Free True Story (The Deverells, Book One) by Jayne Fresina Page A

Seven
     
    "But my brother Justify was allowed to
join the Naval Academy when he was only fourteen. Nobody stopped
him when he went off to Portsmouth. I am two years older than that
now and what have I done with my life, but slave over books and
listen to dreary lectures?"
    "Justify never possessed your capacity
for study. The Navy was a good choice for him, and he has done well
with it. Your talents are different. I do not see the Navy in your
future, Damon."
    The young man would not sit still but
got up again and paced around the chair. Watching his son, True
thought how time flew. It seemed like only yesterday when Damon, at
two years of age, sat on his knee and sobbed over the death of his
mama.
    Never one to keep his children in the
dark when it came to life's ups and downs, True had told both Damon
and his elder brother of their mother's passing as soon as it
happened. He did not use flowery words, but told them straight and
then all he could do was offer his arms while they cried.
Mercifully her illness was short and she had not suffered too much.
True saw to it that his mistress had the best doctor and medicines
available. Right to the end, he'd stayed by her sickbed, despite
the animosity it caused with his wife.
    "We did everything we could for your
mama," he'd told the two boys, "but it was her time to go. As it is
time for us all eventually."
    "Has she gone to heaven, papa?"
Justify, then three years old, had said.
    That was the only time he lied to
them, for he did not know if he believed in heaven and hell, but
what did one say to boys so young? The responsibility of children
had taught him that one could not always say the first thing that
came to mind. So he replied, "Yes. Your mama has gone to
heaven."
    "Then we'll see her again."
    "As long as you behave. There are good
odds that you will."
    The idea of heaven had its uses, of
course. It had served as a warning and a threat for thousands of
years, so why shouldn't he use it too?
    Unfortunately, all True's sons were
too old for that now. They were not fearful of much with which he
could threaten them.
    Damon had just arrived at his most
rebellious stage, questioning everything about life and his place
in it. Having been through this already with three elder boys and a
daughter— who was, in many ways, a greater challenge than his sons—
True was not terribly troubled. All children, so he'd learned,
tried their boundaries occasionally, even the quiet ones. Even
those who used to sit on his knee and cling to him with sticky
fingers as if he was their savior.
    "Perhaps I'll go without your
permission," Damon exclaimed, jaw pushed out, eyes fierce, those
once sticky fingers tapping the chair back upon which they hovered
with all the flighty tension of sparrow’s feet. "I could. I could
do that."
    But he knew his son was too clever to
make such an impulsive mistake. Damon would think it through and
this idea of the Navy would pass. Aware that the quickest way to
get his stubborn son to that point of reason was to let him find
his own way to it, he said, "Of course you could. You must do as
you see fit and suffer the outcome later, as we all do when we make
mistakes. Maturity is not only about being free to make your own
choices, but to face the consequences too. No one else can face
them for you, so they should not make the decisions for you
either."
    His son's frown deepened. He had
wanted a fight, no doubt. "Then, if I refuse to go back to school,
you'll do nothing?"
    "What would you like me to do, Damon?
Should I wrestle you to the ground, bind you in ropes and keep you
in the attic until this fancy passes?" He smiled, hoping to hide
his impatience with this conversation. "Then you can blame me. Then
you have another excuse to be angry at me. If you'd like that, it
can be arranged. I believe there is room up there among all the
other lost souls in rattling chains, held prisoner by my foul
temper. Or else you'll just have to make your own decision and then
have