CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Worth
“Auggie, I know you don’t want to talk about this, but we have to be objective. He’s our son, honey. He’s like us. Like your mother and my father.”
“But he’s also part of Dad and your mom,” she countered.
“Sweetheart, the handwriting is on the wall. Not only is he of our stock, he’s an only child. He doesn’t have any other examples but adults.”
“You want to send him away!” she cried out, making me responsible for the reality of the situation.
“Of course I don’t. I would miss having him here, don’t go there. I do, however, understand the psychology of what’s going on here and I know that to change his behavior pattern, it will take a major shift in his environment. He needs to learn the value of rules, of self-discipline, of honestly earning his accomplishments rather than demanding them childishly.”
“You mean like you?” She couldn’t help herself.
I glared at the unworthiness of her comment and she had the grace to look away.
The rain of the previous few days had finally faded away but the ground was saturated. I could see the horses’ prints in the muddy ground. “Auggie, do you think it’s a good idea to let the animals run in that mud? They could hurt a leg,” I reasoned and she dismissed my comment as yet another order from authority she couldn’t respect.
“Don’t change the subject,” she accused.
“Look, let’s talk about this later. We don’t have to make any decisions now. Let Ford finish out the school year here and we’ll talk about it this summer. I have a colleague who specializes in children. I’ll invite him out to dinner one evening and let him observe Ford without prejudice in his own environment. We’ll see what he has to say.”
“Worth, I know you’re a respected member of your profession, but you know as well as I do that it’s all conjecture. People don’t come with labels of ingredients or color coding. They’re unique. They can prove you wrong.”
“Auggie, they can also prove you right. I’m not saying we have to take his advice. I’m only asking you to let us listen to an objective opinion. It may be that we’re both hypersensitive about this issue and over-reacting. Let’s collect information and then make a joint decision, shall we?”
Auggie nodded. We went in to dinner and had just sat down when Auggie’s cell rang. “It’s Bernie,” she said and answered it. Her eyes grew wide and she dropped the phone and ran out the door. Ford and I looked at one another and I grabbed jackets as we followed.
We found Auggie in the pasture behind the barn. She was kneeling in the mud, Bernie standing next to her, his mucking boots and jacket caked with mud. He was holding a revolver.
Carlos was on the ground, flailing in pain. One look told me what happened. He’d been put out to pasture in the heavy mud and gotten mired, breaking his leg. It was an obvious compound fracture, blood running down his foreleg. Auggie was screaming, holding his head in her arms, asking him to forgive her.
I turned to Ford. “Go to the house, son,” I ordered.
“No.”
“Ford, go to the house this instant!”
“No, I won’t. I’m staying. I know what’s going to happen, Dad. I’m staying.”
I wasn’t going to stand and argue with him. Auggie needed me and more to the point, Carlos needed to be put down. I took the revolver from Bernie and motioned to him to pull Auggie away. She kicked and fought, holding onto Carlos’ bridle, lacing her hand into it so he couldn’t pull her loose. Bernie had no choice but to unbuckle the bridle and slide it from Carlos’ head. He picked Auggie up and slung her over his shoulder, turning toward the house, grabbing Ford’s hand as he passed.
“Come help me with your mother, Ford,” he said in a solemn voice and I had immense admiration for the man in that moment.
I turned and took aim, my heart clenching in my chest. Carlos’ eyes were wild with pain and fear. It was as if he knew what was coming and was trying desperately to look around and see the world for one last time. His nostrils were flared; his cry more of a shriek of fear.
We live our lives a part of the greater family. We love, triumph and share our defeats. But when it comes time to die — we must do that alone. The revolver spoke and then there was silence. A part of each of us went with him. I hung my head as the tears flowed. The only sound then was the sobbing of my wife.
Auggie went into mourning. I had never seen her like this. No one could break through to her, not even Ford. She was sitting on the patio, her eyes fixed on some faraway point, unmoving. Ford was trying to talk to her. The sun shone on his head, her same mahogany hair and green eyes. He was so like his mother, but there was a good deal of LaViere there too.
I had seen it for some time. He’d already begun ordering the hands around when his mother wasn’t in the area and he had few friends from school — they seemed to be intimidated by him. He was young yet, but headed for his hormone transition and a world filled with challenges.
I knew it would be very hard on Auggie if Ford left, especially now. But at the same time, Carlos’ passing was a fact of life and to allow Auggie to dwell in her grief over a natural fact was an indulgence that Ford would believe was his right as well. The time to move forward was when it was hardest to accomplish.
I made up my mind then and went into the office, filling out an online application for the military school. They had a process and it would take a couple of months for him to be accepted and readied. We would tour the facility, naturally.
Why does this feel like I’m signing away my only son’s life?
