“You have the right to remain silent,” said Trent. 

I stood there in confusion as my ex-boyfriend accosted me outside Harps grocery store. His sheriff’s squad car had come screeching to a stop when he caught sight of me chatting with the old codgers out front. He now stood stiffly in front of me spouting off this nonsense. 

“Boy, where were you when my wife was alive? I could have used a deputy to tell her she could remain silent once in a while,” said Colton Buck, perched on the bench near the entrance. 

Cackling from his seat next to Colton, Billy Ray watched my bewildered reaction to Trent’s statement and elbowed his buddy in the ribs as he tried to one-up his lifelong friend. “Son, you need to work on your pickup lines. This one doesn’t seem to be succeeding very well.” 

Was the old fool right? Was Trent trying to rekindle our relationship? His demeanor did seem odd. Maybe he just felt as awkward as I did, standing in front of each other after ten years apart. He must have been surprised to find me here, and now he was putting on a show for these old-timers, making the situation even weirder. Mom had told me he’d become a sheriff’s deputy but had neglected to mention how good he looked in his uniform, even with the nervous look on his face. 

Feeling uncertain about the right etiquette for greeting an ex-boyfriend you hadn’t seen since high school, I took a step toward him and reached out to give him a hug.

But Trent stepped back. “Lizzie!” His right arm was tense as it moved to his hip. Tight-lipped, he asked, “Do you understand your rights as I have explained them to you?” 

When he paused, I figured he’d finished with his little soliloquy. “Okay, okay, very funny. It’s cool to see that you became a sheriff like you always wanted. But hush now and let me finish telling my story to the boys.” 

Trent’s jaw clenched. “Lizzie, you need to come with me. Now.”

I waved my hands at him. “Stop fooling around. Hey!” I objected as he grabbed my wrists and cuffed my hands together. 

Colton and Billy Ray laughed as my sputtering protests were ignored.

“I know plenty who would frown on that technique for catching yourself a woman,” said Billy Ray.

“Yup. And I’m not sure he’ll be able to reel in that one,” added Colton, returning his neighbor’s nudge as Trent pulled me to his squad car. 

“Hey! Don’t mess with the hair,” I complained as he pushed my head down so I fit into the back seat without smacking into the roof of the car.

“Guess we’ll have to catch the rest of your story later,” called Billy Ray as Trent slammed the door.

“Yeah, later, like in ten years to life,” shouted Colton, cackling at his own stupidity as he turned to Billy Ray for reinforcement. 

Old men were far less funny than they thought they were. 

When I first saw them, fond memories of growing up here in Jenkins, Arkansas, had flooded back. Even the air still smelled the same: pine trees mixed with the musty, almost grassy odor from the lake. Colton’s twang evoked images of visiting with my Pawpaw and his friends at this very meeting spot. Remembering the good things about Jenkins helped balance the memories of the more challenging aspects of growing up here, which were brought back all too vividly after spending the past day with my mother.