A Wolf In Sheep Clothing. Clothing. Part 2

Chapter 32-1

A Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing.

Part 2

For some reason, Arthur didn’t like me as he took his place on the floor of the kitchen. He was dressed in jeans that had seen better days and wearing his humility visit. I could see straw sticking out of his hair and was covered with dirt. His left ankle was red as if he had been chained like a common animal fighting to get loose. He sat there quietly as if waiting for orders or too beaten. He didn’t move, he just sat there with his head bowed, his knees pressed against him.

I prayed that I would be long gone before I looked as beaten as he did and couldn’t; understand what he was waiting for. Or perhaps too scared to even try it or he had tried, and this was the result of the attempt. If it was, I needed to be careful and plan my escape right down to the final details without getting caught. Mrs. Rothwell paid him no mind the way he looked nor did she say why he was this way. But I could feel his eyes on me as if they burned red with hate

Mrs. Rothwell counted twenty-five potatoes setting them inside a bucket and hand him a peeler and old pie tin for the skins.  Her words were cold but calm. Using his name as she told him to peel the potatoes and put the clean ones back into the bucket. Showing him how and watched him repeat the process as if he was doing it for the first time. I had soon learned that he was mentally retarded or artistic and sometimes had a mind of five years old. Yet he was smart when came to sports questions like stats and complicated math equations. He had been with them since he was 8 years of age, one of their longest foster children to date.

For a brief moment, I saw my life through his eyes to what my life could have been. I shudder to think that this could have been me sitting on the floor cowering like a whipped dog begging for scraps of food and attention. Somehow my life didn’t seem so bad and began to wonder if perhaps God had listened to my prayers. It did give me something to think about and something else I needed to discuss with Jeff. Who I could still feel, but not see, I tried to link my thoughts with his like I had done so many times before, but he never responded leaving me alone with my own thoughts. I missed the warmth of his company, but it bothered me why he was so silent.

I got distracted for a brief moment as Mrs. Rothwell waited for me to acknowledge her as she tapped me on the shoulder. Saying “Eric, a penny for your thoughts;” I turned around to look at her. Saying I had thought I had seen a ghost. She asked if was my dead friend Jeff and I said: “no, just my mind playing tricks on me.” She nodded and didn’t push it saying when we have more time and things are settled, and perhaps I could trust her with them. I nodded I would.

She asked me if I knew how to use a knife without cutting myself; I said; “yes ma’am. I did it all the time when I was living at home.” changing it saying “when I lived in my last three foster homes.” She hesitated then nodded she understood but wanted to see it for herself. Handing me two of Arthur’s potatoes and placed peeled carrots and celery and two onions on the cutting board asked for certain cuts.

I did what was asked washing my board after I was done. She seemed impressed Arthur watched and scowled at me she said; “he’s just jealous because you’re smarter than him. I am curious about what else you can do.” I told her I was taught how to care for myself whenever I was left home alone and sometimes could fix an entire dinner for my family to give my Ma a break. I told her how my brothers Will and Robert and I would sometimes surprise our Ma with an early breakfast and dinner for her birthday when Pa took her out on the town.

Even though she felt the Downing’s were heathens because they were not LDS. She could see a certain spark when I talked about them. She told me I seemed to glow whenever I mentioned any of them. Hoping I would do the same when I talk about them. I didn’t say anything, because deep down I doubted it. Five days was enough to hate being here, but I didn’t dare say that. I just asked what else she would like me to do?

The glow was gone, and she knew that she had spooked me, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she just handed me more vegetables to chop and hummed a church hymn as she set to her work. It wasn’t long as everyone began to watch me cut up enough vegetables to feed two families. Arthur had been forgotten as he sat on the floor watching with everyone else. Mrs. Rothwell had to send every out of the kitchen from getting in our way. Her husband didn’t seem all that pleased. Asking why these people I had lived with before thought it was important to teach their boys how to cook in the first place? I said, “because we worked on a farm everyone pitches in to make it work.”

