Caleb's Wars Read Online Free

cleared. Ma was washing dishes.
    "Where's Pop?"
    "He got up early and took the wagon. Said he's going to cut wood this morning. You ready for something to eat? I got some grits, and I can fry you some eggs." "Just coffee." "Aren't you hungry?"
    No, ma am.
    "I guess you're nervous about your big day. How about a biscuit?"
    "No, thanks. Pop's not coming to church?" Ma put the coffee in front of me. "He never does. You know that."
    "I just thought that maybe today..."
    Ma sat down and reached her hand across the table. "You're disappointed. This day means a lot to you."
    Truth be told, it didn't. Like I'd told my buddies, I was only doing it to please Ma—to try to make up for Randall's being gone, and for all the times I'd gotten into trouble.
    "Yes, ma'am," I lied. "It does mean a lot."
    Ma beamed. "You've made me so happy, son. Somehow I know in my spirit that this day is going to be the start of a new life for you."
    "I wish Pop could believe that."
    "You have to give him time. And..."
    "And what?"
    "Prove to him that you can change. No more fighting. No more stealing. No more talking back."
    I'd heard this sermon before. "I'll do better, Ma. Starting today. I promise."
    She went into the front room and came back with something wrapped in brown paper. "This is for you. Open it."
    I undid the paper and found Grandpa Somerville's Bible inside. I was shocked. There wasn't anything Ma valued more than that Bible.
    "I want you to have it. To mark the day of your baptism—the beginning of a new life."
    "No, Ma. I know how much it means to you."
    She put both hands on the tattered black cover. "Your grandpa read from this Bible every day of his life. He had it opened on his lap the morning we found him. He'd gone to heaven while reading from God's holy word."
    I'd been hearing that little speech all my life, too. And now Ma would wipe away some tears, just like she always did.
    Ma didn't disappoint me. "Your grandpa would have wanted you to have it," she assured me, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.
    "Randall should have it. He's older."
    She sighed. "Your brother's not walking with the Lord. He's chosen another path, the same path your father's walked all these years. But you, Caleb—I've always seen something in you: a heart for God, even these past couple years when you've fallen into temptation. I remember when you were young. You always insisted we ask the blessing at meals. And you never forgot your prayers before bed—"
    "Ma, I—"
    "You don't know how many hours I've spent on my knees, praying for you. And now that you're going to get baptized today, I know all my prayers have been answered."
    What else could I do? I held on to the Bible. "I'll take good care of it."
    "I know you will. But that's not the important thing. Promise me you'll
read
it."
    I had to promise that, too.
    Ma smiled, and for the first time in a long while, she actually looked happy. "Did I ever tell you that your grandpa blessed you when you were a little fellow?"
    Plenty of times, I wanted to say. "I think you did. But I'd like to hear about it again."
    So Ma told me the old, familiar story, how not long before Grandpa died, he asked to hold me. I wasn't very old, two maybe. They put me on his lap, and he laid his hand on my head and spoke a blessing, and said Father God had told him one day I would do great and mighty things for his kingdom.
    What would Grandpa Somerville think of me now, if he knew that the night before I came to get baptized, I'd gotten drunk and then gone and pissed all over some white folks' food?
    ***
    I looked for Nathan in the churchyard but didn't see him anywhere. Plenty of folks were around, though, all dressed up for the big day. I was wearing an old shirt and pants that would get soaked when I went into the pond, and Ma had bought me a new outfit for later.
    Uncle Hiram and Aunt Lou saw me and headed my way. They weren't my real uncle and aunt, but I'd called them that ever since I could remember.