A Father’s Guilty Pleasure
by Shawn P. Madison

Jerry Bryce stared out the window of the slow moving locomotive and saw the wide open expanses flashing by in the early night. He glanced over at his father, who was operating the huge machine, and saw the deep lines of worry etched into his face. This is crazy, he thought, twenty-five years of riding this track and never once had his father invited him to come along for the ride. Now, today, out of the blue and with more than a troubled look on his face, the old man had asked him if he wanted to come along. Not for the whole day, he had said. Just for the night run, the local run, the trip that took the train through the backwoods behind the old family house.

Jerry didn’t know what else to do, his father had never asked him to do something like this before, so he had said ‘yes.’ Although he knew that something was up, he had no idea what it could be. But by the look of his father, it must be pretty important.

He had driven to the local train yard across town at about 7:30PM and had met his father just off of Track #22. The engine was only pulling a six-car load of various goods and didn’t look all that impressive. By 8:15PM the cars were fully loaded and the sun had dipped down below the horizon.

"Are you ready?" his father asked.

"Sure, Pop," he had answered.

His father nodded once and motioned for him to climb aboard. With his father close behind, he climbed the black metal rungs and entered the driving compartment of the huge engine.

Paul Bryce performed a last minute check on the instruments and controls. Once satisfied, he huffed under his breath and started the massive engine. The huge machine roared to life and the big headlight out front burst into brilliance, illuminating the tracks in front of them. Without a word between them, the train started slowly forward and they were under way.

That was over fifteen minutes ago and now the sky was that dark blue just before going fully black, only the faint light of the half-moon high above still keeping the stars away. Every once in awhile he could see a house off in the distance, a few lights shining through the windows, or a car going down a lonely road. Otherwise, there wasn’t much to see.

"So...what’s this all about, Pop?" he asked over the roar of the engine.

His father glanced at him with a worried look and lowered his head to his chest. "I just wanted you to see something," he replied.

"You want me to see something?" Jerry repeated and nodded his semi-understanding. "What exactly would that be, Pop?"

"Don’t worry, Son," he rasped and Jerry could barely hear him. "We’re almost there."

"Almost where, Pop?"

"Don’t you worry..."

"Pop," Jerry interrupted. "This isn’t a game. Why am I here?"

Paul Bryce took a deep breath and looked at his son for more than a full second, which caught Jerry by surprise. What was even more surprising were the tears clearly visible in his father’s eyes.

My God, he thought, my father is crying. Jerry knew that his jaw must have been hanging open but he could not force it to close. He had never seen the shiny wetness of tears in this man’s eyes before.

"Son," Paul Bryce started. "Back when you were five years old...do you remember?"

The question hung between them for several seconds before Jerry answered. Of course he remembered. Only one major event had taken place within the family when he was five. How could he ever forget?

"Well," his father said and cleared his throat before continuing. "It didn’t exactly happen the way we told you. You were very, very young and already traumatized. We thought it best at the time to tell you what we told you. As time went by, we just couldn’t bring ourselves to tell you the truth, Son."

Wait a minute, just wait a minute, Jerry said to himself as his mind raced. "When I was five you told me that Judy had gotten sick, Pop."

"That’s right..."

"But, now you’re telling me that she wasn’t sick?"

"That’s right..."

"So what happened, Pop? What in the Hell are you trying to tell me here?"

His father paused and lowered his eyes again, a tear dropped from his face to the thick metal floor below. "We’re almost there, Son," the old man said. "Then you’ll see."

Jerry looked out the window again to try and find his bearings. What was his father talking about?

Then he suddenly realized that they were almost to the part of these tracks that ran behind the house he had grown up in, the house his parents still lived in.

"Any minute now, Jerry," his father said.

"Any minute to what, Pop?" he asked.

"Here it comes now, we’re almost there."

"POP!!!" Jerry shouted. "What are you trying to tell me?"

Paul Bryce was crying openly now, no longer holding back, an emotional display Jerry had never seen before. "When you were five, Judy was four."

"I know that, Pop."

"You two were so close, we were so proud of the both of you..."

"And?"

"You two did everything together, always together...except that night."

"Pop, please..."

"You two had been playing in the living room, doing something you weren’t supposed to

be doing," his father continued. "I think you were throwing a beach ball from the pool around inside the house."

"Yeah," Jerry agreed. "I threw it and busted a lamp."

"Right," his father said. "Your mother was furious and sent you to your room."

"I remember."

"Your mother was so upset she told Judy to watch TV in the living room while she

cleaned up the pieces and then she went back into the kitchen to finish cleaning up."

"You were working that night." Jerry said.

