Snakes Among Sweet Flowers by Jason Huffman-Black Page A

his cell phone.
    “Why didn’t you come over for lunch? You have plans this afternoon?” his dad asked in lieu of a greeting upon answering the call.
    “Nah, just having a sandwich at home,” Jackson responded.
    “You missed your momma’s roast, boy. What’s wrong? You feeling poorly?” His father could always read Jackson more clearly than a billboard, and now didn’t seem any different.
    “Dad, can I ask you something?”
    “You just did.” There was a chuckle in his dad’s voice, but then he cleared his throat and answered, “You know you can.”
    “Am I judgmental?”
    There was silence on the line. Jackson had been unsure if asking his father this question was the right course of action. But then, he’d known better than to ask his mother. She would have immediately told him he was the best man ever and then asked who she needed to tell off for saying any different.
    After a moment, the sound of a voice clearing came again over the line, then his father said, “Son, what’s this about?”
    “I just…. Can people change, Dad? I mean, really change?”
    “Well… sometimes it sure doesn’t look that way, does it? But I have to believe a person can. God teaches it, doesn’t he?”
    Jackson smiled. Walter Rhodes was the best man that Jackson had ever met. He wasn’t in other’s faces about his faith, but Jackson knew he fell back on it and truly believed.
    “Yeah,” Jackson said as he thought that over.
    “But,” his father continued, “as a policeman, we have to try to predict the actions of others. We have to use our gut. It’s hard to mesh those two sometimes. Who you judging?”
    “I—” Jackson huffed.
    “Spit it out, boy,” his dad encouraged.
    “What do you think of Camden Sanders?” Jackson asked.
    “Never met the man. Should I? And even more to the point, what do you think of him?”
    Jackson sighed. “I don’t know, Dad. He seems nice enough most of the time, but he’s got a record. And sometimes, I don’t know, sometimes there is something….” How did he describe the feeling he had? And was that feeling justified? He sure didn’t know how to rationalize it, even to himself.
    “So you don’t know. That doesn’t sound judgmental. It sounds more like you’re withholding judgment. Get to know him better. If your gut is telling you something, son, listen to it. You’re smart, and a good policeman. Don’t ignore your instincts.”
    “Yes, sir. Thank you.” Jackson meant it. His dad had indeed been the right person to talk to.
    “We are about to head back over to the church to get it cleaned up before evening services. You coming?”
    “No, I think I’m gonna sit it out tonight. But can you do me a favor? If you see Ruby Mae, can you tell her that I’m gonna pick up the oldest tomorrow morning to do some yard work in town?”
    “Yeah, I’ll tell her. You have a good evening. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    “Night, Dad. Tell Mom I love her.” Jackson hung up and went back to eating his sandwich with much to think about.
     
     
    CAM WAS back on the front steps, surveying the relatively small amount of improvement he’d managed to his front lawn. It had taken most of the day and he still wasn’t even to a point where he could mow. At least the long list of work he needed to do around the house kept his mind off all the worrying he could be focused on.
    And speaking of worrying. What had he been thinking to accept an invitation to dinner from Ida and Charles? How was he going to sit at the table and look them in the eye after stealing all their money? Yeah, that was going to make for a pleasant evening. But Jackson Rhodes had clouded his brain or something, and all he’d been able to think about was showing the policeman that he could do whatever he wanted. No matter that what he’d agreed to do wasn’t even close to anything he wanted.
    Tommasina approached and nudged his arm with her big knotty head, and Cam scrubbed behind her ear. “I can’t just not