WHERE DAWSON LIVES Book 2: Crushed and Marred

By H. Kaeppel

Not much has changed in the Valley. Beth’s parents are still cold and distant. The farm in winter is as grey and unwelcoming as ever. She’s only there for the funeral or so she’d planned until crushing news comes from her much preferred Napa Valley. Now she must grapple with memories and thoughts greyer than cold winter days.

Piper’s career is exploding. Her passion for education, the niche she’s targeted, is moving well beyond the classroom into a large public spotlight. Yet another relocation looms but not another set of tight friends.

Mac, ever the pastor even when maybe he shouldn’t be, counsels his ministry volunteers turned close friends. He coffees with them at Highway; he jogs with one of them at Eisen Tree farm; he performs pastoral visits, prayers, and calls; he confronts church gossip and erroneous understandings. All expected, if not rote, for the ministry veteran. Unexpected and new, however, is falling in love.

Dawson’s secret threatens friendships, which is everything, except for, and most importantly, Jesus, who may become the only friend he has left and the one Friend he deserves the least.

They do ministry right alongside, or despite, their own trials always hoping for that rare glimpse of angels rejoicing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Oct 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9781716466144

Book preview

Dawson awoke sputtering, sun in his eyes, a throbbing in his head that felt like a steel-toed boot kicking away at it, and cold, ice cold, water.  Dawson sat up too fast and couldn’t begin to grab everything that hurt all at once.  His head, his ears, his eyes. His cold, oh so cold, and now, he noticed, wet, shirt.  Before he could assess the situation, he felt himself being hauled to his feet, forced through his door, and dragged up the steps.  Someone pushed him into his shower, clothes and all, and turned on the water.  Dawson groaned.  Everything hurt, and his stomach … he vomited, heaved violently, which made everything hurt all the more.  He braced himself against the wall in front of him willing the water to warm up. 

Cover Art

Laura Kaeppel

LK Photography

www.laurakaeppelphotography.com

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Where Dawson Lives

A series

Book 2

Crushed

and

Marred

A Year of Milestones

by H. Kaeppel

ISBN 978-1-716-46614-4

Crushed and Marred

Copyright © 2020 by H. Kaeppel

All rights reserved.  Except for use in any review, the reproductions or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereinafter invented, including xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author. H. Kaeppel, [e-mail].

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

To

Keith Kaeppel

To

A, L, J, K, C

Special thanks to:

Andrea Kaeppel

Keith Kaeppel

Laura Kaeppel

Robbin Hunsberger

Susannah Cook

The Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group™

Table of Contents

.05 Shaving

Whiskers coming in at a younger-than-average age had its goods and its bads.  The good, it made him look older.  The bad, it meant needing to shave.  Looking older helped.  A lot.  For one, no one questioned him about not being in school when he took his mom to her appointments.  He signed her papers when needed.  He took care of everything.  Moving from their house into the trailer court meant that no one knew him and didn’t know he was only fifteen.  He kept enough scruff in place to easily look ten years older.

He’d figured out the move by himself.  Mom couldn’t do steps anymore, plus the house needed too much fixing.  It was an easy thing.  Kind of.  Somebody was selling.  He was buying.  There’s nothing you can’t research on the internet and figure out.  He found a realtor to sell their house.  She asked too many questions that Jay apparently didn’t have the right answers to.  With the second realtor, he was prepared.

He didn’t bother sorting through stuff.  He just hired movers who loaded everything out of the house and put it into the new, or new to Jay and his mom, trailer until it filled up.  The house that their too-big family, foster kids and all, had been stuffed into for all of Jay’s life and then some, was only a narrow, old, row home but with three floors and a basement, and several decades to accumulate a bunch of junk, there was need to rent storage space.

Jay could figure out the money later.  They had enough for now, but it was going out faster than it was coming in. 

Today called for going to the doctors, yes, several of them.  Mom had never been one for schedules, neither had Jay, or really any of the family.  These days everything was scheduled.  Jay wrote it down on a marker board that he’d scavenged.  Medications needed to be administered at certain times, some with food, some without.  The never-normal family that Jay grew up in hadn’t scheduled things.  They’d somehow figured out how to get to the school bus on time, back when there were kids who went to school.  If somebody had a job, they got to it.  There hadn’t been meal times, everybody grazed on whatever mom put out, whenever she put it out, or fended for themselves.  There hadn’t been bedtimes, you fell asleep when you fell asleep. If you didn’t make it to your bed, it didn’t matter.  There had been a curfew, but that was a thing with the town.  These days Jay couldn’t do life without a schedule.  It surprised him how practical a schedule could be.  Predictability was kind of nice.  He figured his mom liked it too, but hard to tell.  Her mind was slipping.

