KING(52)

“How you do know King?” I asked, chopping green peppers onto a cutting board. I used the knife to wipe them into a bowl and started on the onions.

“He didn’t tell you?”

“He doesn’t say much,” I admitted.

“Man of few words, that one,” Grace said warmly. “I’ve known Brantley since he was a snot-nosed middle schooler. He tried to steal from my garden one day. He wasn’t a day over twelve.”

“Brantley?”

“He really doesn’t tell you anything, does he?” Grace cast me a sideways glance.

“What did you do when you caught him?” I was curious about how King forged a relationship with a lady three times his own age.

“I got a switch off the tree, just like my mama would have done, ripped his jeans down past his little, white butt, and whipped some sense into him,” Grace said, casually as she rinsed a tomato under the tap and dried it with a paper towel.

“No, you didn’t!” I said, half in disbelief and half because I couldn’t imagine this little sprig of woman giving King a spanking.

“Yes, I sure did. Then, Edmund called Brantley’s mom while I made dinner, but she didn’t answer. Edmund left a message, but his mom never came. So, he stayed for dinner. Then, he stayed the night. He’s come over every Sunday since. Well, every Sunday he hasn’t been mixed up in something or sitting in prison. In that case, we went to him.”

“You knew he was in prison?”

“Of course. Visited him every week. And when my Edmund died, that little boy came to his funeral wearing a green tuxedo he bought from the thrift shop that was three sizes too big. I’ve offered to let him live here a thousand times, but that boy was never one who could be contained. He chose to stay out there, do what he does, and he comes to take care of me and the house in between.”

“So, you know…everything?”

Grace nodded. “Not the nitty gritty details but I’m no dimwitted woman. I know my boy isn’t exactly walking on the right side of the law. But I know that I love him like a son, and he loves me like his mama so that’s all that matters to me.” Grace didn’t pause when she continued. “Love is what you would do for the other person, not what you do in general. There is no doubt in my mind that he would throw his life down for me. I would do the same without hesitation.” She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bowl of green peppers. “I also know that everything you said out there, about how you two met, is true.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” I asked.

Grace sighed and looked away, deep in thought. “There was this movie I watched as a little girl. This black and white picture about a cowboy who robbed trains. I’ll never forget the ending. You see, the cowboy turns to the woman he loves, after she just found out that he was the train robber, and he tells her that although he did horrible things, he stole from people, killed people, it didn’t mean he loved her any less or that he wasn’t capable of love.”

Grace motioned for me to pick up the salad bowl and follow her out onto the deck. I set the bowl on the table, and Grace arranged the plates and forks. When she was done, she guided me to the railing and nodded over to where King stood on a ladder, replacing a light bulb on a small shed in the corner of the yard.

“What I’m trying to say, dear, and what I think the cowboy was trying to say to his love in that movie, is that there is a difference between being bad and being evil. Just because he was a very bad boy, that doesn’t mean he couldn’t be a truly great man.” I was rolling her words around in my brain when she added, “And God help me, little one, you break his heart, and I will cut you where you stand. If I’m long gone when that happens, be assured that death will not stop me from bringing you down.” Grace smiled like she hadn’t just threatened my life and brought me in for another hug. “Now, let’s go get the meatballs.”

Grace may have been a little thing, and she definitely had the wrong idea about what was going on between myself and King, but I had no doubt that if I crossed her, she would carry through on her threat without blinking an eye.

King ducked inside the bathroom to wash his hands and then joined us out on the deck. The sun had just started to set when I noticed the strands of lights crisscrossing over our heads. As the sun sank lower, the lights got brighter until they looked like thousands of tiny stars shining over our meal.

We ate, and Grace did most of the talking. She frequently refilled my mojito, and at one point rushed inside to make another pitcher. She was curious about me and asked a lot of questions. In between shoveling meatballs into my mouth, I filled her in on my story.