My son hit me last night, and I said nothing. The next morning, I draped my lace tablecloth over the table, prepared a full Southern breakfast, and brought out the fine china as though it were a celebration.

that slap knocked some sense into you.”

I said nothing. I poured the coffee, steady and composed. He laughed and reached for a biscuit — then looked up.

The color drained from his face.

Seated at the head of the table was Sheriff Thomas Reed, his hat resting neatly beside his plate. To his right sat Pastor William Harris from First Baptist, hands folded,continue reading …