the Season of Leo - 6. Capricious Capricorn

Capricious Capricorn

The time of Capricorn runs from the last week of December through the first three weeks of January. For my new family, it was another time of joy and trials.

We piled into the Crenshaw’s massive GMC Yukon and headed out to Texas on my first ever road trip. If you ever want to get to know people, a ten hour road trip is just the ticket.

Jeb and the twins Benny and Kenny occupied the back, I sat with Doug and Sarah in the middle and Mr. Crenshaw drove with his wife riding shotgun. Everybody got a kick out of me asking where she kept the shotgun.

Our first stop was for something called McBreakfast. As I was tired of putting my foot in my mouth, I said I would have the same thing as Doug. That turned out to be something called a sausage mcmuffin, hash brown and an orange juice. Turns out my potential foster brother had good taste.

We drove northwest to the state capital of Jackson where I got my first look at a big city. We could see the skyline as we drove through with the Capital, Old Capital, some tall buildings and the muddy Pearl River. It turned out that I hadn’t seen anything yet.

Another forty-five minutes down the road we crossed the Mississippi River into Louisiana. Wow- now that’s a river! We were high enough on the bridge for me to feel a twinge of fear of heights. The river was easily a mile across.

Halfway over Doug said are you afraid of heights? I didn’t used to be but at that moment I was.

We rolled across Louisiana and I noticed that the buzz from the back seat had ceased. I looked back and Jeb and the twins were fast asleep. I had to grin as they looked like a basket full of puppies I once saw.

Doug sort of acted as tour guide. He had been on this trip many times. We passed through Monroe, Ruston and stopped for lunch at a Mexican restaurant in Shreveport. I had never had Mexican before but I instantly liked it. We had a family platter of chicken fajitas that came out sizzling and smelling wonderful. We also had this cheesy dip called quesa. Doug instructed me on the finer points of fajita construction.

Once that was done I lasted just over the Texas line before I zoned out and slept a long way into Texas. Just before we got to Dallas, we stopped at a big outlet mall in Terrell, Texas and Mrs. Crenshaw embarrassed us by buying us more clothes. The jacket was especially welcome as the weather was cooling. There was also the small matter of my gaining some twenty-five pounds after getting off the Prophet’s prisoner of war cult diet. I don’t recommend it.

The skyline of Dallas made Jackson look like a mere truck stop by comparison. I had no idea how big it really was until I looked at it on a map. It's not just Dallas. The DFW metroplex cover counties and is comprised of dozens of smaller communities that all merge into one enormous sprawl that goes on as far as the eye can see.

We arrived in Denton and I was really impressed. The grandparents’ house and grounds were huge. The house was at least three stories. When we arrived we were met by a taciturn elderly gentleman and a plump older lady that would be central castings idea of what a grandmother should look like. She hugged everybody and sure made me feel welcome.

When we unloaded the Yukon, we were instructed that the boys all went to the top floor. I was astonished what we found there.

The house was big to start with but the attic and loft were huge. Doug told me that when Dad (I’m starting to get used to that) and his brothers were boys, they had remade the attic into an indoor gym and kept it for the grandchildren. There was exercise equipment, half of a basketball court, sauna, a big TV and a bunch of couches.

We were shooting hoops almost as soon as we had put down our luggage. I asked Doug if it wasn’t noisy downstairs and he said they put in sound proof insulation so it doesn’t rock the house when we play up here. I was glad too. It was getting cold and nasty outside.

The place was amazing. I had certainly never seen anything like it. When I looked at Jeb and the twins playing, there was an innocent joy about it so far removed from where either of us had come from.

After a while Sarah came up the stairs and warned us that dinner would be ready soon. The five of us washed up and got ready for dinner.

When we went downstairs, I was shocked at all of the people. Doug told me that this was all of the extended family. He pointed out the five original brothers that our Dad was a part of and I nearly choked. One of them was clearly Hispanic and another… was he with a man? Things were getting intriguing.

I went through the room and was introduced, hugged, slapped on the back and noticed something really cool: I wasn’t feeling that empty, disconnected feeling I had when I left the Children of the Son.

I was introduced to my uncles and the man I had spotted earlier introduced the other man as his partner and my last reservation vanished. I saw that Jeb had noticed the same thing.

After we had made our rounds meeting and greeting, Grandma came out with a cowbell, rang it and said, it’s time to get started.

We were seated at a table, they had a number set up and iced tea was brought out to us by the younger girls. While the girls were bringing out the plates, Grandpa stood and said, welcome to our Christmas get together. Tonight I’m going to ask Uncle Karl to remind us about our traditions and bless this gathering.

