Run Away To Home

Run Away to Home

A Novel

by Tim Gould, Rev., M.A.

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2014 Tim Gould

Third Edition Copyright © 2023

Some of this novel is based on real events, but the names of people and places have been changed to protect identities.

Scripture quotations are taken from the New King James Version of the Bible. © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc.

IN A LITTLE WHILE

Amy Grant/Shane Keister/Brown Bannister/Gary Chapman

© 1982 Word Music, LLC,

Benson Music Group, Meadowgreen Music

All Rights Reserved. Used By Permission.

In A Little While, by E. Brown Bannister/Gary Chapman/Amy Grant/John Shane Keister, Copyright © 1982, was reprinted with permission granted from Capitol CMG Publishing license number: 561994

Run Away to Home

Digital and Print Editions Copyright © 2014 Tim Gould

Second Edition Copyright © 2016

All Rights Reserved

Printed in the United States of America

Formatting: P.S. Cover Design

Cover Art: Elaina Lee, For the Muse Designs

Editing: Jenny Mertes

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the author.

ISBN-13: 978-0692331125

FOREWORD

I had a dream based on events in my life and decided to write it down. Every so often I would add to that story and eventually came to the realization that it had taken on a life of its own. Here it is — I hope you enjoy it.

The name of the LORD is a strong tower;

The righteous run to it and are safe.

Proverbs 18:10

CONTENTS

Foreword

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Epilogue

About The Author

Acknowledgements

PROLOGUE

1985

He was dying. Tyler could hear his labored breathing and see the way his chest rose and fell, and somehow could tell there wouldn't be too many more breaths. He knew this was his fault. He was responsible for this man's condition. Was it too late to make up for what he had done? He tried to remember how it had started. Memories flooded his mind, and suddenly he was seeing it all again.

Crouching down, running, I reached the large plastic garbage can that stuck up through the top of the bushes. Even though my attention was on getting away as fast as possible, I couldn't help but notice for the first time that the bottom of the garbage can was broken and wide open. And since the bottom of the can was a foot off the ground, I figured I could crawl into it with the newly replaced garbage bag hiding my location. I climbed in quickly when I heard his voice and his heavy footsteps on the ground getting closer.

He stopped nearby, and my heart skipped a beat. I heard him say to himself, When I catch that kid I'm going to beat the livin' daylights out of him. At that moment I knew what I had to do…

CHAPTER ONE

June 1983

It was the first day of summer vacation, and I decided I deserved a play day. Still lying in bed, I would fake sickness to get out of helping my father with work. It was a perfect California day that couldn't be wasted, and I had promised myself this summer would be the best ever.

All of this ran through my mind in an instant when my father poked his head in my bedroom door with an expectant look on his face. A few seconds later he was gone, having accepted the I don't feel well today excuse. I hated doing work of any kind and tried to get out of it at every opportunity.

An hour later, I was getting ready to think about getting out of bed when my six-year-old brother James came bounding into the room with a concerned look on his face.

Tyler, Daddy says you're sick. It was a statement and a question.

Knowing I had to be careful with what I said to my blabbermouth but caring sibling, I went with the generic, Yes, but it's not serious. I'll be okay soon.

I knew what was coming next, because his main concern in life was who can play with him and how often. Can you play a board game with me, like Driver's Ed, when you feel better? he asked.

Yes, later on I will, I said, making a mental note that I would have to adjust my schedule at some point for him. Then, knowing he would bug me all day, I added, It may not be until tomorrow though.

James's crestfallen face made me regret my selfishness. I really did love him, even though he annoyed me most of the time. But the feeling only lasted for a second when I remembered the day's activities that were before me. I had friends to visit, TV to watch, and junk food to eat. I knew once my father left the house he would be outside working until dinner, so my only concern would be sneaking off the property, a skill I had mastered long ago. I could lie to James easy enough, and Mom didn't really care what I did, which only left my older brother Brandon as a possible tattletale. But I wasn't worried about him.

