Archive of Our Own ^beta

The Lord liked to test His children in the most horrific ways. You couldn’t grow up an Irish woman without learning that lesson the hard way. Still, Nina couldn’t help but wonder what she had done to be punished so severely with a dead husband, an unruly nephew, a patience running thinner than the brook in summer.

It could be all those odd jobs she did outside the home. Perhaps she had married too late, or tried for a child when she was too old. Maybe it was because she married a man she never truly loved for pragmatics and tradition, though she didn’t believe that was a sin in-and-of itself. Truthfully, Sophie was the only girl she knew who was both foolish enough and loving enough to marry with her heart – and look how great that turned out for her, when she died and her good-for-nothing whelp husband practically dumped Roark at Nina’s door.

But now, as Nina stood at the train station, watching Sophie’s boy ride off to become his uncle’s farmhand and hopefully learn the discipline only men could beat into each other, she had a feeling her biggest form of punishment was Roark himself. That boy had been a handful from the start, and no amount of church-going or smacks from teachers or stern lessons from her mouth had been enough to tame him, and after this most recent dissension… 

She blamed Ransom’s genetics for Roark’s eccentricities, because no matter how much she scolded Sophie for her silliness and naivety, she had been a wonderful little sister and a good girl. If she had been there to raise Roark, he surely would have been a different lad. 

Unfortunately for Roark, Nina did not know how to handle silliness or roguish boyhood, and Carroll had been no help at all. She simply couldn’t deal with Roark any longer, not when she had so much else to worry about. She would pray for him, of course, and wish him the best, but she could not have him in her home any longer, for her sake and for Calvin’s.

Thank goodness Calvin had never given her too much trouble. He was a good, quiet boy. God-fearing, polite, and humble. Calvin was everything she could hope for in a son, really, if only he weren’t so spineless and apprehensive. She supposed that was the natural consequence to having grown up with another child with a bit too much spine.

Nina sighed to herself. Calvin had always seen something in Roark that she was certain no one else saw. Hopefully, with Roark now gone, Calvin would start finding some more respectable role models to blindly follow, like Jesus.

(Probably not until he was a bit older. She had yet to meet a 12-year-old who was truly enraptured with the Bible.)

Calvin was sitting outside when she returned home, reading some book on the front steps. He had always been a reader. She stood by the curb, watching him for a few moments with an inexplicably tight chest. He looked tired. It didn’t suit his face.

“What are you doin’ sittin’ outside, Calvin?” she asked, walking up the stone path. “At least change outta your sleepin’ clothes.”

He looked up at her with those big, demure eyes, but he didn’t respond. He’d been so quiet since the family incident. It worried her, not that he didn’t always worry her in one way or another. The curse of motherhood was constant concern.

“Come on, child, get up.” She rested a paw on top of his head, ignoring how he flinched away from the touch. Such a jumpy boy. So shy.

He folded up his book and stood, following her inside. He was getting taller now, but he hadn’t quite hit that big growth spurt. She hoped height wouldn’t make him smart, as it had with Roark. 

She shook her head. When did Calvin get so old? Why did he seem to be just as young as he was 5 years ago? She watched him head upstairs, presumably to change his clothes.

She put a record on the gramophone before sitting down in her chair. She wouldn’t get to relax for long. There was cleaning to do, and cooking, and she needed to finish the hemming on a dress for her neighbor. Still, it was nice to rest, even if just for a few moments.

Calvin came back downstairs, dressed in his day clothes. Nina pulled out her sewing then. Calvin tended to be a little less cagey if he didn’t have to look her in the eyes when speaking.

“How did y'sleep?” she asked, testing the machine on a piece of scrap fabric.

“Fine,” Calvin replied. He stood stiffly by the door, arms limp by his sides. She thought he might drop his book.

She motioned for him to sit in the other chair. “Did you, now?” 

“Yes.” He sat down, setting his book in his lap.

Lately, getting information out of him was like wringing a dry cloth for water. Even toddlers could speak in at least two word sentences, but not Calvin. “Well, that’s good t’hear.” She started hemming the dress. “What’s that you’re readin’?”

“ The Secret Garden, ” Calvin murmured. Expectedly, he gave no more information on the novel. 

Nina looked up at him over her glasses with a deep frown. She watched as Calvin ran his paws over the pages of the book repetitively. His eyebrows were furrowed so deeply she was tempted to tell him they would get stuck that way, just so he wouldn’t look so sad around her.

