Summary:  In the aftermath of Ben’s death, Joe finds comfort from an unexpected source.

Rated: K+ (2,040 words)

Final Advice

The second step from the top creaked, just like it always did. He let his hand brush against the worn down rail, smooth under his fingertips, just like always. It was so strange that these things were all the same, not right really. Normally the familiarity of the house wrapped around him like warmth from a fire, but right now it was like wind blowing over the top of a bottle, creating a hollow echo to underline his emptiness. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so alone.

He paused with his fingers on the doorknob to his father’s room. He didn’t want to go in. It would be too much; everything would be the same except for one thing, and he didn’t want to think about that. But he could still hear voices downstairs from people who meant well but didn’t really understand, and he couldn’t deal with them right now. So he sought comfort in the one place where he’d always been able to find it.

The room still smelled like him. Joe let his weary body fall to the bed and inhaled the scent from the pillows. It smelled like pine and earth, like his Pa. He squeezed his eyes shut against tears and clasped the pillow to his chest, burying his face in it. He focused on breathing through the tightness in his lungs rather than the thought after a few days the scent would be gone from this pillow, just like his Pa was gone now too. The pillow grew wet against his closed eyelids, but he didn’t move. He just lay there and imagined that he was four again and had crept to his Pa’s room in the middle of a night because of a nightmare. He could almost hear the deep voice reassuring him while a heavy hand rubbed his back in calming circles. It didn’t matter what he’d said; just knowing that his father was there chased away the bad dreams like shadows in the sun. Only there was no chasing away the nightmare this time.

Finally Joe sat up. He still didn’t feel like going back downstairs, but he didn’t want to lie on the bed all day and be reminded of how empty it was. He walked across the room, letting his hand trail over the bedspread, the nightstand, the windowsill. Everything seemed to be a part of his Pa, from the books in the room to the actual shelf that held them, and somehow they’d become precious to him. He ran his hand over each one of the books’ worn leather backs. There weren’t that many; Adam had taken a lot of the books when he’d left. But the handful that remained, Joe knew, were close to his father’s heart. Now they were close to his as well.

His hand paused over one; a book whose cover was so scarred and tattered that if you didn’t know it was a Bible you wouldn’t have been able to guess. Joe pulled it off the shelf and held it for a moment as a memory floated through his mind of his Pa reading from this book by the light of a flickering lamp on a winter night. His Pa had always held it differently than all the other books, as if what he held in his hands was more precious than the Ponderosa itself. Joe sank back onto the bed and opened the book.

The first page had writing on it in a hand that Joe didn’t recognize. He squinted to decipher the blurred and faded words.

To Ben, the Love of my Life, on our wedding day.

Love your other heart,

Elizabeth

Joe stared at the short inscription for a minute. Was this really a wedding present from Adam’s mother? He had known the book was old, but the fact that it had held up this long was incredible. He turned to the next page and his heart twisted as he recognized the handwriting spelling out a list of dates with descriptions next to them.

Today God and Elizabeth have given me a son; Adam Stoddard Cartwright. I couldn’t have asked for a more perfect child.

He put his finger over the date, as if he could capture the memory of his father, and his heart gave another painful beat, not just for his father, but for his brother this time too. Somehow reading that short sentence had made him see his brother in a completely different light. He wondered when Adam would get the letter he had sent him telling him the news and wished for the hundredth time that he could tell him in person rather than on a scrap of paper.

He looked back down at the Bible and read the dates slowly, as if each one were a letter to him from his Pa. There was a note for the death of Elizabeth, for when Pa and Adam had started out west, for when Pa had married Inger, Hoss’ mother. Joe’s eyes stopped at one date, and he read it several times with a growing lump in his throat.

Today, in the middle of this treacherous journey, my second son was born; Eric Hoss Cartwright. He’s nearly twice the size that Adam was, but both he and Inger are healthy. He will always be a reminder to me that miracles do happen.

Yes, Joe thought, Hoss always had believed in miracles and the better side of both life and people. If he were here now, Joe knew he’d be saying that Pa was in a better place. Joe wasn’t sure about that, but he knew that heaven was a better place for having both Ben and Hoss Cartwright there. At least now they were together.

He continued to read the dates, the death of Inger, the arrival at the Ponderosa, the house being completed, his Pa’s marriage to his mother. Then Joe’s heart stopped on one date.     