Mom didn’t get sick for a while after Dad died.  At least that’s what she told everybody.  I’m fine, I’m fine, she said over and over.  At some point Jay noticed she wasn’t fine and her saying so was part of the evidence.  She started saying it out of habit, not because it was true, not because anybody had asked.  Those who’d asked had ceased to come by.  Jay was younger, by far, than his other sibs.  After the last of the foster kids moved on to their next stop in life, it was just him and Mom.  Jay liked it that way.  His older sibs had messy lives.  Messy houses or apartments, messy marriages – if you could call any of their arrangements marriages – and messy kids.  They didn’t keep up to date on their little brother’s life, and Jay didn’t keep up to date on them.  None of them knew where he was living and he made no effort to tell them.

He’d done the opposite.  He’d made sure the new address wasn’t easily found.  He’d picked up some truths about the system from having all those foster kids around.  There were a lot of traps out there worth avoiding and he learned quickly how to see them coming and do what had to be done to stay off the radar.

He counted it a privilege to have Mom all to himself.  They ate meals together.  Sort of.  Her diet was very restricted and lately she wanted to eat in the recliner rather than struggle to get up and move to the kitchen table.  They binge watched all of Jay’s favorite shows together.  And slowly, box by moving company box, they sorted through stuff.

Jay assessed his appearance in the bathroom mirror.  Who, at age fifteen, already had a receding hairline?  He made a thin-lipped smirk.  Served his purpose.  He tried to remember what his brothers had looked like when they were his age but couldn’t.  There was an eight year difference between Jay and the next youngest.

He wore business casual and a pair of styling shoes that cost too much but were the right look.  When asked, he told medical people about his startup.  In reality, a made-up startup.  Jay made it believable.  His appearance, his ability to be available for all these daytime appointments, all worked together to sell the story.  And keep the state out of his house and family.

Ready to shower, Mom? he called from the bathroom.  She may not make it to the kitchen table very often, but Jay talked her into sleeping in her room each night.  It helped to separate the days from each other if the new day didn’t pick up from the same spot where the old day left off.  This bathroom was perfect, a walk-in shower with a seat.

Routine was good.  Every morning started with a shower.  After she was dressed and groomed, they moved down the hall for breakfast.  After that there were either appointments or they’d go through a box or two.  Afternoons were a repeat of mornings minus the shower.  Then was dinner, TV shows, and bed.

He put the razor away and freed up the bathroom for his mom.

1 The Funeral

I have to tell them, thought Dawson.  Have to.  It had been on his mind for weeks.  At first it didn’t seem important, then he forgot about it, almost, and now he was having a crisis of conscience.  His friends thought he was something that he wasn’t, or, more accurately, thought he wasn’t something that he was.  Worse, if he didn’t tell them, they might find out in ways he’d rather they didn’t.

Piper called him often enough on her drive time. She kept him informed on her efforts to immerse into a new job and geography.  The school in Florida was different than her previous placements in that poverty was a bigger factor.  Her specialty remained learning disabilities in students with normal or high IQs.  Her current placement was no less exciting and no less exhausting.  As to community, she had quickly identified a church where she could be a youth ministry volunteer, just as she had when passing through the Valley.

It was a privilege to hear from her so regularly.  He suspected the frequency would wane as she became part of a new team of ministry volunteers who would take his place as primary confidant.  Should he let the natural course take place until he was off the hook for telling her?  Maybe.

Hez and Jeff, however, weren’t going anywhere. I have to tell them.

***

Phone buzzed.  Jeff felt it but didn’t hear it.  The chipper made too much noise.  He finally had the temperamental piece of machinery running smoothly and didn’t want to break his rhythm of feeding people’s used Christmas trees into it.  He had only one full day to give to the task.  Whatever he didn’t get done would have to be finished in short periods between sales stints on the road or on days when there was too much snow to be out driving.  Even if he did turn off the chipper, it would take too much time to remove his gloves, power down, and answer his phone before it stopped buzzing.  Thing was there were some calls he didn’t want to miss.  Part of sales was being available when the client was ready, not the other way around.  In one motion he removed a glove, hit the power switch, and stepped away from his work.

The picture that popped up on the screen was not spam or business.  It was his brother’s day program.  Jeff regretted the fumbling that lost the call before he could answer.  A quick scan of the parking area as he returned the call, showed that both of his parents were out.  Maybe they were in places where they couldn’t be reached.  He was in line after them as an emergency contact.

The program was great for Chris.  Hez had taken some time a few months ago to identify community resources that could be good for him.  She found a lot of things, not just an adult day program for Chris but a support group for their mom, and some tech designed to help people with cognitive disabilities.  When Jeff first saw how these things helped his family, he was grateful.  Chris’s care had fallen largely to Jeff and their mom.  After these new helps were in place and working, Jeff began to wonder why his parents hadn’t used them before.  He didn’t ask.  That kind of topic was better left untouched.

