Life As A Woodcarver

Chapter 13

Life As A Woodcarver

 

Pa and Ma kept me busy from doing homework or light chores around the farm as I hobbled around with my one crutch, so I wouldn’t tear the stitches on my left side and so my ribs could heal. I think having bruised ribs is far better than having broken ones. Bruises go away a lot faster than mending bones plus the pain lasts a hell of a lot longer. If you think I don’t regret jumping through a two-story window; regardless if it saved my life or not. I certainly do now.

I might have mentioned that Pa was master woods craftsmen by trade; skills that were handed down from generation to generation. If I didn’t know better I would think farming was his hobby not the other way around. Since I couldn’t do much except count inventory or move the lighter things around with one hand, Pa gave me a special project making wooden toys. Like carving wooden alphabet block or carving wooden animals and sometimes a car or train set.

It was difficult, but as time passed it became easier. I started with soap blocks and wax until I was able to carve any animal I wanted; the farm rooster was the hardest. He didn’t like to pose unless you gave him sweet cornbread or a muffin, and his feathers were a pain. He and I were great pals and he’d come over to me, sit in my lap and I’d scratch him under his chin like he liked. Pa said I had a gift or the touch when came to animals.

I hated it when we had to send them away to be butchered, but that was life on the farm and we seldom did so unless it was necessary. Pa never did it in front of us; he would wait until we were either in school or send them out. I remember what Mr. Fry said. ‘God did not want us to live on bread alone and gave us these animals to feed us to keep us strong and healthy, but he did not want us to slaughter them just so we could; we are responsible for these living creatures and should treat them with the same kindness as we treat people.’ For some reason, I don’t think that includes my parents.

Sometimes I would spend hours drawing on paper trying to capture the image I wanted. It helped to have a little experience with a paintbrush using the things and techniques I had learned from the Steeds. But this was way different than a simple stick drawing or paint by numbers, but actually using real animals either from a book or out on the farm where I could capture their personalities. People say that animals don’t have personalities or have dreams. That it is us that give them these personalities or human characteristics. I tell you this absolutely a bald-faced lie. 

Either they are stupid or they never actually had a pet. Even fish have personalities; and if this is so, that means everything has a soul including plant life. People that have plants talk to them all the time like they are their own children, and by doing so they in return grow better than other plants. But scientists say it is the gases that make the plants grow either by oxygen exhaled or methane and let’s not forget carbon-monoxide; even temperatures and climate make the difference.

This is probably true? Who's to say a little loves can’t or won’t make a difference? I’ve seen Pa talk to plants and trees; one time I heard him talking to a piece of wood. What would like to be, if you had a choice? He’d spend hours stroking the piece of wood before making the first cut. I know he wasn’t crazy, like ready for the rubber room crazy, but that piece of wood always seemed really happy becoming an object of beauty. It seemed to have a certain glow compared to the other objects that weren’t made by hand. No, I’m not sniffing paint chips when I say that.

Even though things were good here, it didn’t mean we didn’t have our problems. Nothing is absolutely perfect especially when I got frustrated enough to throw a fit. Math and English were my hardest subjects, even though I was good at numbers; but when came to the harder stuff like spelling, grammar or algebra. It frustrated me to the point that I would throw my books onto the floor or crumbled my homework into a ball and toss it as far as I could. 

I would have thrown my shoes, but I went barefoot ninety-eight percent of the time and I all I had on was my loincloth. Going naked was never an option; not that Ma hasn’t seen me enough times without my clothes on and knew every inch of me better than I did. Let’s just say it was a bad idea even though I had considered it a time or two; watching Aaron and Sam streak down the hall with my sisters while they chased them all over the farm.

Its good thing we lived out far enough from town that it didn’t matter so much, as I listen to them squeal running up and down the farm running free as a bird. Sometimes my sisters would just give up and watch them sitting on the porch swing until they were done and dirty all over again. I could just imagine what the neighbors would think seeing something like that, and often enough; wondering if we were practicing nudism or lived on a nudist colony. Even worse my parents the way they feel about modesty and consider it immoral if went more than barefoot, even that to would anger my father.

