Page 50 of Repentance and Absolution
“Everythin’ smells so good!” Oscar commented.
I’m sure his mouth was watering. I hardly knew if he’d ever enjoyed such a bounteous meal, but something told me he hadn’t. And I was so grateful to Clarence and Irene all of a sudden that they had given him this experience. As for me, growing up when my parents were alive, we’d had some meals like this, and t’was a nice reminder of how good it could feel to be surrounded by care and prosperity. I’d lived awful rough for all those years with the gang, and that made me appreciate everything I had now, true enough.
Once we’d loaded up our plates, Irene and Clarence folded their hands together and closed their eyes. Oscar was reaching for the butter knife when I touched his calf with my toe under the table and motioned to them. Oscar brought his hands together and bent his head, as did I.
“Dear Lord,” Irene began, “we thank you for this bounty and for our new friends—Jimmy and Oscar—who’ve started a life here in Port Essington. And we thank you for keeping us healthy and for giving us what we need. Amen.”
“Amen,” I repeated, at the same time as Clarence and Oscar said it.
“Help yourselves, gentlemen. Clarence,” Irene said, taking a biscuit for herself and pulling it apart, steam rising from its center.
I don’t know when I’d ever had a more pleasant meal, to be honest. Clarence and Irene joked with each other, and Oscar and I soaked up their happiness. T’was strange we’d been so wary of them at first, when they were two of the nicest people I’d ever known. I think Oscar felt the same.
The biscuits were light and fluffy, the butter rich and smooth. The stew was savory and fragrant, with a citrusy, fresh taste from the orange peel. I’d have to remember that trick, if we ever had oranges ourselves. I’d have to ask Irene to hook me up. Maybe her friends would sell us some.
By the time we were done, darkness had fallen, and the house was lit with the soft glow from the oil lamps and the flickering light of the fire.
Irene brought out fruitcake with some kind of almond paste icing that I licked off my fingers t’was so good and a pecan pie that Oscar seemed to favor. Then the plum pudding on a plate, that she doused with brandy and lit with a match. The blue flames danced o’er it as Oscar and I exchanged a glance and smiles. Irene was an excellent cook and an even better baker, and Clarence was a lucky man. We were fortunate to have them living so near to us.
When we’d finished, we went to the sitting room with small cups of coffee and sat on the settee and in chairs in front of the fire to let our meal settle. Once our cups were drained, Irene poured me some more gin and some rum for herself and Oscar, while Clarence had some whiskey and filled his pipe again.
T’was the most pleasant thing in the world to sit there, in the warmth from the fire, full of food and drink and surrounded by goodwill. It seemed as though God was smiling down upon us, as much as I felt like I needed to make reparations for all the questionable things I’d done. For the first time in a long while, I thought maybe God might forgive me, or at least, figured I was worth saving.
“Oscar, will you sing for us?” Irene said, once we’d all helped to wash and dry the dishes.
I scooped my pocketwatch from my vest pocket and glanced at it. T’was nigh eleven. It would only take me and Oscar about ten minutes to ride home, but I reckoned we should take our leave in the next half hour or so. We didn’t want to overstay our welcome.
I glanced at Oscar and waited to hear what he’d say.
“Well, I—I don’t know. I ain’t sung in a while.”
“I heard you singing on Tuesday,” I said.
Ever since I’d made a point of praising his voice when we were in town, Oscar had been more free with it, singing around the house or sometimes to his horse when we were in the stables. But I reckon he was shy about it still.
“Oh, please?” Irene said, sitting down on the piano bench and raising the wooden fallboard to expose the black and white keys. “I love to play, and I don’t usually have anyone who can sing with me. Clarence, bless his heart, can’t hold a note.”
Clarence laughed. His cheeks were rosy from the drink and the heat from the fire. He made a face. “You don’t wanna hear me try.”
Oscar frowned. He gazed between me and Irene. Then he rolled his eyes and stood.
“Fine.”
A warm flush of anticipation flooded me. Irene and Clarence had never heard Oscar sing, but I had. And I knew that if he didn’t let his shyness bother him too much, they’d be awful surprised and pleased by the quality of it. I held that cherished secret close to my heart, but I wanted to share it with these kind folks. I wanted Oscar to share his talent with all of us.
“What should I play, Oscar? I know lots of spirituals and folk songs,” Irene said.
“Can you playAmazing Grace?” Oscar asked, moving to stand beside the piano bench. He looked so fine in his best clothes. We’d dressed for the occasion, and to make a good impression on our new neighbors. Oscar had loosened his cravat and unbuttoned the top button on his shirt, which made him look like a gentleman comfortable in his surroundings. I settled back to enjoy the show.
He shot me an amused glance, then pointed his index finger at me and raised his eyebrows. “This is your fault, Jimmy.”
“What?”
He frowned, but I could see he was teasing. “If you hadn’t said anything about my singin’—”
I held up my hands in surrender. “Well, excuse me for wantin’ you to share your talent with our neighbors. You got a gorgeous voice, Oscar. Truly.”
“Fine,” he grumbled, trying to look annoyed instead of pleased. He didn’t quite succeed.