"Yes, Son, I was," Paul Bryce said and gulped back more tears. "I was on this track and it was the same time of the night as it is now. The headlight on that old engine went out earlier that day. I didn’t have the time to get it fixed so I decided to do the night run and have it fixed the next day."

"What happened, Pop?"

"Your little sister heard the horn when I blew it right about here that night," his father said between hastily taken breaths. "She got out of the house without your mother knowing. She followed that little path that led down to the tracks."

"Oh my God..." Jerry Bryce whispered as he realized what his father was trying to tell him.

"I didn’t see her until it was too late, Jerry!!!" Paul Bryce shouted with anger toward the windshield of the rushing engine. "I didn’t see her!"

"POP!" Jerry screamed, crying himself now. "What did you do?"

"I killed her, Jerry! I killed her, that damn broken light--I didn’t see her!"

"Oh my God, Pop..." Jerry said.

"I just wanted you to see...to see for yourself..."

"See what?"

"LOOK!" Paul Bryce screeched at the top of his lungs and pointed at a spot on the tracks ahead of the train. "LOOK, Son! Isn’t she beautiful? My little Judy..."

Jerry looked at his father in horror, the nightmarish vision of what must have happened that night so long ago flashing through his mind. He saw his father pointing and turned to squint into the night. The headlight of the engine barely lit the tracks in front of them and the foliage rushing past. What? What was he supposed to be looking for? As he looked around, he noticed that they were getting close to the old house. He recognized the area immediately!

"What, Pop?" he asked again. "What?"

"LOOK, dammit!" His father said, grabbing his shirt collar and pushing him toward the open side window of the old engine."Look!"

Jerry stared wide-eyed out of the window and into the night, trying to take in all he could. One instant there was nothing but trees flashing by, but then...

There she was! Jerry could see her. The small figure standing at the side of the tracks near the path leading back to the house.

"JUDY!" Jerry shouted. "JUDY!"

Jerry could see her now, despite the tears flowing from his eyes. His little sister was a small shimmering figure barely visible in the darkness but for a faint glow. She looked just as he remembered her...four year old Judy...

As they passed the small image it seemed to Jerry as if he were in slow motion. His little sister raised a shimmering arm and pointed up at the engine with large questioning eyes. Her little form glowed white and it seemed a slight breeze blew through her hair and swirled her dress.

Oh my God...Judy...

Then he heard it, small and distant, but her voice was there, singing in his ears. Her small mouth moved and the words filled his brain.

"Why, Daddy? Why?" she called into the night. "Why, Daddy? Why?"

Jerry’s heart skipped a beat, the hairs raised up on his neck and shoulders and goosebumps covered his body. Then his father’s hand gripped his shoulder and he could hear him say, "Isn’t she just beautiful? Isn’t her voice just wonderful?"

Jerry turned away from his little sister’s apparition and stared at his father in shock. Paul Bryce was smiling at him, tears pouring forth from his eyes. "Isn’t she just beautiful?"

"Jesus Christ!" he said and shoved his father’s hand away from his shoulder. When he looked back at the spot on the tracks, his sister was gone. "Poor, Judy...Oh my God..."

"I’m sorry, Son," Paul Bryce said. "I thought it was time you knew."

"How could you still do this?" he asked incredulously. "How can you see her and hear her every single night?"

"For me it’s like she never died, Jerry," his father said smiling. "It’s like she’s still alive."

"She has no peace," Jerry said with anguish. "Pop, she needs to be released. She needs to step over into whatever the next place is but she can’t continue this way."

"It’s wonderful, Jerry," his father pleaded. "I can see her every night. You just don’t understand."

"I understand how you feel, Pop," Jerry said, unable to stop his tears. "Carrying around all that guilt for almost twenty years. But she needs peace. She needs peace..."

Paul Bryce took a deep breath and the tears stopped as he sucked it in. "Maybe so, Son," he said and solemnly nodded. "But I don’t think either of us know how to give it to her."

Jerry knew that his father was right. How do you deal with something like this? Who do you call? "We have to find out, Pop. We have to."

"You try your best, Jerry," his father said. "You try for your sister. But until then, I’ll keep looking forward to the night run..."

©2002 Shawn P. Madison

Shawn P. Madison lives with his wife of thirteen years in a brand new home in Suffolk, Virginia, where the grass is finally growing and most of the boxes are unpacked. Over the past three years, he has had more than forty short
stories and articles published in over twenty different magazines, both electronic and print. His first novel, GUARDER LORE, was released by NovelBooks, Inc., as both an e-book and a trade paperback on 3/2/02. Along with two cats and a dog, Shawn and his wife hope to make Virginia their permanent home. You can learn more about Shawn's writing at his website: http://shawnpmadison.tripod.com. Shawn also welcomes your comments at: asm89@aol.com