Sheriff Borton whistled.“I’ll be damned.Guess there’s a lot to you, Steven.”
I glanced around the empty, sad space once more.“I’d be happy to fill you in on the past thirty years if you could tell me more about my mother.Maybe over coffee?”I asked.
The sheriff’s mustache twitched upward as he smiled again.“It’d be my pleasure, son.”
We settled into a booth at the back of the town’s single diner.The vinyl seats were updated to a peppy teal and the chrome-edged Formica tables recently resprayed.The coffee in the thick, white ceramic mugs steamed before us as I glanced around.
“Place looks good,” I said.
“Young couple bought it off Marge last year.They wanted somewhere slower paced to raise their kids, but the gent has some kind of computer job.His company’s in Dallas and he cyber commutes, or whatever it is you young folk call it.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at being lumped in as young folk.Sheriff Borton was about fifteen years my senior and had been a youngish deputy back when I lived in that ramshackle house just off the farm-to-market road about a mile from the town.
“Jobs are changing, so are the people—got more of ’em since the pandemic.Some of the geezers here don’t like change, but I’m happy the elementary school rooms are filled up…and the teens are still drag racing down the FMs.”His eyes sparkled.“Keeps me busy on those otherwise long, boring weekend nights.”
“I bet.”I lifted my coffee mug and took a tentative sip.Strong, slightly bitter, good.
“New owner is Sarah.She brought in decent coffee,” Sheriff said, also sipping his black.“Couldn’t drink Marge’s sludge without a lot of cream and sugar, but this…” He took another sip and smacked his lips.“Big city coffee is good stuff.”
“When did my mother try to leave him?”I asked.
Sheriff Borton set down his mug and peered at me.His blue eyes were rheumy and faded but sharp.“First time he hit her, far as I can tell.That was when you were just a mite.”
I nodded, my throat clogged with too much emotion to speak.
“Shocked me to find out, I can tell you.I’d looked up to Wayne.He’d been the high school’s best running back, getting us to the regional championships.He seemed to have a lot going for him, maybe even a scholarship to A&M, I heard.But then he up and married your mama two days after graduation.”
“Because of me?”I asked, boulders having taken up residence in my belly.
“Nope.”Sheriff Borton popped hisp.“Never did know why your mother married him so quick, but she did.You came along almost a year and a half later, so don’t be takin’ on that guilt.It isn’t yours to bear.”
I nodded.Wrapping my chilled hands around my mug, I stared into the dark brew.“What happened?”
“Not sure,” Sheriff Borton said with a heavy sigh.“Like I said, Wayne was well-liked, popular.But he took to drink badly.I mean, he drank heavily and got mean with it.First with disturbances at the bar, then traffic citations and belligerence toward the deputies who stopped him.”The way Borton rubbed absently at his cheek spoke volumes about my father’s brutality.
“Why didn’t someone in town stop him?If not from hurting my mother, then from assaulting others.”
Sheriff Borton blew out a breath.“You know why.”
I did, and I hated it.“Because my grandfather was sheriff, and whatever Wayne did was swept under the proverbial rug.”
“It was Big Wayne—your grandfather—that forced your mother back to that house.She’d packed up her car and you into a seat and made it almost to the county line before he pulled her over and escorted her home.I don’t know what Big Wayne said to your mother, but she wasn’t the same lively girl thereafter.In fact, my Marie said the life simply drained out of her, one drip at a time.”
“I can see that,” I murmured.I closed my eyes, aching for my mother.She’d been braver than I ever thought.Knowing my father, I had no doubt he’d learned from his father—brutality was the way he’d been taught to handle disappointment and disagreements.
“If you’re thinking Big Wayne was violent, I think you’re right,” Sheriff Borton said.“For what it’s worth—and it’s not worth much from your point of view, I reckon—your mother’s death was a jolt to the community.Big Wayne had died by then, but he had his cronies in the department.The community kicked them all out and got us some better quality law people.”
I clenched my hands into fists.“But nothing happened to my…to Wayne?”I hated calling that man my father.He hadn’t been close to a decent one.
“Well, he was missing.”Sheriff Borton shrugged.“We found your mama, found the blood.We figured he’d beat you pretty good, but without a body…” He shifted his bulk and resettled it, his shoulders having inched closer to his ears.“A group of deer hunters found him.He’d been scavenged so there wasn’t much left to use as identification by then.”
I grimaced at his grisly end, but I nodded.“And my mother?”
“She’s buried in the cemetery.”He tipped his head toward the end of town where a road ran parallel.About a half mile down it was a large plot that housed many of the town’s former residents.
“Thanks, Sheriff.I’ll be sure to pay her my respects.”
“Good.Your mama was good people, Steve.Real good.For what it’s worth, I, for one, am not surprised that boy Nash Porter’s her grandson.Your mama sang like an angel in the church choir.”
