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With so many family members around, Aunt Shirley assured me that I would eventually remember all their names. I laughed as the baby showered me with kisses, and then Steel sat beside me.
“How are you holding up? Want to check the meat?” Steel asked.
“Sure,” I replied, setting the baby down. I followed Steel outside; the meat had been slow roasting since four in the morning. Cole and I stayed at Steel’s house last night because we knew everything would start early. I took a fork to taste it when Cole joined us. I handed him a bite to taste.
“It’s perfect,” he confirmed.
“Dinner is ready,” Steel called out. The food was laid out buffet-style, and there was an abundance of it. Everyone formed a line; I was tasked with carving the meat onto a massive platter that Steel said belonged to our great-great-grandparents. I didn’t know how many people were there, but they all had their name tags on.
Sitting beside Cole and eating, I noticed Spartan heading straight for Uncle Joe. They spoke briefly, and then Spartan made himself a plate of food. “I wonder what that was about?” I asked Cole.
“If it has something to do with you, they’ll fill us in after dinner,” Cole replied, I glanced around at my relatives and couldn’t fathom how my father could leave his family and these beautiful mountains. I decided I would take Jackie’s ashes and bury them somewhere up here.
I looked at Aunt Shirley, and she smiled, patting my knee. I knew I would never leave this place. It brought me inner peace. “I’ve never eaten this much food,” I remarked to Cole.
“I know I’m stuffed too.”
“Who are the neediest people on this mountain?”
“The Taggert’s have six or seven kids. They live in a run-down shack about three miles from here. Bo Taggert the father, is very stubborn. We’ve tried to help him with his home because it looks like it’s about to collapse, but he refuses any assistance. They only want to be left alone I guess. I haven’t seen them since I’ve been back. I’m surprised the kids even go to school. Izzy is only thirty, and they have all those kids. When they were married, Bo Taggert was thirty, and Izzy was seventeen, at least, I think that’s what I remember.
“Are they happy? How do you know how poor they are? Don’t forget I grew up in a trailer park, and most of the kids there were as poor as the rest of them, and they came from big families. They were happy, and they played all kinds of games. They always asked Jackie and me to play with them. They would knock on our door and yell that a Red-Rover game was starting.”
“Their family used to bring food for Jackie and me. It was hard to accept food from people; we were embarrassed but thankful when they cooked more than they needed. We only took the food when we were really hungry,” I explained. Standing up, I went over to Steel, who was still eating. I sat down.
“What is it,” Steel asked.
“I want to give the leftover food to the Taggert’s. What do you think?”
“I think we might get shot taking the food to Bo Taggert’s family. He’s stubborn, and he can be real mean.”
“Who are Izzy’s parents.”
“Her mom is Tilly Calhoon. She never said who Izzy’s dad was, and she never married anyone.”
“Does she still live on the mountain?”
“No, she left when Izzy got pregnant. She disowned Izzy. Tilly was pregnant and never married. I guess she didn’t want the same thing for her daughter. She hasn’t returned since she left. We used to think that Izzy was related to us because she looked like us. When my Dad asked Tilly if Izzy was a Peterson, she denied it.”
“What do you think?”
“I haven’t seen Izzy in years, so I have no idea what to think.”
“As soon as everyone has finished, I’ll start packing the food. Do we have something to pack the food in? I will talk to Izzy and see if she looks like us. I love my family.”
“We love you, too. Are you getting all emotional again?”
“No, I’m not. Do you think Spartan has news about my father?”
“We are about to find out,” he said, I turned my head, and Spartan walked over with Cole and Uncle Joe. My heart began to race. Cole appeared displeased about something. I wondered what was happening.
“Just tell me, is he dead like we believed?”
“I’m not sure, but twenty-four years ago, a grocery store near your former home was robbed, and one of the robbers was shot in the head. He survived, but he couldn’t recall his name or where he lived when he woke up. The court thought he was lying and sentenced him to thirty years in prison.”
“Is he still in prison?”
“No, he was released after six years, when a witness came forward and told a lawyer that the man who was shot was shopping at the time. The other man who left was the one who shot him. So, I strongly believe he is your father, and his memory has never returned.”
