Chapter Five

With the slight chill of morning and the air still dewy and fresh, everything sat quiet and still. The occasional horse snorted from inside the barn and cows mooed. Animals moved in the open fields, munching on grass.

Two horses ran up from the back of the closest field. Hooves pounding on the ground spoke of their power. They were majestic with their manes and tails flowing. Someone less knowledgeable might've thought the horses were running for pleasure, but Greg knew they had seen him walk along the fence and thought it was breakfast time.

Greg felt like shit warmed up in a microwave. Surprisingly enough, having drunks for parents hadn't provided a tutorial on alcohol consumption.

The fast-food burger sat in the pit of his stomach like a pile of lead. It curbed the nausea, but the heaviness of the meal weighed him down.

He would have thought working on the biggest ranch in Pickleville would've afforded some level of privacy, but that wasn't the case. Not with Leonard, who always kept a watchful eye on every damn thing Greg did.

Leonard could read Greg's mind better than a psychic. How he did it remained a mystery, at least to Greg. Leonard saw through a lot of Greg's walls, although he had a couple that had tumbled down, exposing him to everyone at Kyler's party, including Leonard.

In the sober light of day, Leonard was probably the last one on the long list of those who triggered his embarrassment. He'd already encountered the first person today, so nothing Leonard said or did would make that big a difference.

Leonard sat on the front porch of the bunkhouse, rocking in his old wooden chair. He was the only one who ever sat in it. The view from the porch was nice, especially in the mornings, when human sounds weren't drowning out the natural ones.

The rocker had scars and a faded finish, matching the man who sat in it with his stained coffee cup in one hand and his craggy, kind face. The seat cushion had owls all over. It had been replaced at least twice in the six years Greg had been there. Probably a thousand before that. Greg couldn't remember the cushion before the owls, but it probably had some sort of bird on it too. Maybe one less wise.

Greg nodded and took the step up onto the porch, leaning against the railing. He would've loved to have gone in and taken a shower, maybe change the clothing he'd been wearing since last night, and sleep for a couple of more hours before they started morning chores. Going inside the house wasn't an option. He could see that in the slight squint of Leonard's eyes.

"Morning." Greg gripped the railing with both hands and folded his legs at the ankle.

"Mhmm." Leonard took a sip of his coffee, watching the horses, who were now at the fence, waiting patiently. He rested the cup on the chair's arm, still holding it steady, like Leonard held everything else. "This ain't gonna be about the alcohol. That ain't your problem, and we both know it."

Greg nodded once, tensing because he knew it wouldn't be about Brian either. The only other thing left was Greg's mother. It figured Leonard would pick the hardest one.

"My daddy was a drunk. He beat the shit out of my mama and older brother. Me too, when I provoked him. I'd do that on purpose, so he'd leave Mama and my brother alone. They still got it worse. Mama would never go to the authorities." Leonard shook his head in disgust. "Back then they didn't do anything anyway. A man's business was his business."

"You didn't abide by that philosophy." Greg knew enough about the old chief, who had retired, to know he would have shipped Greg off to some boy's home in the city. The fact that he had come to the Heath farm had everything to do with Leonard. Maybe Travis had a small part to play as well. Greg didn't know and had never asked.

"Nope. I saw a good kid who needed help. Not in my nature to ignore it. ‘sides that, there's plenty of room around here."

Greg smiled. "Right. All about the amount of space."

Leonard smirked and shook his head. "Anyways, my daddy got real drunk one night. He wanted the money that Mama had stuffed in a jar in the freezer. I think she might have been planning to use it to escape him. Course, I never asked to find out, even after Daddy died."

"What happened?" Greg knew a little about Leonard's past. Like he knew Leonard had loved Neil's dad and had been with him for several years. And Greg knew Leonard had grown up in the south but didn't know exactly where. He'd never heard about Leonard's childhood, though.

"Mama wouldn't give it to him, so he backhanded her so hard she fell. Cracked her head open on the edge of the counter. My brother went after him, and Daddy didn't have a chance. Not with the drink in him. I remember my mom trying to rinse the blood from my brother's hands."

