CHAPTER 5
Fred’s younger brother, Homer, arrived from Nashville earlier that morning. His wife, April, was due to arrive later that evening after picking up the children from school. They both had agreed that they would not pull the children out of school any sooner than was necessary. The bad news about Auntie Gert would be hard enough to deliver and they were in no rush to deliver it.
Since his arrival, Homer had spent most of his time on the front porch with Fred; at other times, he was in the back yard talking with Alfred. Alfred was not one to place himself willingly in the middle of visible pain and sorrow. But it was clear that Fred’s pain had easily become his own.
“I thank I need a cup of that coffee,” chimed a younger voice from the living room. It was Junior, the Leigh’s eldest child, who had quickly assumed the head-of-household position, having turned twelve years old just weeks before his mother’s death.
This would be the first cup of coffee he’d ever consumed.
Feeling the heavy burden of now having to care for his siblings without his mother, Junior felt it was only natural that he assume other adult responsibilities. Of course, no one objected when he poured a heaping cup of black coffee into one of the jars that his mother had used for canning fruit.
During the last month of his mother’s life, Junior missed a few days of school in an effort to ease his father’s burden. And before she passed, Gert told Junior just how proud she was of him and his responsibility toward her and the household.
Now, as he stood clutching the hot jar, Junior remembered his mother’s often-repeated words:
“Never let people tell you what you can’t do, son.” With that rememberance, he took a gulp of the hot liquid; and even as it burned his mouth and throat, he held a stiff face, a face that was momentarily without emotional or physical pain.