It had taken a few weeks, but Chris had adapted to a good routine.  A bus came all the way down their lane to pick him up and drop him off.  He had learned to dress and eat his breakfast quickly so he could be on time for, work.  He liked work.  He was part of a group that did outside activities which he was used to from growing up on the tree farm.  He did things like clean up parks and sweep off sidewalks.  There were also parts of each day dedicated to life skills.  The program staff made it fun for the participants.  When Chris arrived home, he knew to go straight to the shower before dinner.  There were many small improvements in Chris which meant an easier time for their mom.

Your brother’s in the hospital, was all Jeff heard.  The worker said more, but Jeff shut out all but that basic, most important part.  Hospital.  Chris never got sick.  None of them did.  Jeff’s experience with hospitals was very limited.  At least he thought to ask the worker to text him the hospital’s address. 

He called Hez at her other job.  She understood right away what was needed.  I’ll keep calling your parents until they answer and I’ll clear your schedule for tomorrow.  In typical Hez fashion, she went on to tell him how far along she was with house she was cleaning, what she had to do next, and who knows what else.

Jeff turned his attention to keys, truck, GPS, and driving to the hospital.

Are you okay? Hez asked.

Yeah, he said.  Why wouldn’t I be?

Did you get an alert for this?

No, he said.  Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t gotten any of his supernatural alerts lately.  Likely because there hadn’t been any emergencies for him to intercept.  Something to be glad about.  This isn’t the sort of thing that triggers an alert.

She started asking him lots of little questions.  Was Chris ever hospitalized before? Should I bring dinner? Can Sebastian visit? Will your mom freak out?  Will your dad freak out?

Her quick thinking made him smile.  No, no, probably, maybe, I doubt it, Jeff answered each question, then quickly added, stop asking me stuff.  Let me concentrate on driving to the hospital.  I’ll call you when I know more. 

She was cute, his Hez.  His.  She’d been working for his family for seven years.  She’d been his wife for one month.  They’d have to celebrate that on a different day.  They’d woken up saying happy anniversary to each other the first minute of their day.  The second minute was already frenzied with endless to-dos, all of which had just been trumped by Chris’s need.

Finding Chris’s room meant following a litany of lefts, rights, and straight-a-heads.  The front desk attendant handed him a slip of paper with it written down.  Little good that did.  He boarded a full elevator and asked if anyone was going his way.  Fortunately, that strategy got him where he needed to be.  A bleak destination.  Chris was on a bed amidst a tangle of tubes and wires that went to machines and monitors that beeped, whirred, and hummed.  There was a control for the TV but Jeff doubted Chris would know how to use it.  The one at home was different.

If you didn’t know something was wrong with Chris, his appearance wouldn’t give you any hint.  Jeff and Chris had learned to shave at the same time.  It was hard for Chris to learn.  It took a lot of patient repeating on Jeff’s part but, after long last, he’d gotten the hang of it with surprisingly few nicks along the way.  A good electric shaver and Chris now sported his angular face in the best way.  He was taller than average, stronger than average, and had the kind of shoulders that filled out tees and hoodies.

Chris was asleep, or at least his eyes were closed.  No one was with him.  Jeff decided not to leave so that Chris wouldn’t be afraid.  He’d try to figure out how to work the TV and maybe he could teach Chris.  He’d tell the nurses, or aides, or orderlies, or whatever, about Chris’s special needs later.  What Jeff knew about hospitals he’d gleaned from TV shows.  He didn’t know how the real place worked.

It was well after dark, but more importantly, well after dinner, when Hez arrived.  Despite his, no, answer to food, she came with wraps, snacks, hot and cold beverages, as well as her usual bags and what-not.  Hez did not travel light.  She pulled an extra chair from the hall, sat Sebastian in it, and gestured for the boy to eat.  All while being quiet for Chris’s sake, who still slept.  Sebastian nodded a greeting to Jeff.  Hez treated her husband to food in similar manner as she did her son.  Food could not have come soon enough.  Jeff was famished.

Hez assessed the situation.  Did you talk to anyone yet? Who’s his nurse? Are your parents here?

No.  Shrug.  No.

Wrap in hand, she bustled out.  When she returned, Hez had one word, Pneumonia.  She was already researching on her phone.  Jeff could tell by the expression on her face that what she read wasn’t good.

***

Phone read 10:00 PM.  From Jeff.  Beth calculated, then hurriedly answered.  In Pennsylvania, it was 1:00 AM.  Jeff slept at that time.  What’s wrong, she blurted.

You’re on speaker, Jeff said.  We’re all here.  Mom, Dad, and I.

