Brauner’s Country Market was a bit of a staple in Alabama life, especially for the folks in Driftwood County. Started by an Amish family that made their way south for a better life, the market was a sort of country store offering various handmade knickknacks and old time remedies for various ailments.

The most talked about feature of Brauner’s was the deli counter. Here one could purchase all manner of freshly made sandwiches served on bread baked that day. Such sublime sandwich artistry was highly regarded in Mud Lick, and it was these sandwiches that had Sheriff Roy Templeton at the door of Brauner’s with several slips of paper in hand—orders from other men and women at the Sheriff’s Department.

It was Sheriff Roy’s turn to buy lunch, and everyone apparently wanted Brauner’s. The market was a twenty minute drive from the station, but Sheriff Roy was a man of his word. If the fine men and women wanted freshly made sandwiches, by George, Sheriff Roy would make sure they were the freshest sandwiches he could buy.

As he approached the door of Brauner’s however, a female voice shocked him to his core.

The voice said “Oh my god, he’s still alive.” That voice belonged to Sheriff Roy’s aunt, Cindy, who was standing right behind the Sheriff with a mix of shock and wonder on her face.

An aunt Cindy Sheriff Roy deliberately hadn’t spoken to in eight years.

“Hi, Cindy,” Sheriff Roy stammered. “You doing alright, ma’am?”

“Oh spare me the cowboy Sheriff act, Roy. You’re still going to be the little kid who picked locks in thirty seconds at age ten and who practiced casing banks with Lego sets at twelve in my eyes. Badge or no, I loved your curiosity.”

Cindy was a sweet woman with a good soul, Sheriff Roy thought. Out of all the family members he had to run into in this part of Alabama, however, Cindy would be the most idealistic and clueless.

“My past youthful dalliances with burglar tools and bank robber tales is gone, Cindy. I’m a lawman now. Have been for some time.”

“You would’ve been so good at running the family business,” Cindy began with a meaningful smile on her face. “How’s that boy of yours?”

“He’s eight and finally putting in his fair share of chores,” Sheriff Roy said with a smile. Roy Junior had really begun helping out around the house and his father couldn’t be more proud.

“That’s amazing,” Cindy said beaming. “Do you know who else might be interested in hearing that?”

“I’d rather he not hear it, Cindy.” Sheriff Roy held both hands out, palms up in a “Stop” motion to indicate he didn’t want to discuss whoever Cindy had in mind further.

Cindy’s expression changed from smiling and overly happy to a look that said “I’m not happy with what you did, but I totally get it.”

“He’s not in the best of health, Roy. You’d know that if you’d check in on him from time to time.”

“I used to check on him all the time. When he was pilled or boozed up at Christmas and trying to break into the china cabinets. Y’all made sure of that. I got to be his babysitter.”

Cindy stiffened at this. Apparently nowadays some people on that side of the family felt certain past issues no longer needed to be litigated.

“Let’s not be too hasty to point fingers,” Cindy said. “After all, there’s plenty of issues in the family none of us are proud of.”

“The issue here is that I wasn’t proud of this family’s misdeeds at all. Especially his. I tried really hard to let everyone persuade me it was right to keep a bridge saved for our relationship, but when one person in that relationship keeps setting fire to a bridge? Sometimes you have to let that bridge burn. And he did that. I didn’t. I just said “no” finally.

“You had to go and change your name though when you left us! You and your brother!” Cindy’s voice was now full of resentment and hurt.

“Sometimes, when you need to break off a relationship, you do so cleanly. I believe the kids these days call it “ripping the band-aid off.”

Cindy fought back tears now to try and regain her smile. “If you would just go visit him and make peace with him you’d feel better. It’s the Christian thing to do and you know it, Roy.”

“Christ also said to ‘render unto Caesar that which is Caesar’s,’ but I don’t see him paying any back taxes from what he owed Uncle Sam.”

That was a low blow and Sheriff Roy knew it the moment the words left his mouth. Cindy’s tears were coming at a steady flow, and she pulled a tissue from her purse to dab at her eyes.

“Aww, hell, I’m sorry, Aunt Cindy,” Roy began. Cindy held up a hand of her own and shot a look at Sheriff Roy that was disquieting.

“No, you can keep your apology and do something good with it. Go apologize to him. Make peace even if you don’t think it’s possible. You don’t realize this but he’s got so little time left, and if you don’t go make your peace it’ll leave a spot on your soul.”

Something in Sheriff Roy knew it was the right thing to do.

“Okay. I’ll go to see him. It’s been eight years anyway. Maybe he’s mellowed out.”

Cindy smiled again through the tears. “Time didn’t mellow him out, but you might be able to show him a sober path to redemption.” She hugged Sheriff Roy. “I hope you two manage to find some peaceful resolution to your grudge.”

With that, Cindy left Sheriff Roy holding a pile of sandwich orders and no appetite for one himself.

He had to do something he swore eight years ago he’d never do.

Sheriff Roy was going to visit HIM.

(To be continued—CLS)