It got silent and an elderly gentleman rose and started speaking with just a hint of a European accent I couldn’t place. He said in 1945 I was nine years old and a German orphan. My brothers were lost in the war and my parents and sisters were killed in an air raid. I was in Hitler Youth. As Germany collapsed they handed me a gun and told us to stand for the fatherland. We were all afraid. If the army had not stopped the British and Americans what were we supposed to do?

I spoke a little English and it wasn’t too long before the Americans were coming at us. I can’t tell you how scared we were. Even with all of the Hitler Youth propaganda in our heads we knew that we could not hold off an attack by real soldiers.

A young American came forward under a white flag and told us we had nothing to fear from them. All we had to do was to put down our weapons and we would be treated well. The fighting that day was between the Nazi fanatics and those of us that wanted to live. When it was over, I surrendered to this young American.

I asked him if it was true, would we be treated humanely. He said I’m a Texan, we don’t lie. He promised that he would take care of me—personally. I was expecting food, water and maybe medicine for the sick.

That young Texan got my name and identity number and appeared where we were held after the war. He asked me if I wanted to live in America. That young Texan was your great-grandfather and my adopted brother. I made it home before he did. That is how I became an American. That started our great tradition of adoption in this family. That tradition has blessed us and kept us.

Then I understood. Uncle Karl spoke a short prayer blessing this family, our gathering and thanking God for both. That’s when I discovered just how special this thing was that Jeb and I had become a part of.

Big plates of turkey and dressing, gravy, sweet potatoes and cranberries were delivered to us all. This was all that Christmas could be. I was safe, my fears were gone and I was part of something greater than myself.

I learned a lot that night. I had no idea that Benny and Kenny were adopted. I was astonished at how many of the family members were adopted- generations of them. Most of all, it’s not blood that makes family: it is love in action. That was something the Prophet could never understand or create in his fear driven cult.

That night all the boys that were staying over gathered in the loft. We got acquainted with all of the cousins and liked them. There was one tale pale red headed kid who looked lost and we found out he was new to the family too so we didn’t let him stay lost. His name was Liam and we took him in and made him feel comfortable.

It got late and we ended up in sleeping bags and sofas. Even after the lights were out there was plenty of giggling and soft conversations. Doug was close by and leaned in close and spoke softly in my ear— I see how you look after Jeb. I promise to be as good a big brother to you as you are to Jeb.

I’m glad it was dark. No one could see the tears running down my face. They weren’t tears of hurt, they were tears of joy.

The next day was Christmas Eve. Dad, Doug, Bennie, Kenny, Jeb and I all piled in the Yukon and went shopping. I had never seen so many people. In fact it was overwhelming. We stayed inside Denton and everything was still so big. The store I enjoyed the most was this enormous old book store called the Opera House. I could explore that place for days. It was a reminder of how many books I still had to read. What made the whole thing fun was watching Jeb and the twins. They might have been teens but they were still kids.

Late that afternoon the crowd at the house had gone to their own homes. My foster family and grandparents all went to a big church where they had Christmas Eve services. Everything was so beautiful. When we got home Grandma served us a Christmas Dinner I’ll never forget: prime rib, twice baked potatoes and a whole lot of great deserts. After dinner around a fire in the living room, we exchanged gifts.

After dinner Dad was looking at his tablet computer and looked shocked. He asked us if we knew Inspector Dillon of the Forrest County Sheriff's Office. We both did. He was assigned to both of our cases. Dad told us that he had been shootout and was badly injured.

Christmas Day was anti-climactic. I got on Jeb’s laptop and we looked at the news from home. Inspector Dillon had been in a shootout with two men from New Orleans. They were both dead but the Inspector had been wearing his vest. The news said that it looked a lot like an ambush. Dillon was a gruff sort but he had been nice enough to us.

Dad was on his phone a lot. He knew Dillon and something appeared to be happening back home. He told us not to worry about it and have fun but Jeb and I had a bad feeling about it.

That day I finally got to spend some time with Benny and Kenny. Twins are… different. These two really are. They’re so shy it’s painful but they’re really cute kids. They both have jet black hair they wear in a style you see on a lot of skaters. They’re skin is very pale and they are identical except Benny is the more outgoing of the two by far. Kenny is really bashful and stutters a little when you can get him to talk.

They’re both smaller than you would expect twelve year olds to be and, Doug warned me that they were still very sensitive about what happened to them. When we did get them to talk, they told me that their birth Father was hyper-religious to the point of being bug house nuts about it. He drove away their mother. As he got more crazy, he was going to sacrifice one of the twins then the sheriff’s department sent him away for a nice long rest at the laughing academy. They were actually scared to talk to me for a while because I came from a cult. Since I didn’t handle snakes, speak in tongues or sacrifice children, they decided I was OK.

