The Adjustment: A Jacob Cahill Novel

By John Gess

The Adjustment continues the story of Jacob Cahill, the son of American missionaries in China who were killed during the great purges of Mao Tse-tung early in his reign. In Book One, Jacob survives through the goodwill and good graces of his Chinese godmother, Mu Ju, and her son, a former Buddhist monk, who cares for and trains the boy until he is old enough to flee China. To the shock of his caretakers, they realize that Jacob is a child prodigy, possessed of extraordinary intellectual abilities, which they struggle to help him realize. Now back in America, fifteen-year-old Jacob must adjust to the enormous changes in his life and the society around him, using his great gifts to not only survive but thrive. Yet there are roadblocks thrown in his path as the racial fires are burning harshly in 1960s America. As he faces those who violently confront him, he must make difficult choices of life and death and question his own morality in the process. His talents carry him far, yet is he becoming a savior or a monster?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 9, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524556044

John Gess

John Gess is the author of A Simple Soldier, Deficient, and the Jacob Cahill series. He lives in Woodinville, WA.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Born in Seattle, Washington in 1949, Jacob Cahill had spent virtually all of his fifteen years of life living in isolation in the remote mountainous region of northern Sichuan Province in China, raised by a group of disciplined and austere Buddhist monks. His Christian missionary parents were long dead, killed by Communist overseers in 1952. Since then, Jacob had lived a life of intense daily physical exertion in primitive circumstances. He and the monks were fugitives from the Communist’s justice and lived in fear of discovery and consequences that they could only imagine. However, they persevered, working hard each day to feed, clothe, house, and defend themselves as the monks taught Jacob everything they knew. It was never enough though. The monks watched Jacob with amazement as he absorbed knowledge like a sponge, able to recite back long book passages from memory after one reading and comprehend difficult concepts with ease. He was only seven when they had exhausted all the history, math, and science that they knew, but he wanted more. The stars, the earth, animals, plants, and even the monks themselves became Jacob’s fascination, feeding his inexorable search for knowledge and his indefatigable curiosity. But the monks insisted that he first must finish his work before he could spend his day researching the world around him. And so Jacob worked hard. Not on some days, but every day.

Not all the monks approved. Shi Shen, the oldest of the monks, watched Jacob grow with increasing alarm. Jacob was not simply a young orphan the monks were trying to help. He was, in truth, a dangerous mutant in Shi Shen’s eyes. A danger to China, thought Shi Shen, because he was an American boy who must someday return to America, an enemy of China. Shi Shen pushed the other monks hard to turn the boy over to the Communist authorities, but was rebuffed time and again. But when the monks decided Jacob was ready to return home at the age of fifteen, Shi Shen’s long opposition to the monks raising the boy created a life-threatening situation for them all as Shi Shen betrayed his fellow monks and informed the Communist authorities about Jacob’s trip through China and his planned departure to America. It started a despicable episode that resulted in the death of many of the monks and the challenge of a lifetime for Jacob as he was pursued mercilessly by the Communist authorities in his desperate attempt to escape. Yet despite a heavy heart due to the death of his father figure, Wu Chanming, the leader of the small band of monks, Jacob successfully navigated the treacherous twelve-hundred-mile journey to Hong Kong and then the journey across the Pacific to his grandparent’s home in Seattle. But now the adjustment to a new and foreign land would begin.

CHAPTER 1

The woman, startled, stared at Jacob and then said, What did you say, young man?

Grandmother, I’m Jacob Cahill. I’m Rachel and Paul’s son, born here in Seattle on March 1, 1949. I’ve come back to America.

The woman said, No, that’s not possible, yet she didn’t shut the door in Jacob’s face and continued to stare at this strange boy with a shaved head who spoke English with a bit of an odd accent. Finally, a ray of recognition came to her. This boy’s face looked just like Paul’s face in the wedding picture that still sat above their fireplace. Tears started to form in her eyes and the sides of her mouth moved downward, quivering, as she started to cry. The tears were soon cascading down her face and her chest began to heave as waves of emotion shot through her body. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she stepped forward and put her arms around Jacob. She was much too choked up to speak, so she just stood there wrapped inside what she quickly realized was this heavily muscled boy who she was now completely convinced was her grandson.

