Nightchild

Part One--Chapter 1

        

Spring--1959

Nathan Wade Stevens was the name his mother had given him. He had no proof but was certain his father had nothing to do with choosing it, he'd had little else to do with Nate since his birth. Why would picking a name for his son have been any different?

Nathan was an only child, a loner. When he was still within his mother's womb, his parents had moved from Louisiana to the small nondescript Texas town of Tremont. Tremont was similar to so many other nameless communities that dotted the landscape across Texas and Oklahoma, very religious, very bigoted and full of prejudice and dust.

His parents were still considered outsiders after all these years by the good Christian people of that town. Nathan had grown up with it, the stigmas that somehow set him apart from others. Yet, early on, he had learned to take pride in those differences.

At fourteen, Nate was tall and lean with dark good looks and a quiet brooding nature. He'd earned the grudging respect of his peers and more importantly, the devoted friendship of a boy named Heathe who he'd saved from drowning, coming to his rescue and defense, fighting two of the older boys responsible for throwing him in the river. But still for the most part Nate preferred to keep to himself.

He had a passion for music, a passion his father didn't share and considered a waste of time. Over the years, Nate had saved money working odd jobs, mowing lawns, washing cars, occasionally helping at his father's hardware store, stocking shelves, sweeping...until he could buy a guitar.

He spent long hours alone in his room with the prized instrument, tutoring himself, practicing over and over until he thought he was ready to go on to something else. He was much harder on himself than an instructor would have been, for a trained ear, a professional, would have seen the natural talent Nate possessed. But an instructor had been out of the question. Mr. Stevens would not allow his son that luxury, would not spend good money for something as frivolous as a music teacher.

Robert Stevens had always been an austere distant figure to the boy. It seemed absurd to Nate that his warm gentle mother could possibly have married this man of her own free will. Both his parents were older than those of friends his own age and Nate had never known either set of grandparents. Often, he fantasized that his mother's parents had somehow forced her into marriage with this cold stranger who resembled a father in name only and he could only assume his conception had been an unexpected surprise...in his father's case, an unwanted one.

There is a point in all lives when reality has to be met head on. Efforts can be made to change it or it can be accepted. Claire Stevens obviously had accepted her reality. Nate could remember his mother always being there, not just for him, but also for his father. Claire, the housewife who always did just as her husband wanted. Nate was sure if Robert had come home and asked her to lick the mud from his boots, she would have calmly answered "Yes, Robert" and bent to her task.

Since he was about nine, Nate had heard the rumors of Bob Stevens' other women. He was certain his mother had heard the same stories. In a town that small, it was inconceivable that the murmurings could have escaped her ears, yet for reasons of her own, Claire chose not to acknowledge them.

In his own way, Nate, too, had accepted reality, though somewhere deep inside he secretly clung to a dream of changing it. Not once could he remember ever seeing any form of emotion pass between his parents, not even anger. There was a mutual silence in the family which extended to Nate, for he knew little of their relationship other than his mother had come from a well-to-do New Orleans family and from what he could piece together, Robert had lost what money had been left Claire in her inheritance. How, Nate didn't know, only that it had happened.

Claire Stevens wouldn't talk about her past, alluding to the theory that it was much too painful and was better left alone. Nate's reality was that he couldn't change either of his parents...not their past, their present or what promised to be their cold bleak future. He'd learned as a small child to accept the indifference and coldness his father bestowed on him though deep inside he still had dreams that his life would not always be like this, that someday he would do something to please Robert Stevens and a warmth would grow between them.

Until then, Nate would make his own world, just as his parents had, one where no one else could enter, and he would wait. Beyond everything, the man was his father and he truly loved him, whether the love was returned or not.