That gave Beth pause.  She hadn’t spoken to her parents for years.  Not since she’d left that miserable farm nearly a decade ago.

You there? Jeff asked.

Y-yes, she stammered.  She tried for a more confident tone and one that didn’t drip with negativity.  What’s up?

There was a pause, then Jeff spoke, you know what?  I’m taking you off speaker.  There was another pause, then, I’m alone now.

You have me scared, Jeff.  What’s going on?

I think you need to come home, he said.

I am home, she said.  No need to guard against sarcasm with Jeff.  Even though she hadn’t talked to her parents in a decade, she’d kept in touch with her brother.  She didn’t have to pretend with him.

You know what I mean, he said.  You can stay in my place.  Hez and I are living in the trailer.  Chris just …  His voice trailed off.

Beth waited.  When he didn’t resume, she prompted, Jeff?

He cleared his throat but only managed a whisper.  A broken whisper.

Chris collapsed at work, he began.  It wasn’t easy for Jeff to tell it.  It was hard for Beth to hear it.  She put together, based on Jeff’s halting narrative, that the staff at the program Chris attended rushed him to the hospital.  No one even knew he was sick.  He’d been extra tired, but we thought that was from working and from his new schedule.  He hadn’t complained.  Not even once.  He’d seemed happy.  Happier than I ever remember.  We thought, Mom, Dad, and I, had thought that Chris was just tired from his packed new life.  Jeff exhaled a shaky breath.  That’s what we thought.

Will he be okay? asked Beth.

It was a long pause before he answered.  Beth could barely hear it.  No, Beth, he’s not okay.

Jeff had sat with Chris for hours.  He’d talked to him, held his hand, put his favorite TV show on, even sang the birthday song.  That’s the only song Jeff had ever heard his brother sing.  He looked good.  Asleep but good, even handsome.  Like there was nothing wrong.  Like there had never been anything wrong.

Beth lay back as the meaning behind what Jeff was saying sank in.  She held her free hand to her forehead.  Her voice was nearly as soft as Jeff’s when she finally spoke.  He used to take me to that big hill, you know the one, where the Frasers used to be?  He’d take me sledding.  I was too little for that hill, it was scary, she smiled a little, but it was fun too.  He sure liked to go fast.  She paused in her reminiscence.  He never went sledding after the accident, she finally said.  He never rode his dirt bike or anything else.  He never went fast again.  She blew out a long stream of air.  But, Jeff, she said, he can go fast now.  You know that, right?  That he’s in a better place?

Beth got no sleep that night.  She booked a flight and before she knew it, was in a meeting with her parents, Jeff, and a funeral director.  No one seemed able to take the lead but her.  She began with the corrections.  It’s not Christopher, or Christian, just Chris.  And I’m not Elizabeth or Bethany, just Beth.  And that’s just Jeff, not Jeffery or Jefferson.

We’re simple people, her dad added.

The funeral director made a note.  They moved to the other details.  Beth decided on a plain casket, no flowers, just a graveside service, no church first, no meal afterward, they could take care of the grave stone later, she chose a simple funeral card with the 23rd Psalm.  Jeff would have Hez email a photo, no obituary except for the tiny township weekly newspaper.  The pastor of their parents’ church would officiate.  There were some financial and legal matters that Beth couldn’t and wouldn’t handle.  Her parents voiced simple answers to the funeral director’s inquiries, they nodded agreement at his suggestions.  They were indeed simple people and Chris as simple as could be, no bank account, no insurance policy, no will.  It was a quick and easy meeting.  As was the service itself.

The owner of Highway Diner invited them to have a meal in the privacy of the back room after the service.  An older woman, Flo, served them.  I’m so sorry for your loss, she said.  Please order whatever you want.  Dawson said it’s on the house.  Beth didn’t know who Dawson was but doubted that he’d be out much money since she supposed that people usually had small appetites after a funeral plus theirs was a small party.  It included her parents, Jeff and his new family, whom she had never met until this visit, and one of Jeff and Hez’s friends, Piper, who had flown in from Florida.  Beth wasn’t sure Chris warranted such a long trip but it was clear that Jeff, Hez, and Sebastian were glad she came.

The cook came out to greet them personally.  He gave Jeff a heartfelt hug.  Jeff introduced him to Beth and she put it together that the cook was Dawson who was the owner of the diner.  Flo smiled, It’s good to see The Four back together.  Even if it’s for sad reason.

Beth leaned to Jeff, The Four?

Jeff took a break from pushing food around his plate.  Unlike their parents, who had worked through appetizer, entree, and now were on dessert, Jeff appeared not to be hungry.  Dawson, Piper, Hez, and I, he said.  We were the only youth ministry volunteers who were single.

And now, Beth asked, "that you’re