{"id":12613,"date":"2016-02-24T00:10:55","date_gmt":"2016-02-24T05:10:55","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=12613"},"modified":"2025-02-18T19:10:22","modified_gmt":"2025-02-19T00:10:22","slug":"still-his-father","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/?p=12613","title":{"rendered":"Still His Father (by pjb)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Summary<\/strong>: \u00a0“. . . because some things are never over.”<\/p>\n

Word Count 1550 \u00a0Rated K<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

Still His Father<\/u><\/strong><\/p>\n

\u00a0It was a simple question, the kind of casual inquiry routinely posed by new acquaintances at parties: How many sons do you have?<\/em><\/p>\n

I don\u2019t know what I said: Three. Four. It depends. I\u2019m not sure. <\/em>Or maybe I didn\u2019t say anything. Whatever my response, it gave her pause. A crinkle appeared between her brows. How could a person not know the answer to such a question? Then again, she was new in town. She didn\u2019t know any better.<\/p>\n

\u201cPa.\u201d The low voice at my elbow let me know that she wasn\u2019t the only one to notice my reaction. Joseph extended his hand to the attractive woman whose name I suddenly could not remember. They introduced themselves, and Joe said, \u201cIt\u2019s a pleasure to meet you. Do you mind if I borrow my father for a minute?\u201d Smoothly, he maneuvered me over to the punch bowl and filled a glass for me.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m fine,\u201d I said. He didn\u2019t call me a liar, but I could feel his eyes studying me as intently as I was focusing on the miniscule glass I held in both hands.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe should get out of here,\u201d he announced. \u201cIt\u2019s late. I\u2019ll find Jamie.\u201d<\/p>\n

The last thing I needed was to have both of them fussing. I mounted a feeble protest: \u201cNo, don\u2019t. It\u2019s early yet, and the boy\u2019s having a good time.\u201d I took a sip of the punch and grimaced. \u201cOh, that\u2019s terrible,\u201d I said. \u201cThere\u2019s not even anything in it, is there?\u201d I\u2019d almost have been willing to finish that sickly sweet concoction if there was a chance it might numb me.<\/p>\n

Joe filled another glass and took a swig. \u201cBlech,\u201d he said, his face scrunched up in disgust. \u201cRight on both counts. Come on. Let\u2019s get out of here.\u201d He took the glass from my hands and shepherded me through the crowd that had gathered for the town\u2019s latest fundraiser. Out on the front steps of the International House, he said, \u201cI\u2019ll be right back.\u201d Before I could protest, he disappeared into the hotel, returning a minute later with Jamie.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut I want to stay!\u201d Jamie was protesting. \u201cI didn\u2019t get a chance to dance with Ellie!\u201d Ellie Simons was the latest object of Jamie\u2019s affections. Jamie wasn\u2019t nearly the heartbreaker Joe had been at that age, but he enjoyed his fair share of puppy love.<\/p>\n

\u201cJoe, we don\u2019t have to\u2014\u201d I began, but Joe held firmly to Jamie\u2019s arm.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s go,\u201d said the man whom I\u2019d dragged out of countless parties and socials just that way so many years ago, when he\u2019d been the one begging for just one more dance with his latest great love. Another time, I\u2019d have asserted my authority to override him, but tonight, I couldn\u2019t seem to muster up the energy.<\/p>\n

Whatever Joe growled at Jamie after I\u2019d gotten into the buggy must have been pretty fierce, because the boy was silent the entire way home. I turned around once to see if he was sleeping, but there wasn\u2019t enough moonlight to tell. Joe\u2019s profile was stony, but his fingers played the reins casually.<\/p>\n

By the time we reached the house, I was half-dozing. Without being told, Jamie set to unhitching the horses. Joe clapped his shoulder and said something I couldn\u2019t hear, and Jamie muttered, \u201cSure,\u201d with minimal sulkiness.<\/p>\n

\u201cAren\u2019t you going to help him?\u201d I asked as Joe followed me into the house.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe can handle them.\u201d Tending to the horses was officially the job of the youngest, but most times, an older brother lent a hand.<\/p>\n

As we had after so many parties, we untied our ties and unbuttoned the top buttons of our shirts. Somewhat to my surprise, Joe turned up the lamp Hop Sing had left burning in the front room. \u201cYou staying up?\u201d I asked as I headed with all deliberateness for the stairs.<\/p>\n

\u201cThought I\u2019d have a little something to wash the taste of that punch out of my mouth.\u201d He uncorked the decanter and poured two brandies.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m going to turn in,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019ll help you sleep,\u201d he pointed out.<\/p>\n

A flash of anger burned through me. \u201cI don\u2019t need anything to help me sleep.\u201d He said nothing, but for the second time that evening, I felt as though he was refraining from calling me a liar. I stomped up the stairs and down the hall, slamming my bedroom door behind me.<\/p>\n

By the time I heard footsteps in the hall, I\u2019d shed my party clothes in favor of a nightshirt and my ancient maroon dressing gown. A hesitant tap sounded on my door. Before I could decide whether to invite him in, Jamie called, \u201cGood night, Pa.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood night, son,\u201d I responded through the closed door. I waited for Joe to echo the sentiment, but all I heard was the closing of Jamie\u2019s door.<\/p>\n

