Right 89
Mrs. Twist was lying warm in her bed, but a storm was raging in her heart. She didn't feel like doing much of anything since Jack and Ennis hit the road a week ago without a word. Mr. Twist resolved to give his woman her space, but if she didn’t snap out of her funk in a few days, he would summon the doctor. Mr. Twist gritted his teeth as he made supper while his wife rested. These days he found himself doing all the cooking, the cleaning and the laundry. And he supervised Harold and his friends in the rebuilding of the barn. John Twist was never so bone weary in his life, but he knew he had to keep going. He married for better or for worse, and had every intention of honoring his vows. Few people knew that John Twist was a pretty decent cook. Jack never really learned that fact, as his mom always prepared meals for the family, and she was rarely so ill that she couldn’t cook. Mrs. Twist always carried Jack with her when she visited her people, so there was no reason for John to cook for his son. When John thought of Jack and Ennis, his blood began to boil hotter than the stew he just prepared. He tried not to be resentful, tried not to blame his son for taking off practically out of the blue. The bitterness was something he had to work on. No need in staying all hot and bothered about circumstances he couldn't change.
John placed a bit of the lamb stew in a bowl and placed it on a tray with a few slices of bread and a glass of milk. He hoisted the tray and headed for the stairs and his bedroom. He felt his age as he lifted first one foot, and then the other to climb the stairs. When he made the landing, John tread slowly as he passed first the tiny bathroom, and then Jack’s bedroom. He flinched when he noticed Jack’s bedroom door was open. He stopped and glanced in at the twin bed that somehow looked as though Jack never slept there. The room was as barren and as cheerful as the grave. John fought to cancel out the images of him lying there with his terrified son as he wronged him again and again. He knew he had a lot to pay for. He only hoped the sweet Lord would give him a chance to repent, to right the wrongs he committed in this life before he closed his eyes in death. Mr. Twist reasoned that caring for his wife was a step in righting the wrongs. He neared his bedroom and stopped right outside the closed door. He listened for any sounds, any sign that his wife was awake. He heard nothing.
John nudged the door open with an elbow and inched his way in. His wife was lying in bed, the family Bible spread out on the quilt in front of her. She had weak eyes, and must have been crying again. John couldn’t fathom it. He missed his son, but he also knew he had an advantage. His longing for Jack was tempered with resentment. John smiled at his wife and she smiled in return. “You cooked dinner, pa,” she whispered. Mr. Twist nodded slightly and sat the tray down on their bureau. “Yeah, I cooked a bit of lamb stew, yer favorite.” He reached down and removed the bible. “Why don’t you sit up and try to eat a bite. You need to keep your strength up.” Mrs. Twist nodded, and even smiled a bit. “That smells awful good, John. Thanks for cooking it up for me.” John’s heart leapt when he heard that. “You welcome, mother,” he stated as he placed the tray down on the quilt. He pulled up a chair and sat down beside his woman. Mrs. Twist ladled a spoonful of the stew and blew on it to cool. She gobbled the entire spoonful and groaned with pleasure. “My Lord, John, but you’re an even better cook than I am,” John Twist blushed with pleasure and watched his wife eat. It was the most she was able to tolerate in days. When she had finished every bit of the stew, he removed the tray and asked her if she wanted more. “Oh, no, pa, I’m full. Thanks for the meal.” John placed the tray on the bureau and took his wife’s hand in his. He kissed her palm and looked deep into her red eyes. “You don’t have to thank me, ma. You’re my wife and I’ll always take care of you.” Mrs. Twist felt her eyes tearing up, and this time Jack was the furthest thing from her mind. She pulled the quilt aside and motioned for her husband to climb in bed beside her. JohnTwist removed his shoes and climbed in bed to hold his wife in his arms. As she responded to his touch, John was certain that he wouldn't need to bother the doctor.