Leonard paused for long minutes. "Daddy died that day. And my brother went to prison for his murder. Mama and I visited him every time they would let us, even though the trip took three hours to make and sometimes we didn't have the money."

"Did he ever get out?"

"No. He died behind bars. Of cancer, we were told." Leonard had a smile on his face. "Ended up counseling other prisoners. The warden called him a model prisoner." Leonard met Greg's gaze and held it. "He was quiet and thoughtful. And he had a bad temper."

"Like me." Greg stiffened, averting his eyes to the gaps in the porch boards.

"Yep. You remind me of him in a lot of ways. He did the hard thing so Mama and I could find peace. Sacrificed himself for us. I'll always be grateful, but I've thought about the what-ifs over the years enough to know the choices could've been different."

"Which are?"

Leonard took another sip of his coffee before answering. "What if the authorities had gotten involved? Daddy had his good moments. He'd loved us more than his next drink once. What if Daddy had a chance to give it up? Communication is important when the alternative is death."

Greg sighed and closed his eyes. The tension left his body, and his shoulders sagged. "Will you come with me?"

"I wouldn't let you talk to your mother alone. That woman probably ain't gonna say the right thing. We both know that."

Greg opened his eyes and smiled. "Yet, you're telling me to talk to her."

Leonard rocked his chair. "Everyone deserves a second chance. Even her."

With that, Greg left the railing. "I need a shower first."

Greg let Leonard drive. He had a headache, and the nausea was slowly creeping back into his system as the burger grease worked its way down. He needed sleep and for tomorrow to come.

Greg and Leonard were good at comfortable silences. The hum of the engine, the rotation of the tires as they rolled down the road, and the deep voice of George Strait asking some lady to check yes or no while he strummed the guitar floated through Leonard's truck.

And then Greg's cell phone buzzed in his front pocket. It took some delicate maneuvering to get the thing out. The seatbelt dissecting his pocket didn't help.

When he glanced at it, he didn't recognize the number, but it was a text anyway. He decided to read it on the return trip back home. He held the phone in his hand, ignoring it in favor of the view out of the window.

Leonard parked in the lot next to the station and shut off the engine. He held his keys in his hand but didn't get out, waiting for Greg to make the first move.

Greg sighed and opened the truck door. The sooner he went inside the station, the sooner he'd get the shit done.

Greg put his phone back into his front pocket and walked over to Leonard, waiting for him to get his old ass out of the truck.

Leonard had slowed down in the last year. Arthritis had set in hard and heavy, making his body ache in all the wrong places. Not that Leonard complained or even stopped doing stuff around the farm. He wouldn't stop until his body ultimately gave out, forcing the issue.

Greg still waited, keeping his hand in his pockets and his head down.

"Been a while since I've been to the station." Leonard put a hand on Greg's shoulders. The physical contact helped calm Greg's nerves, although Leonard did it to stabilize himself. He got a little wobbly on his feet after standing sometimes.

"Me too."

Leonard let his shoulder go and walked toward the station.

Greg kept pace with him. He let Leonard open the station door but stepped in before him. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to think he hid behind Leonard, no matter how much he wanted to do precisely that.

Greg went up to the counter and waited to get the deputy's attention.

Olivia Berne hadn't been a deputy for very long. Maybe three years or so, but she'd lived in Pickleville her whole life and knew Greg's story about as well as other folks her age. She had only been a few grades ahead of Greg in school, after all.

She stopped what she was doing and met his gaze. "Are you here to talk to the chief or speak to Sherri Mitchell?"

"Sherri." Greg's hand tightened around his cell phone. The compact flip phone didn't do much to anchor him, but he had to try something. He'd drop the weight of the world otherwise.

And then Leonard put a hand on his shoulder again. It stabilized him, letting him know he didn't have to face her alone.

Greg took a deep breath and patted Leonard's hand. His skin was warm when Greg touched him, and he didn't linger.

Olivia nodded right before she stood up from her desk. "Follow me."