He snorted.” Woman’s work, men have no reason to be in a kitchen.” His wife stood there scowling at him. Asking why not? Placing her hands on her hips. Waiting for him to answer; instead, he looked over at Arthur said. “Shane, take Arthur and get him cleaned up. It seems he is no longer needed in the kitchen; we have a new girl to replace him.” Mrs. Rothwell didn’t argue picking up the bucket and the peelings and placing them both into the sink. Says “waste not, want not.” Began washing the peelings and putting them with the rest of the clean scraps. Pulling out a machine and made juice out of them. It made me want to gag as she added it to the pitcher that we had drunk for breakfast and stirred it in. I knew now why it tasted so bad.

She saw me cringed saying; “why waste perfectly good vitamins, working on a farm you should now that better than anyone.” I didn’t argue with her as I kept to my work washing down the counter and prepared to make dinner rolls. Her recipe was a little different than Ma’s using the fresh ground wheat flour instead of bleached white floor. Stating the white floor is bad for the body. I did mention that she was a health food nut? Well, scratch that. She was an extreme health food nut going way too far. After everything was in the oven cooking and the kitchen was clean. I had too clean off the flour and the grime that got onto my clothes. She noticed stating next time she’d find me an apron to wear; if she could find one that wasn’t too girlish. Stating it seems she found herself I new little helper. I was then told to go to my room and work on my oral report or read my scriptures until dinner time.

When she was satisfied; that I wouldn’t run out the front door, she returned to the kitchen. I left the door opened began to put the finishing touches on my report and opened my scriptures adding scripture references that I felt would give me the edge in giving my report. I needed to show them I wasn’t stupid and was just as smart as any other kid, not a mule boy. 

When it was written; I read it over several times adding something every once and while. Jeff seemed to have made himself known and I refused to pay him any attention. I was mad at him for being gone all day. Finally, I looked up and he smiled like he was the one that had all the cream when I had none. I didn’t dare speak out loud to him, not with the door wide open. But I didn’t want to close it either. So we linked. I stated angrily “Where have you been? I needed you, and you said you would never leave me when I needed you”

He waited for me to get it all out of my system before he answered. Stating he was taking care of some business, and telling me I wasn’t in any danger or he would have been here quick as a wink but had been keeping tabs on me throughout the day. I couldn’t argue with that. Considering he was mostly right, as I watched him take a seat on the bed fingering the humility vest. Then shocked me stating “he knows what happened to the other boy.” He paused as he watched me turn and smile knowing he had me. I was indeed curious. I had found out the boy had run away and hadn’t been found; that’s why the State doesn’t know about it yet. Right now he was safe where no-one would look for him; and if it got out that they had lost one of their own. It could mean big trouble for the Rothwell’s.

I asked him if it was his doing regarding what happened in the Bishop’s office. He smiled saying he had a little help from a friend that needed a favor. It was one of the reasons he’d been gone. He wouldn’t say what the favor was or who was this friend? But instead I told him he nearly got me in deep trouble, and he smiled with that silly grin. He then told me that he had something special planned for tonight providing I kept my nose clean. He wouldn’t say what, so I asked if we were still working on our plan to get the hell out of here.

He nodded saying to tread carefully; there is more going on here than I want to know. Suggested that if I could avoid getting in a hurry too quickly and learned to play nice with the enemy. I hated it when he did that. Always leaving out the things I should know beforehand when I could make a decision now to avoid it. Freewill was always the excuses.

It was great though having an extra set of eyes, even though they were dead ones. But I had gotten over that a long time ago. It uses to give me nightmares when he first came to me. Now they don’t seem so dead anymore, even though he seems to never ages, he still had his boyish look and blond hair that never seemed to grow. He wasn’t perfect by any means, but he does have his uses.

