The Broom I Handed My Son In Law

Shawn’s shift ended at half past two. I knew he would come, and at ten after six his pickup turned into the lane.

I told Amanda to stay in the house with Ava, and I went out on the porch and pulled the door shut behind me. Marv’s truck was already parked by the shed. He had come in from the field around five and had been sitting on my porch step ever since, oiling a pair of gloves that did not need it.

Shawn did not come up the walk shouting. He did not come up it like a man looking to break something. He got out of his truck and stood by the fender, and he looked like he had been hit by something he had not seen coming. He was still in his work clothes. He had a note in his hand, the one Amanda had left on their kitchen table.

“She took my daughter,” he said.

“She brought her daughter to her grandmother’s,” I said. “Nobody’s hiding, Shawn. You knew right where to come. They’re in the house, they’ve had supper, and Ava’s doing her spelling words.”

“I want to talk to my wife.”

“I’ll ask her. It’s her say.”

I went in and asked her. She came to the screen door, and she did not open it, and she did not hide behind me either. She stood there with the screen between them.

“Not tonight,” she said.

“Amanda. Come on. Over a glass of milk? I never touched her. I never touched either one of you, not once, you know that.”

“I know it,” she said. “I’ve been saying that to myself for eleven years. He’s never touched me. I said it like it was a prize.” Her voice shook but she got through it. “Ava ran for a broom last night because she spilled her milk. I’m not going to raise her to run for the broom. Not tonight, Shawn. I’ll call you about seeing her.”

He looked at me then. I think he wanted me to be gloating. I think it would have been easier for him if I had been.

I was not. I looked at that young man standing in my yard with a note in his hand and all I could think was that somebody should have handed him a broom when he was fifteen.

“Go on home,” I said. “Get some sleep. She said she’ll call and she will.”

He stood another minute. Marv never got up off the step. He just kept working oil into that glove.

Then Shawn got in his truck and left, and he did not spin gravel doing it.

It was three weeks before I saw him again.

It was a Saturday morning in November, early, frost still on the grass. Amanda had taken Ava to town for shoes. I was on the porch shaking out rugs when his pickup came up the lane.

He got out with his cap in his hand. He had shaved.

“They’re not here,” I said.

“I know. I saw the Buick at the shoe store.” He turned the cap over. “I came to talk to you.”

I did not ask him in. But I set down the rug and I sat on the top step, and after a minute he sat on the bottom one, sideways, so he did not have to look at me straight.