Most folks said Skip was the spittin' image of his grandfather.
Jubal was a man of few words, a private person, and so was Skip. Both men seemed to hold council with only their own thoughts. It was just their way.
But still, Bill worried. It was all too easy for kids to make the wrong decisions and ruin their lives. Bill fretted that his son would fall to the lure of drugs. So many kids in the area already had. The scarcity of high-paying jobs, the collapse of the coal industry, and a million other things had caused so many of Skip's former classmates to toss away their futures.
Bill could only pray Skip steered clear of those blood-sucking, life-stealing traps.
***
Maury sighed and waited for the twin headlights of the old truck to cut through the darkness and signal the return of her husband. The house was quiet. It was easy to lose yourself in inner musings. She picked at a ragged hangnail, worrying it until it bled. The ringing phone tugged her back.
Her heart always caught in her throat at the sound of the phone's ring. Maury knew it was irrational, but she couldn't help it. Bill was a lawman. Skip was out there where God only knew. Maury knew that life could snatch the rug out from under you when you least expected it. She never took anything for granted. And so, she worried.