he suddenly turned over to face the wall, but not before I’d seen him starting to pucker up. Next thing I knew, he was crying.

I sat on the edge of the cot and laid my hand on his shoulder. “What’s the matter, Adam?”

“Nothing.”

“Adam….son , you can tell me. You’re safe here, you can tell me anything.”

“She won’t come back for me,” he said, sobbing. “She never does. She left me at the neighbor’s house the first time. When she did come back it was just to take me to my aunt and uncle.”

I was rubbing his back and shoulders, trying to comfort him. He calmed down a little but he was still crying.

“They took me to a foster home till my grandmother came and got me. But she’s sickly. She can’t hardly take care of herself. She called my Mom. She came back and we went to the courthouse to find another foster home. That’s when the judge said they should bring me here.”

Bless Judge Thompson, I thought. “Judge Thompson did the right thing,” I said as I rubbed his shoulder.

“I don’t know where I’m supposed to go from here,” he cried.

His words cut into me like a knife. I felt pity and anger but most of all I felt compassion; more than I thought I was capable of.

“Adam, turn over,” I said quietly, still rubbing his shoulder. “Come on, turn over, look at me.

He finally did, after he had his sobbing under control.

“Listen to me, Adam. You’re not going anywhere from here. You can stay here as long as you want.”

He just looked at me, with his big, dark, wet eyes that cried out for love and understanding.

“Why?” he asked.

It was the most gut wrenching single-word question I’d ever had put to me, and I didn’t know how to answer him. Finally, I replied, “Why not?” It was all I could think of to say. We remained eyeball to eyeball for a long moment and I think he understood, possibly for the first time in his life, that there was someone who cared about him. I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead and told him goodnight. I went back downstairs to wait for Jason to return with the other boys. I prayed to God he would find them, or that they would find their way to us.

To be continued...  

Posted: 05/22/15 rp