Page 30 of Rhett & Moses
“You have every right to be there,” I continued. “If you don’t show up, people will think you’re hiding, that maybe you weren’t telling the truth after all.”
“He’s right,” Vanessa agreed. “Optics matter in small towns. You need to be there, head held high.”
Moses looked between us, a reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “When did I acquire two such stubborn advocates?”
“Twenty years ago,” I replied promptly. “You just didn’t notice and then don’t even think about adding Bronwyn to the mix.”
His expression softened, his foot finding mine under the table in a subtle gesture of affection. “I noticed. I just didn’t know what to do about it then.”
The moment was interrupted by Vanessa’s phone chiming. She checked it, her face paling slightly. “Soren’s arrived. He’s at the town hall with Mayor Hayes who’s demanding a public apology from Moses before the unveiling.”
“He’s what?” I straightened, indignation flaring. “If anyone should be apologizing, it’s him!”
Moses remained calmer, though I could see the tension in the set of his shoulders. “Let him demand whatever he wants. I’m not retracting a word of what I said yesterday.”
“Good,” Vanessa nodded approvingly.
“It’s time to stop hiding. Stand tall and fight him. We should go,” I said, checking my watch. “The unveiling starts in forty minutes, and if Mayor Hayes is making demands, we need to be prepared.”
Moses nodded, his face set with determination I’d rarely seen from him. “Right. Let’s finish this, once and for all.”
We paid our bill and left, the three of us walking together toward the school grounds where the replica statue had been installed. As we approached, I could see a crowd already gathering, larger than yesterdays. Word had spread, and it seemed like half the town had turned out for what promised to be more dramatic than a simple unveiling.
On a small, raised platform beside the covered statue stood Mayor Hayes, his face a mask of political composure despite the circumstances. Soren directly stared at us and nodded as his father glared back.If looks could speak.
There was hurt and anger between them but at this moment all that needed to be done was the admittance of truth.
Slowly but surely Mayor Hayes and Soren made their way toward us.
“Mr. Morley,” he greeted Moses with forced cordiality. “I believe my son has something he’d like to discuss with you before the ceremony begins.”
Soren stepped forward, his expression neutral. “You have nothing to worry about. This ends now. I don’t caredadthat you want this to remain hidden and all the ways you’ve protected me. It’s time. I need to do this.”
“I said… no.” Mayor Hayes announced. “This is not happening. He will apologize or I will destroy everything he cares about starting with him.” He stated pointing at me, making my body instantly freeze as I turned to face him.
“No,” a new voice interrupted, the principal stepped forward from the crowd. “I think this stops now from you. Soren… if you want to say something then this is exactly the right forum. This statue has stood as a symbol of our town’s heritage, but it’s also been a symbol of injustice, a reminder of how quick we were to condemn one of our own without questioning the story we were given.”
Principal Bushman turned to face the crowd directly. “I’ve been an educator in this town for forty years. I’ve watched generations of Gomillion’s children grow up, including all the people involved in this situation. And while it’s not my place to judge the truth of these specific allegations, I can say this: Moses Morley was never the troublemaker we made him out to be.”
A smattering of applause broke out, quickly spreading through portions of the crowd. Mayor Hayes looked distinctly uncomfortable, while Soren sidestepped away toward us.
“It’s about the truth.” I stated. “This is accountability.”
“I never meant to hurt anyone,” he said, his voice smaller than I’d ever heard it. “I just... My anger overcame me and the argument that happened beforehand made me spiral beyond anything I had ever experienced. I didn’t want to risk my chance of everything here.”
The admission, partial and self-serving though it was, sent shockwaves through the crowd. Mayor Hayes closed his eyes briefly, the political mask slipping to reveal a father confronting his son’s failures.
“I think,” the mayor said after a moment, his voice uncharacteristically subdued, “that this unveiling should proceed, but with a different focus. Not just a celebration of our town’s heritage, but an acknowledgment of our failures and a commitment to do better.”
He turned to Moses, something like respect reluctantly entering his expression. “Mr. Morley, would you do us the honor of unveiling the statue? It seems fitting, given the circumstances.”
The request caught Moses by surprise. He looked at me, a question in his eyes. I nodded slightly, encouraging him. This was a chance for symbolic redemption, for the town to begin making amends for the injustice he had suffered.
“I would be honored,” Moses said finally, stepping onto the platform.
The mayor handed him the cord that would release the covering from the statue, then stepped back. Moses stood alone for a moment, the weight of twenty years visible in the set of his shoulders. Then he straightened, his gaze finding mine in the crowd, and something passed between us, strength, courage, a shared understanding of what this moment represented.
He pulled the cord, and the covering fell away to reveal the replica of the Paul Bunyan statue, identical to the original that had been damaged beyond repair twenty years ago. The crowdapplauded, though the sound was more subdued than it might have been under different circumstances.