Dimly, the grandfather clock downstairs chimed the hour\u2014eleven or twelve, I didn\u2019t count. With inexplicable stealth, I lifted the latch on my door and peered into the hall. Jamie\u2019s door was closed. Joe\u2019s stood open, the room dark. I padded down the hall to the top of the stairs.<\/p>\n

Joe was poking at the fire in the desultory way that meant he was thinking of something else. The brandy decanter sat on the long low pine table behind him. As I watched, he drained his glass in a single gulp and refilled it.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaking up for lost time?\u201d I asked. His head snapped up. For an instant, I saw his anguish, as raw as it had been a year ago. Then, deliberately, he assumed a relaxed stance and held the glass out to me.<\/p>\n

\u201cOffer\u2019s still open.\u201d His voice was tight.<\/p>\n

I descended the stairs. \u201cI\u2019ll get my own,\u201d I said. I fetched another glass from the table where the decanter usually sat, and Joe filled it brimful. We held up our glasses in a silent toast, and we drank.<\/p>\n

Joe seated himself on the hearth, and I sat in the worn blue chair next to him. He poured another round. This time, we didn\u2019t lift our glasses. We drank in silence.<\/p>\n

\u201cI never know what to say, either,\u201d he said suddenly. \u201cSomebody asks how many brothers I have, and I don\u2019t know whether to say three or two.\u201d<\/p>\n

So he\u2019d heard everything after all. That simple question: How many sons do you have?<\/em> What to say? \u201cI had four, but now I only have three\u201d? Did the question include the implicit limit\u2014how many living<\/em> sons? Did a son stop being a son\u2014or a brother stop being a brother\u2014just because he died?<\/p>\n

No.<\/em><\/p>\n

Hoss was still my son. Always had been, always would be. Just as I was still his father, and always would be. Nothing could change that.<\/p>\n

Joe\u2019s eyes searched my face. The authoritative man who took charge of us all tonight was ready to step in again, still trying to protect me from the agony that had plagued me for the past year. Only one other person would have seen what I saw\u2014fiery pain radiating through the hairline cracks in his strength.<\/p>\n

I emitted a humorless chuckle. \u201cAdam would say it\u2019s just a grammar problem.\u201d Our language included no word that encompassed both have<\/em> and had<\/em>. That which we still possessed, intertwined with all we had lost.<\/p>\n

Joe snorted. \u201cYou know what Hoss would have said to that.\u201d Mimicking his big brother\u2019s deep voice, he said, \u201cAin\u2019t no point in worrying about grammar. Just tell the truth.\u201d But his attempt at levity betrayed him. Tears filled his eyes, and his voice cracked: \u201cThe truth hasn\u2019t changed.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I managed. \u201cIt hasn\u2019t.\u201d I laid my hand on his. He bowed his head, shoulders shuddering. A drop landed on my hand. I squeezed his. We stayed like that as the fire burned down and the clock chimed again. Finally, my son wiped his face on his sleeve.<\/p>\n

\u201cI gotta get up early,\u201d he said. \u201cThat herd has to come down from the north pasture.\u201d Back in control, he recorked the decanter.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust leave it,\u201d I said as he moved to take it back to its regular spot. \u201cHop Sing\u2019ll get it in the morning.\u201d He favored me with a crooked half-smile. I rose, and he wrapped his arms around me, enveloping me in his vulnerable strength. His wiry frame had filled out over the years, sturdy and muscular now. The little-boy hug grew into an embrace that had supported me through many dark hours, and would undoubtedly do so again and again, because some things are never over. If he felt my tears dampening his shirt, he didn\u2019t say.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s turn in,\u201d I said at last. We trudged up to our rooms, our footfalls nearly in unison, counting off the steps: one, two, three, four, one, two, three, four<\/em>. At my doorway, across from Adam\u2019s long-empty room, we said good night, and I watched as Joe walked past Jamie\u2019s room. When he passed the closed door to Hoss\u2019s room, he didn\u2019t break his stride, but he reached out, brushing his fingertips against the wood. Then, he went into his own room and shut the door.<\/p>\n

\u201cGood night,\u201d I whispered to my sons. Present and absent, awake and asleep.<\/p>\n

My sons.<\/p>\n

All of them.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Tags:\u00a0 Ben Cartwright,\u00a0Family,\u00a0Hoss Cartwright,\u00a0Joe \/ Little Joe Cartwright<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Summary: \u00a0“. . . because some things are never over.”<\/p>\n

Word Count 1550 \u00a0Rated K<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":142,"featured_media":12615,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"template-full-width-post.php","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_feature_clip_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_members_access_role":[],"_members_access_error":""},"categories":[23],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-12613","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-drama","wpcat-23-id"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/wp-content\/uploads\/2016\/02\/TO-129.jpg?fit=750%2C578&ssl=1","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12613","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/142"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=12613"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/12613\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/12615"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=12613"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=12613"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/bonanzabrand.info\/library\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=12613"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}