Chevy Tahoe.
CJ called out, “Uncle Edward, how much have you had to drink today?”
Obscured as he was by the truck, it was difficult to determine Edward’s reaction to the question, or if indeed he had even heard it. So CJ excused himself from his father and Matt and went to talk with his uncle.
“What do you mean how much have I had to drink?” Edward asked once CJ was close enough that their conversation would remain their own.
“A fifth already, you think?” CJ prodded.
As far back as he could remember, Edward had started the day with a little something, to chase away the pain the war had left him with, he’d explained. CJ had long understood that it wasn’t the physical pain his uncle had needed help with, but for what CJ had in mind this morning it didn’t matter what served as Edward’s inspiration.
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Edward snapped, his face flushing.
“Nothing really.” CJ paused, then caught Edward’s eyes.
“Unless you actually think my mom shot at you. Then it might mean something.”
Edward’s eyes narrowed. He knew he was being played, but he wasn’t sure how.
“What are you getting at?”
“How many DUIs do you have, Uncle Edward?” CJ asked it with a smile, yet there was no missing the threat.
“You wouldn’t.”
“I’m pretty sure my old school friend Officer Hinkle would be happy to pull the Breathalyzer out of his car.”
CJ felt genuine discomfort as recognition of his betrayal took roost in Edward’s eyes. His uncle had never been anything but kind to him; his only sin was that he knew the family’s dirty little secret, and he’d carried it in silence with the rest of them. Of course so had CJ, so who was he to judge? But it didn’t take long before Edward’s pained expression gave way to one of the more pleading variety.
“Come on, CJ. I just came over here for your father. I’ve got no bone to pick with your mom.”
“And she doesn’t have one with you,” CJ said.
Edward looked down at his shoes, worn and mud-splattered. For all of his sixty-plus years he looked like a petulant child. And what he said next did little to dispel that impression. “But she took a shot at me,” he complained.
“Come on, Uncle Edward. You were probably in more danger in the mess hall in Korea than you were on my mom’s porch.” He paused, then added, “And if she’d wanted to hit you, she would have.”
At that, Edward smiled. “I guess she would have.”
As CJ left Edward to rejoin the other men, he thought he saw a curtain move in one of the living room windows.
“Uncle Edward said he was mistaken,” CJ said to Officer Hinkle. “Mom had the gun pointed up in the air when she shot.”
Hinkle opened his mouth and then shut it, then turned so that he could see Edward, who simply nodded.
CJ saw his father’s face turn a deep red. Stepping closer to him, CJ said, “I don’t think Uncle Edward’s going to play your little game anymore.” He didn’t wait for George to respond before returning his attention to Hinkle, who was wearing a smile now.
“There’s still the matter of discharging a firearm within the city limits,” Hinkle said.
“And what’s that? A misdemeanor?”
Hinkle nodded. “I’m still going to need her to come out of there. She did threaten an officer, after all.”
It was CJ’s turn to nod, after which he started for the house. By the time he got to the front door his mother had opened it a crack.
“Your father should just be glad he sent Edward,” was the first thing she said. “I wouldn’t have missed if he’d come himself.”
“Yeah, I mentioned that to Uncle Edward,” CJ said. He could barely see her through the cracked door, just a pair of eyes rimmed with red. “What were you thinking, Mom?”
“That it would feel really good to shoot him,” she answered.
She laughed, a short, sharp sound. She opened the door wider and peeked out, looking past CJ. “What kind of trouble am I in?”
“Not too much. Uncle Edward was kind enough to tell the police that you weren’t exactly shooting at him.”
“Good old Edward,” Dorothy said.
“But you have to come out, Mom. The officer’s going to have to write you a ticket.”
She looked surprised. “A ticket? That’s all?”
“That’s all. But you have to come out.”
Dorothy appeared to think about it for a moment, then shrugged and stepped onto the porch. She was wearing the same housecoat she’d worn the