When I got angry, Ma would send me to my room to think about my actions or send me outside to cool off. Ma or Pa never raised a hand to me or my brothers and sisters. They would simply give us the time we needed to cool off and then calmly addressed the problem. But if it was bad enough Ma and Pa had chores that would mend our attitude in a hurry. Chores that would make a grown man cry. Like painting fences or the barn with the smallest paintbrush or scrubbing floors or walls by hand not with a mop, but a with a very small rag and a coarse brush.

Trust me when I say I have scrubbed our hallway so many times as I scooted on my butt on the hard wooden floor until it had blisters and sometimes slivers. Calamine lotion was used enough that Ma always kept a good supply on hand; threatening me that next time Julie or Anna would be more than happy to do it instead of her. For some reason, I did not doubt her. Even though my sisters have bathed Aaron and Sam more times than I count and used to bathe Will and Robert when they were younger; age was always the deciding factor, even that was about to change sooner than I realized.

Another storm was on the horizon Jeff had returned like clockwork agitated once more. Somehow my parents tricked the state regarding custody of my brother Aaron. Since he wasn’t placed into foster care or been made a ward of the state like I was, and according to the shrink my parents were seeing said they had been making enough progress; they felt it was time we moved forward in returning us to the home. Since they hadn’t shown any signs of abuse regarding my sisters, they felt there was no cause to be alarmed. 

Grandma was forced to hand over my brother back into their care. Sometimes you just got to hate the law and their stupidity. Of course, there wouldn’t be any signs of abuse regarding my sisters. They meant a hell of a lot more to them then we did. They just couldn’t stand for us to be happy and loved.

I hated to see him go, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. Ma tried to plead with them. Telling them they are making a huge mistake, but the law was the law. The best they could do is to consider resuming was my home visits and let me see my brother once maybe twice a month. That wasn’t going to happen or even a possibility according to Ma or Pa. 

Hell they wouldn’t even let them near me for five minutes and certainly not alone anytime soon. Even that was becoming a losing battle since I was certainly healed enough as long I didn’t strain myself. They figured if I could hobble around a farm with one crutch; I could do it just as well in my parent’s home for a few hours.

Ma had tried getting in touch with Mr. Wells, but it seemed that not only had he been replaced with another caseworker, but he’d been transferred to another office in California. There was nothing we could do and no matter how hard Grandma tried to get them to see reason; nothing would sway them.

So once again Aaron was forced to give up his happiness and return home. But come hell or high water Grandma wasn’t going to go down without a fight. The only thing that saved me from returning or resuming visitation was Doctor Hatfield refused to sign off on it. Saying I wasn’t healed enough to proceed; due to my requirements of lack of clothing that I was limited to what I could wear.

My mother was furious telling the state and Doctor Hatfield. That if I could run around in nothing but a rag around my waist and it didn’t bother them. Then there was no reason I couldn’t do it at home, after all, she is my mother. And has bathed me, changed my diaper more times she’d care to count; even their shrink couldn’t see anything wrong with it. Which seemed to hold more sway than Doctor Hatfield, or my Ma and Pa persistent and so Aaron was sent home and visitation was scheduled for the following weekend. What they didn’t say how they felt about me running around in a loincloth and how they consider it a sin against God and embarrassment to them regarding mine and Aaron's immoral and immodest behavior.

I was lucky it only involved them seeing me for an hour or two at the most and never alone and not without Ma and Pa being present during the full visit. That was because Mr. Wells and Judge Parker made damn sure that wasn’t going to happen until my parents could show they actually act like parents instead of the abusers they really were. Even though my mother was told to, leave my father home when she came to visit me for those few hours. My mother disregarded this rule by having my father stand by the car or stay in it. Pa was angry as he growled,’ no further.” Taking his foot and drawing a line in the dirt five feet from the car; daring him to cross it.  My mother was never allowed into the house during the visits.

I would sit on one side of the porch, in the swing with Ma and Pa next to me, while my mother had to sit on a hard kitchen chair that Pa had yet to sand down fully, across from me. I smiled as I hoped she got slivers. She tried hard to make herself comfortable under their watchful eyes. She hated seeing me loved or even worst immodest in nothing more than my loincloth.