She took a deep breath. Patience. It was no wonder the poor thing would be feeling down, what with his father being dead and his cousin now gone.

Calvin needed a good distraction, and then he’d get to feeling better. It was a shame this all started in the summer, or he would have school to preoccupy himself. Nina was sure she could find some tasks to busy him with for the rest of the holiday.

She looked back at her sewing. “The fence gate has been a little squeaky lately. Fix it for me.”

“I will,” he said. “Now?”

“I don’t mind when you do it, so long as it gets done before night.” She heard the chair squeak as Calvin stood. “I’ll call you in for lunch.”

“Thanks, Mum.” Calvin headed out the door.

Nina sighed once the door shut, slumping in her seat. “It’s not like any of this is soft on me either, y’know,” she said, as if Calvin was still there to hear her. She missed Carroll, too, even if she was never passionately in love with him, and she felt bad for Roark, but what was she to do? She couldn’t bring Carroll back, and she couldn’t trust Roark, not yet. Right now, she could only rely on herself and the Lord. She prayed that God would be able to help her with Calvin. She didn’t know what to do with all the moping.

She spent the rest of her morning on the hemming, and by about noon she got up to make sandwiches for herself and Calvin. She brought them outside on a tray alongside a pitcher of lemonade. Calvin didn’t look up when she approached him. It seemed he had long since fixed the fence, and had now moved on to some of the side projects Carroll had left behind in the shed.

He was banging on the nails with such ferocity she was sure the wood was splitting, but she knew he would learn his strength in time. It was normal for boys to be a bit overzealous. At least, it was normal from what she had learned raising Roark, so it might not actually be normal at all.

“Careful with that hammer, we can’t afford t’go buyin’ a new one.”

Calvin jumped, tail bushing out in surprise, and he turned to her with a look she could only describe as terrified. He seemed a little frazzled. He must’ve worked himself into a tizzy outside by himself. Poor thing. He quickly averted his gaze, putting the hammer on the ground.

“Sorry.” His voice was a bit rough. Nina wondered if he had been crying. “It’s all my fault.”

She frowned. What was he talking about? The hammer? She leaned over slightly and saw splinters sticking out from the wood. “It’s not so bad,” she said. “Nothin’ a bit of sandin’ won’t fix. Come eat, you can’t work if you’re hungry.”

“No, that’s not…” Calvin trailed off, holding his hands together at his chest. His head dipped down low enough for his chin to hit his collarbone. “Alright.”

She put a paw between his shoulder blades and led him to the porch. Calvin kept staring at the ground, even as he sat down at the little table to eat. She could practically hear the thoughts swirling around in his head. “You’d better not be frettin’ over that split wood, still.”

Calvin shook his head, picking up his sandwich. “No.” He took a bite, clearly trying to avoid conversation by having a full mouth. Nina wouldn’t fall for it.

She took a sip of her lemonade, waving aside some curious wasps hovering around the pitcher. “Then what is it?”

Calvin pointed to his mouth to show he was chewing, and she gave him an unamused glare. He withered under her gaze and swallowed, looking away nervously. “It’s nothin’.”

“It’s a sin to lie, y'know,” she said sternly. Calvin curled in on himself, making a quiet noise of guilt. She softened her voice as she asked, “What’s got your tail in a bunch?”

Calvin squished his sandwich between his paws, squirming in his seat. “I was wondering… Do you hate Rocky?”

She didn’t expect that question. “What?”

“Do you hate him?” Calvin looked at her with such desperation and fear that she almost didn’t know what to say. She had no clue why he was so worked up over this.

“The only person I hate is the Devil,” Nina said, pulling a piece of her sandwich off with her claws, “but I’m certainly not happy with Roark at the moment. Y'know that.”

Calvin’s paws shook. He nodded, taking another bite of his sandwich. He turned his whole body away from her. Nina sighed. She wouldn’t be getting anything else out of him for now. 

They finished their sandwiches in silence, and Calvin disappeared back into the shed. He looked just like his father, all work and no talk.

Nina went back into the house and washed the dishes. Then she returned to her hemming, and when she got bored of that, she dusted the furniture and swept the floors. At suppertime, she whipped up something quick and simple and called Calvin in from the window.

He looked even worse than at lunchtime. His fur was a mess, his clothes rumpled, and his eyes red. He was just a boy – there was no reason for him to be coming inside looking like he had fought a war. Nina tutted at him quietly.

