Free Unstable by S.E. Hall Page B

here with you, at night, drinking , for shits and giggles. You said you’d tell me about the accident. So start talking.”
    He pops the tab on another beer and takes a long swig before speaking. “Well, no one will ever know exactly what happened, but I think this is probably pretty close. We’d had heavy rain for about three days, and that last night, the official flood warnings were issued. So I went out to check one more time, the river, my cattle, just to make sure none of them had trampled a fence and had any access to it.”
    Which is the same thing my mom and Jack were doing, I’m sure.
    “Anyway, it was coming down hard and it was so damn dark out, but I just happened to shine my flashlight a certain way and caught the tail end of the scene.” He nurses his beer and I wait with bated breath.
    “The calf was already dead, bobbing up every so often, caught on a branch and the mama wasn’t moving, staying right with her baby. I didn’t pay that much mind though, ‘cause the horse I always saw your Mom riding was tied to a tree…but I didn’t see your mom.”
    He stops again, labored exhales huffed out through his nose.
    “Go on,” I choke out, no longer thirsty, setting down my beer.
    “I ran along the bank, screaming her name, searching, praying I’d see her or she’d answer me. I tried not to panic, I kept telling myself she’d know better than to go in a flooded river. I mean, everyone knows not to even drive over a bridge covered with any water, so who’d jump into a rushing current, in the dark, right? But she didn’t answer, never broke the surface, nothing,” he gulps and shakes his head.
    “I’d have gone in after her, Hen, I swear to God I would have, but…it was too late. I called the Sheriff, and I didn’t leave until late in the morning. We searched all night, no one was willing to give up, even though we knew. We’d found him, and when the rain let up and the sun came out…we found her too,” his voice wobbles and then his mood shifts to anger and he throws his beer can into the field as hard as he can. “Best we could figure, your mom’s hand, what was his name?”
    “Jack,” I whisper.
    “Jack, he must’ve went in after the calf, and like I said, so did the calf’s mama. Judging from the huge knot on his head and twisted, broken leg, the cow knocked him down coming after her baby. Or maybe he just fell, no man could’ve kept sure footing in that current. My guess is, your mom went in to save him. We found her quite a ways down the river. Your mom, such a bitty thing, just got swept away. I’m so, so sorry, Hen.”
    “Thank you, Keaton, for trying. And for telling me. At least now I have some idea.” I raise my arm and fake a cough, covering my whimpers and quickly swiping at my eyes.
    “She must’ve really cared about him, Jack.” I ponder aloud. “You ever meet him?”
    “Not officially. Saw them in town together a time or two, but like I told ya, me and your mom didn’t talk much. I just, couldn’t quite get past the past.”
    Same , I think to myself.
    But my audible response forms and speaks itself. “She was only trying to help me. I didn’t exactly make it easy on her, and she was mourning too.”
    It’s not the alcohol talking, it’s me, older now, having learned so many things since being back here, and finally trying to face the truth my younger, bitter soul, cut completely in half, simply wouldn’t allow.
    Why couldn’t I have realized it before? Just once, answered a call, a letter…anything. Hindsight is my hatred enemy.
    “I know that, now , I suppose. But I was young too, and it didn’t sit well with me. And then it festered until…it was just easier to avoid her. But she was a good woman. Not many people would jump into a raging river to save someone else, unless maybe it was their kid.”
    I think about his words. Jack was all she had, helped her when I refused to. He no doubt held her when she cried and tried every day to drag a smile