1 Chapter 1
Part 1 – Enter Love
1 – Enter Tad
IT WAS GETTING late. The streetlights had come on, and the rush hour traffic was thinning.
Thaddeus “Tad” Jackson II hurried down the street, his younger sister trotting along beside him, trying to keep up. He winced as the suitcase she was carrying banged into his knee.
“I’m scared, Tad.” Her grip on his hand tightened.
“There’s no need to be.” He was the big brother, and he couldn’t let her see how nervous he was. “Everything will be fine, I promise.”
“Does your face hurt?”
“It’s not too bad.” It was throbbing so hard he wanted to find somewhere to curl up and die, but he couldn’t tell her that. He brought them to a standstill just outside a white picket fence. “Here we are.” At the end of the walk was their father’s house, a boxy little bungalow with boxy little rooms that Daddy said was fine for a bachelor. Momma didn’t think so, though. The house they’d had when they’d all lived together had been roomy and airy, two stories and an attic, and he sometimes thought Momma regretted having to leave that house more than leaving Daddy.
“Suppose Daddy doesn’t want us?” Becca’s nails were digging into the back of his hand.
Tad swallowed. “He has to want us, Becca. We’re his kids.”
“But Daddy is Grandpa Eleazar’s kid, and Grandpa doesn’t want him.” Becca was right—Grandpa had no use for homosexuals, and if his son was one, that meant he had no use for him.
“It’ll be okay.” It had to be.
“Suppose he isn’t home? Suppose he’s at… at Mr. Tom’s house?”
All the way there Tad had worried that their father might be at his… his friend’s house. They were never allowed to mention Mr. Tom. Not only was he gay, but he was Jewish as well, and Momma said he was leading Daddy straight to hell.
Tad’s knees had gone weak when he and Becca had rounded the corner and saw the truck in the driveway, and he realized he’d worried for nothing.
“The lights are on, silly.” He gave a weak laugh. “He’s home. C’mon.” He opened the gate and led her up the sidewalk, and then they climbed the shallow steps to the veranda.
He dried his suddenly sweaty palm on his denim-covered thigh, then jabbed the doorbell. The chimes were the sweet tones of “Dixie,” and he offered his sister a smile.
“Daddy’s favorite song.”
She just looked scared. “Tad, do I look all right?”
He set down his suitcase and smoothed her hair, which was even fairer than his. “You look great, Becca.” He ran a hand through his own blond hair and hoped his sister wouldn’t pick up on his nervousness.
The door swung open, and they stared at the man who answered the door. He stood about five foot eight. He had pale blond hair and blue eyes.
He wasn’t their father.
“Mr. Tom.” At fifteen, Tad was already as tall as this man.
“Thaddeus, Rebecca.”
Tad saw Mr. Tom’s gaze go to the suitcases, and he was afraid the man who his Grandpa Eleazar called a son of Satan was going to shut the door in their faces.
Mr. Tom narrowed his eyes as he studied Tad’s face, and he raised a hand as if to touch Tad’s cheek, but then let it drop. “Don’t just stand there. Come in. Jack.”
“Yeah, Tom? Who is it? It’s too late for the Girl Scouts to be selling cookies.”
“It’s better than cookies.”
Tad blew out a silent sigh of relief. Jack Jackson and Tom Weber had been best friends since they were in high school. And in spite of what Grandpa Eleazar said, he’d been sure his daddy wouldn’t like someone who was a bad man.
Well, he’d been pretty sure.
Besides, he’d heard Momma tell Daddy one time in a really funny voice that Mr. Tom brought out the best in him. “It’s just a crying shame that man is a fag.”
Momma hadn’t noticed that Daddy’s face turned red, but Tad had.
He’d been really young then, and hadn’t known what a “fag” was. Afterward he’d asked his father. Daddy had sighed, brushed back his hair, and said, “That’s a not nice word for men who fall in love with other men and want to marry them. And I really don’t want to hear you using it.”
“Okay, Daddy.”
“Thaddeus David Jackson!” Momma never used Daddy’s full name unless he’d done something she didn’t approve of, and it seemed she really disapproved of Daddy explaining what a fag was—her face had turned even redder than Daddy’s. “What are you telling my son? Tadboy, you go keep an eye on your sister until I call you for dinner.”
Tad had gone out on to the veranda, where Becca had been leafing through a picture book version of Black Beauty, wondering what was so awful about two people loving each other.
Of course he’d eventually learned it wasn’t that they loved each other but that they were the same sex. And that was just sad.
