Chapter Sixteen

Church the next day was unlike any service I'd ever attended. Reverend Gilman looked tired but also grim and determined. His sermon was an odd mix of the wages of sin, loving our neighbors, and being willing to commit fully to what we know to be true and righteous. At the end he stood there, silent and kind of intimidating, and then he looked directly at me.

"Jesse Bryce." He looked over at Brad. "Brad Everett. Please, stand."

I had no idea what was going on, but tentatively I got to my feet, and Brad did the same. We glanced at each other, confused.

Reverend Gilman spoke again, his words as clear as bells. "These young men saved the lives of two children yesterday. They risked their own lives and entered a burning building, dodging flaming beams, inhaling smoke, shouldering aside heavy debris to free one child and using their own bodies to put out the fire that had taken hold of an innocent little girl. These young men are heroes." And then he did something I'd never seen anyone do in church. He started to applaud.

Suddenly my dad was on his feet, and then Mom, both applauding. Brad's parents did the same. Patty, sitting with Stu and her parents, jumped up, and Stu stood as well, and pretty soon, all around the church, everyone stood and applauded. Despite my embarrassment, I glanced around, and I didn't see anyone still sitting. Reverend Gilman hadn't specifically said the children were villagers, but I was sure everyone knew. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so I sort of did both. I glanced at Brad again, and we saluted each other, and then I just took in this great feeling until everyone sat down again.

As everyone was filing out later, lots of folks shook my hand and Brad's, and we got lots of friendly slaps on the back. Reverend Gilman asked me to wait until the crowds had left, and then he asked me, Mom, and Dad to come back into the church. He had us sit in one of the pews, and he sat in the one in front of us.

He turned to face me. "Jesse, I think the time has come when we can take some action regarding the stone circle. And I want to begin by inviting your father to help."

He told my folks the truth about the stone circle and its importance, explaining why I'd had to be vague about it until now. He told Dad that Eleanor had given him permission to conscript a few men from the town who had the means and the strength to join together and help the villagers reset the toppled stones. He said that Lou Dwyer and Chuck Armstedt had been arrested for setting the fire, and that the police had warned Mick Dwyer to stay off of the villagers' land or face legal action. He didn't say anything about the paintball evidence, but I suspect he knew.

I watched Dad's face carefully. Would he be willing to do this? But, again, he surprised me, in a good way.

"I'm sure Jesse's looking forward to getting back at that stone that nearly crushed him. Would it be all right if I ask my son Stu to help?"

Reverend Gilman smiled. "I think that's a great idea. And I wish I could include Mr. Everett, but I don't know if he would be able to help, but I also don't want him to feel left out. Perhaps you can guide me there. So, I'll be calling a meeting to get the team set up, probably in a few days. We'll be in touch again then." We all stood, Dad shook the reverend's hand, and then the reverend shook mine.

I said, "Dad? Mom? I need another minute with Reverend Gilman. Can I meet you outside?"

Once they were gone, I looked directly at this man I forced myself to think of as Ivy's father rather than the reverend who'd preached against who I was. "There's something I want you to know about me. I don't know what you're going to make of it, especially after today's service, but—here goes. I'm gay."

His eyebrows shifted just enough that I could tell he hadn't known. He looked briefly down at his hands, folded on the back of the pew. "Have you told your parents about this decision?"

"It's not a decision. It's who I am. You didn't decide to be straight. And, yes, my folks know."

"And why did you want me to know this, Jesse?"

"Because I'm building bridges. I don't like it when people misunderstand each other, or mistrust each other, or hate each other. I guess this is the next bridge I want to build, because I don't think you respect people who are gay. I don't think you like us. I don't think you believe God loves us."

"Oh, Jesse, that's not true. I know God loves you. And I love you."

I wanted to stop him before he said what I expected was coming next. Maybe all the praise and applause had gone to my head, but I felt absolutely no fear at all. "Then don't tell me you love me but hate the sin in me, as long as you think being gay is sinful. Because it isn't. It's just being who I am, being who God made me. Love me, love who I am. Can you do that?"