Jeff paced in front of my father daring him to fight a ghost. Dancing like a boxer in a ring. Doing quick jabs in the air or actually making a punch as his fist went straight through his body causing me and Ma to laugh; and while the ones that couldn’t see him thought we were laughing them.  

Ma would whisper to Pa. EJ’s friend is here, nodding to Jeff’s location.  Pa would roll his eyes and try to see him, but saw nothing except the air or little haze or a slight ripple. Which the scientific world would say is a temperature variance to causes that effect, but me and Ma thought differently; you would to if you could see Jeff for yourselves.  But Ma knew like me. Jeff wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t trouble on the horizon.

My mother didn’t find it all funny thinking we were laughing at her expense growled. “This is getting us nowhere, not being able to have a private conversation without people like you, eavesdropping on our business. That has nothing that concerns them; regarding family matters,” mumbling and loud enough to something that sounded like. “Why did I have to have a worthless good for nothing murdering bustard for a son in the first place, instead of all girls?” My father sneered in agreement, thinking she made a valid point.

Ma said. “Linda, we are not going to sit here and let you degrade my son any longer if you cannot be at least civil then you can just go back to the hole you came from.” That’s when my mother lost it and they both lunged for me. My father’s belt came off in one fluid motion and struck me so fast it surprised everyone seeing the blood come gushing out as it ripped the stitches on my left side as I fell screaming. Everything seemed in to be in slow motion. Pa was restraining my mother while keeping Ma from killing her.

My father yelled. “Get your filthy, immoral hands off my wife, or I will kill this no count lying murderer like I should have done in the first place.”  Before Pa could turn around from restraining my mother and my Ma; my father punched me in the mouth several times knocking out three more teeth, my new glasses shattered after my father stepped on them on purpose with an evil grin that said it all as he twisted his foot on top of them. To say I didn’t see stars would be a lie and then he kicked me so hard in my ribs that the blood splattered across the front window and the screen door.

I almost blacked out hearing my Ma scream. “No!” I thought I was going to die seeing the blood pool quickly around me. I barely saw Pa lift my father off the ground with one hand and with other punched him into next week. That he staggered like a drunk trying to get off the ground. My mother tried to hit my Pa but missed as Ma pushed her off the porch, stumbling into my father. Ma was yelling to Julie to call 911 and heard her screaming into the phone. “They are trying to kill my brother.”

Ma quickly grabbing a kitchen towel running to my side, doing her best trying to stop the blood; but it wasn’t stopping. All I could do was scream in pain and horror; trying not to let the darkness overcome me with the farm in total panic. Ma screaming, “Julie, I need help out here.” Will and Robert had gone to work and wouldn’t be home for at least an hour. Anna was keeping Sam away locked somewhere in the house. I could hear him crying loud enough to wake the neighbors if we had any.

Pa was doing his best trying to restrain my parents as they kept lunging for me. My father’s belt was swinging wildly, but Pa was fast and quick on his feet. Pa tried to grab the belt in the air as it sliced his right hand, my father growled. “Come get some you punk. This isn’t my first rodeo.” My mother threw dirt into his to face and belted him across the mouth so hard he split blood as his head turned. I had no idea she had that kind of strength, it scared me shitless as my urine mixed with my blood.

I could hear sirens coming down the road. My parents turned and my mother said. “Just great, now look what you have done, you can’t even fight your own battles you cowards, you are nothing but spoiled wimps just like my worthless sons. Thinking you are better than us with your big old fancy house and having all this land to hide in like the cowards and trash you are.”

Jeff turned and growled angrily to Ma. “You need to stop this before it gets any worse or EJ will die by their hands.” It was the first time I ever heard him speak directly to her. As I watched him kneel next to me; he told me he has done all can do for now. It’s up to them to change my future. But either way, he would be with me until the end. I had no idea what he meant regarding changing my future at that time, but I knew without a doubt a major decision was going to be made that would affect more than just my life.

