Family Sins. Sharon Sala

the family church. He glanced at his mother to see if she was upset by all this chaos, but she’d turned into the perfect hostess, and was quietly seeing to everyone’s comfort and talking to her daughters-in-law about food.

      When Leigh saw all the food from family and friends it seemed to settle her concerns. Home was familiar. Home and family were the comfort she would need tonight.

      It wasn’t long before she picked up her grandson, Johnny, and began carrying him around on her hip like she’d done when her own boys were small, taking comfort in being able to meet his simple needs. When Bella and Maura announced dinner was ready, Leigh went into the kitchen with Johnny to get him fed first. Leslie already had a plate filled with things he would eat. Leigh asked if she could feed him, and Leslie quickly found them a seat in the kitchen and left them on their own.

      Bowie was thinking Johnny had been a baby in arms when he’d seen him last, and now he was walking and saying words.

      But while Johnny was eating well, he noticed his mother wasn’t. Her plate was untouched. He understood her lack of appetite, but he didn’t want her to faint on them later, so he brought her a piece of cake and sweet iced tea.

      “Thank you, son, but I’m not hungry,” she said.

      “Just a few bites,” he said, and walked away.

      Later, he noticed she’d drunk the tea and some of the cake was gone, too.

      He went back into the living room with a piece of pie and a refill of his own iced tea, found a chair out of the way and let the conversation roll over him while trying not to think of why they were all there.

      He finished the pie and was thinking about sleeping in this house tonight without Stanton, when something he heard his Aunt Polly say stunned him.

      “It’s so sad,” Polly said. “I heard Talia finally had to call in hospice. She’s been a faithful daughter, for sure, tending to him like that on her own.”

      Her sister-in-law, Beth, nodded in agreement.

      “You know my granny passed the same way. When they get to that point, there’s nothing you can do but wait it out at their bedside.”

      Bowie was speechless, and then his need to know more drove him to ask, “Aunt Polly, are you by any chance talking about Talia Champion?”

      She nodded. “Yes, her father’s Alzheimer’s has just about run its course.”

      “How long has he been suffering from it?” Bowie asked.

      Samuel knew the moment Bowie spoke what he was thinking. They’d all wondered what had happened between Bowie and Talia, but it wasn’t their way to intrude on each other’s personal business.

      “If I had to guess, it’s probably been something like six or seven years, at least,” Samuel said.

      Bowie’s eyes widened as he thought about what that meant, and then he got up and stepped outside onto the porch.

      The night was quiet. The sky was dark—not even a sliver of moon to mark the passing of time. Lights from inside their home spilled out through the windows, painting oblong patches of yellow-gold on to the simple wooden porch.

      An owl hooted from a nearby tree. Somewhere on the mountain, someone was running their hounds. He could hear the dogs yipping as they struck a trail, and he remembered nights like that with his brothers and their dad. It hurt to think all of that was gone.

      Sick at heart about his father, and confused by what he’d learned about Talia, he closed his eyes. Away from home, he’d dreamed of nights like this, lying in bed with the windows up, letting in fresh air and falling to sleep so close to heaven.

      He heard the door open behind him but didn’t turn around. And then he felt a hand on his shoulder and heard Samuel’s voice behind him.

      “Are you okay?” Samuel asked.

      “Talia never left Eden?”

      Samuel sighed. He’d guessed this was what had driven Bowie out of the room.

      “No.”

      “Why didn’t any of you tell me?” Bowie asked.

      “Tell you what, brother? We didn’t know what broke you up. Why would we suddenly butt into your business? It’s not our way, right?”

      Bowie sighed.

      “She turned down my proposal and led me to believe she just didn’t want to get married. I knew I couldn’t live here and see her every day, so I left.”

      “You never saw her after that? Not even when you were home?”

      Bowie shook his head. “I did drive past their place once, but the house was empty. I thought they’d moved away.”

      “She moved into Eden to make it easier for her to take care of him.”

      Bowie took a slow, shaky breath. “Where does she live?”

      “On the street behind the hospital and fire station. It’s directly behind the helipad, a small white house with black trim. I think she drives a blue Ford Taurus.”

      Bowie listened but said nothing.

      “Are you going to go see her?” Samuel asked.

      “I don’t know. There’s too much else going on,” Bowie said.

      “Her father is dying, Bowie. She’s alone. The least you could do is stop by to pay your respects.”

      Having said what he’d come to say, Samuel went back inside, leaving Bowie on his own.

      In the space of one day, Bowie had learned of his father’s murder and Talia’s lie. It was a hell of a lot to consider.

      * * *

      Finally everyone had gone home, and Leigh was seeing to getting Jesse settled in his bed. Bowie could hear his mother explaining all over again why Stanton wasn’t going to come tell him good-night. Taking pity on the both of them, Bowie got up and went down the hall to Jesse’s room.

      “Hey, brother,” Bowie said. “I’m about to head to bed and wanted to come tell you good-night.”

      The grateful expression on Leigh’s face was hard to miss.

      “Thank you,” she said, softly.

      “Why don’t you go shower first, Mama? I’ll shower after you’re done.”

      “Yes,” she said, then leaned over and brushed a kiss across Jesse’s forehead. “Sleep well, honey. Mama loves you.”

      Jesse smiled.

      “Love you, too, Mama.”

      Leigh gave Bowie’s hand a squeeze as she walked past him and out of the room.

      Bowie sat down on the side of Jesse’s bed. It was hard to look at him and know the injuries he’d suffered in battle had left him with the mind of a child.

      “Do you want me to read to you, Jesse?”

      Jesse nodded, and pointed to a stack of books on the bedside table.

      Bowie saw one with a bookmark and guessed someone had been reading that one to him. He smiled when he saw it was a biography of Daniel Boone.

      When Jesse was a kid in elementary school the class had studied Daniel Boone, and once he learned the famous frontiersman had been from Kentucky, he’d come home with a head full of dreams about killing bears and living in a log cabin and hunting for his own food. He played at that until he outgrew the pretend phase of youth.

      “That one,” Jesse said. “Daddy’s reading it to me.” Then his lower lip quivered as tears suddenly rolled. “Daddy can’t read to me anymore. Daddy is dead, Bowie. Daddy went to heaven like my friends in the war.”

      Bowie patted Jesse’s arm and handed him a tissue to wipe his eyes.

      “I