He looked at me for several seconds, more thoughtful than anything else. "I think you were aware, after that TVA meeting where Phil and Griffin acted out their skit, that Griffin asked me if he could date Ivy. But I'll bet you don't know the first thing that went through my mind. Now, I think the world of Griffin, and he treats Ivy like the gold she is. But what went through my mind was, 'Why couldn't it be Jesse Bryce asking me this question?' Of course, at the time I didn't know you were gay. And even now, I wish you would change your mind, and that you and Ivy could get together. So I'll tell you what, young Mr. Bryce. I'll do my best to meet you half-way on this new bridge of yours. I'll do my best to understand you if you'll do your best to understand me. I can't make any sense out of a young man like you not wanting to love someone like my daughter, but I'll do my best to believe you. You'll need to do your best to be patient with and old man like me, trying to lead a congregation through changing times without losing touch with what's true and Christian. Do we have a deal?"

In a perfect world, this wouldn't have been enough. But we don't live in a perfect world, and I knew that I'd have to get the reverend half-way across this bridge before I could convince him to come fully to the other side. And I knew Ivy would help. So I held out my hand. "Deal."

 

 

I knew that after lunch, Dad was going to drive Mom to see the barn and then into the village to meet the Coulters, because of Mom's working with Mrs. Coulter. I'd been stealing looks at Dad ever since they'd told me this last night, wondering when he'd begun to soften about "those heathens." In one way I wanted to go with them, but they didn't invite me. Plus I still hadn't told them about Ronan, and I didn't know if I could act normally. I'd made sure that Ronan knew to tell his parents to keep our secret for now.

Stu had sat with Patty and her folks at church, and he'd gone with them for lunch. I didn't expect to see him at home that afternoon, but he showed up around two thirty. "I need to talk to you. Can we drive out to the lake?"

Out to the lake. Whatever this was, it was serious. "Sure."

Stu led me to his truck, saying he needed to drive. I was thinking that he needed to be in control right now. I just didn't know why.

We rode in total silence until we were about half way to the lake, and suddenly Stu said, "So what’s going on with Mom these days?"

"Not sure what you mean."

"Every time I see her, she’s smiling. Well, until this fire. She was even humming the other day when I stopped by to get some warm weather clothes to take to Patty’s." He chuckled. "Guess I’m gonna have to stop referring to it as Patty’s, huh? Anyway, Mom’s different somehow. I figure you know more about things at home than me, these days."

Smiling. Humming. Yeah, I guess he was right. It had kind of snuck up on me. "You know she’s into ceramics again, right?"

He didn't even remember the vague reference I'd made, the night I'd told him who my boyfriend was. So I told him everything. I wanted him to know all of it. I wanted him to know that she gave up a huge part of herself to take care of her family, and I wanted him to know she was getting it back, and I wanted him to know how much of it was thanks to the generosity of people in the village. The Pagans.

When I stopped, finally, he was quiet for a minute and then said, "You really like these people, don’t you?" I looked hard at him. His tone was more like he was a little confused than like he was condemning anyone. Then, "Are you still Christian?"

"Of course I am. No one’s trying to make me change my mind, either. By the way, my boyfriend's mother is the one who’s helping Mom get into ceramics again. That's why they're going to visit the Coulters this afternoon. Mom wants to show Dad Mrs. Coulter's work."

I watched as he ground his jaw, but he didn't say anything right away. I decided to wait him out, which took all the way to the lake.

We walked along the shore for a bit, near where I’d seen the cougar in the water, that day oh, so long ago now. We sat on some rocks, and Stu picked up a few pebbles and tossed them. Finally he started to talk.

"We’ve been pretty rough on you. Dad and me, anyway."

"No argument."

"I’m sorry. I still don’t understand it, but I’ll just have to live with it for now. Maybe it will get clearer."

I nodded, not sure how to respond to that. All I could think of to say was, "Thanks for trying. Really."

A few more pebbles hit the water. I focused on the plopping sounds and almost missed Stu’s next statement. "Patty and I are planning to get married in July."

"Big wedding? Small?"

"Very small, actually. Family, a few friends, that’s all."

This made sense to me, though I really hoped Patty hadn’t been hoping for a bigger event. I didn’t want her to end up like Mom, giving up too much without really knowing what it would mean.

Then Stu said, "I told you once that Patty knows Mrs. Coulter. Your boyfriend’s mother."

I strained my ears for any note of disdain or worse, but his tone seemed totally flat. So I said, "I do remember, yes."

