Wrapped in Rain(96)

The evening darkness crept across the floor, and lowflying, heavy clouds rolled in, blocked out the moon, and began spilling a soft rain on Mutt's new roof. I hadn't heard that lullaby in a long time. It started slow and soft, building like a symphony to a soothing rumble. Mutt dozed off, breathing deeply, and his eyes lay still behind his eyelids. I looked at the needle, the Thorazine still awaiting my thumb. Through clenched eyelids, I whispered, "Where does a man find healing amid so many broken places? How does he find love in the ruins and vine-wrapped shattered pieces of his own soul?"



Right here, child. Right here.

I slid the needle out of the meat of Mutt's shoulder, threw the syringe across the chapel, and watched it roll beneath a pew. I stuffed a corner of the sleeping bag under Mutt's head like a pillow, turned, and eyed the railing. Miss Ella's parallel lines were staring back at me. I sat down alongside them and leaned against the railing.

What's wrong, Tucker?

"Thirty-three years."

Child, he'd rather you shout in anger than say nothing at all.

Above me, the pigeons cooed, flapped, and fluttered about. I sniffed the air for the smell of Cornhuskers and tried to remember the words. "Miss Ella, I don't know where to start. Everything is upside down and has been for a long time. Sometimes I look at Jase and I hurt because I used to be just like him: so curious, completely trusting, full of wonder, so honest, so transparent, eager to forgive, quick to laugh, and willing to risk his heart on love-even the love of a father."

What happened?

"Rex happened."

Then maybe it's time you start with Rex.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

If therefore you are presenting your offering at the altar and there remember that your brother has sinned against you, then leave your offering and go your way. First, be reconciled to your brother and then come and present your offering.



"I'm not sure I understand."

Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you that you may be sons of your Father in heaven. He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.

"How does that relate to me?"

You've always had a Father, Tucker.





Chapter 44


I SHUT THE DOOR BEHIND ME AND WALKED DOWN THE path and through the rain to the barn. I slid my College World Series bat, a thirty-four-inch aluminum Easton, from the workbench, cocked it over my shoulder, and walked to my truck. The drive to Rolling Hills was short and the parking lot empty. Rex's room was dark, the Judge lay snoring, melted onto the bed, and Rex sat slumped in his chair next to the window. Food and spittle stained his pajamas, but his diaper smelled clean. His eyes were open, and he looked angry. He was fiercely trying to see something on the other side of the window, and his neck was a bulging bundle of veins and sinew plugged into his wrinkly, contorted head. He was a picture of torment.

I stepped in front of his chair, and his eyes darted up at me. A quivering bottom lip, stern top one, and narrow eyes framed his face. He was talking, mouthing commands, but no words came. In his mind, he was King Arthur, and the crow that caught his arrow was still flying high.

I knelt and touched my father for the second time in five years by placing my hands on both his knees. His Band-Aid had soaked through and needed replacing, and his blank eyes narrowed on mine. "Rex, how much am I worth? Ten million? Fifty million? I mean, at what point is my time worth yours? Am I worth a dollar? Your work at my expense is a disease. A sickness." I placed the bat across his lap. "For most of my early life, I tried to swing this and earn your praise. When you didn't offer it, I swung it in an attempt to obliterate your memory. When that didn't pan out the way I'd hoped, I thought that maybe if I filled my head with enough pictures, I could double-expose the one that contained you. Problem is, the new images won't imprint on scar tissue." I paused and tried to make eye contact. "All I've ever wanted is for you to ... to play catch in the rain, or at the very least, for you to walk me into your office, introduce me to your secretary, and ask her to bring me some hot chocolate and a coloring pad. Maybe take me to a board meeting and say, `Ladies and gentlemen, this is my son, Tucker."' I leaned against the wall and sat down. "Everything I know about love I learned from a little old black woman from south Alabama, a little kid named Jase, a girl named Katie, and a boy named Mutt. And everything I know about hate, I learned from you. You tear down; you don't build up. You drain rather than fill. You eat at rather than satisfy. Worst of all, you sacrificed us at the altar of you. Miss Ella keeps trying to tell me that the only way to tear away the scar tissue is to tell you that I forgive you ... and mean it. She's always telling me to cut away my coffin. Maybe this is what she's talking about. I don't know. Sometimes, I don't understand a word that woman says. I'd be lying if I said I really forgave you, but maybe if I say it with my mouth, my heart will follow. I don't know how long that'll takethat passage from my head to my heart. Maybe that's the `infinite migration' Miss Ella was always talking about. Whatever the case, here today, I'm saying it with my mouth. And every day from here on out, I'm saying it. Because there's more at stake here than just you and me." I placed my finger against the windows and drew streaks in the condensation from my breath. "There's a girl, and she has a son." I laughed. "Maybe two sons, and no, in case you're wondering, I'm not the father of either one, but that doesn't matter. Why?" I paused and whispered to myself, "Because love's springing up through the rocks."