He finally broke down and cried too.
The last supper was cooked by Nineva and it was Pete’s favorite: fried pork chops, whipped potatoes and gravy, and boiled okra. He arrived after dark with the sheriff and Roy, who sat on the porch and rocked in wicker chairs as they waited.
Nineva served the family in the dining room, then left the house, in tears. Amos walked her home, after saying his good-byes.
Pete carried the conversation, primarily because no one else had much to say. What were they supposed to say at that awful moment? Florry couldn’t eat and Joel and Stella had no appetites. Pete, though, was hungry and carved his pork chops as he described his visit to Whitfield. “I told your mom that you would see her on Friday, if that’s what you want.”
“That should be a pleasant little gathering,” Joel said. “We bury you Friday morning, then race off to the nuthouse to see Mom.”
“She needs to see you,” Pete said, chewing.
“We tried once before,” Stella said. She had not lifted a fork. “But you intervened. Why?”
“Well, we’re not going to argue over our last meal, now are we, Stella?”
“Of course not. We’re Bannings and we don’t discuss anything. We’re expected to keep a stiff upper lip and just plow on, as if everything will be okay, all secrets will be buried, life will eventually return to normal, and no one will ever know why you’ve put us in this horrible position. All anger is to be suppressed, all questions ignored. We’re Bannings, the toughest of all.” Her voice cracked and she wiped her face.
Pete ignored her and said, “I’ve met with John Wilbanks and everything is in order. Buford has the crops under control and he’ll meet with Florry to make sure the farm runs smoothly. The land is in your names now and it will stay in the family. The income will be split each year and you’ll get checks by Christmas.”
Joel put down his fork and said, “So life just goes on, right, Dad? The State kills you tomorrow, we bury you the next day, then we leave and go back to our own little worlds as if nothing has changed.”
“Everybody dies at some point, Joel. My father did not see fifty, nor did his father. Bannings don’t live long.”
“Now, that’s comforting,” Florry said.
“Male Bannings, I should say. The women folk tend to live longer.”
Stella said, “Could we talk about something other than dying?”
Joel said, “Oh, sure, sis. The weather, the crops, the Cardinals? What’s on your mind at this terrible hour?”
“I don’t know,” she said as she touched her napkin to her eyes. “I can’t believe this. I can’t believe we’re sitting here trying to eat when this is the last time we’ll ever see you.”
“You have to be strong, Stella,” Pete said.
“I’m tired of being strong, or pretending to be. I can’t believe this is happening to our family. Why have you done this?”
There was a long gap as both women wiped their eyes. Joel took a bite of potatoes and swallowed without chewing. “So, I guess you plan to take your secrets to your grave, right, Dad? Even now, at the last hour, you can’t tell us why you killed Dexter Bell, so we are destined to spend the rest of our lives wondering why. Is that where we are?”
“I’ve told you I’ll not discuss it.”
“Of course not.”
“You owe us an explanation,” Stella said.
“I don’t owe you a damned thing,” Pete snapped angrily, then took a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry. But I’ll not discuss it.”
“I have a question,” Joel said calmly. “And since this will be my last chance to ask it, and it’s something I’ll be curious about for the rest of my life, I’m going to ask. You saw a lot of terrible things in the war, a lot of suffering and dying and you yourself killed a lot of men in battle. When a soldier sees that much death, does it make you callous? Does it make life and living somewhat cheaper? Do you reach a point where you think that death is not that big of a deal? I’m not being critical, Dad, I’m just curious.”
Pete took a bite of a pork chop and chewed it as he considered the question. “I suppose so. I reached a point where I knew I was going to die, and when that happens in battle a soldier accepts his fate and fights even harder. I lost a lot of friends. I even buried some of them. So I stopped making friends. Then I didn’t die. I survived, and because of what I went through it made life even more precious. But I realized that dying is a part of living. Everybody reaches the end. Some sooner than others. Does that answer your question?”
“Not really. I guess there are no answers.”
“I thought we weren’t talking about dying,” Florry said.
“This is surreal,” Stella said.
“Life is never cheap,” Pete continued. “Every day is a gift, and don’t forget that.”
“What about Dexter Bell’s life?” Joel asked.
“He deserved to die, Joel. You’ll never understand it, and I suppose you’ll learn one day that life is filled with things we can never understand. There’s no guarantee that you are allowed to live with the full knowledge of everything. There are a lot of mysteries out there. Accept them and move on.”
Pete wiped his mouth and shoved his plate away.
“I have a question,” Stella said. “You’ll be remembered for a long time around here, and not for the right reasons. In fact, your death will probably become a legend. My question is this: How do you want us to remember you?”
Pete smiled and replied, “As a good man who created two beautiful children. Let the world say what it wants, it cannot say anything bad about the two of you. I’ll die a proud man because of you and your brother.”
Stella covered her face with her napkin and began sobbing. Pete slowly stood and said, “I need to be going. The sheriff has had a long day.”
Joel stood with tears running down his cheeks and hugged his father, who said, “Be strong.”
Stella had dissolved into a mess of tears and couldn’t stand. Pete bent over, kissed her on the top of her head, and said, “Enough crying now. Be strong for your mother. She’ll be back here one day.”
He looked at Florry and said, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She nodded as he left the dining room. They listened as the front door closed, then all three had a good cry. Joel walked to the front porch and watched the sheriff’s car disappear on the highway.
Chapter 19
Thursday, July 10, the date on the second death warrant signed by Judge Rafe Oswalt, Pete Banning awoke at dawn and lit a cigarette. Roy Lester brought him a cup of coffee and asked if he wanted breakfast. He did not. Roy asked if he’d slept well and he replied that he had. No, there was nothing Roy could do for him at the moment, but thanks anyway. Leon Colliver called out from across the hallway and suggested one last game of cribbage. Pete liked that idea and they arranged their game board between their cells. Pete reminded Leon that he owed him $2.35 in winnings, and Leon reminded Pete that he had not paid him for all the illegal liquor they had consumed in the past nine months. They had a laugh, shook hands, and called it even.
“Hard to believe this is really gonna happen, Pete,” Leon said as he shuffled the deck.
“The law is the law. Sometimes it works for you; sometimes it doesn’t.”
“It just don’t seem fair.”
“Who said life is fair?”
After a few hands, Leon pulled out his flask and said, “You may not need this but I do.”