I remember one time as he was teasing one of my friends after a bad day and was trying to make me laugh. He would move my friend’s books from on end of the table to the other whenever they turned their back, or tie their shoelaces together. I asked him once how he did it since his body was still buried waiting on the. “The Big Resurrection” that everyone talks about. He said not everything dies when you're dead, his mind still works, his arms, legs fingers and toes. All still function, and still can feel pain just as it was in real life.

Over the years he has gotten better. He says when it comes to interacting with life between here and the spirit world; even our linking has grown by leaps and bounds over the years. You would be surprised what the human mind is actually capable of doing if you worked just a small piece of it like reusing a muscle. According to Jeff, that when a person dies and their spirit leaves their body. It also frees their mind, but it takes time to develop that muscle, like learning a new skill. Nothing is just given to you, you are like in some ways learning how to walk again. Livings and dieing are just different degrees of actual living. I can’t explain it, more than this because I haven’t died yet to completely understand. But to say you are limited less or unbound by laws is wrong. Everything is governed by laws.

In fact, my first oral report is on the spirit world, I know what you are thinking. Just let Jeff give the report, considering he knows more about it then I will ever know. But there again we humans that still live in this rat race, must learn how to walk before we can run. Not saying I didn’t have a little help from time to time, as Jeff looked over my report. Giving me places to look in the scriptures comes in handy.  Did I mention he’d won a lot doing scripture chases?

Jody came to tell me that dinner was ready that she was sent to make sure I washed up and combed my hair, the basics. I had to admit my hair did look like a mess and my shirt needed to be re-tucked in, but all in all, I was good to go. Folding my paper into my scriptures and setting them on the dresser. She didn’t do it for me as she stood by and watched me do it, smiling and said. “There is nothing wrong with a guy working in the kitchen. In fact, when she gets married, her husband better knows a thing or two or she won’t marry him.”

I took my place at the table noticing the fine china, not as fine as the set we had given Ma. Every time I thought of her it made me miss her more, and I could feel myself choke up, hoping a tear didn’t rat me out. For the moment I was invisible and for once I was glad, but I did notice everyone had the place setting except for me, Arthur and the two younger boys. Instead, we were given the other plates; plastic children plates with Goofy and Mickey Mouse and plastic cups. I tried to not let it bother me and told myself a plate is a plate and let it go. Apparently, I had been judged as a small child, but I didn’t let it show. I waited in silence as everyone took their spots. Arthur was dressed in a nice clean shirt and his hair was still wet. His skin was still lightly pink from his bath and I could easily tell that Shane hadn’t been kind to him and came apparent that everyone treated him like he was stupid.

Pa had taught me that everyone had the right to be treated as a human being. No matter their age, color, race or how slow they are. Everyone was still one of God’s creatures and should be respected and loved no matter who they are. But somehow I always disagreed when it came too people abusing children. That included my parents and the Rothwell’s. To me, that was something I could never forgive or forget, but I had a strong feeling that my views didn’t matter much while I was living here. Once again Dad said the prayer taking my hand, and for once didn’t squeeze it like it was in a vice. Through my eyelids, I could see Arthur wasn’t that lucky as his face winced with pain. I had learned to let everyone be served first and waited for Dad to fill my plate. I was surprised by the portions I was given it seemed like a small feast compared to the night before.

Arthur on the, on the other hand, was given less, Dad stating since he hadn’t earned his keep today, and that he was told that he found out he had disobeyed in church during Sunday school. That he would get no dessert and would spend the rest of the day until family devotion in his room to think about his consequences. I didn’t know what he had done that was so wrong, but I couldn’t help but notice a smile on Shane’s and Shawn’s face. Something told me they had it in for him or they were making an example out of him if I didn’t do what they said. It always makes me mad when someone treats a person like they are nothing but a joke and get away with it and set them up to take the blame.

Once again Dad made a comment regarding the food saying. “The woman folk had outdone themselves preparing such a fine meal.” Looking over at me as he said it; thinking it would goad me to anger, but it didn’t get what he wished so he tried a different approach said. “What I understand family that we have a miracle of wonders among us. Earick here has the ability to see dead people. In fact, it is the very person he murdered in cold blood.