Greg opened the half-door that separated the civilians from the police department and walked through. It hadn't been his first time walking through the tan, wooden door. He hadn't forgotten where the lock was and how to maneuver it open. Even more years could go by, and Greg still wouldn't forget.

Leonard moved his hand down to Greg's arm, gripping it.

When Olivia took them through the door that led to the holding area, her keys rattled in the lock. "We're moving them to the courthouse soon. You'll only have a few minutes."

Greg stiffened when she held the door open. He knew Leonard felt it underneath his hand because his grip tightened, reminding Greg of his presence.

Two cells were like what the television made everyone think of when it came to jail—thick metal bars with benches on one side and a cot-type bed against the far wall. A small metal toilet and sink took up the left corner. It was next to the cot, which Greg found disgusting, but he wasn't the one who had to spend his time in a cell.

Sherri sat on the cot in the cell closest to the outer door. Hard living had brought a gauntness to her face that hadn't been there before. She had a yellow pallor to her skin that spoke of liver damage. Despite not washing her hair in a while, she'd pulled it back in a neat ponytail. A dark bruise covered her left forearm.

She stood when they entered, walking to the thick bars that made up her cell's door, gripping them as their gazes met and held for a moment longer than Greg's nerves could handle.

A man was lying on the cot in the cell next to Sherri's. Greg had seen the guy around town a time or two. They had never exchanged pleasantries, and it didn't appear they ever would. The man never even opened his eyes to see who'd entered.

"My Greg is all grown up." She turned to the man on the cot. "Isn't he about the handsomest kid you ever saw, Carl?"

Carl grunted. "Your voice is giving me a headache, woman," Carl yelled the last part of the sentence. If anything gave him a headache, it should have been the sound of his own yelling.

Sherri turned toward Carl, although she didn't move. Her expression grew vicious, and her voice lowered. "As soon as they let me out, I'll show you a fucking headache. Worthless piece of shit."

Carl came off the cot, reaching through the bars, trying to get to her.

Leonard sighed and sat on the bench behind them. "Damn."

Yeah, that about covered how Greg felt too. Greg sat beside Leonard and waited Sherri out.

It took a couple of minutes before Sherri focused on him again, and when she did, she plastered a smile on her face. She gripped the bars. "I can't believe you're here. How much was the bail? I'll pay back every cent."

"No bail. Not this time."

Sherri waved a hand, dismissing Greg. "They always say they'll lock me up for good, but it hasn't happened yet."

"Not this time."

Sherri lost her smile. "You're going to let me rot, aren't you? You came here to rub my nose in it. You might have a fancy job with the Heaths, but you're still nothing but a lowlife. Like your father."

Greg's gut twisted, but not because her words affected him emotionally. He ran a hand down his face and let the realization that Sherri Mitchell wouldn't ever care about anyone, including Greg. Deep down, Greg knew the truth, but it had been years since he'd had to deal with her shit.

He met her gaze. "You've gotten worse. Never thought that was possible." But there it was.

The vicious look she'd given Carl a few minutes before, she gifted to Greg. "I don't even know what you're talking about."

"Of course you don't." He didn't expect her to have a deeper understanding of herself. All she saw was the next fix.

Greg stood, holding out his arm for Leonard to grab for stability.

"You're gonna leave me like your father did." Spit flew from Sherri's mouth, landing inches from where he stood.

Roger leaving Sherri was news to Greg, and if he did that probably meant his dad had gotten sober at some point.

"You don't need me anyway, Mom. Never did." And something about saying that aloud lifted the world off Greg's shoulders. He didn't have to wish for something more from her.

"Damn straight."

Greg shook his head as he followed Leonard out of the holding area. "Nothing has changed."

"Except for you. Remember that, boy." And that was why Leonard had pushed him to see her.

Greg patted Leonard on the back as they walked out of the room. "Thank you."

"For what?"

"You know. Don't make me get mushy. Neither one of us likes that."

Leonard chuckled.

When they got out into the main office, Greg checked his phone. A number he didn't recognize popped up. Can we talk?

It couldn't be Brian. Could it?