A Kingdom of Our Own

Chapter Twenty Seven - Aftermath

Dalton sat on Jacob’s front porch under a cloudless, smiling sky. He was wearing shorts, a pair of converse and his favourite New York Yankees jersey. Jacob was wearing a baggy white shirt, grey trousers (which were held up by braces) and a straw hat, the typical outfit of an Amish man. Skandar had told Dalton that if he and Harry were going to attend the Amish school, then they would have to start dressing in a much simpler fashion whenever they were out of the house, to show that they were serious about respecting their customs. This was something that both he and Harry were currently in strong opposition to. In their opinion, it was the Amish dress code that needed altering, not their own.

Jacob started to sigh with contempt. His face was as pale as ice. Dalton hadn’t wanted to come when he’d been alerted that Jacob wanted to speak with him, but he was here now, so he had no choice but to listen to what the old man had to say.

“Dalton, thank you for coming. I needed to speak with you in private. Would like a nice glass of milk?”

Dalton said “ok”, though he thought privately to himself that he’d sooner have a coke, or just permission to leave. Jacob stood from his rocking chair and said, “Be right back.” Dalton nodded and looked up at the woods stretching out behind the house and then turned the other way towards the fields. His own house was out there somewhere, but it was too far away to see from where he was sitting.

Jacob came back out with two glasses of milk and handed one over to Dalton. He sat back in his rocker, took a sip of his milk and then picked up a copy of the morning newspaper that had been resting on the arm of the chair. Like the rest of the people in the community, he rarely read the news, but had bought a copy today when the police had stopped by, informing him on Skandar’s alleged assault. It had made page three in the Waterville Chronicle.

Eventually, after reading over the passage a second time, he said, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something, Dalton.” He leant down so that he was almost face to face with the boy. “Your Godfather’s the worst kind of a pain in the neck, a know-it-all who’s sometimes right. I used to think he was just a little overenthusiastic, but I’ve come to see he’s a dangerous man Dalton. You tell him that. Tell him that he’s a dangerous man and one day he’s going to get you both killed. The only reason he’s not in a cell at this very moment is because I managed to persuade the police that he is mentally unstable. We condemn any use of violence and what Skandar did has ruined our good name here!”

Jacob looked at Dalton for a long time after he’d finished speaking, unable to analyse what exactly he was thinking. Dalton said nothing. His arms were crossed tightly and a deep, thoughtful expression had set across his face, still reluctant to accept that there was any truth in what he’d been told. He’d travelled for three hundred miles to reach someplace safe and was reluctant to accept any such view that his new guardian (a man who his Father had trusted more than any other human being), could end up putting him in grave danger.

He nodded at Dalton’s silence, realising the boy was in denial and fixed him with a firm expression, before saying, “No soul is beyond saving Dalton and I’ve got a feeling that you don’t condone the use of violence any more than I do. There are occasionally exceptional figures, from troubled backgrounds, who manage to forget about their past and turn to the light of God, and when that happens we call it a miracle. From the moment I met you, I knew you were special and that you might be one of those people. But there still are many questions that even I don’t have the answers to, starting with why you came here in the first place. I can’t imagine you coming all this way without your parents just to see your Godfather. Lying, Dalton, is a sin.”

His old man's voice rose and fell, papery, hesitant, sometimes nearly inaudible. The important thing though was that he’d caught Dalton’s attention again. He stared at the old man with an open and appealing frankness, before he explained, “Why I want to stay here for a while and learn more about your way of life. That’s all I want. Really.”

“Learn about us?” Skandar muttered, looking utterly perplexed. Outsiders rarely seemed to show any interest in the Amish and their way of life, especially the youngsters. Growing up in an era dominated by the mass media and technology, new generations were quickly coming to see other cultures as unimportant and inferior to their own, with little place in the modern world.

Dalton leaned forward, tanned elbows resting on his knees, realising that this was the critical point where he’d have to try and sell his little lie. Obviously he couldn’t tell Jacob the true reason why he’d come. “Sure, it’s so peaceful out here.” His tongue came out and wetted his lips. “Don’t get me wrong, I loved it in Portland, but everything there was chaos and I guess there’s only so much of that a human being can take.”

Jacob stared at the boy with a certain degree of amazement. What a remarkable child he was! And Skandar’s Godson of all people! Dalton smiled in return to the old man’s beaming expression. He’d sucked up his story like a cat laps up milk, probably because he wanted it to be the truth so much. Of course he didn’t want to die thinking that his generation marked the end of the Amish culture. Before he died, he wanted to ensure there are still people out there who would be willing to keep the faith alive and would work just as hard as he had to transmit the norms and values into the future.

“Well, I believe Skandar was right. Maybe it would be a good idea for you to attend our local school, given your great enthusiasm to learn more of our ways. Classes recommence on Monday. I don’t wish to waste any more of your time, so you’re free to leave whenever you want.”