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Keefe
Papa paced the family room from the blazing fireplace to the window overlooking the snow-covered back yard. Whatever he had in mind to say, it couldn’t have been easy for him. He’d called everyone together over ten minutes ago.
Roland and Jarret sat on one couch, Keefe on the other. When they had first gathered in the room, Keefe had taken the spot next to Jarret, the way he always had. Jarret had actually gotten up and gone to sit by Roland.
Melting with a sense of loss, Keefe gazed at his twin. The words of his promise returned to him. I will listen to your voice. I will live knowing You are with me and that You love me, knowing that You shed your blood for me. I will not forget, no matter whom I’m with or what temptation I face.
Sometimes he struggled to keep his promise. Temptations came daily. Jarret wouldn’t speak to him, acted like he hated him. What pain did Jarret suffer over their separation? What pain would he continue to suffer? If only Jarret would change. After Jarret had forgiven him and they’d started talking again, he’d returned to his old manipulative ways. Resisting his will felt impossible sometimes, as if Keefe had an inner need to protect and please his twin. Standing against him even felt wrong, like rubbing against the grain.
Keefe had thrown himself into prayer, begging for strength, seeking the Lord in everything. He’d asked in every possible way, yet he still couldn’t understand what the Lord wanted of him, the meaning of his restless heart. He’d only grown in the awareness of his own weaknesses.
Papa stopped pacing and propped a boot on the coffee table. “I wish your mother were alive. I admit, when it comes to talking about some things, I’m at sea.” He removed his cowboy hat, wiped the shine from his forehead, and put the hat back on. “I don’t know, maybe I’m too late with this talk.”
“Oh no, not the birds and the bees.” Jarret snickered.
Roland’s eyes popped open.
Papa slammed his boot to the floor, stuck his thumbs in his belt loops, and faced Jarret. “Yep, Jarret, that’s the talk.”
Jarret smirked. “Uh, we got that in Sex Ed. It was very detailed. Very.” He paused, probably waiting for a reaction, but Papa only stared. “So, if that’s all . . .” Jarret stood.
“Sit down, son. It ain’t the school’s job to teach you this.”
Jarret’s cocky grin faded. He sat down and glanced at Keefe. They’d always sat side by side for family talks. Keefe had done a good deal of telling Jarret when to shut up and sit down. He looked a little helpless all on his own. Roland wouldn’t say anything to him. He’d be too unsure of himself.
A twinge of guilt struck Keefe.
“You’ve got a steady girlfriend now,” Papa said to Jarret then looked at Keefe. “And you, though it’s a different situation, I guess, but still . . .” He exhaled loudly. “I want to make sure you boys are respecting your girlfriends. I don’t know what they learn you in . . . Sex Education. But I don’t reckon they learn you any morals. I don’t want no boy of mine eatin’ supper before he says grace.”
When Papa’s cowboy talk slipped, they all knew he was serious, and he would go on talking until he thought he was understood. If he thought he wasn’t, he’d start throwing in swear words. But that didn’t happen often. Papa had a good amount of self-control.
“Twice now I’ve seen you on the Brandts’ couch, Jarret. You’re all over Zoe.”
Jarret threw shifty glances around the room. “So? I like her.”
“You need to use a little self-control there, son. Show her some respect. What are you up to when no one’s around?”
Jarret blinked a few times, glanced at Keefe, then at Roland, then . . . dropped his gaze?
Keefe studied Jarret now as Papa spoke. Jarret never dropped his gaze. He would stare down anyone who challenged him, unless . . . Jarret had something to hide.
“Now your mother was a fine looking woman, and let me tell you I was mighty attracted to her. And I know waiting can be a hard row to hoe.”
“Paaapa.” Roland squirmed, sliding to the edge of the couch. “I don’t have a girlfriend. Can I go?”
“No. You will someday in the not too distant future, I’m sure.”
Roland blushed, slumped back, and folded his arms.
Jarret’s fingers and thumb tapped out a rapid beat on his thigh.
“As trying as it was, we waited. That’s the right thing to do. I want you to have that in mind when you’re keeping company with a girl. I know Hollywood paints a different picture, but God means for a man and a woman—”
“Okay, screw this.” Jarret jumped to his feet. “You married Mama two weeks after you met her. You waited? Huh!”
It was an exaggeration, but they hadn’t waited long to marry. Papa met Mama in Arizona when on an assignment for a friend. He hadn’t meant to stay in Arizona after the work was done, but he’d fallen in love and didn’t want to leave without her. So Papa made Mama his wife within a matter of months.
“We married right quick, but we still followed God’s rules.” Papa raised his voice. “I want you boys to show your girlfriends respect. If I find out that you’re taking advantage of a girl . . .” His eyes stayed on Jarret. “I’m gonna tan your hide.”