Page 3 of Iggy

“Friday. I’m hoping to become MARSOC,” he said calmly.

“You never did anything easy,” laughed John. “Write to me, Iggy. Let me know that you’re safe and doing well.”

“John? Can I ask a personal question?” John said nothing, just staring at the man. “Why didn’t you ever marry and have children of your own?”

“I was married to the school. To all my boys,” he said calmly. “Besides, no one would have liked it much.”

Iggy understood. It was something he’d suspected as he got older.

“Times are different, John. No one cares if you love a man or a woman,” he said.

“Oh, Iggy. I wish that were true. But a gay man, married to another man as head of an all-boys school would not have been allowed. People would have suspected all the horrible, nasty things that runs through their heads. I would have been defending myself at every turn. I was happy just letting you boys have a future.”

“And being alone?” said Iggy. “You deserve happiness, John. I hope you find it.”

“I’m retiring next year,” said the older man. “I hope it won’t be too late to do just that. Find happiness. Find yours, Iggy. You deserve it.”

The two men chatted for a while longer and then Iggy stood, hugging his old teacher. He kissed his cheek and thanked him.

“Thank you for believing in me, John.” John laughed, shaking his head at the younger man.

“You made it easy, Iggy.” As he was walking away, Iggy turned toward him again.

“Oh, and thank you for naming me. I had to be tough to live with a name like Ignatius Michael Victors.”

“It suited you. Ignatius founded the Jesuits, helping millions through their own selfless acts. And Michael? He led God’s army of course.”

CHAPTER TWO

Olive didn’t understand anything. She didn’t remember her parents and the images she had her mind were most assuredly conjured through photographs of people she believed were her parents, not actual memories. They’d left her with Aunt Ida and Uncle Milford, or at least that’s what she was told. Old, lazy, and brutal when they were angry, they were not her first choice as temporary parents.

She heard her aunt call her name and she cringed from the backyard. She was hungry and all she really wanted was something to eat. Slowly, she walked toward the house. As she opened the door, her aunt shoved her inside.

“What lies have you been tellin’ these folks?” asked the old woman.

“I haven’t lied to anyone, Aunt Ida. I swear.” The old woman slapped her across the face and a man stepped up, gripping her wrist before she could connect again.

“You hit that child again, I will make sure you never see daylight,” said the deep voice. Olive looked up and stared at the face she knew. She’d seen him around her school. He was huge. Big, tall, muscular, and handsome. Even at eight she knew what handsome was.

“Mr. Robicheaux,” she whispered.

“Hi, honey,” he smiled. “Are you okay?” He looked at her arms, the fresh bruises telling him what he already knew. She immediately tried to shove her sleeves down but the top was so small for her it wouldn’t hide the bruises.

“Yes, sir,” she said looking down.

“See. Ain’t not of your business, Gabriel. You and your high and mighty family can leave us alone,” said Uncle Milford.

“That won’t be happening. We have enough evidence of your abuse that you can either go to jail or we can take Olive to live at the school and be safe.”

“We get money from the state for her,” said Ida lifting her chin as if proud of it. “We need that money.”

“Here,” said Jean shoving the check across the table. Olive looked at the other Mr. Robicheaux and smiled. She liked the quiet man a lot. “You get eight-hundred a month for her. She’s eight-years-old now. That’s ninety-six-thousand for ten years. We’ve rounded it up to one-hundred-thousand. Take it or go to jail.”

Ida and Milford stared at the check, then looked toward the torn screen door. The sheriff was standing on the front porch, two more Robicheaux boys standing beside him and one of the schools’ teachers.

“Take her. She ain’t nothin’ but trouble anyway,” said Ida.

“Olive? Do you have anything you want to bring with you, honey?” asked Jean.