Porterville

This story is purely a work of fiction. Any resemblance to person's living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely coincidental.

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Mark Stevens

Porterville 17

Thomas Cooper Jr. had not been the child killed in that accident. Instead, it had been Devon McKenzie who had lost his life that day many years before.

As the truth began to sink in, Britt could hardly believe what he was thinking. How could something so wild, so crazy, been allowed to happen? He would have suspected Elaine McKenzie of almost anything, yet, something as bazaar as this, he would have thought no once capable of being.

Britt stood to his feet. What should he do now? He had to have proof, and at this point, all he had was a few facts, along with a lot of speculation. He thought of Devon. If this was true, what would it do to him? What if, in fact, he was Thomas Cooper Jr. rather than Devon McKenzie? How would he handle suddenly finding out his world was not even his own?

Alice! This would certainly be a blow to her as well. So many lies over as many years, and for what reason, he wondered? God, this could end up a really big mess. Maybe he should just leave Porterville and forget any idea of writing a story here, he thought.

"Paying your respects, Mr. Williams?"

Startled, Britt turned and discovered Elaine McKenzie standing beside him. Forcing himself to remain calm, he said, "I guess I am. My own father has been gone a few years, and I guess with Devon losing his dad, well, it has brought back a lot of memories for me."

"How touching," she said, and Britt didn't miss the sarcastic tone.

"You know, Mrs. McKenzie, life is way too short, and to live it the way you have all these years, well, it just goes to show, wealth does not make a person happy, does it?"

"How dare you question my happiness!" She glared at him as she spoke.

"Forgive me; I am not questioning whether or not you are happy. Only you can determine that. However, something tells me that for a good many years you have lived with a lot of unhappy emotion and a great deal of fear, and even with all the money you have, you've remained in the middle of a very bad situation."

"You mentioned something about happiness," she reminded him. "Until you came back to Porterville, my entire family was happy. Since your return you have brought nothing but unhappiness and misfortune."

"Let's see if I have this correctly. When I came to town, I was responsible for your husband's death, and for your son being gay. Is that correct?" he repeated.

"In an indirect way, yes, you are responsible for John's death. Your relationship with Devon completely destroyed him. As for my son being gay, well, that is simply his own weakness, his personal choice. He will have to live with that fact for the rest of his life. He definitely created the stress that led to his father's death. Of that, Mr. Williams, make no mistake!"

Britt watched silently as Devon's mother slowly walked away. Something told him this would not be the last he heard from her. Although he tried like hell to keep his feelings to himself, he wasn't sure he had been successful. He wasn't sure if she knew he suspected the truth or not. He hoped not, because he needed time to sort this out. If she suspected anything at all, he would be out of time, for he knew she would leave no stone unturned, trying to keep her deep dark secret just that; a secret tucked away and hidden from the rest of the world.

Britt watched as the car made its way slowly out of the cemetery, crawling at a snail's pace. When she had disappeared out of sight, he walked back to his car and got inside. He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts, but it didn't work. They were just as mixed up as ever. He drove out of the cemetery a few moments later, feeling very confused, and just a bit sick to his stomach.

When Britt arrived back in town, he wasn't sure where he should go, even where he wanted to go. He didn't think he wanted to face Alice Cooper yet, and he definitely needed some time before meeting up with Devon.

Devon, he thought. Was he really Devon McKenzie, or in actuality, was he Thomas Cooper Jr.? Had he lived all these years thinking he was a McKenzie, when, in fact, his last name had been Cooper?

Margaret Cooper suddenly came to Britt's mind. She had seemed like such a sweet dear lady. Had she known the truth, he wondered? Had she lived most of her life believing her own child was dead? Or worse yet, had she lived those years knowing for certain he was alive, and could not acknowledge it?

"Check the cemetery, you might find something there." Those had been her words, her suggestion. She had to have known, he decided. She had to know that her own son was living his life with another family, and not with her. She had to realize it was an empty grave in her back yard, and that her own son's body was not there.

But why? he wondered. What would cause a mother to live a lie like this all these years? What would make her give up her own child the way she did? Why was she willing to do so?

On the car seat beside him, Britt's cell phone rang. He saw that it was Devon calling, and he let his voice mail pick up. He felt guilty for doing so, but at the moment, he didn't feel as if he could stand to even hear Devon's voice without telling him everything he suspected. He knew, for now, he couldn't do that.

As he drove through the heart of town, Britt wondered how could the town's people just close their eyes and pretend this had never happened. So many lies, told by so many people. He thought about his mother. He was certain she knew about this, he decided. To what extent, he was unsure, but all the same, she knew something. What would force her to be caught up in this lie, same as all the other town's people had been?

It was lunch time, but the thought of food repulsed Britt to no end. That was most likely the reason for Devon's telephone call. Plans for lunch, he decided. His conscience stabbed him for ignoring the call earlier. He eased it by deciding he would give him a call later. Instead he drove to his mother's house and hurried inside. She had told him she was working an extra day at the center that week, and this was the day she chose to be there. He would have the house to himself.

Britt poured himself a glass of wine and returned to the living room. He had to think things out, had to come up with a plan of action. This was going to be a very large bomb to drop on everyone. That is, if he chose to launch it, he decided. He thought about his mother and wondered if perhaps, the way she had, he should also forget he ever discovered any thing. Maybe he should just tell Carl there was no story in Porterville, and just get on with life as usual.

He knew he couldn't do that. Not if he wanted Devon to remain in his life. If the two of them were going to share a life together, this was going to have to be all cleared up.

Britt was on his second glass of wine when the telephone rang. He didn't answer it, but waited for the answering machine to pick up. When it did, he heard again, Devon's voice.