Okay, James said, closing the door quietly.

I knew he was disappointed, but it would pass and he would soon be on to something new. Everyone loved James. Not only because he had blonde hair and blue eyes, but also because he was a nice kid and loved everyone he met. On the rare occasion we attended church and heard about Jesus, I always thought Jesus and James must be a lot alike. That might be why I had a mild curiosity about Jesus. Not enough for me to do anything about, but it was still there.

After rolling out of bed, I pushed my long brown hair out of my eyes, dressed quickly, and ran downstairs to the kitchen to grab some breakfast before leaving the house.

I glanced at the newspaper while I ate my cereal and noticed the new Star Wars movie had just come out. Return of the Jedi, I thought. I'll have to figure out a way to get Mom to take me to see that. I looked up when she walked into the kitchen. For a middle-aged woman, my mom looked okay, even though a lot of gray was starting to show up in her hair. She told me once she would like to dye it, but my father said we didn't have enough money for that. She and I had always had a close relationship, and I got the feeling she wasn't that close with my father. I don't know what had caused their marriage to go bad, but she often told me about her disappointments with my father. I didn't mind the way she talked to me and the adult things she told me. It made me feel like we were best friends, not mother and son.

What are your big plans for the day, Tyler? she said with a smile. Apparently my father hadn't mentioned anything to her about my being too sick to help him.

I'm supposed to meet Liz and Tammy at the store to play Donkey Kong, I said between bites.

Oh really? she said with raised eyebrows. And you have money for that?

Well no—could you give me some? I felt pretty sure she would. I had become quite good at getting what I wanted by either lying or manipulating people. I had learned this in different ways; one was as a result of my older brother's example, but I had also done it to avoid working with my father or getting caught when I did something wrong. Unfortunately, my family had caught onto the manipulation game, so it didn't work very well with them, but with everyone else I could usually get my way. And that's what life was about for me: trying not to get in trouble, avoiding work with my father, and getting away with as much as I could.

I might have a few dollars. You can have it as this week's play money. She dug around in her purse and put five ones on the table.

Score! She never gives me that much! I thought. Where's Father?

He's out on the hillside, cutting down the tall grass with a sickle, Mom replied.

That was one job I especially hated, so I was glad I wasn't out there. My father had grown up having to work hard to make a living and seemed to regard work as more important than his family. He took care of the church property at St. Peter's Episcopal Church in Oak Grove Valley; we lived on the church property in the house that was built for the bishop. The bishop was my father's older brother, but he already had a house that had been handed down through the family, so it made sense for us to live on the property while my father did the maintenance, janitorial, and security work for the church.

I took one last bite of cereal and gathered up the money. Well, gotta go, I said as I headed toward the back door.

Have a good day, Mom called after me.

Once outside, I knew I had to take my secret route around the back of the house and through the bushes to avoid my father. The church property included our three-bedroom house, the sanctuary building that housed the main worship center, the Sunday school rooms, and then an adjoining gym building that was used for large gatherings and office space. There was also a lot of landscaping and acreage behind the church that required upkeep, so my father was constantly busy fixing and cutting, painting and repairing. I had heard him say one time, We're a traditional family. My wife takes care of the kids and the housework, and I make the money and take care of the outside jobs. That was fine by me as long as I didn't have to help him.

A few minutes later, I made it to the grocery store without my father seeing me. My friends weren't there. I looked at the clock above the deli counter and saw that I wasn't late, so maybe they were just running behind. After deciding to wait for a while, I cashed in one of my dollars for quarters and began to play my favorite video game. I was determined to get the high score today and triumphantly show Liz when she got there. She was always better than me, but we both knew that was because she got to play it more than I did. We had recently begun stealing money from our parents; she could get away with more from her mom's purse than I could from my father's wallet.

My games lasted long enough to waste time, but not long enough to beat Liz's score. Eventually, when I realized my friends weren't coming, I slammed my fist on the video screen in anger. They were ruining my first day of summer vacation.

