Earlier on there had been times when she’d threatened to leave him, and she might well have done it had he not pleaded for her forgiveness. But now, this thing with Dewey could be enough to have her turn her back on him forever. It was true that she didn’t have a cent to her name, but she did have the house and she was still a good-looking woman. The probability was that any number of miners would welcome the chance to move in and play daddy to the kids.
That thought made Martin feel sicker than ever. His stomach rolled, and the whiskey he’d drank regurgitated and spilled from his mouth. His head throbbed, and he couldn’t stop himself from sobbing.
It was late afternoon when he finally drew a bucket of water from the well, washed himself, and brushed back his hair. Sooner or later he would have to come to grips with what he’d done, face Eliza, and ask her forgiveness.
He approached the house and stood outside the screen door. She was inside, moving about the kitchen with the baby held to her shoulder. He peered through the screen looking across to the far side of the room but did not see any of the other children.
Speaking through the screen, he said, “Eliza, I’m real sorry for what I did. It was never in my mind to hurt you or the boy. It was the whiskey making me crazy.”
She turned away without answering.
“You saying this isn’t my house made me feel ashamed, like I haven’t done right by you. I’m a man, Eliza, and like any man, I’ve got a certain amount of pride.” He waited for her to respond, and when she didn’t he continued. “I know I had too much to drink and got crazy, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you; I do. I love you and every one of these kids. Maybe I don’t show it as much as I ought, but that doesn’t mean it’s not in my heart.”
She kept her back to him and said nothing.
“Be reasonable, Eliza. You’re my wife. Sooner or later you’re gonna have to forgive me.”
She turned and looked at him with a hatred he’d not seen before.
“I don’t have to do anything of the sort. There is no forgiveness for a man who’d break his son’s arm.”
“Eliza, please. At least try to understand.”
She went into the children’s bedroom and shut the door.
For the next two days, she didn’t speak another word to him. He apologized a dozen or more times, but she looked away as if he weren’t there. In the evening she’d leave a plate of food on the stove for him, but neither she nor any of the kids sat with him to eat.
On Monday, when he was supposed to return to his job in Charleston, he remained at home.
“I might get fired for not showing up today, but I can’t leave here knowing you feel this way,” he said mournfully. “I’ve done sworn I’d give up drinking and apologized every way I know how. What else can I do?”
“You might try telling your son you’re sorry,” she said. “I’m used to your moods and the way you go around blaming the world for every bad thing that happens, but he’s not. He’s a little boy who should be looking up to his daddy instead of being afraid of him. Being upset about work doesn’t give you cause to take your anger out on Dewey.”
Martin lowered his gaze to the floor as she spoke.
“You hurt him more than you hurt me. He’s the one you need to ask for forgiveness.”
Realizing the only way he’d get Eliza’s forgiveness was to first get Dewey’s, Martin talked to the boy before he left for Charleston.
“You gotta believe I didn’t mean you any harm,” he said. “Your mama and I had words; she said some hurtful things, and I lost my temper. I was wrong and I’m real sorry about it, but I’m your daddy and you gotta forgive me. You can do that, can’t you, son?”
Without looking square into father’s face, Dewey nodded.
Martin wrapped his arm around the boy’s narrow shoulders and gave a genuine smile.
“I’m gonna make it up to you, Dewey; you’ll see. Like I told your mama, I’m turning over a new leaf. From here on in, I’m gonna be the kind of daddy you kids deserve. I promise you that. Now let’s go tell your mama. She’s gonna be real happy about you forgiving me. Yessir, real happy.”
The Fragile Forgiveness
AFTER THE INCIDENT WITH DEWEY, it seemed as though Martin truly had changed for the better. At first, Eliza had her doubts. They’d been through this several times before, and while he’d be on his best behavior for a few weeks, sometimes months, he eventually went back to what she’d come to believe was his true nature.
This time was different. This time it felt as though he actually wanted to spend time with the children. He returned to Coal Creek every weekend, and often he brought some little gift for Eliza or one of the children. Although it was a four-mile walk from the train station, he’d come in smiling and calling for the kids. Once they were clustered around him he’d reach into his pocket, pull out a bag of candy, hand it to Eliza, and say, “Look what I brought my best girl.” If it wasn’t candy for her, it was a few marbles or a whittling knife for one of the boys.
Such a drastic change baffled the children at first, and a thin layer of apprehension hid beneath their smiles. This was especially true of the older boys, Oliver and Ben Roland. Wary though they might have been, they knew enough not to let it show. When their daddy called they came, and no matter what little trinket he’d pull from his pocket they’d carry on as if it were the very thing they’d been wishing for.
Dewey was another story. His resentment ran deep as a river. If he spotted Martin nearing the front gate or caught the sound of his voice, he’d head for the woods behind their back yard and be gone for the remainder of the day. Three Saturdays in a row he missed dinner, and the only thing that kept Martin from taking a switch to him was the plaster cast that still covered the boy’s arm. On the few occasions when Martin’s mood turned sour, it was almost always because of Dewey. Twice he tried to talk some sense into the boy but came away angrier than before.
“Talking to him is the same as hollering down a well,” he said. “A waste of time.”
Determined to hold on to this newfound peace at any cost, Eliza massaged the tightness in Martin’s back.
“Be patient with him,” she said. “He’s just a child, and he’s frightened. Give him time. He’ll get over it.”
“He’d better.”
Shortly after he left for Charleston, Eliza called Dewey to come sit with her as she pushed back and forth in the swing with Margaret Rose in her lap.
Scrambling onto the swing, he asked, “Can I hold her?”
“Only if you promise to listen to what I have to say.”
“I always listen,” he replied defensively.
“Not always,” she said and slid the baby onto his lap. “When your daddy tried to explain that he felt bad about what happened, you heard but you didn’t really listen.”
Dewey’s smile faded. “What am I ’posed to do? I forgived him.”
“No, you only said you forgave him, but that’s not the same as forgiving him in here.” Eliza touched her finger to his chest. “I know your daddy’s got his faults, but he really is trying. Can’t you can see that?”