After a few minutes, she turned, one arm still wrapped around Jacob and brought Jacob inside the house and said, Is it really you, Jacob? Can it really be you?

Yes, Grandmother, said Jacob. It is really me.

Suddenly, Jacob heard someone yell from somewhere inside the house, but Maggie didn’t answer immediately. Her emotions still had the best of her and she couldn’t let go of Jacob. So a few seconds later an even louder voice boomed in very slurred speech something like, Maggie, did you hear me? Who the hell’s at the door at this time of night? Finally, Jacob’s grandfather got up out of bed, stumbled into the living room, and saw his wife embracing a young boy and sobbing. In a loud and angry voice, he said, What in god’s name is going on? and Jacob realized immediately that his grandfather was quite drunk. Finally, Maggie turned to her husband and said, Harry … Jacob, Rachel’s boy, has finally come home. She held on to Jacob tightly as she turned and looked at her husband with a determined and stern face, her arm still wrapped around Jacob’s waist and the hand of her other arm holding his hand. She then looked back at Jacob and focused all her attention on him as she guided him to the couch and sat down. Harry almost fell over as he backed off a step in virtual total shock, his mouth open but unable to say a word. He stared at the boy, trying hard to stand upright. Finally, he sat down in his La-Z-Boy, watching his wife and this strange boy sitting on their living room couch and not saying a word.

Maggie continued to hold Jacob tightly and cried softly. She soon began to rock back and forth slightly and sing a song that she had sung to Jacob as a baby. It wasn’t long before Jacob was quietly singing along.

She’ll be comin’ ’round the mountain when she comes,

She’ll be comin’ ’round the mountain when she comes,

She’ll be comin’ round the mountain, she’ll be comin’ round the mountain,

She’ll be comin’ round the mountain when she comes.

Harry stared at Jacob and shook his head, trying hard to clear out the cobwebs. This cannot be possible, he thought. Paul, Rachel, and Jacob died years ago in China in a cholera epidemic or at least that’s what they had been told by the Mennonite Church. Could they be alive, too, he suddenly wondered? But if not, how could Jacob have survived by himself all these years? He was only three or four years old at the time. He answered the question quietly to himself. He couldn’t have. This can’t be Jacob, he thought groggily. But if it’s not Jacob, then who is this boy, he wondered? But Maggie certainly is convinced, he thought. How to dissuade her of this deception? It clearly wouldn’t be easy.

Maggie asked Jacob if he was hungry and yes, he replied, he was very hungry. His eating habits had been very sporadic for several weeks now. He had lost some weight and had had trouble maintaining his exercise routine. He felt weak. He would need to start working on that immediately, he realized. But as he looked at his grandfather, Jacob could see that the man wasn’t convinced. He would have to prove that he was his grandson. He would need to explain how it had all happened.

Maggie told Jacob to follow her into the kitchen. She wanted to talk to him while she cooked him a meal. Harry stayed in the living room, still quite drunk and tired, wondering what he should do. He was angry that his wife was being duped by this young boy but had a hard time figuring out why the boy had come to their door. They had nothing this boy could possibly want, he thought. How had he come upon them, he wondered?

It didn’t take long for Maggie to make a meal, and when it was ready, Maggie called her husband and asked him if he wanted to eat too. When he shook his head no, she asked him if he wanted some coffee. He said yes to that, but when he tried to get up, he couldn’t until Jacob came over to help him. They both sat down at the table as Maggie doled out the mashed potatoes, meatloaf, and corn onto Jacob’s plate and said, Jacob, you can have your mother’s old bedroom. It won’t take long to fix it up. I don’t think we’ve changed a thing in that room since you and your mother left in 1949. Jacob, I’m just so happy that you are finally safe and that you were able to find us. My gosh, I can’t imagine how a fifteen-year-old boy could have made such a journey. She finally sat down and said, Let’s pray for this food on our table. After saying a prayer, Maggie stayed quiet and waited for Harry to say something. Instead, he said nothing as he tried hard to keep his eyes open, yet Jacob could tell that he was upset and skeptical. Jacob started eating, albeit slowly, but finally decided he should say something.