Today my third son was born; Joseph Francis Cartwright. He looks so much like his mother, but his crying reveals that he has more than his share of Cartwright stubbornness. I don’t think I’ve seen his mother so happy or felt my own heart so content.   

Suddenly Joe could no longer see the page as his eyes blurred with tears. He wiped them away and read the short entry over and over again. Then he closed his eyes and heard it in his head, spoken with his Pa’s voice. The words were like daggers at the same time as they were comforting. Finally he wiped his eyes clear and flipped through the next few pages into the actual scripture. Here there was writing as well, notes, underlines, and references to other scriptures. As Joe skimmed over the pages, he realized just how much he had taken for granted the man that his father had been. He’d always seen his Pa as a pillar of iron, unmovable, but here there were verses about fear underlined.

Finally Joe reached the back, but it wasn’t the end. Here there were papers folded inside, yellowed and cracked. Joe carefully peeled them open to reveal more of his Pa’s writing. It wasn’t in any specific order, just scribbles without any dates or structure. With a pang, Joe noticed a slight blurring of the word in one from a tear. He squinted to read it.

I can’t understand it. My son, Inger’s son; I can’t even write what I feel. It’s as if my heart has been ripped out of my chest.

He sat back and lowered the papers. He hadn’t known his Pa had felt that. But it matched his own feelings right now, and he wished he could shake these papers under God’s nose and demand to know why. It wasn’t fair. Joe took a few shaky breaths and continued to read the scrawls so he wouldn’t have to think about it.

Some of them were so faded he couldn’t read them, and some were too vague for him to be able to pinpoint the event. But others made him smile, if not outwardly then inwardly. And one nearly made him laugh despite his aching emptiness. It was only two words, but it was followed by four question marks. An elephant???? He remembered the time all too well when he and Hoss ad brought Old Sheba home. It had been a good memory and it remained so, despite the bittersweet taste to it now.

There were a lot of references to the doctor and a lot of requests to God for recovery. Joe grimaced with a slight smile. They sure had put his Pa through a lot. But then again, what could you expect with three sons? Maybe he should start praying now to have only daughters.

He couldn’t make out much of one, mostly just a name, Laura. Joe remembered her; Adam had been going to marry her. Underneath the one sentence was written, Lord, it would be nice to see my sons married happily and settled down before I’m old and senile.

Well at least Pa had been able to see his one of his sons get married. If only he’d be here to see the baby born too. A few more months… Joe shook his head. There was always something. The bay being born, the baby’s first steps, the next baby; there would always be something down the road that Joe would want his Pa to be there for. It seemed like he’d just figured out how to live with the yawning hole inside him that Hoss had left, and now life had gone and punched in another one. Joe folded the papers back in the Bible, too sick to his stomach to read anymore. Adam had left, Hoss had left. But his Pa had always been there. Somehow the thought of him not being there just hadn’t occurred to him. Joe remembered the day he’d married Amy; he’d seen his whole life stretched out before him with that beautiful woman by his side. But in the background his Pa had been there too. He hadn’t even considered that it would be any other way.

“What am I supposed to do now?” he whispered to the empty room. The words felt rough and scratchy in his throat, and his eyes burned from more unshed tears. “How am I supposed to keep going alone?”

He looked back at what his Pa had written after Hoss’ death. Underneath it were three words he’d missed the first time: Keep moving forward.

“That’s it?” he flipped the page over and skimmed through the rest of the notes, but there was nothing else written about Hoss. Joe felt like he’d been punched in the stomach, and for a moment he raised the book and the papers as if to hurl them against the wall. Then he let them fall back to the bed.

“Your advice never did make sense at the time.” He murmured, thinking of all the times he’d gone to his father for help. He couldn’t do that now, not really, but he gathered the papers and folded them carefully back into the Bible.

There was a knock at the door, and Joe looked up into Amy’s eyes

“Joe?” she hesitated outside the door, unsure whether or not he wanted to be disturbed. “I made supper.”

“Right.” Joe stood, Bible in hand and followed her down the stairs. But instead of going into the dining room, he went over to the large desk in the corner. How many times had he seen his Pa there working? He touched the wooden top almost reverently before sitting down and pulling out a pencil. He opened the Bible to the first page and hesitated a minute before writing.

I guess I now have two guardian angels to help me keep moving forward; today my father joined my brother Hoss at home. 

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.