Jesus! A bad pun and probably sacrilegious (my bad) but how could a guy with such good ideas inspire so much raving insanity? How did the salt of the earth and light to the world become cults and human sacrifice? It’s just depressing.

We had the day to talk and goof off. I am pretty sure that Benny and Kenny no longer fear that I’m going to wig out and try to sacrifice them.

It was just after supper when Dad called Doug, Jeb and I into what had to be a grandpa’s study. He closed the door and sat down to tell us what had been going on back home. Apparently, we had gotten out of town just in time. The night before Christmas Eve, Inspector Dillon had been looking into a link between Brent Broussard and money laundering run out of New Orleans. He was ambushed outside a restaurant by two as yet unidentified men in a car with a Jefferson Parish license plate. He won a short gun battle with the two men.

That same night there was a break in to the Crenshaw house. Police had been summoned by the silent alarm but whoever it was saw no one was home and left.

Immediately the FBI had been called. They quickly identified the shooters as men associated with a New Orleans based crime syndicate. The case against the Prophet and his inner circle had just become very dangerous.

There was also the matter of a Miss Hawthorn of social services trying to issue papers to arrest Mr. Crenshaw and take Jeb and me into state custody. The judge happened to be well acquainted with Mr. Crenshaw and knew that something was very wrong with that.

Judge Carson had not signed off on her order. Instead, he issued a court order appointing Dad temporary guardian of Jeb and me. He also had a word with the FBI. On Christmas Day, the FBI arrested Hawthorn. Apparently she had never heard that you don’t just deposit cash bribes. I never took her for a rocket scientist. It was clear that had we been in state custody, something unfortunate would have happened to us.

I asked Dad, what do we do now?

We weren’t due in court until January 10 and Dad suggested we stay right here. Jeb and I thought that was a great idea.

What we didn’t know at the time, one of our cousins was a Texas Ranger. Anybody coming to Denton looking for us would find a world of trouble.

The days blurred into a lot of fun, food and football and passed all too fast. The day before we were supposed to go to court, grandpa drove us to the Dallas-Fort Worth Airport.

We were met by a pair of FBI agents who put the family on a chartered flight to Jackson. We arrived there and were put up in a hotel in Brandon. The US Attorney sat down with Jeb and I and asked us a series of questions. None of the questions were new and we easily answered. When he was done, he seemed satisfied and left us under guard overnight.

The next day we were taken to the US Federal courthouse in Jackson where we were separated and asked to wait until we were called. Mom stayed with Jeb and Dad stayed with me. I was called first. The questions were all the same ones that we had been asked at least a hundred times already.

The defense attorney tried to shake me up on the stand. It didn’t work. He tried to talk to me like a child and really made himself look like an idiot. He asked if I had been drugged, how could I be sure of my identification of Mr. Broussard? I told him that they had done the drugging numerous times and it stopped working so well. Apparently I had begun to tolerate it. He then asked me to identify Mr. Broussard. I pointed him out— sitting among several men of the same size and build dressed very similarly. I saw that the judge noticed the attempt at deception and, its abject failure.

He dismissed me with his thanks.

I did not see Jeb’s testimony but from what I heard later, he absolutely sank Brent. Apparently the defense attorney tried to paint Jeb as a prostitute. Jeb simply replied I was eleven.

That night we stayed at a different motel. The security was pretty obvious and the gathered FBI agents, sheriff’s deputies and local cops treated us really well.

That night before we went to sleep I asked Jeb how it went. He said it sucked. The defense attorney had tried to make it seem like he was a druggie hooker or something and, he had wanted to throw something heavy at the defense attorney’s face.

I told him my time on the stand had been just as much fun as his. I didn’t even know I had a porn star name, was mortified that I was a porn star and downright pixelated that name was Hott Rodd. Those old fashioned southern words are lots of fun. It was good to go to sleep laughing even if it was at myself.

The trial continued the next day. We weren’t called again. Maybe they had figured out that cross examining the two of us would have been a losing bet. The jury stayed out only twenty minutes and the judge pronounced Remy “the Prophet” Thibodaux and Brent Boussard guilty of a long list of federal charges. Unless they pulled the real Kennedy assassin or the Osama bin Laden out of their butt, they would never get out.

We were on a plane to Dallas just about supper time when Dad handed me two local papers. He said, this one was yesterday’s: the headline read Two Heroic Teens Testify Against New Orleans Mobsters. The next paper was today’s. The headline read: FBI Arrests Seventy-two in New Orleans Sweep for Human Trafficking and Kiddie Porn, More Arrests Expected.

It occurred to me: oh crap. They’ll never stop looking for us. I had the sinking feeling that we were about to lose the family we had just become a part of.