He waited maybe another thirty seconds before saying, "And you've made it clear that you know Patty went to her for a potion. I guess Mrs. Coulter is supposed to know about these things."

"Wortcunning," I said, and when he turned a shocked face toward me I told him, "It’s just knowing about plants. Medicinal properties, things like that. So she wanted to use a love potion on you?"

I thought he'd shrug, or grin, something like that. Instead, he looked surprised. "Uh, no, not so much. She asked for a potion to cause a miscarriage."

My turn to be shocked. "What?" Get rid of the baby? And here I’d assumed it was a love potion Patty wanted. "Patty wanted to get rid of her baby? Why?"

"What? No! No. It wasn't for her. She was trying to help a friend."

"Oh, my God. Mary Blaisdel."

"Anyway, Mrs. Coulter wouldn’t give her anything, and Patty was pretty relieved. She said she hated the thought of helping Mary do that, but Mary was desperate. But then—well, the night Patty and I had that fight, when she told me she was pregnant, it ended up being only partly about how I was having trouble accepting you. It started there. But I raised my voice, and she got angry about that, too. Said she wouldn't marry someone who yelled at her. Said maybe she'd go back to Mrs. Coulter and get a potion for herself." He waved a hand in the air as if to brush something aside. "Anyway, of course that only made me madder. It was... it was a bad night."

I was speechless. I just sat there like a lump and stared at the side of my brother’s face. I'd known it had been a bad night, but what he was telling me made it sound much worse than I'd imagined. Honestly, you just don’t know people. You just don’t.

"Why did Patty tell you about the potion, Stu?"

"It all came out in the hospital, after she lost the baby. She kind of feels like losing the baby is her fault, like she’s being punished for being willing to help Mary that way."

"That’s crap." It was out of my mouth before I could stop it. "Sorry; I didn’t mean that the way it sounded."

Stu’s tone of voice was heavy. "Then how did you mean it, Jesse?"

"There’s no way God would punish Patty by killing an innocent baby. That would make Patty’s punishment worth more than the baby. And that doesn’t make any sense."

Stu looked at me, scowling, but not in a bad way. More like he was confused. "Is this something you’re hearing from your friends in the village?"

"No. If anything, it might be something I would tell them. I don’t think I’d be willing to worship a God who’d do that."

He threw his next pebble at the water. I threw one.

"Stu? Why did you want to talk to me about this?"

Two or three more pebbles later he said, "You have a different way of looking at things. I know I can get stuck in my own thoughts."

Wow. Another wow. "Are you mad at Patty because she asked about the potion?"

"I was for a while. Now I guess I’m mad at me. I’ll get over that. But what I need you to do is keep an eye on me. Let me know when I’m getting stuck in my own head, when I can't get out of my own way and listen to what Patty's trying to tell me. Because I don’t want to lose her again." He turned to look at me. "Will you do that?"

If I was shocked before, I was dumbstruck now. What to say? What to think? What to feel? "Well… I’m not sure I’ll know."

"You’ll know. Maybe it has to do with being gay."

"What are you talking about?"

He shrugged. "Aren’t gay people more sensitive about emotions and things? You always have been."

A kind of snort escaped me, but I didn't snap at him about that stereotyping. It seemed more important to maintain this connection with my brother. "Okay, first of all, I’ll help you any way I can. But, look, Stu, gay people are just people. We’re all different from each other just like you’re not exactly the same as Brad, or as Griffin Holyoke. And Mom’s not the same as Patty or Mrs. Coulter. So I don’t want you thinking I have some kind of magic power because I’m gay, or even that I’ll act a certain way because I’m gay. If I have insight, if I’m sensitive, that’s just who I am." I waited, but he said nothing, just looked down at his hands, worrying another rock.

Something about it captured my attention. And I was in for another shock. "Where’d you get that?"

He looked at me. "This? Just picked it up." He lifted his hand like he was going to throw it.

"Wait! Can I see it?"

When he handed it to me, I saw that it was my rutilated quartz. "I—this—oh, my God! I found this in a cave, rockhounding with Brad. I thought I’d lost it." That day I’d thrown it at the cougar, I had dropped it, and I’d kept my eyes on the water when I bent over to pick it up…

"What is it?"