The doorbell rang and I opened the heavy entrance door to admit Mr. Langford and Mother. Mother hugged me and then followed Walter out to the patio. They both hugged Ford and then Walter kneeled next to Auggie’s chair, taking her hand. Mother brought Ford inside and I heard Walter’s calm, reassuring voice talking to Auggie softly. They sat out there together for a very long time, until long after sunset. When they walked in, Auggie came to me and wrapped her arms around me, leaned up to kiss me on the cheek before heading upstairs. I heard the bath running and shook Walter’s hand.
“It’s amazing that for a man trained to give comfort to others, I’m powerless when it comes to those I love.”
“That’s just natural, son,” he told me. “Ford, why don’t you get your things and come spend the night with your grandmother and me. Let your mom have some time and your dad will look after her.
Ford looked at me, not for permission, but seeming to make up his mind whether I was capable of the empathy needed. He must have seen what he needed to see because he went up to his room and quickly reappeared with a packed backpack. He hugged my arm and left.
I went upstairs and stood in the doorway of the bathroom. Auggie was soaking in the garden tub. I peeled off my clothes and climbed into the hot bubbles with her, cradling her between my spread thighs. She leaned back against my chest and cried. It was such a heartbreaking sound and there was absolutely nothing I could do to make the hurt go away.
“I love you, Auggie,” was all I could think to say. She hadn’t cried for her mother; she hadn’t cried for her half-brother. She was heartbroken over her horse. She felt it was the only thing that had ever truly loved her without conditions. I knew how she felt.
***
I knew Tyler Peterson from school. He had a practice in southern Indiana that specialized in juveniles. I invited him over for dinner and he brought his son, Ernie, with him. Ernie happened to be a year younger than Ford and similar in personality. They went off to Ford’s room to look at some of Ford’s possessions and Auggie and I sat with Tyler in the living room, sipping wine. I explained briefly my concerns with Ford and Tyler listened patiently.
“I’ve only met him briefly, but he seems quite normal, Worth. Is it possible that you and Auggie are over-reacting a bit? Maybe taking out your dislike for your own parent on him?”
Auggie nodded, encouraged by that idea but I wasn’t so sure.
At that moment, Ernie came down the stairs and said to his father, “Dad, I want to go.”
Tyler set down his wine and motioned for Ernie to come closer. “What’s wrong, son? Aren’t you feeling well?”
The boy’s eyes were wide. “I’m fine. I want to go home. Now.”
“Why, son?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Ernie said, looking at Auggie and me from the side.
I nodded to Tyler, and he understood that it was fine for him to leave and deal with whatever Ernie’s problem was.
“Another time, then, Tyler,” I said, standing and taking his glass of wine. “Ernie it was a pleasure to meet you,” I said to the boy.
Ernie looked up at me, his eyes huge and he nodded, half convinced.
They left and I looked at Auggie and we simultaneously bounded up the stairs to Ford’s room. I tapped on the door, then pushed it open. Ford was lying on his bed, his shirt off and dollar bills on the bedspread. “Ford? What’s going on in here?” I asked him, trying to figure out the scene before me.
“Nothing. Just was playing a little poker with the kid. Strip poker. The kid ran out of money and didn’t want to take off his clothes, so I told him to go home. He was a cheater, Dad. You don’t play poker if you’re not going to pay up.” Ford’s face was bland and expressionless. He had no idea how far he had crossed a line.
“Ford, you have no business treating a guest in this house like that,” I told him because Auggie couldn’t speak, her hand was over her mouth. “Now, go and take your bath and get into bed. There will be no dinner for you this evening, young man.”
“Don’t want to,” he answered and kept playing with the cards. I walked toward the bed and he threw the deck at me. “Wanna play Fifty-Two Pick Up?” he laughed and it was not a child’s laughter. It sounded eerily like my father’s voice. I shuddered and took his hand, pulling him toward me. I sat on the edge of the bed and turned him to face me. “Listen, young man. You will not behave in this manner, do you hear me? You will do what I tell you to do and tomorrow we are going to have a talk about all this. When you’re done with your bath, I want you to pick up these cards, then I will come up to tuck you in. You’ve got fifteen minutes, starting now.”
I turned him toward his bathroom and got up with Auggie and left the room. Auggie was shaking. “I’ve never seen him do that,” she whispered and I nodded.
“Don’t let it shake you. He’s testing me. All boys do that,” I said and we went downstairs and finished our wine. We both needed it.
In fifteen minutes, I went back up, tapped on his door and opened it. Ford had turned on the water in the bathtub and not shut it off. It was overflowing onto the floor and he sat in the water, the stack of cards wet and bent all about him. He looked up at me with an innocent look. “Dirty ol’ cards. They needed a bath.”
A week later, Auggie and I waved goodbye to our son. We left him at military school and prayed all the way home that they would straighten him out. I don’t think either of us actually believed they could, but we were at a loss at that moment ourselves. Ford had changed. Something had snapped. Even with all my training, I didn’t want to recognize what had stood right before me. Let the school see what they can do was all I could think.