The Front Porch Prophet

had hauled hay for two long days to earn it and had always assumed that he had lost it. It had seemed to be a large amount at the time, which was why he supposed it had stuck in his mind. Eugene’s posthumous confession saddened him. He read on.

A few years ago, I made a pass at Maggie May. It was the twenty-dollar deal again. Things weren’t going so well with Diane, and it pissed me off that you had such a great marriage. You don’t need to worry, though. That girl can cut a nut when the mood is on her, and you can believe it when I tell you that she shut me right down. I apologize to you, and I apologize to her. It was a shitty thing to do.

He dropped the letter like a hot rivet, then rose and shuffled into the kitchen. Without thinking, he began to peel potatoes. Then he washed and peeled some carrots that were past their prime but salvageable. He needed an onion, but there wasn’t one in residence. As he cut up the deer roast he had dislodged from the freezer, his mind moved back to the letter. Eugene made a pass at Maggie? He didn’t want it to be true, but why would a dead guy lie about something like that? And why had Maggie kept it to herself all this time? He dumped all the ingredients into a pot and placed it on the burner. Then he wandered slowly back to the desk. He was developing a dislike for letters from beyond the grave.

There is something else I need to tell you. I wasn’t going to, and I don’t know if it will do any good for you to know, but here goes anyway. You and I are brothers. Jackie told me. It beats me how he knew, but when I asked Angel, she admitted it. She said John Robert was the best man she ever knew, and she sort of wished out loud that things had been different, that he had been available. But she knew he wasn’t, even though your mama was gone. I must be getting in touch with my feminine side now that I’m dead, because I think the whole deal is kind of sad. John Robert was so in love with your mama that he wouldn’t try to steal Angel away from Johnny Mack. It didn’t even occur to him to try, and she was a babe back in the old days, even if I do say so myself. And Angel was so in love with John Robert that she respected his wishes and backed off. She told me I was her bonus, and that she never once regretted having me, that I helped her endure the pain of being alive. So at least I was good for something. I’m not telling you this to screw up your head, and I don’t want you to be beating up on John Robert. Being a living damn saint is hard work, so cut him a little slack. He doesn’t know about me, and that’s the way Angel wanted it. So swallow down your little-brother-of-Jesus act and let it pass. I’m telling you this because I am proud that you are my older brother, and I wanted you to know it. You are better than I was. Of course, I had a better time than you did, but you never were much on having fun anyway. There is a box buried under the tree I killed. It is full of money that I really shouldn’t have, so don’t flash it around too much. Make sure Diane and the boys get taken care of, and Angel. The beer joint is yours. If you don’t want it, close it. But my advice is, don’t be a damn fool. If I learned anything in life, it was that people will pay good money to sin. Bootlegging will make you rich. Just don’t forget to give the Law a little taste from time to time. The deed to the mountain is also in the box. I don’t care what you do with it as long as Johnny Mack doesn’t get it. I trust your judgment. Thank you for whacking me. I was afraid of the pain, and I knew I could count on you to get me out of trouble. You always were your brother’s keeper, but we just didn’t know it. Like it says in Proverbs, “There is a friend that sticketh closer than a brother.” Damn. Bible quotes. I must be hedging my bets. Tell Johnny Mack I went out singing Psalms. It will make his day.

Your Brother, Eugene

P.S. – Cremate me in the cabin. Make it a big fire. Don’t let Raymond Poteet get ahold of me. That boy ain’t right. Rufus likes a Chicken McNugget from time to time.

A.J. folded the letter neatly and placed it back in its receptacle. Then he went to the kitchen and stirred his stew. Granmama had always told him that curiosity would kill the cat, but this was extreme. He had a brother. He didn’t doubt a word of it. It felt true. He stepped out to the porch and sat down, and he was sitting there rocking quietly when his brother awoke.

