"Going to Disneyland, Grandmother. Gonna stay there one week and have a party with more gifts from Momma and Daddy and Jory and Emma, and then we'll all fly East and spend two rotten weeks just visiting--"
"I know," she interrupted with a smile in her voice, "two weeks wasted by visiting ole graves and ole grandmothers. But you have a good time anyway." She leaned to kiss and hug me tight. "And while you're gone I'll take good care of Apple."
"NO!" I screamed, terrified Apple would love her more than me when I came back. "You leave my pet alone. He's mine. Don't you go feedin him and makin him more yours than mine."
She agreed to do what I wanted. I told her next I was gonna find a way to go to Disneyland, then sneak back to take care of Apple. How I was gonna do this wasn't really clear in my mind--and from the way she looked, it wasn't clear in hers either.
Later I was in the barn with Apple. John Amos stood tall and skinny above, as I sprawled on the hay. He lectured again on how evil women were, and how they made men "sin."
"Nobody does anything for nothing," he said. "Don't you think for one second she doesn't have wicked plans for you, Bart Winslow."
"Why'd you call me that?"
"It's your name, isn't it?"
I grinned, really proud to tell him I had the longest name ever.
"That's not important," he said with no patience. "Be attentive, boy. You asked me yesterday about sin, and I wanted to tell you exactly, but I had to plan the wording. Sin is what men and women do together when they close their bedroom door."
"What's so bad about sin?"
He scowled, showing his teeth, and I shrank back into the hay, wishing he'd go away and leave me and Apple alone.
"Sin is what women use to make a man weak. You've got to face up to certain facts. Inside of every man there is a weak, spineless streak, and women know how to find it by taking off their clothes and using earthly pleasures to sap a man's strength by desire. Watch your own mother, see how she smiles at your father, how she paints her face and nails and wears skimpy clothes, and see your stepfather's eyes light up--both are on their way to sinning when you see that."
I swallowed, kinda hurting inside. Didn't want my parents to do bad things to make God punish them.
"Now hear the words of Malcolm again. 'I cried and cried for five years after my mother went away and left me with my father, who hated me for being hers. He told me all the time she was married to him she was unfaithful, deceiving him with many lovers. And then he couldn't love me. Couldn't stand for me to be near him, and it grew so lonely shut up in that big house with no one who cared. Time and again Father told me he'd never be able to remarry because of me. None of his paramours liked me. But they did fear me. You can bet I let them know what I thought. I knew they'd burn in the eternal fires of hell.' "
"What's a paramour?" I asked, bored sometimes with Malcolm.
"A derelict soul on its way to hell." His eyes burned into me. "And don't you think you can go away on a vacation and leave the care of Apple to another. When you accept the love of an animal, that animal is your responsibility for its entire life. You feed him, water him, groom and exercise him--or God will see that you suffer!"
I shivered and looked at my puppy-pony, who was chasing his tail.
"There is power in your dark eyes, Bart. The same kind of power Malcolm had. God has sent you to carry out an unfinished duty. Malcolm will never rest easy in his grave until all the Devil's spawn are sent down to roast over the fires of hell!"
"Fires of hell," I repeated dully.
"Two are there already . . . three more to go." "Three more to go."
"Evil seeds reproduce and multiply over and over."
"Over and over."
"And when you have done your duty, Malcolm will rest easy in his grave."
"Rest easy in my grave."
"What's that you said?"
I was confused. Sometimes I pretended I was Malcolm. John Amos smiled for some reason and seemed pleased. I was allowed to go home then.
Jory came on the run to question me, "Where've you been? What do you do over there? I see you talking to that old butler. What does he tell you?"
He made me feel like a mouse facing up to a lion. Then I remembered Malcolm's book and how he handled situations like this. I put a cold mask on my face. "John Amos and I have secrets that are none of your damn business."
Jory stared. I strode off.