My father didn’t waste time with a quick kick to the stomach and with his right hand, he came back swinging the belt back and forth like a whip in lion tamers hands as the sound of snapping leather snapped in the air from side to side. He must have swung it hard enough that it tore my Pa’s shirt almost in half taking a layer of skin with it as it went across his chest. If I didn’t know better I think my father sharpened his belt buckle to cause such damage. Probably a trick he had picked up when he was in the Air Force.

Pa was ready this time when my father was coming back with the second swing. Pa let it wrap around his left arm, even though stung as he winced with the pain. Pa didn’t waste time. With a blur of his right hand came back with an uppercut to the jaw so hard; my father let go of the belt while he caught air and found himself slammed against the hood spread eagle of the car hood then slid down onto the ground cold as ice; my Pa’s bloody fist leaving a print across his jaw. He turned just in time to be kicked in the groin by my mother as two police cars came into the farm; surrounding my parents with guns drawn while other two called for a bus to take me to the hospital.

You could almost feel the hate radiate off them as they handcuffed them and put them in the back of the police car. So much for visitation going smoothly; I still had my doubts regarding they would get away with it, but hurt too much to care. The pain and loss of blood made me black out. When I came to I was in a hospital bed with thirty-two stitches that went all the way down from my ribs and down the left side of my hip with a large bandage wrapped around my chest.

My father managed to kick me hard enough to break another rib or two that was healing now it had been broken two places. My face and jaw were so bruised it was lucky he didn’t break it. Not mention three more holes where my teeth used to be. You would think I’d be rich by now courtesy of the tooth fairy. There’s got to be an easier way to lose those baby teeth than a punch in the mouth by my father. At this rate, I will be gumming my food before my adult teeth have taken their place and I was beginning to look like a Halloween Jack O’ Lantern. 

I was sweating like there was no tomorrow. Apparently, I had a very high fever due to the infection and the loss of blood. They were waiting for me to regain consciousness because I was so close to the brink of death this time to risk surgery. Plus they were waiting for that specialist to come in from Salt Lake City to mend the bones back together and remove something that was lodged behind my rib cage.

To say I looked worse than Pa would be understatement and Ma didn’t look any better. Somehow my mother was able to give my Ma a fat lip and a black eye; I figured it must have happened when she was restraining her. It was still all a blur. Pa winced as he sat on the bed next to me. I could see a large white bandage wrapped around him under his shirt and his right hand was wrapped like a prizefighter in the ring. His face didn’t look any better than Ma’s or mine as we laughed at how pathetic we looked, but it hurt too much to laugh. 

Grandma was really, really mad but was doing her best in keeping Aaron calm. Talking to Doc Hatfield about my condition; apparently, I had been in and out of consciousness for almost a week. Finding out my sisters have been placed back into my aunt’s care while my parents were being brought on charges for endangering a child.

Grandma was beyond pissed because they’d been released two hours later that same day. They basically got a slap on the wrist and $1,000 fine; simply put it was our word against theirs. They were saying we were the ones that started the fight and having no proof, they couldn’t and wouldn’t (most likely) be held accountable, another reason I hate the law; it never seemed to be on my side when it came right down to it: my parents got away Scot-free. It was considered a bar fight, nothing more.

It wasn’t long until my aunts arrived with my sisters in tow so they can see for themselves what our parents had done; hoping it would convince them to come clean to what was going on at home. Instead, Susan was yelling at my Grandmother calling her a bigot and a liar Becky saying. “None of this would have happened in the first place if you would stop interfering with our lives.” So much for hoping they’d come clean. It was apparent that Becky was in complete denial or she truly believed my parents were not the monsters everyone said they were.

Susan glared at us with such hatred that matched my parents as she pointed her fingers accusing me and the Downing’s. “Mom and Dad would never do this!” Spiting each word with such punctuation as the rage burned uncontrollably. “Can’t you see that he’s a liar, just like them? They are filthy back wood mongrels that are too dumb to believe his lies. How can you accuse my parents of these filthy lies and allow him to get away with it since the day he was born? I hate you; I hate you all!” 

My Grandma nearly slapped her silly if it wasn’t for Aunt Lizzy stepping in between them and Aunt Mary grabbing hold of both Susan and Becky taking them quickly outside before there would be another altercation or possible murder of two wretched sisters and their Grandmother.