“Now he may not have pulled the trigger himself according to his file and what he has told me. But the facts speak for themselves, the boy died and he stood there and watched every seconded of it and didn’t lift a single finger to help. To me, he is just as guilty, but God Almighty according to the Bishop today says he’s not. Yet the boy’s ghost haunts him still.” Then chuckles; “it could be that this dead friend feels that it was his fault and cursed him until his dying day. So if you see any bed sheets floating, say hi to his pal Jeff.”

Mrs. Rothwell stood said. “That’s quite enough, Eric has done what we had asked and repented of all his sins and been found clean, unless you are saying that the Bishop is a heretic and not one of the Gods chosen and not worthy of Christ Atonement. Then I suggest you get on your knees and find your answer before God himself strikes you down.” Dad was speechless as he cowered before her. I was beginning to think that Jeff was right that there was some good in her. No one spoke as they silently ate. Apparently, she had won this round.

I was full for the first time in a long time and I could barely finish. It didn’t help that Mr. Rothwell was still angry and added more to my plate. Telling me I better eat every last crumb or suffer his wrath. Dad meant every word as he waited for my answer. I said, “yes sir, I had planned to.” I should have called him Dad instead of sir, nearly striking me then thought better of it as Mom glared at him from across the table. I was beginning too like Sundays compared to the rest of the week. It seemed I was almost a person instead of mule boy only smart enough to work. Just thinking about it gives me the shutters. Trust me it will give you nightmares when I tell that dark secret what happens in the basement.

While me and Arthur cleared the table. He was caught licking a plate with his tongue and had stolen three rolls and stuffed two under his shirt and one in his mouth. I had time enough to turn around hearing the plate crash to the floor and break. Dad had smacked him across the face so hard that his noses bled and his glasses and the roll flew across the room. He was so angry that he yelled to Shane to grab the whip down the hall. I curled up into a ball in the corner as the whip struck him over and over. His yells of pain echoed the house as they stuck one after the other in the rhythm. I could hear Jared and Jason crying nearby as the whip kept the same rhythm, strike after strike.

I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe as I watched with horror as the whip came down missing me by mere inches. Again and again, it stuck hard and fast back and forth as it hit across my back, my voice added to the terror. I heard Mr. Rothwell yell. “Mule Boy, get out.” I didn’t know if he was talking to me until the whip came down again across my back over and over. I screamed as I tried to get smaller hugging the corner tighter. A hand gripped me as it dragged me out of the room. Mr. Rothwell yelling; “Mule boy get out, don’t disobey me again.” The whip came down on my back once more not stopping following me as I fled to my room; hearing the door slam behind me. Tears were streaming down my face and I could feel the warm blood trickle down my back felt wet and numb against my skin.

I huddled tight in the far corner on the floor waiting for more, but I was alone. I was more than terrified as I waited for my tormentor to punish me more, I had no idea what I had done wrong, one minute I was doing what I was told and then the next being beaten. It was nearly an hour before I dared come out of the corner and Jeff was nowhere to be seen, but I could feel him nearby telling me to stay put. So I did, hugging my knees closer to me staying in the corner of my room shivering as the pain began to radiate as the numbness wore off.

The tears hadn’t stopped as the door opened; I didn’t dare look up. I kept my head bowed letting the tears fall on my bare feet.  I could smell the hated rage as if something cold and evil had entered the room. Its cold hand covered in blood as it lifted my face to face the cold terror in his eyes. The monster face kept shifting in my mind from my father to Mr. Rothwell and back again. He didn’t say a word letting my head fall closing the door and turned off the lights leaving me in the dark. It was two hours more as I stayed in the corner before the door opened again. I didn’t look up. I didn’t dare as the terror washed over me once more as I shook, waiting for the whip to strike, begging; pleading no more.