"Britt, where are you, Babe? Hope everything's all right. I've been trying to reach you. Guess you were tied up and couldn't get away for lunch. I'll try and catch you later. Love you."

Britt heard the click as Devon ended his call. Once more, he felt guilty for not answering his call. He had to get himself together, he decided. He couldn't avoid the man forever. Still...

Britt thought about that day so many years ago. June 5th, 1973, what had really happened that day? He wondered. He knew there had been an accident. He also knew it must have been Tom Cooper's fault. He had been the one drinking, and he had been the one to drive through a stop sign. He knew that much from reading the newspaper article. That part was cut and dried. However, what had occurred afterward? He knew that Margaret Cooper had been injured pretty badly, and that she had spent a night or two in the hospital. He also knew that Elaine had been only slightly injured, that she had been treated and released the same day. He also knew that Thomas Cooper Jr. had lost his life at the scene of the wreck. This had to be common knowledge, he decided. So why, or how would so many people be willing to go along with this cruel lie? Why would so many be willing to accept the fact it had been Margaret who lost her child rather than Elaine McKenzie?

Britt finished his second glass of wine, and decided he'd had enough. He wasn't sure what all he had to do that afternoon, and he felt he needed to be in complete control of himself, and be able to think with a straight head on his shoulders.

"What if the town didn't know about the cruel deed? What if they hadn't realized the truth, that it had been Devon McKenzie, rather than Thomas Cooper Jr. that had lost his life in that accident?"

"What?" The question Britt heard in his mind sounded so real that it caused him to speak aloud.

He thought about it for a moment. Could that have been what happened, he wondered? John McKenzie had not been injured. Was it possible he realized his own child was dead, that the Cooper baby was still alive? Could he have switched them without anyone being aware of it? If that had happened, why in the hell would Tom and Margaret allow it? Of course, Margaret had been seriously hurt, so it was quite possible she hadn't been alert at the time. He wondered about Thomas Cooper. The article hadn't said anything about his injuries, so most likely, he had been all right. Why would he choose to let something like this take place?

The more Britt thought about it, the more convinced something like this had happened. That had to explain why so many people seemed to allow this to go on all these years, to be so willing to accept such a lie as the truth. They weren't aware of the deceit.

Britt was so lost in his thoughts that he was suddenly surprised to hear his mother come inside the house. He hadn't realized the afternoon passed so quickly.

Catherine Williams greeted her son. "Britt, is everything all right? You are never home this time of day."

"Hey, Mom," he answered quietly.

She came into the living room and took a seat across from him She saw his empty glass. "Something on your mind?" she asked.

"You might say that, Mom," he answered. "I needed some thinking time, so I came home around noon. Been here ever since," he said.

"Did the wine help you concentrate?" There was just a trace of a smile on her face.

"Actually, it did. And for the record, I only had two of these, so don't worry, I'm becoming an alcoholic. I just needed something to help me relax."

"How did your day go?" she asked.

He looked at her for a moment, remaining silent. Finally he said, "It's been an interesting one, that's for certain."

He told her about seeing Devon's mother at the cemetery that morning.

"What took you out there?" Catherine asked.

"As I told Mrs. McKenzie, I was paying my respects."

"More to it than that, I suspect," she pointed out.

As his mother spoke, Britt saw a look of worry on her face, or, it could be fright, he wasn't sure which. Aloud he said, "Mom, you know I've told you from the beginning I wish you would just tell me what you know about the McKenzie's. You knew I would find out eventually."

"And just what have you found out?"

"Enough to destroy several lives if I'm correct," he admitted.

"Oh, Britt, why couldn't you have just left everything alone?" She followed her words with a long sigh.

"You know, Mom, at first I was really confused about things, especially about you. You have always stood up for what you thought was right, and you never made any exceptions. That was why I couldn't understand why you would go along with so many lies."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Britt Williams," she said. Her eyes snapped at him, and she added, "I have never been anything but honest with you. Never," she repeated.

"Oh, I agree," Britt assured her. "I'm still not certain why you kept what you did a secret, but I'm sure you had your reasons."

"Like I've told you from the start, people's lives are just that. It's their life, and their business how they live it."

"Had you ever suspected it was the McKenzie's who supported Margaret all these years?" he asked. "You definitely remember the accident that took their son's life, don't you? Didn't you ever wonder about any of that?"

"I suppose I did, but then again, it was not any of my business, so I didn't keep it in mind." She looked at her son. "So, what is it that you have discovered that is going to hurt so many people?"

"For now, I feel like I need to keep everything to myself," Britt answered. "That's all I can say."

Catherine leaned over and placed a hand on her son's leg. "Whatever you have found out, Britt, please promise me you will think about it before you say anything. After all, life has gone on here in Porterville for so many years. Are you sure you want to change the way things have always been? For everyone's sake, but especially for you?" she added.

He was surprised. "For me?" he asked.

She nodded and said, "Yes, for you. If this is as big as you say it is, then it could be very dangerous, and you could get hurt. Britt, I couldn't stand it if something were to happen to you."

Britt took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Nothing's going to happen to me," he assured her. "I'm going to be fine."

"I hope you're right," she said. "After your talk this morning with Devon's mother, well, I'm not sure what could happen. You never know about things when the McKenzie family is involved."

"I'll be all right, Mom," he said once more, trying to reassure her.

His cell phone rang, and this time he greeted Devon and said, "Hey, what's up?"

"Where have you been?" Devon asked. "I've tried several times to reach you. I've been worried something was wrong. Is everything all right?"

"I'm fine, Dev," he said. "I've been busy and haven't been able to take any phone calls. I'm sorry."

"I just had a telephone call from Ronald James. He was terminated this morning down at the bank. He no longer works there."