"Rutilated quartz. It’s supposed to have a lot of great properties, but most of all it has to do with forgiveness."

"Forgiveness." He looked back out over the water. "I guess we could all use a little of that."

"I think we could all give a little of it, too."

I stood and moved to face my brother. I held the tooth out to him. "Here," I told him. "You keep this."

He took it, looked into my face, and nodded. Sometimes you don’t need words.

 

 

It was going to be a long haul for little Violet's recovery, but there were plans for physical therapy, and her doctors liked the idea of her getting back into piano playing when she was ready. But Mom wasn't willing to wait as long as they were. She wasn't going to wait for the injured right head to be ready.

"Look at this, Jesse," she said to me one Saturday as I was about to head over to Brad's to work with him on his father's new beer brewing setup. Mom handed me a kind of booklet, and on the cover it said, "Grand One-Hand Solos for Piano."

I looked up at her and grinned. "You don't give up easily, do you, Mom?"

"I don't give up at all. And I found more music, too. Violet is right-handed, and sometimes right-handed players short-change their left hand. By the time she's ready to use her right hand to play again, her left will be so much better than my other students. It might just be better than mine!"

Mom also started a GoFundMe account for the Fisher family, to help defray the costs of Violet's medical expenses. I watched it grow, and grow, and grow.

And Dad took the lead on the town team of people helping to fix the stone circle. He included Brad and his father, with Mr. Everett consulting, as a miner, about the best way to handle the stones. And Mr. Everett was able to drive, so his truck was one of the vehicles doing the pulling. The team worked on the site two weekends in a row.

Brad was finally able to go into the village without getting kicked out like I had, so he finally got to walk the labyrinth. I hadn't even known that it was Cory's father who was the stonemason, but Brad found out, and they talked for nearly an hour about the stonework needed for the labyrinth.

The Sunday after the stone circle was fully repaired, as I was walking into church with my folks, and with Stu and Patty (who were sitting with us that week), I saw Ivy Gillman ahead of us, with her mom as usual. And, as usual, it looked like they were headed for one of the front pews, where they sat every week. But beside Ivy—holding her hand!—was none other than Griffin Holyoke.

O.M.G.

All up the aisle, heads turned to stare at the tall, black-haired, body-pierced boy holding their preacher’s daughter’s hand, obviously accepted by the good reverend’s wife. The normal quiet rustle of conversation before the start of services changed gradually into something more pointed, but it didn't sound critical. Just, maybe, confused.

It seemed extremely unlikely that Griffin would ever convert to Christianity, but you never know. And anyway, I placed myself in the middle of the Pagans’ sacred ceremonies. Why can’t Griffin join mine?

I was beginning to think that this bridge I'd started didn't need me to do anything more. Maybe it was already finished; there were people from both sides all the way across it now.

 

 

The kiln firing happened just after school let out for the summer. Mrs. Coulter's schedule, which had teams of two people monitoring the wood fire around the clock for three days and two nights, had Ronan and me taking an overnight shift on Sunday. We got our assignments a week ahead of time, and I took this as an opportunity to tell my mom about him.

"You like Mrs. Coulter, right? And Mr. Coulter?"

"Jesse, of course. You know that."

"And you met Ronan again, the day you and Dad went to the village after the fire."

"Yes. Jesse where is this going? What—oh." And I knew she'd gotten it. She knew. "How long?"

"Since the middle of February."

"Valentine's Day?"

Oh, yeah. It had been. "Sort of. It wasn't really about that."

"Do his parents know?"

"Yeah. Nobody in the village cares if you're gay, so for him it would be just like Stu telling you he had a girlfriend."

She blinked hard. "So—how many people in the village know?"

I shrugged. "Just about everybody, I'd guess. Look, Mom, I didn't know if I could tell you or not. And if I told you, even if you were okay with it, how could you not tell Dad? And obviously he can't keep a secret from Stu, and you saw what happened when I came out."

"I see." And I was sure she did, even though she looked a little hurt. "And why is it that you're telling me now? Does it have to do with the kiln schedule?"

"Yes. I wanted to be able to tell you that Ronan and I will be tending the fire together. And that's all we'll be doing. Well, maybe a little more, but we'll be there for the kiln, not just to be together. You can see that his mother trusts us to do that, or she wouldn't have put us on the same shift. And I guess I didn't think it was fair to give her a chance to trust us and not give you one."

