Chapter 7: The Wedding and the Secret

When they went to get the ID card, the weeds on Henry’s grave were taller than the headstone.

The cemetery sat on a hill, wildflowers tangled with weeds, the marble stones worn by time and wind.

Henry died of a heart attack—gone in an instant, without a chance for goodbyes.

It happened on a Sunday, right after church, quick as a flash. Folks said it was a blessing, to go so easy.

But he left this world happy, with children and grandchildren, a life full and well-lived.

His memory lingered in every meal, every laugh around the family table.

Last Memorial Day, they brought a whole pork shoulder to his grave. When Caleb poured out the whiskey, a drop of barbecue sauce landed on the flowers, sizzling and sending the crows squawking.

The smell of smoke and sweet sauce hung in the air—a tribute as Southern as any hymn sung in church.

Natalie wiped her eyes. “Go get your ID card reissued. Then you’ll really be one of us, and my dad can rest easy in heaven.”

Her voice shook, but her eyes were steady. It was a promise—a way to close the circle.

At eighteen, Caleb and Natalie got married.

The wedding was small but joyful, neighbors bringing casseroles and pies, the church choir singing until dusk.

He became the rock of the family.

Everyone in town knew him, trusted him, counted on his steady hands and kind heart.

But he’d never reissued his ID card.

It was a strange thing, but no one questioned it—until now.

“Why didn’t you get your ID card all these years?” I asked.

“When my dad was alive, he was scared my real family might come looking for me if I got a new one, so he didn’t want me to. Later on, I just didn’t feel like it.”

There was a quiet sadness in his words—a longing for the safety of old routines.

“He never went out to work, so he didn’t need an ID. So it just never happened.”

“You two never worked outside the family?”

“No, we run a barbecue business—always busy. My husband cooks the pork shoulder, it’s our signature dish, really delicious. On our wedding day, he cooked it himself. Everyone in town loved it. You can ask anybody.”

Natalie’s pride shone bright, her eyes lighting up at the memory. The barbecue shop was more than a business—it was their heart and soul.