After the call ended, Shirley sent a group text to her sons, calling a family meeting for that evening, and after the year they’d just lived through, the text sent them all into a panic.
Getting that message from his mom stopped Aaron cold. He didn’t even go back to his apartment after he got off work at the service station, and drove straight to her home, worried all over again as to what else might be happening.
His younger brothers had all moved home after the fallout to help pay the bills and look after Shirley, but the moment they got her messages, a feeling of dread came over them.
That evening they began arriving within moments of each other, leaving B.J., the youngest, to be the last to get home from his job at a fast-food drive-in. He parked his Harley in a skid, then came running into the house, wide-eyed and pale.
“Mom! What’s wrong?”
“Sit down with your brothers,” she said, then drew a slow, shaky breath.
“Your grandma has died. Aunt Annie said they found her in her bed. She died in her sleep.”
“Oh, Mama!” they said in unison, and jumped up and ran to her, hugging her and commiserating with her, which brought on another round of weeping.
“I’m so sorry,” Aaron said. “We were all going back for Easter right after Kelly and I got married, and then Dad broke your nose, and we made excuses. We were going to go a year ago last Christmas, and that shit with Dad happened and we didn’t. Now this.”
Shirley wiped her eyes. “Your grandma knew what was happening. She always knew. We talked weekly, sometimes more. She didn’t blame us for the situation. Aunt Annie said there won’t be a funeral. Mom didn’t want one. But when we do go there, she wants us to spread her ashes on the mountain.”
“So, we’re going now? After she’s gone?” Wiley asked.
Shirley swallowed past her tears.
“As the only living child, I have inherited the home and land where I grew up. I own it now. We haven’t been welcome in this town for a long time. I want to go home to stay, and I’m asking if any of you want to come with me. We’ll be living in a home that’s paid for, surrounded by family and people who love us, and there is always work to be had in Jubilee.”
Sean sighed. “But Mama, what will they think of us? I mean…we’ll still be Clyde Wallace’s sons.”
Shirley’s chin came up. Her eyes were still teary, but her voice was sure and strong.
“They’ll think I have raised four fine sons,” Shirley said. “And none of us have to bear Clyde Wallace’s name or sins if we don’t want to. You’re not just your father’s child! You’re mine, too, which makes you Popes. You carry the DNA of generations of honorable men within you, and you might as well carry the name as well.”
Aaron stood, his fists clenched. “I choose to change.”
Sean nodded where he sat. “I choose to change.”
Wiley was grim-lipped. “Hell yes, and thank you!” he said.
B.J., the youngest, had tears in his eyes. He’d known nothing but his father’s abuse and rage, and now the shame of being his son.
“I choose you, Mama. I always have,” B.J. said.
Shirley nodded. “Then we’ll do it! Since there are so many of us doing it at once, I’ll contact a lawyer to get us through the process.”
Within the month, it was done. They’d cut the last link they would ever have with Clyde Wallace by rejecting his name.
After that, leaving Conway was easy.
* * *
March—Pope Mountain
Shirley Pope’s heart was pounding as she and her sons drove their little convoy through the bustling tourist attraction of Jubilee, located in the valley below Pope Mountain. She was coming back to her roots and almost at the end of their journey.
Shirley and B.J. were in the lead.
Aaron was in his SUV behind his mother.
Sean was behind Aaron, driving his car, and Wiley in his car behind Sean, and just ahead of the moving van bringing up the rear.
B.J.’s Harley was in the moving van, and he’d been riding shotgun with his mother all the way.
It had been far too long since Shirley had made this trip. Her eyes were full of tears, but they weren’t tears of joy. She was crying because there was no one left to welcome them home.
Even though six weeks had passed since they’d received the news, Shirley was still in shock that it had happened. Her mother had seemed invincible, even immortal, and had been Shirley’s steadfast backup through her abusive marriage with Clyde Wallace. Helen had always been the gentle voice and the deep wisdom Shirley needed in times of strife.
As they were driving out of Conway, Shirley made a call to Annie, letting her know they were on the way. But it had taken a long day of traveling before they met their moving van in Frankfort this morning to lead the way home.
This was the last leg of a long trip. They didn’t know what lay ahead, but anything would be better than what they’d left behind.
Shirley’s sons only knew what she’d told them about her side of the family. Thanks to their dad, their visits to Kentucky had been few and far between. But they knew their ancestors had lived in this place since the early 1800s. And they knew this mountain they were now driving up on bore their family name. Here, in this place, they hoped to regain their sense of self. To be proud of who they were again. And one day, know that their mother was no longer crying herself to sleep.
From the moment they’d started up the tree-covered mountain, B.J. quit talking and became wide-eyed and quiet—too quiet. After the four-lane highways and the busy streets of their city, the two-lane blacktop on which they were traveling seemed little more than a trail cut through a wilderness. Shirley was worried he was not happy about her decision.
“So, B.J., what do you think?” she asked, then heard him sigh.
“I think it feels safe here.”
She smiled. “Good. Hold that feeling,” and kept on driving. A few miles later, she began slowing down and flipped on her turn signal. “There’s where we turn.”
One by one, the vehicles behind her did the same as she left the blacktop and began following the gravel road up into the trees.
The house was a hundred yards back, all but buried in the woods, but as soon as she passed the twin pines, she saw the house, and then gasped at the sight of a half dozen cars in the yard and a whole row of people lining the front porch.
“Mama, who are those people?” B.J. asked as she parked off to the side.
Shirley shivered, seeing herself in their faces. The high cheekbones. The dark hair. The women’s curves. The men’s broad shoulders.
“Some of our family. Look at them. That’s why you’re all so tall. That’s where your dark hair comes from. Look at them, and you’ll see yourself.”
“Oh wow,” B.J. whispered.
One by one, her sons parked, but when they got out, they headed straight for Shirley, as did the people coming off the porch. After that, they were surrounded, fielding hugs and handshakes.
Then one man who stood a head above the rest spoke up from the crowd.
“Shirley, I’m Cameron Pope, your aunt Georgia’s oldest son. This is my wife, Rusty. Welcome home.”
Shirley was crying. “You were just a boy last time I saw you. These are my sons, Aaron, Sean, Wiley, and Brendan Pope, but we call him B.J.”