You break it, you buy it, I heard from behind me. It was Tony, a boy at my high school who was two grades ahead of me and had just graduated. He worked at the store, and our families knew each other casually.

Sorry, I'm just having a bad day, I muttered.

Ha! Your life is a cake walk compared to what I have to deal with, he said.

What do you mean? I said. I didn't really care, but I didn't want to be rude.

See this cigarette burn? He held out his arm as if he was bragging. My old man did that to me right before I let him have it.

Let him have it? You mean you hit your father? Now I really was interested. The thought had never occurred to me to physically fight with a parent.

Heck yeah, I'm not gonna just sit there and let him hurt me, he said smugly, but it doesn't matter. I got another job and I'm outta here tomorrow anyway. I'll be far away from here and won't have to worry about him. With that he turned and was off toward the back of the store.

I stood there thinking about what he said about standing up to his dad. I stored the information in the back of my mind. Then, after checking the time, I left the store and headed for my best friend's house to see what had kept her. On my way past the road that led to our house, I saw my father's truck coming around the corner, so I dashed to the other side of the street and ducked behind a building. With my heart pounding, I wondered if he had seen me. I peeked around the corner and saw the truck drive on by without slowing. Oh well, I thought, there's nothing I can do about it now. I felt kind of embarrassed about hiding and sneaking, knowing that other sixteen year olds didn't act this way, but sometime I still felt like I was eight rather than sixteen.

Later that night, after James had gone to bed and Brandon was out somewhere, Mom and I sat in the living room, watching our weekly episode of Dallas on TV. We didn't watch a lot of TV together, but definitely more than I did with my father, since he wasn't really a TV watcher. Mom and I loved Dallas. I'm not sure why she did, but I admired the strength and independence of the men. The show always made me wonder what that part of the country was like. Did everyone have a horse? Did they all wear cowboy hats? Did everyone talk with an accent?

It was the last show of the season and I knew it was going to run past my bedtime of 9:00 p.m., but it was summer vacation, and sometimes if Mom and I were watching something together, Father would let it slide. What I didn't realize until later was that he was angry about my not helping him because he had spotted me running around town. Our relationship was based around work, which I hated, and I only had a few memories of us playing together or doing anything other than work. I was sure every other sixteen year old had a bedtime later than 9:00. But of course this was something my father and I had never sat down and calmly talked about. Instead, I let my frustration with my bedtime and with my father grow.

So when he sat down in his easy chair and said, Time for bed, Tyler, in a stern tone, I let my annoyance with my bedtime get the best of me. My show is only half over, I protested.

You shouldn't have started a show that went past your bedtime, he replied.

I sat there fuming and trying to choose between the responses bouncing around in my head. Mom had already gotten up and started for her room, sensing an argument was brewing. She didn't like confrontation and would escape whenever my father and I had a disagreement.

A few seconds later I heard, Turn it off now and go to bed.

My rebellion increasing, I said, I'm not tired. It's summer vacation, and I want to finish my show.

He jumped up, stomped to the TV, and shut it off. He stood looking at me with his face scrunched up in a scowl.

Determined not to be pushed around, I let a swear word escape my lips before I said, Fine, turn the TV off, but I'm not going to bed yet. I grabbed one of the books from the coffee table and pretended to read it. I was surprised when he turned and stomped out of the room, and even more surprised when all the power in the house suddenly went off. Figuring out that he had turned the breaker switch off, I was even more determined not to let him win. I moved over to the piano bench next to the window, where the moonlight would give me just enough light to really not read a thing, but I would not be outdone.

A minute later he came up to me and said, There is nothing for you to do in the darkness, and then with his hand reaching out toward me he said, Now go to bed! At that moment I remembered what Tony had said about him standing up to his father. I thought I was big enough to take on my old man so I said, No, and pushed him away.

He stumbled back a couple of steps, and then he stepped back toward me. I could feel his anger as clearly as if I'd seen flames coming out of his nostrils. I