She let out a long breath, and then she smiled. "I couldn't quite tell what to make of Ronan, the day I was there. He seemed aloof, somehow. Almost unfriendly. Maybe he was afraid of giving something away."

I chuckled. "Maybe. But he strikes a lot of people as arrogant. And I guess in some ways he is. But he's also a really terrific guy. I hope you get to know him better."

"I'm sure I will. And—Jesse, thanks for telling me."

The very next thing I did was text Stu to tell him to pretend this revelation, which I expected he'd hear from someone soon, was a surprise. His reply surprised the hell out of me. He'd already told Dad, who didn't blow a gasket, and who hadn't told Mom. So now I was gonna have to talk to Mom again and break the news that she hadn't been the first in the family to know. But I wasn't too worried about that.

One day, when Ronan and I had taken a picnic lunch to Wister Lake, I asked him if he knew who owned The Flying Pig. It was a bit of a surprise when he said that the village owner was Mrs. Ward, Allen's widow. But the town owner threw me for a loop. It was Mrs. Knapp.

 

 

So I'm watching the kiln. It's Sunday night, or really Monday morning, maybe around three? I can't see my watch at the moment.

Ronan and I did do a little more than just feed the fire. Mrs. Coulter had set up a special tent with sides made out of netting, with lawn chairs inside, so kiln watchers could keep rain showers off of themselves and keep mosquitos to a minimum, and there were a couple of blankets in case the night got chilly. Ronan and I spent a little time earlier in our watch using those blankets for something other than keeping the chill away, though we didn't dare do much; one of the assignments is "night watchman," and this is someone from the village who walks by the tent a few times to make sure someone is awake. Open minded as the grove might be, Ronan and I don't really want to get caught with our literal pants down.

He's asleep now, his head on my chest, his hand in mine. My head is propped up on pillows so I can see the kiln. I'm not worried about falling asleep. I'm way, way too happy for that.

My mind has been busy thinking over how things have changed since last summer. So many things are different now. And not just these bridges I've been so busy building, either. For one thing, Brad, my best friend in the world, has decided for sure that he'll go to school for auto mechanics. And then—this is so cool I have to shake myself when I think of it—my dad is going to hire him. So there will be two "sons" to turn the business over to, after all.

As for me? If anyone had told me last September that before a year was out my own family would be okay with the fact that I was spending all night in a secluded location in the middle of "freak" territory with my Pagan boyfriend, I would have laughed in their face. As recently as April, I'd been sure that my family would never accept me, that they'd never accept my boyfriend or his family, and that I'd have to go far away from home to be myself.

You just don't know people. You just don't. I'd said this to myself the day Stu had found my rutilated quartz tooth, and I'm sure I'll be saying it for the rest of my life. Whatever people show you up front, they reveal themselves slowly, over time, and you get see who they really are only if you chisel patiently away around them, protecting yourself with gloves and goggles as necessary, trusting that behind the hard surface you can't see through is a core of something with special properties. Sometimes you're disappointed, and you can't find that precious core, and you don't know whether you've used the wrong tools or looked in the wrong place, or if there wasn't anything brilliant in there at all. But you have to try. And if you're patient enough, if you trust enough, you'll find it.

Sometimes you have to perform this patient chiseling on yourself. And sometimes, when someone else chisels on you, you learn as much as they do.

Something else I've learned? Fear is like the really hard, worthless rock that can hide rich obsidian or beautiful crystals. So maybe my next bridge—the one I told Reverend Gilman about—isn't a bridge at all. Maybe what I need to do is figure out how to chisel away at fear. This would be my own, but also the fear other people use to avoid thinking about what they don't understand. If I can figure out how to do that, I'll be able to help people realize that this thing about me that scares them—this thing they can't see, this thing they don't understand, this thing they just have to believe is there because I tell them it is, this thing called sexual orientation—isn't anything to be afraid of. You can't see gay. You can't see fear. But you can't see joy, either. And you need love. Life's full of things you can't see, so you need love to figure out which ones to trust.

I've decided that I will go to college, if I can get in. But now it feels different. Now it feels like I want to chisel away at myself a little, find out what's really inside. And maybe after that I'll come home again.