I remember the day that my parents died as if it were yesterday, even though I was only three years old. The Communists had arrived in our village almost three months prior to that day. They interviewed everyone, then I guess made decisions on who would live and who would die. They called a meeting of everyone in the village. The soldiers went door-to-door and forced everyone to come to the meeting. My parents and I went with Ama, my Chinese godmother. We stood in the very back and I couldn’t see anything, just people’s backs. I remember very well that a woman started talking about her husband dying and that Mother let him die. There was a lot of commotion and then the leader of the Communist cadre yelled out to the soldiers to bring my mother into the center of the square. She turned to me and said everything would be fine and not to worry, and then she willingly walked through the crowd and into the town square. Almost immediately, the man yelled to the soldiers to also bring my father into the square. He asked Ama to take care of me and then walked through the crowd following my mother. I still couldn’t see anything but I heard everything. They accused mother of killing some of the villagers by withholding medical care and then they turned around and accused my father of causing the drought a few years before. I think someone hit my mother and that’s when Ama grabbed me and said we had to go. We hid from the soldiers and ran away. I heard my mother scream just as we entered the barn where the donkey was waiting with food, water, and some clothing on its back, said Jacob as tears starting forming in his eyes as the memories flooded back. After a brief moment as the tears streamed down his face, Jacob continued. Ama grabbed the rope around the donkey’s neck and all three of us headed into the woods. We walked through the forest for a long time, long after we had run out of food. I remember walking around looking for mushrooms to eat while Ama slept. She was so scared. We were looking for her son who was a monk hiding in the mountains, but we couldn’t find him. Finally, we woke up one morning and a strange man was sitting there watching us. He led us to Ama’s son, Wu Chanming, who was living in a large cabin deep in the mountains along with seven other monks. They fed us and allowed me to stay after Ama returned to her village, Ping Mu. Later, Master Wu told me that he had returned to the village to see his mother but learned that his mother had been killed by the Communists along with her grandson and my parents. They were all dead. After that, I stayed with the monks in the mountains and we tried hard to keep away from the Communists and their soldiers, but it was difficult. The last time the soldiers came for us, Master Wu told me it would be best for me to go home to America and find my grandparents. So here I am. I hope I have not disturbed your life too much. I can also go if it’s too much.

Maggie stared at Harry with an angry look as more tears flowed down her cheeks while Jacob resumed eating. Soon she was sobbing. Harry just stared at Jacob with an incredulous look, then said in still slurred speech, Then it wasn’t a cholera epidemic at all? My god, how could you have possibly survived it all?

I just did but only because of Ama and her son, Wu Chanming, said Jacob.

After a minute, Harry said, So can you speak Chinese?

Jacob answered, Yes.

Harry then said, But how can you speak English so well after living in China virtually your entire life? It doesn’t make sense.

Maggie finally spoke up. Harry, will you stop grilling your grandson, please?

Jacob responded, saying, Grandmother, it’s fine, as Maggie interrupted her grandson and said,

Jacob, I think I would prefer Grandma. Grandmother sounds so formal.

All right, Grandma it is. Anyway, I was just going to say that I will answer whatever questions you might have. Mother and Father spoke nothing but English to me until they died. They taught me well and then after that I read many English books, many times out loud to the monks. Admittedly, they did not speak any English so they didn’t know if what I was reading was right, but it did give me a lot of English practice. Then when I arrived in Hong Kong to come to America, I got a lot of practice in English.

What do you mean you read English books? You were three years old when Rachel and Paul died. You certainly didn’t go to school at that age, so how did you learn to read? asked Harry.

