He stood at the end of the long driveaway and stared at the two handicap license plates on the newer-model Lincoln and a compact-size SUV. He smiled imagining his petite mother behind the wheel of that car driving around to her Saturday morning yard sales. He wondered if she still did that? He stood there blowing warm breath into his shivering hands before he tucked them tightly in his coat pockets. He walked up the clean driveway, because forgiveness wasn’t going to just come to him. He reached out and rang the doorbell and realized his hands were shaking because he was terrified, not because it was forty-one degrees. He stared at the front of the house that appeared to be holding up well. The shutters could use a fresh coat of paint. He’d do it for them in a heartbeat, in the freezing cold if they wanted him to.
The door opened slowly as if the person on the other side was expecting the boogeyman. “Hello,” a soft voice said.
“Mom,” Wood said through chattering teeth. There was a long moment of silence as he stepped to the side for her to get a better look at him.
“My god,” she whispered, opening the door farther. “Wood Jr. What are you… I can’t believe it.”
He inched backward on the wide porch just in case she wanted to open the door and let him inside. She didn’t sound angry, just shocked. He’d tried to call them multiple times, but he’d only gotten voicemail. “Yeah, Mom.” Wood smiled, as he tried to see her better through the screen. “It’s me.”
Her hair wasn’t as long as it used to be, and now the silver strands were so bright that they practically glowed. She wore a conservative knee-length dress as she always did—because that’s what ministers’ wives wore—and a light blue cardigan. Mrs. Stephanie Wood had been the most loving, caring mother any child could dream of. And Wood was the spark in her heart, she’d always say, and he’d been the jewel of his father’s eye. Until he’d matured and realized he was gay and no longer wanted to be the perfect pastor’s son at a bigoted church. And he’d paid dearly for it.
“They told us you got out?” She clutched her sweater and pulled the edges closed.
Wood frowned in confusion. “They?”
“Your parole officer. They’re required to call all of your victims when you’re released.” She shook her head and stared coldly at him. “Why’d you come here?”
Wood’s stomach dropped, and all the hope he’d had was ripped from his soul and blown up right in front of his face. The disgust and disappointment he saw in her eyes was his reality check that nothing had changed between them. And it most likely wouldn’t. He clasped his hands together in front of him, giving his mom every damn thing he had. “Mom. Why do you think I’m here after all these years? I came… I came for a hug. For a handshake from my father… for a plate of home-cooked food… hell, a drink of water. I came to… I came to ask my mom and dad to forgive me for the heartache I caused them. I came to get my family back.”
“Just like that?” she said. “Your disgusting lifestyle stole everything from us. You couldn’t just go and let us be. You had to live wild and get liquored up and kill someone! Then they blamed us. You were a grown man capable of making your own decisions… and they blamed us!”
“Mom,” Wood pleaded, close to getting on his knees. He’d missed her arms around him so much; even at his age, he needed his mother now more than ever. “I’ll take that blame, okay? If anyone harassed you afterwards, I promise you, it’s the last thing I wanted. You know that. Mom, please. You know I’m not a killer. Don’t you? Please tell me you know your son… your spark—”
“Don’t you dare,” she snapped, and Wood shut his mouth as if he’d been popped in it. “Don’t you dare say that. My spark is gone. I lost my spark when he chose to live as a homosexual.”
“I didn’t choose anything!” he yelled.
“Wood Jr.!” His father’s booming voice came from behind his mother, making his heart skip a beat.
Wood gathered himself as he thought for a split second maybe his father would be more receptive to burying this decades-old feud. He was a gay man, the end. He’d been born that way, and he’d refused to deny himself. That was why his parents had put him out his first year of art school, to teach him a lesson. And they promised that once he saw the evilness in his ways and repented, he’d be allowed back home. But once Wood left the family church and decided to live his own life—there was no forgiving him for that. Being a homosexual had been intolerable enough for his parents, but now he was a convicted felon, a man-slaughterer—seeing him as anything else but that would be impossible. He’d never again be their son.