The Deed I Set Beside His Plate

What My Mother Said

“Ron,” she said.

He did not look up from the paper. His mustache was working, the way it did when he was trying not to say something.

“Ron, honey, look at me.”

He looked at her.

“I signed that house over to you because you were scared,” my mother said. “I knew you were scared. I’ve known since the fish fry. You told me about the county home in Seneca and the suitcase and I thought, well, I can fix that for him.”

Ron’s face went red to the ears.

“But I want you to hear something,” she said, “and I want all these people to hear me say it, because they’re my witnesses.”

She took her hand off his shoulder and laid it flat on the table next to the deed.

“I would have let you stay in that house forever,” she said. “Forever, Ron. Without one piece of paper. You didn’t need it. You never needed it. All you had to do was stay.”

Nobody in that hall moved.

“Duane told me,” Ron said, and his voice cracked. “Duane said the estate tax would take it. He said the state takes the house when you go in the home. I didn’t…”

He stopped.

“I didn’t want to be left with nothing again,” he said, very quietly. “Not at my age. I wanted one thing with my name on it.”

Earl Becker, at the end of the table, set his coffee cup down.

“Ron,” Earl said. “Kansas hasn’t had an estate tax in sixteen years. Duane told me the same thing about my farm. My son’s a CPA. He laughed for a week.”

A few people chuckled, softly. Not at Ron.

“And here’s the other thing,” Earl said, and he leaned forward on his elbows. “Bev’s got a house, and Bev’s got a whole town. You heard them all night. You stay with her, son, you’re not ending up in any county home. Not in this county. We don’t let our own go like that.”

Ron looked down the table at the old men. Walt nodded at him. The two Legion men nodded at him.

He picked up the pen.