“I must have dozed off,” Eugene said. He sat up straighter and fumbled with his pill bottles before swallowing an assortment of medications. “My yard seems to be on fire,” he noted.

“Yeah, while you were asleep, I decided to burn all your stuff.” Eugene looked bad. He appeared frail and drawn. A.J. wanted to talk to him, to tell him that he knew, to share brotherhood with him. He started to speak, but all that came out was, “Let’s get some food in you and put you to bed.” Eugene didn’t object, so A.J. helped him up and took him in.

“Damn,” Eugene said, looking around the cabin. “I’ll never be able to find anything now.”

“Bitch, bitch, bitch,” said A.J. “Here, eat some of this.” He dished up a small bowl of the stew and served it to Eugene, who ate a few bites, mostly broth.

“This is good,” he mumbled. “Maggie May better watch out, or some tender young thing will snatch you right up.” He put down his spoon and sagged in his chair. A.J. walked him over to the john. Then he supported him to the bed. “Took too much of the good stuff,” Eugene slurred. He crawled in and immediately fell asleep. A.J. covered him up and put a glass of water and all of the medications on the bedside table. He put the stew in the refrigerator and walked outside. Rufus eyed him closely. He pointed toward the open door.

“Go in there and keep an eye on him. I’ll be back tomorrow.” For whatever reason, the big dog went into the cabin. A.J. closed the door, picked up his bat, and walked off the porch to his truck. He had done what he could for his brother on this day, and tomorrow would bring what it brought.

CHAPTER 11

Angel will find a better deal. Again.

– Excerpt of posthumous letter from Eugene Purdue to Johnny Mack

THE FOLLOWING WEEK WAS PECULIAR, EVEN BY THE liberal standard that A.J. had come to accept. His daily schedule had always revolved around his occupation. The removal of this cornerstone via sudden termination had left him with time on his hands, and idle extremities are the Devil’s workshop. So he decided to be more proactive during Eugene’s final days. He had known all along that eventually Eugene’s condition would deteriorate to a point where it would be inadvisable to leave him alone. It seemed the time had arrived.

It was late Sunday night, and they were sitting at the kitchen table. John Robert and the children were in bed, and Maggie had just been informed of her new status as Eugene’s sister-in-law.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” she had said dubiously.

“Neither was I,” A.J. had agreed.

He had not yet warmed up to the idea of John Robert, philandering knave. On the rational level, he knew his father was merely a human being like everyone else. His hang-point was more visceral, and complete acceptance would take time. Maggie, too, experienced cognitive disharmony over the concept. After a little double-clutching, however, she caught another gear and proceeded to the subject of Eugene’s health.

“Will he come down so he can be taken care of?” Maggie asked.

“No,” A.J. replied. “He intends to die up on his mountain. That’s his business, I guess. I just feel bad about leaving him in a drug-induced coma with the dog in charge.”

“No, that doesn’t seem right,” Maggie agreed. She was in her cotton nightgown, looking better than she had any business looking after all their years in tandem. She continued. “I believe it has fallen to you to help look after him. This may even be the reason for you losing your job.” She always sought the ultimate meaning of the universe, the Big Plan. “Think about it,” she said. “Out of nowhere, you hear from Eugene, and he’s dying. Then you lose your job. Then you find out he’s your brother.” She shrugged.

“It does seem a little neat, but I don’t know,” A.J. said. His personal belief system tended toward the Random Cruelty school, but what she said did exhibit a nice sense of order. And he did feel responsible for Eugene. “So, what should I do? Move up there? Come see you when it’s over?” He was unenthusiastic about the idea.

“Absolutely not,” she replied. “There are other people in this besides you. Angel. Jackie. Diane. Even Johnny Mack. If the time has come for someone to be with him all the time, then I think you need to talk to his family about taking turns. If nothing else, you could hire some help. He has plenty of money, and he can’t take it with him.” As was often the case, Maggie’s grasp of the situation was superior to A.J.’s. He began considering the problems