The old man kicked a rock into the grass. His black boots were highly polished and shined in the Texas sun. They felt tight on his feet and the tie was like an anchor around his neck. It must be the heat, he mused. Clothes weren’t supposed to be tight and heavy. It was going to be one more day in triple digits.
He remembered summers on a Galveston oil rig. Back then the salt in the air had baked him to a dry brown. Hard work, and extended play times were memories that lived into his old age. He had been an impressive specimen, he smiled. He glanced at his well worn wedding band, on his pale fat hand, as he opened the door to Howard’s Crossing. Times change, and so had his once lean body.
It was still early, but Howard would be waiting for him in the office. Delbert Howard and the old man had grown up together. He had followed in his Daddy’s footsteps and taken over the family business. Del moved quickly, to shake Tom’s hand and usher him into his office. The funeral home was cool despite the rising heat outside.
The old man continued to keep his running dialogue in his head. There weren’t many of his old friends left. Old man Tom was once the small town hero, and Del Howard the man who buried other people’s secrets. “Hi Tom, good to see you...” Del broke the silence smoothly, as he reached into his drawer for a bottle of Jack. A coke and two small cups appeared on his desk.
Tom didn’t recognize his own voice when he spoke. “Well, Mattie would be upset if she knew that one more time my generosity has won out over my sound judgment. Andy was a good boy.”
Del Howard raised his eyebrows, and took a drink from the Dixie cup. He looked Tom straight in the eyes and spoke, “Tom I never had children. I would have been proud to call Andy my son. Your reasons are your own, but you can do right by him now.” No more tap dancing and pretending.
It occurred to Tom, after, all these years that most of the town may have known. Andy’s Mom, Tilda, had owned the tavern. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. The old man approached his fifty year wedding anniversary. But it had been interrupted by a wild and wonderful long term affair with a small dark woman. Her laughter still echoed in a place he thought was lost. The eyes of his son still sought his own in his dreams.
Over the years, her drinking had sucked the life right out of her. She never accepted that he would not leave Mattie, he guessed. Then she had died in that terrible accident on State Route 903. Tom didn’t go to that funeral. He didn’t want the town to talk. 
Andy had left after his Mom died. Twenty years and counting, he never came back for as much as a visit. Then Tom got a letter. Andy was finally coming home. He had returned to the old man, who had denied him, and the town that had ignored him. Tom set his cup down. “Well, it’s gonna be a scorcher and Tom Jr. is visiting this week.” He picked up the urn and carefully carried it to his truck.
The old man would ride the train to Shady Point. He knew now that the more things change, the more they stay the same. Andy had sent him a letter and a photo. Andy, who never asked anything while he was alive, had a dying wish. He wanted his own son to know his grandfather. The letter would be ashes. All Tom’s secrets would fly in the wind and Andy and Tilda would finally be gone. He wondered if Tilda would still dance in his dreams… and Andy would still look across the church pew in his memories.
Old sins have long shadows and somehow the old man knew he had not outlived his secrets. Ashes to ashes and dust to dust….
Note: I had lunch the other day with this old man. He still had his suit jacket in his truck. Although, the names and events have been slightly altered, this is based on a real life event. Sometimes there is no way to give it a happy ending…. 
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