“Wash up,” she said. “You look like you were fightin’ a bear.”

Calvin went to the sink and washed his paws. He scrubbed them for far longer than necessary, until Nina scolded him for wasting water. He turned off the tap and sat down with her to say grace. He squeezed her hand tighter than usual, and he said ‘amen’ with conviction she didn’t know he was capable of.

“Y’found Jesus in that shed?” she asked him, half-joking.

Calvin stared at her with his large, empty eyes. “I don’t know.”

There was something uncanny about his face. It didn’t look as innocent as usual. He really did look like he had fought in a war. The vacant expression was all too similar to the shell-shocked soldiers returning from the front.

Somehow, she knew Roark did this to Calvin. She was right to have sent him off. That boy was too much trouble.

They both started eating. Nina wished she had turned on the gramophone, like she had earlier, because the silence was deafening. When Roark was around, the table was never silent. She felt young again, newly wedded to Carroll, sitting together at a small table, eating a small meal and preparing for a small life but unable to spare even small conversation.

“Take a shower before you sleep t'night,” Nina ordered. “It’ll clean away all your negativity, and I’m not washin’ dirt out of your blankets.”

“Alright.”

“And then go to bed right after. You look dead on your feet.”

“Okay.”

She couldn’t tell if he was being smart with her or if he was genuinely agreeing, but she assumed the latter. Calvin never tried to put her off with his curt answers – it was just how he was. Perhaps his mannerisms were another one of God’s tests for her. 

He drove her nuts, but all children did that to their mothers. She went nuts because she cared.

“You know I love you, Calvin,” she said. 

He stared at her for a very long moment, so long that she thought he might disagree. But then he swallowed, and she figured he had only been chewing. “I know.” He tapped his fork against his plate, looking out the window. “May I be excused?”

He had only eaten about half his meal, but she nodded anyway. She didn’t blame him for having a poor appetite, with everything going on. Food wasn’t her top priority either.

Calvin scraped his leftovers back into the serving dish and brought his plate to the sink. Then he trudged upstairs, and a few minutes later she could hear the pipes creak from use.

Nina finished up her food and washed the dishes. By the time she was done, the house was silent again, and the sky outside was nearly dark. 

Crickets chirped quietly outside. Usually, Carroll would be home by now, and he would read in his chair while she finished up her tasks for the day. The living room looked empty without him sitting there.

She went around the house and shut the curtains, taking her time. She wanted to check on Calvin, but she also wanted to give enough time for him to be asleep. Besides, she didn’t need to bother him with her sentimentality. She crept upstairs and closed the curtains on that floor as well before finally heading to Calvin’s room. 

She could tell the lights were off, which was good, but when she opened the door she saw two eyes flashing in the darkness.

“I thought I told you to sleep, Calvin,” she whispered. “Aren’t y’tired?”

He said nothing and he didn’t move. Had he fallen asleep with his eyes open? She tried again. “Calvin, are you awake?”

“Yes,” he said. His voice was impossibly tiny, and he had the blanket pulled over his ears like he was trying to protect himself from the monster under the bed.

“So what’re you still up for?” She walked over to his bed and sat down on the edge. “Are you ill?”

He nodded his head. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Well, that would explain all of his odd behavior and ragged looks quite nicely. “I’ll get the bucket. Don’t go pukin’ all over your sheets.”

As she stood up, Calvin grabbed her skirt, snatching the top layer with his tiny claws. “Wait.”

Nina looked back at him. “Yes?”

She could hear him swallow. “Will Rocky ever come back?”

“He’ll be turning 17 soon, Calvin. He’s old enough to care for himself. I hope he won’t need to come back.”

“Right.” He gripped into her skirt tighter. He was breathing just a tad faster than normal. “Mum?”

“Yes?” The shine in Calvin’s eyes didn’t seem to only be from the low light. There was something else, a sort of primal, anxious guilt that she hoped was caused by illness and nothing more.

“Do you think Rocky’s going to Hell?”

Nina didn’t have a good answer that wouldn’t upset Calvin. Truthfully, she thought he might, with all his wildness and lack of respect for morals. She hadn’t given up hope that Roark would go to Heaven, but she wasn’t very optimistic. 

She settled on saying, “Not with the life he’s been livin’. It depends on what he does to repent.” 

And then, without anything else to add, Calvin leaned over the side of his bed and threw up on the hardwood.

Nina sighed and went to grab the mop. God liked punishing His children indeed.