“Didn’t you—” Bailey began.
Martha held up her hand. “Didn’t I beg, plead, threaten, and shed tears to try to get Frank to stop? Oh, yes. I did. I said everything I could think of. And maybe if I’d kept my mouth shut, none of it would have happened. At first Frank practiced his jokes in front of Luke and me, but when I protested and Luke didn’t laugh, Frank went into hiding. And when he started using Luke, he did it with such secrecy that I knew nothing about it.
“Frank told Luke he wanted him to hide and watch Gus, then Luke was to tell his dad everything. Luke didn’t want to do it. Luke knew too well how it felt to be made fun of. But Frank got angry, which was something he rarely did with his son.
“In the end, Luke did it, but the spying backfired on Frank, because Luke came back with stories of how hard Gus worked, and how prosperous the farm was. Luke said the farm was like the Garden of Eden. This made Frank angry again, and he shouted at Luke, ‘Didn’t you see any bad?’ And Luke had shouted back, ‘Yeah, that wife of his treats him like dirt, orders him around like he’s a dog.’ Luke had meant to defend Gus, but Frank just listened and smiled.
“The next day Frank went to town and had the people rolling with laughter over a parody of Gus being belittled by his militant wife.”
“Awful,” Bailey said. “Jimmie would have hated all of that.”
“Yes, he did, and he told his dad he wouldn’t spy anymore. But when Frank had no new Gus stories to tell, the people of Calburn began ignoring him again, so he and Vonda began to fight more.
“One night Luke had been kept awake all night by his dad and his stepmother screaming at each other, and Luke hated turmoil among his own family.”
“Always did,” Bailey said. “Jimmie didn’t care if the world was angry at him, but if I was, he couldn’t stand it.”
“I think Luke felt a kinship with Gus from the beginning,” Martha said. “To get away from the arguing, Luke went down the mountain and stretched out under a tree where he could see the Garden of Eden farm. When he awoke, Gus was sitting by him, offering him food. Years later, Luke told me that it was the best food he’d ever eaten in his life—which tells you everything about my cooking.”
“And a friendship was born,” Matt said.
“Yes,” Martha said, “a friendship of kindred souls, a bonding between a couple of outcasts. But neither Frank nor I knew the friendship had started. Not long after that Frank got a job as a night watchman, so he was gone all night and slept all day. I was busy with household chores because I had to wash and iron Vonda’s uniforms as well as Frank’s, and I didn’t have a washing machine. I was too busy to worry about where a big boy of fourteen was all day.”
“He was with Gus?” Matt asked.
“Yes. Gus’s wife was at work all day and fooling around with Roddy at night, so she had no idea Luke and her husband were together. I doubt if she ever saw Luke.” Martha took a breath. “As always, everything bad started with Vonda.
“Frank was miserable at his job. It was all the way in Ridgeway, so he had no Golden Six background with them, and Gus stories didn’t make them laugh. The other men at the job called Frank ‘Slot Machine,’ as in One-Armed Bandit, and from there it became ‘Slots.’ Frank couldn’t quit, couldn’t even fight back. He was in hell. His wife was staying out later each night; they spent hours every day fighting; and the more horrible it was at home, the more time Luke spent with Gus.
“But of course in a town like Calburn, you can’t keep secrets forever. A few deliverymen had seen Luke with Gus, and they told what they saw. And with Vonda working in the diner, she heard.
“Then one Sunday afternoon, Frank stopped by the diner, and he was in the middle of a Gus story and making his old buddies laugh when Vonda, out of sheer spite, said, ‘Gus is more of a father to your son than you are.’ Everybody in the diner laughed even harder. At Frank. And that’s when he knew that Gus Venters had won. Frank made people laugh at Gus, but in the end, Gus had taken away what Frank loved most in the world: his son.
“And that’s when Frank’s hatred began. All his anger at every rotten thing that had ever happened to him came out—and it was all directed at one man: Gus Venters.
“And all the anger came to a head on one night.”
“The thirtieth of August, 1968,” Matt said.
“Yes,” Martha said. “The thirtieth of August, 1968.
“It started that afternoon when Vonda told Frank she was pregnant. I was away that day. A woman I knew was sick, so I’d gone to sit with her, but years later Luke told me every word of what was said. On that day, that woman told Luke something that not even I knew. My guess is that Frank told the boys in that”—Martha had to swallow against the lump in her throat—“that Golden Six, and one of them told Vonda.”
“Whose is it?” Frank yelled. He was drunk, as usual.
“It’s a man’s,” Vonda shouted back at him. “Which is more than you’ll ever be.”
“I’ll divorce you,” Frank said. “And I’ll tell the courts what you’re really like. When I get through with you—”
Vonda laughed at him. “You take me to court? With what, old man? You have nothin’.” At that, her head came up, and she saw Luke standing silently in the bedroom doorway. “You little sneak,” she said. “You’re always listenin’, ain’t you? Ain’t it enough that you spend all day spyin’ on that poor Gus? Poor ol’ retard.”
“He’s smarter than you’ll ever be,” Luke shot back at her. “And richer.”
“Are you talkin’ down to me?” Vonda sneered at Luke, then her eyes began to glitter. “Hey, Frank, why don’t you tell this ugly kid the truth about his mother?”
“Shut up, Vonda, I’m warning you. You don’t know what I can do to you.”
“And what are you gonna do to me that ain’t already been done?” she taunted. “Hey, kid, you chicken? Go ahead. Ask him about your mother.”