Mother taught me and after that Chanming was somehow able to find an English dictionary and a few English books for me to practice with. I learned well enough. And I’ve been reading a lot of English lately, books, newspapers, and magazines, said Jacob.

I’ve never heard of such a thing. How can you teach a three-year-old to read? asked Harry.

Mother was a very good teacher, said Jacob.

This is all so overwhelming, said Harry. I hope to god you are our grandson, young man. But I do have to admit that your grandmother is right. You are the spitting image of Paul. I can tell that there is so much more to your story. I can’t imagine how a fifteen-year-old can travel on his own from the deep interior of China all the way to our house. This is all just so unimaginable. Most fifteen-year-olds I’ve known can barely tie their own shoes and find their way to the bathroom. How can you travel the world on your own, speak English and Chinese and … Can you read Chinese too, all those odd characters?

Yes, said Jacob.

Incredible. You know, I will ask you to prove it, young man. I have a Chinese friend who can read and speak Chinese. We’ll go and see him, maybe tomorrow. Will you do that? asked Harry.

I would enjoy that very much, Grandfather, said Jacob.

"Well, I don’t really like the term grandfather either. I’d much rather you just call me Harry. All right?" said Harry.

All right. Harry it is, said Jacob.

Did they call you Jacob in China? asked Harry.

No, my ama gave me a Chinese name when I returned to China from Seattle. She named me Gao Da, and that’s what the monks called me during these last twelve years, said Jacob.

What kind of a name is that? asked Harry. Oh, forget it. It doesn’t matter. Harry put his left hand up to his forehead and looked down at the table, wondering how all this could be. For more than ten years now, he had thought that his daughter and grandson were dead. He had resigned himself to their deaths and with it had lost much of his will to live. For almost two years after having received no new letters from Rachel, they had made constant inquiries as to what had happened to the Cahill family. The Mennonite Church had finally told them that the deaths of Paul, Rachel, and Jacob Cahill had been confirmed by the Chinese government. They had all died of a serious cholera outbreak in the remote area of China where they lived, said the Chinese government and been buried along with many other villagers. Of course, neither the church nor Harry and Maggie Dunlap had been able to confirm the news. No foreigners were allowed entry into China. Harry had subsequently bought three gravesites in the local cemetery and had held a funeral service for the three Cahill’s in 1955, three years after their deaths. Harry thought about the gravesite where Jacob was ostensibly buried and then looked up at the young man sitting in front of him. Could it really be, he wondered? He both wanted it to be true and yet could not conceive that it was possible. And he couldn’t go through the grieving process again. He was sure it would kill him.

Jacob finished eating and thanked his grandmother. He knew it would take some time for all of them to get used to each other and for Harry’s skepticism to wear down. But he was hopeful his grandparents would allow him to stay with them, at least for a while until he was able to adjust to America a bit better. He said:

I’m sorry to have woken you both up. Please forgive me. Thank you, Grandmother, excuse me, Grandma. This is a delicious meal. Would you mind if I stayed the night? I am exhausted and need some sleep.

Maggie responded immediately, saying, Jacob, of course, you will stay with us for as long as you want, but certainly until you go off to college or get a job. You must. We can’t have our fifteen-year-old grandson roaming the streets.

Harry, finally sobering up, said, Well, of course, you can stay with us, Jacob. We’ll need to get used to each other, but I think we can all manage it, even me. And I have to say, I’m fascinated with your story. I still can’t imagine how you made it from the mountains someplace inside China to our doorstep. Did one of the monks accompany you on the trip? Can we meet him?

Master Wu Chanming was like a father to me all these years. He was the leader of the monks. When he decided that it was time for me to come to America, he and two other monks left on the journey to Hong Kong with me. But outside Chengdu, the soldiers descended on us and killed Master Wu. I was able to escape, but I don’t know what happened to the other monks. They could all be dead. I don’t know. I travelled alone from there to Hong Kong and caught a plane to San Francisco; then caught a ride with a trucker to Seattle. And here I am, said Jacob.