Lizzy Dragren; my Grandmother’s a distant cousin on her mother's side was still a young woman at heart, married young to a sailor who died in the war years back, and never remarried nor had any children. She was known at one time as a redhead now her hair was more auburn than red. Blue-eyed Barbie doll figure. Average height at five-feet-seven inches, had the backbone of a mule when it comes to getting her way like her older sister Mary. Smart as a whip when it came to books or movies and has always had a soft heart when it comes to children; even though she had none of her own, due to a hard miscarriage. It had always saddened her when she found out that it would be a magical occurrence if she ever bared a child. So, for now, she had given up hope and lives alone, teaching middle school.

Mary Lizzy's older sister and another distant cousin who likes to think she’s the wiser woman of her sister Lizzy and distance cousin Doris. (My Grandmother’s real name; are been made as sisters in my series. But both are important regardless of the family tree. Mary's hair has turned gray over the years and dyed to the color of blue silver. She was considered a high society woman. With her lengthy built figure when she towers over her sister gaining the advantage from her father’s second wife. (A very long story and unimportant) Whom she regards as hideous witch woman until a house fell on her. Yes, you could say she was spoiled because she always got her way one way or the other.

She never got along with her younger sister Lizzy when they still played house and with their dolls; her green eyes sparkled as they set off her long aristocratic nose and drawn down chin into a petite triangle. She had never married like her sister or fell in love, never saw the point when she was younger. Yet now she has regrets now that she lives alone in a small apartment built for two. Her livelihood as a librarian going on thirty years, until this day she believes in romance. That somewhere out, there is a man of her dreams and all she has to do is wait for him.

Before they could stop what was going to happen next as they brought them into my room. The damage had been done and was out of control faster than a whirlwind. I came unglued tossing my blankets to the side. Lunging for my sisters as they were about to leave. I growled. “How dare you accuse me of lying when you can not face the truth that our parents are nothing more than abusers and lie to everyone that this...” Stepping out of bed in not very manly hospital gown that when almost to my knees, painted with flowers as my bare butt felt the breeze from the back.

I made the mistake of putting my full weight on my legs and bare feet touching the cold floor. I soon felt a very sharp pain around my legs and chest tearing the stretches, I coughed blood feeling it run down my chin. I knew I was in serious trouble by the look on everyone’s faces seeing fear and panic.  As I gave a blood-curdling scream, the second my knees hit the floor with my bare butt sticking in the air for the world to see.  Jeff cursed as he sprang to my side, but was it too late. He knew I was about to die watching the room unfreeze into total panic.

Ma and Pa were in shock as they watched me fall quickly to the floor seeing the blood ripple across the bandages out onto the floor; quickly dashed to my side. Grandma quickly yelled down the hall for help, while Mary rushed towards my bed catching the IV drip that was strapped to my arm and other meds before they fell reaching over pushing the red button as fast as she could. “Screaming we’re losing him! Somebody help!”

I had fallen flat on my face tearing the stitches cracking my head hard enough to knock me out. When I woke two days later; I found another large bandage cross my forehead with ten more stitches underneath and bag that looked like blood hanging on the poll attached to my other arm. Apparently, I was naked seeing the chest bandages with spots of fresh blood warped around my bare chest; with wires running up my upper torso, going into another strange machine.

While another machine beeped along the sided; I clearly was the elephant in the room seeing everyone I loved in the world sitting around my bed. Ma on one side Pa on the other holding my hand; just the look on everyone’s faces I was in real trouble. Jeff stood nearby and said. “Welcome back to the living. If your Grandma doesn’t give you a tongue lashing, there are plenty of people here that will; including me.” Giving me a very stern nod, Yep I knew I was in trouble with a capital T, and I still hadn’t seen the specialist.

Reviews

[M Garcia]

"where not the monsters everyone said they were." The "where" should be "were"

[Shep]

thanks i will fix that... thanks again for the review.

[Julie McCarthy (juliesp..]

Wow this was good writing it’s a sin that the authorities made you go on home visits

[Shep]

the laws have changed for the better i think well most of them