6

 

A guy could sure get used to having women like Lanae and her sister around. Geneva’s coffee was a fine thing. She had refused payment. Lanae had gift wrapped the quilt for Lezlie at no charge. Just because they didn’t celebrate Christmas, didn’t mean he was stingy with gifts. Sage raised his eyes to the ceiling of his ranch-style house where narrow slats of darkened pine slanted to the center beam.

Those sisters were something.

He surveyed the great room as he hadn’t done in a long while. Would Lanae like the inside of his home? Most ranch homebuilders used a lot of wood paneling in their construction. He examined the over-sized dark brown leather and heavy wood furnishings. His gaze skimmed over the wrapped package for Lezlie. He imagined Lanae’s crocheted scarves and dainty lacy-looking things dotting the tabletops.

What would Lezlie think of Lanae?

No time to ponder that now. A door slammed outside, announcing Lezlie had arrived with Jax.

Sage moseyed outside to greet them. Lezlie felt thinner when he hugged her. Jaxson had more muscle to his shoulders and was taller as well.

Lezlie didn’t stay long enough to let the motor of her fancy SUV cool before she blew him a kiss and rolled back down the driveway.

Sage looked forward to the days he spent with Jaxson. Since Jax turned twelve, those days came less often. These kids had way too many activities to keep up with anymore. Guess if they were busy, they kept out of trouble.

He threw an arm over his grandson’s shoulders. “What do you plan to do with your time now that football season is over?”

“Mom wants me to check out some volunteer stuff at the hospital, but I’m not sure that’s my thing. I’d rather come out here.”

“You’ll have your driver’s license before you know it, Jax. Help me finish feeding the horses and we’ll go inside. We should find some good football games on TV.”

Jaxson pointed at the horse standing in the corral. “You sure calmed that paint down, Grandpa. I remember how freaked out it acted first time I saw her here.”

They stood at the fence, gazing at the horse in question, just hanging out.

“Like I told you when I first brought her home, the horse had been mistreated.”

Jaxson shot a confused look at Sage. The boy was so tall now that their eyes were level. “I don’t understand that. How can a guy be mean to a horse?”

“I grew up in a time when it was OK to beat an animal. It was even common to beat a child or a wife.”

“Don’t get it.”

Sage waited a beat before he commented. “Me neither. What makes you angry, Jax?”

“I dunno. Never thought about it. I just get mad, sometimes.” Jaxson frowned in concentration, freckles merging. “Things I can’t do anything about, I guess.”

“You’re old enough to hear this. Maybe your mom has already talked to you about it. A prime example of anger that drives you to do unexplainable things is the way your mom acted after your grandma died. Lezlie hopped into bed with your father. It was a deliberate act. She reacted out of anger.” Anger at God, but he didn’t add that qualifier.

“That’s heavy-duty action, I know. But it’s OK. We’ve talked about it.”

“Where does that anger, that violence, come from except a deep-seated need for control when life throws you a curve?”

“Mom would say anger comes from hatred. And hatred comes from anger. And lies. So...Satan, I guess.”

“Your mom’s pretty smart, Jax. I’m not going to say she hated anybody at the time. But I’m sure she hated a life that she felt had blitzed beyond her control.”

“She doesn’t talk much about Grandma. But she has told me she was mad at God, and her behavior was wrong.” Jaxson’s Adam’s apple bopped with his swallows. “Why do some people need anger to gain control, Grandpa?”

Sage let the silence stretch as he contemplated the hard emotional lesson Jaxson was grappling with. He should be enjoying his grandson’s company amidst the serene horses instead of the crisp air becoming thick with their heavy topic.

But some memories were too thick to block out all the way.

Sage had grown up hearing his mom tell about the ever-present rage her father, his Grandpa Earl, had harbored through her growing-up years. He yelled and cursed at Grandma and his aunts and mother. Yet never laid a hand on ‘em.

But Grandpa Earl let loose and unleashed his anger toward Uncle Ted. Sage understood from his mother that his grandfather had beaten Uncle Ted with anything handy—belt, board, black razor strop.

Yet Sage remembered his uncle as being patient and kind. Uncle Ted never once told Sage about being beaten, demonstrating that age-old tradition of keeping ugliness hidden in the closet.

Jaxson eventually remarked on the topic but with a sneer in his voice. “Seems like anger goes far in earning respect, too.”

“No reason for sarcasm here, Jax. It’s all about clear expectations. I can read a person’s, or a horse’s, body movements. But I lay no claim to being a mind reader.”

“Sorry, sir.”

“It’s OK. I just want you to remember that people make a horse crazy. No horse I’ve ever known was born crazy.”

“Kinda like people, huh?”

“I’d say you’re learning today, son.”

“Grandpa, I think I’d like to learn how to train a horse.”

“Let’s plan on that for next summer then. We’ll talk to your mom and figure it out. “Sage ruffled Jaxson’s carroty hair. “First things first, Jax. If you learn nothing more from me, get this. I’m not a trainer. I’m a listener, maybe even a gentler. But I don’t train horses. Horses and I work at communicating with one another. It’s all in body movement and how man reads a critter.”

“And critters read men.” Jaxson smoothed his hair onto his forehead, separating and stretching hunks past his brows. “Yes, sir.”

“I got your mom’s Christmas present today. Let’s go in for some hot cocoa and talk about our trip this year.”

“Awright!”

Sage ruffled Jaxson’s hair again for the satisfaction of the boy’s reaction. Oh, to savor life with a teenager’s verve.

Or with sassy Lanae Petersen’s outlook.