Maggie and Harry looked at each other, more incredulous than before, with Harry saying, This is all too much for me. I can’t understand any of this, Jacob. I can’t decide if this is all just a figment of your imagination or what. I think I’m too tired to think.

Maggie jumped in and said, I think we all just need a good night’s sleep. Come on, Jacob. I’ll make the bed up for you in the second bedroom. Harry, you go back to bed. We’ll have plenty of time to talk again tomorrow.

CHAPTER 2

In the morning, Harry had more doubts than ever now that he’d had a chance to sleep on it. The boy’s story made no sense to him at all. After all, the kid was only fifteen years old and looked no older. What he was still trying to figure out was why the boy had chosen them and how he had come across the name and birthdate of his dead grandson and the names of his dead daughter and son-in-law. He supposed the boy could have gone down to the King County administration office and obtained the public records of the marriage and Jacob’s birth certificate, but the question remained why? He was still tossing that one around in his mind when the three of them sat down to have breakfast. Maggie was in heaven, totally convinced that she had gotten her only grandchild back after all these years. She cooked up some eggs and bacon and put some bread in the toaster. She asked Jacob if he wanted any orange juice and Jacob said:

Yes, thank you, Grandma. I’ve never tried orange juice before.

Harry responded, You’ve never had orange juice before?

Harry’s skeptical voice irritated Maggie and she said so. Harry, he’s been in the mountains in a remote part of China for the last twelve years. Where would he have been able to get orange juice? Now will you just stop it and eat.

Sure, Maggie. So what did you eat in those mountains, Jacob? asked Harry skeptically.

Well, we fished in a nearby lake, ate rice that we bought in a town market, ate the vegetables that we grew in our garden, including potatoes, and also hunted for meat, deer and rabbit, mostly. Two of the monks were responsible for cooking and acquiring food and water for the group, but I also helped, said Jacob.

So, said Harry, did you also hunt and fish, skin the deer and rabbit, clean the fish, and help prepare the meals?

Sometimes I did, yes, said Jacob.

So you can skin, prepare, and cook a deer? asked Harry.

Yes, said Jacob.

Well good for you, young man—, said Harry just before Maggie interrupted him.

His name is Jacob, Harry, and I would very much appreciate it if you would call your grandson by his name, thank you very much! said Maggie.

Of course, dear, said Harry. So, Jacob, would you want to go down to Chinatown and talk to my Chinese friend today?

I’d like that very much, Harry, said Jacob.

Okay then. I’ll call Pete up after breakfast and see if he’s around. He and I worked on the docks together many years ago and he grew up in China, coming here probably more than fifty years ago. But he told me he kept speaking Chinese to his mother who he brought with him and his wife over all these years, so I think his Chinese is still pretty good. And he reads a Chinese newspaper, so I know he can read those Chinese characters. You and he might have a lively discussion, said Harry.

At nine thirty in the morning, Harry and Jacob got into Harry’s old 1950 Chevy Fleetline after Harry had called Pete Shin and arranged to get together. Harry drove down to Chinatown and parked on the curb. He and Jacob got out and walked into Pete’s favorite Chinese restaurant, the Hong Kong House, where Pete was sitting at his favorite table. They walked over and Harry said:

Hello, Pete. How’s life these days?

Pete responded, Couldn’t be better, Harry. So is this your grandson?

Well, he certainly has convinced Maggie, Pete. He’s still trying to convince me, aren’t you, Jacob?

Apparently so, Harry, said Jacob. Then switching to Chinese, Jacob bowed to Pete and said, I am honored to meet you, Mr. Shin.

Pete Shin also switched to Chinese, saying, I, too, am honored to meet you, young man. I understand you have spent much time in China. Where in China did you live?

Sir, I lived in the northern mountains of Sichuan Province with a group of eight men who were fugitives from the government of China. It was a difficult time for all of us as we were constantly in fear of being apprehended, said Jacob.

Who were these men, Jacob, and why were they fugitives? asked Pete.

"They were all former Buddhist