It wasn't the fact that Beau Ridendall was sitting in the kitchen. It was the fact that any man would have the gall to breach my mother's threshold. My father had not been dead forty-eight hours.
In fact, his cold, broken body was still 'lying a'corpse' in Dill Waddie's funeral parlor.
Mama saw the shocked look on my face. The color washed from her face like dye from a wet piece of cloth.
Beau hopped up out of his chair like I'd dropped a hot coal into his overalls.
"It ain't what you think, Son," Mama said.
I didn't know what to think. I really didn't.
Beau, a man of many words, remained silent.
When I ran for the shot gun that stood in the corner, Mama, holding an iron frying pan in her hand, swung at me like Babe Ruth.
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Love Songs: The Wrong Note - A Collection of Short Stories
General FictionA second volume of short stories in the Love Songs collection. Many of the stories in this collection focus on the theme of love and how it sometimes goes wrong. A large collection of stories that run the gamut from humorous to tragic. 1. Love Songs...
