Good morning!
Happy March! Today I have a story that NONE of you have read. This story was just something I sat down and wrote. I had the first line in my head and then sort of knew the ending, but I wasn't sure what happened. It's not a long story. And no, I didn't ask any of my Southern friends for help with the accents, so if I didn't get them write, blame me. :)
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little piece.
Bless Her Heart
“Ya’ll gottta do somethin’ with him, honey. He ain’t like other boys.”
Mrs. Thornton smiled at Mrs. Holland’s well meaning words as she looked over at Jared. She was right. Jared wasn’t like other boys his age. He was hurt, angry, afraid.
“My husband says,” Mrs. Angelina added, her southern accent just as strong as Mrs. Holland’s, “what that boy needs is a strong hand and a good lickin’. Of course, we ain’t blamin’ ya’ll, honey. Why bless yer heart! We know you ain’t got the strength ta do it, you bein’ such a little thing yerself, and your husband bein’ out a town. Someone’s got ta take that boy in hand though. My husband said he don’t like mixin’ in other folks business, but under the circumstances, ya’ll understand, he’d come over any time and tend to the boy. Ya’ll jest give him a call, honey.”
Mrs. Thornton opened her mouth but was given no chance to reply.
“Now don’t you go an’ thank me,” Mrs. Angelina went on. “It’s the least we can do after ya’ll took in that poor orphan. Why bless your heart!”
“And,” Mrs. Holland added, “if her Robert ain’t around when ya’ll need him, honey, my Albin won’t mind bein’ called. He knows all about boys. We had two of ‘em. Big, strong, strappin’ fellows they are too. Albin may be retired, ya’ll know, but I reckon he could still handle a boy like that one, bless his heart.” Mrs. Holland nodded in Jared’s direction.
It was all Mrs. Thornton could do to keep her face and voice calm. “Thank you both, but I won’t be calling on your husbands for such service. Now if you’ll excuse me please, I think it’s time Jared and I headed home.”
Both ladies murmured polite good-byes, but Mrs. Thornton heard one of them say to the other as she walked away, “Bless her heart, she doesn’t know how to deal with a boy like him.”
“I know. Bless her heart.”
“Lord, I didn’t know I’d need so much patience just for a visit to the park.” Mrs. Thornton gave an inward sigh and walked over to where Jared was standing sullenly by the swing set staring at the ground. Gently she brushed his shoulder with her hand. “Let’s walk home along the path by the stream, shall we?”
Without a word, the boy turned and shuffled off beside her, his head down and his hands shoved in his pockets.
Jared hadn’t always been like this, Marissa Thornton remembered. No, her nephew used to be a happy baby and a bright toddler. Then he lost his mother, and his father turned to drink to ease his pain, instead of to the Lord. This had wrecked the happy home the boy had lived in, and he faced hunger, cold, and his father’s quick temper. As Jared’s only living relatives, the Thorntons had opened their home to the boy when his own father had ended up dead. They were determined to show him a home filled with Christ’s love.
It wasn’t easy. Jared often lashed out in anger when he didn’t understand or felt threatened, but never once had his new family lifted a hand against him or raised a voice in anger. Noah and Mariah prayed and loved and prayed some more. No one else seemed to understand what the boy had been through. They offered well meaning advice, but Mariah knew the scars that Jared bore were not just on his body, but on his heart as well.
Walking along the path, Mariah was silent. Her heart was angered over the women’s comments and aching for some sign of love from the boy she now called her son.
“Jared, look!” she whispered, leaning closer to him and pointing.
Down by the creek a mother deer stood with her fawn. Neither acted afraid or even nervous at being watched by the silent humans on the path near them. They drank from the trickling water and then picked their way back into the woods and disappeared.
“They weren’t afraid of us,” Mariah breathed.
Jared looked up. “You wouldn’t hurt them.” The words were a statement, casual and calm. Then Jared did something he’d never done since he had come to live with his aunt and uncle. He slipped his hand into Mariah’s.
Tears blurred Mariah’s vision as she gave the hand a gentle squeeze.
Neither one said a word the rest of the way home.
*
“Mama.”
The quiet voice roused Mariah Thornton from her dreams. Opening her eyes, she smiled at the tall manly form sitting beside her bed. “Jared. What are you doing here?”
His gentle fingers rested on her wrist a moment. “How are you feeling, Mama? Dad said you weren’t well.”
“I’m all right, son. I didn’t sleep well last night. I think I ate too many of my granddaughter’s cookies.” Her eyes held mirth. “And then I got to remembering and fell asleep.”
Jared’s hand held her old, wrinkled one. “Remembering what?”
“Many years ago. It must have been a few months after you came to us. We had gone to the park. Dad was out of town. We saw the deer when we walked home.”
“I remember that day.”
“You do?” Mariah turned surprised eyes to the man sitting near her.
“Yes. I overheard what those ladies were telling you.”
“Oh, Jared!”
“And,” he went on, his thumb gently rubbing her hand, “I heard what you told them. It was the first time that I felt sure I was safe. Thank you, Mama.”
“For what?”
“For taking me in. For seeing behind my anger to the hurt little boy that I was, and loving me. You and Dad never gave up on me. You prayed and hoped and believed, and most of all, you showed me Christ. For that I can never thank you enough.”
Mrs. Thornton raised a hand to her son’s face. “Oh, Jared, I thank God every day for you and for your sweet and lovely wife, and for the grandchildren who brighten my days.” She started to sit up. “Now, it’s time I got up out of this bed.”
“Not yet, Mama,” Jared said, a smile on his lips but a firm look in his eyes as he eased her back. “Dad was talking about taking you to the hospital, but he agreed to let me look at you first. You have him worried.”
Mrs. Thornton smiled. “Dad’s always worrying over me, son.” Her eyes began to twinkle. “Or maybe he just uses it as an excuse for you to put in practice all those things you learned in medical school. Well, you needn’t bother. I’m just fine now. Just the sight of your face and the feel of your hand slipping into mine like it did so many years ago makes me feel better.”
Jared smiled, kissed her cheek, and said, “Nevertheless . . .”
