Cry Me A River by Ernest Hill

rows of tomatoes, the tall stalks of corn, and the full, round heads of plush green cabbage, he could feel her eyes on him, examining the back of his neck, studying the side of his face, becoming reacquainted with thelone lost son that she had prayed for, and worried about, every day for the last ten years.
    “René home yet?” he asked.
    “She in the kitchen, cooking,” his mother replied. “You need her?”
    “No, ma’am,” he said. “Just didn’t see Jimmy’s truck out there.”
    “Went to town,” she said. “Ought to be back directly.”
    Tyrone nodded. His mother was quiet, but on her face was the look of someone who had a lot to say and didn’t know where to begin.
    “It’s so good to have you home, son,” he heard her say in a low, quiet voice. He knew she was happy; but somehow, her soft, sweet voice seemed weary, and he immediately felt guilty for all he had put her through.
    “It’s good to be home, Mama,” he said.
    She reached toward him, and he instantly felt her hand lying prone on the back of his own.
    “Son, we missed you so much,” she said.
    “I missed y’all, too,” he said. “More than you’ll ever know.”
    Again, he felt her hand gently caressing the back of his own.
    “Just hate you had to come back to so much trouble,” he heard her say. “Just wish things could’ve been better. Never thought it would come to this.”
    “Somebody should’ve told me,” he said. “Maybe I could’ve done something.”
    “Wasn’t nothing you could do.”
    “I had a right to know.”
    “We just didn’t want to worry you.”
    “I’m his father.”
    “You were in the pen,” she said. “What could you do?”
    “He needed me.”
    “You needed to deal with your own problems.”
    “Mama, he is my problem.”
    She looked at him but did not speak.
    “Somebody should’ve told me,” he said again.
    “They wanted to,” she said. “Sarah Ann and René. But I wouldn’t let ‘em. You my child, and I wouldn’t let ‘em.”
    “I had a right to know.”
    “And I had a right to protect you,” she said. “You had done more than half yo’ sentence, and I wasn’t gone let nobody give you a reason to do something crazy and run up your time. Kept thinking that child might get off. Kept thinking he’d get a new trial. Kept hoping it’d work itself out. But it didn’t.”
    “I had a right to know.”
    “I did what I thought best.”
    “Somebody should’ve told me.”
    She turned her head and looked away. She started to say something, but at the last minute, seemed to change her mind.
    “Visit went all right?” she asked after a brief silence. But he could tell that that wasn’t what she had been about to say.
    “Yes, ma’am,” he said. “It went all right.”
    There was silence.
    “Didn’t have no trouble?”
    “No, ma’am. They let me right in.”
    “Guess he was glad to see you.”
    Tyrone paused and took a deep breath. “Yes, ma’am,” he said. His voice began to trail off. “He was.”
    There was silence.
    “He making out all right?” she asked.
    Tyrone hesitated. His bottom lip began to quiver.
    “No, ma’am,” he said. “He ain’t doing good. Ain’t doing good at all.” Tyrone brought his hands to his faceand began to sob. He took a deep breath, trying to collect himself. He felt his mother’s hand gently massaging his trembling knee.
    “It’s gone be all right, son,” she said with the conviction of someone who knew. The words came from deep inside of her, and he knew that for her, they were not idle words spoken with the slightest bit of doubt. No, hers was not a guess, but a belief rooted in a long tradition of trust that was based on a faith that had been tried and tested. Yes, for her, everything would be all right if the Lord said the same.
    “Don’t know what God got in mind,” he heard her say. “But I do know he got a reason for everything he do.”
    “What reason he got for killing an innocent child?” Tyrone asked, lowering