The Brandywine Prophet

7.7 Marionette Strings

The blizzard announced itself with soft patters on the window pane.

“How long did you know this?” Will’s voice trembled. His body was numb. “Sarah? How long... how long have you known?” His voice raised in pitch. “All this talk of lies? My lies are tearing us apart? My lies, Sarah?” he huffed and his eyes twisted with his head as he gathered the implications and ramifications and complete understanding of his past stupidity. “Get out,” he said quietly. Then he shouted, “Get out!” as the sickening embarrassment of his public prophecies pulled him to the carpet. “Get out, get out, get out of my home!” he yelled, screamed, then felt his blood drain from his head to his feet and he nearly fainted.

Sarah took advantage of his delusion and got to Janie first. She fell to her knees and whispered a rush of pleas--not quietly enough to hide from Will--while he struggled to regain his composure. “There are loving people in the world,” Sarah said to their daughter. (How dare she!) “There are people who aren’t cynical like your father; who can’t justify their cynicism to a T. You don’t want to become like him, sweetheart. He’s dangerous.”

“Not to me,” Janie said and Will caught himself moaning like a wounded animal and forced himself to stop.

Every time his mind fought for optimism, another piece of the puzzle fell into place: the groundbreaking, the holy ground, his lost fingers, their life savings, three million dollars (Three. Million. Dollars.), the piano-bar speech, the letters to the editor... how how how could he be so fucking low? All of the rants, the preaching, the dance with the minister and lecturing Janie about miracles...

And Jaxon. Jaxon.

Jaxon Silverman who offered a way out.

Will could have accepted. He should have accepted!

The voices of the whispering women raised, but Will no longer understood their language. Sarah was packing and crying? But Janie was firm and defiant.

He collapsed to the foot of the bed.

“Dad!” Janie cried.

“He’ll be fine,” Sarah said.

“Hand me the phone,” Will said from his slump and Janie obeyed.

Jaxon was on speed dial. “Hello?” muttered the man, half asleep.

“I’ll take it,” Will said. “I’ll take your offer, Jax. Buy my land and tear it to the ground.”

“Will? Do you have any concept of time or etiquette?”

Sarah zipped her luggage and tossed it to the hall, then stormed to the bathroom in a ruckus of plastic thunks as she flung toiletries into plastic bags. 

Janie sat on the bed. Her knee brushed Will’s temple.

“Take it away,” he said to Jax. “I want the money. I want the new house. Rip that stage down and haul it away!”

Janie’s hand smoothed his hair.

Jaxon’s voice became piercingly clear. “Do you remember when we spoke on your hill? Do you remember when I told you about the other land deal? That wasn’t a joke, Mr. Carmel. Silverman and Binder signed the paperwork a month ago and we’re no longer in a position to purchase your land.”

“Fine. Cut the offer in half and I’ll tear the theater down myself. You don’t understand...”

“Go to bed, Will. Don’t call me again.”

He cried; on the phone to Jaxon he looked like a pussy but he cried so the man could hear. “Is there anything...”

“William?” Jax said.