The Last Road Home (16 page)

C
HAPTER
32

L
ightning went into the house and right to bed. Fancy and me closed the door to Grandma's bedroom, leaving the light on. I lay on my back, counting knots in the wood ceiling, thinking. “Do you have any idea if Lightning would double-cross us?”

She let out an exhausted sigh. “There was a time I'd say no. Maybe that cut in his face runs a lot deeper than the scar.” I felt the shiver in her arms and pulled her close.

“When this is over, we're done with this shit.” We could stop now, give Lightning the marijuana, tell him to leave and make the deal however he wanted. But Fancy and me had come too far to walk away with nothing.

“That Twin is creepy, Junebug. He just might want to get rid of us and take what we got. I can't even believe I'm saying that. None of this seems real.”

“I won't let anything happen to you, Fancy, but when it's finished, Lightning's got to go.”

She sat up, holding her knees. “Life gets crazy sometimes, don't it? Once in a while when the old freight train goes by the school, I feel like I want to hop on and never come back.”

I heard the hoot owl down by the barn.

* * *

A loud pounding sounded from the porch, like a hammer hitting wood. Fancy and me hit the floor. “Junebug. Junebug, you come to this door!” It was Roy.

“Shit.” Fancy hid in the closet. I reached under the bed for my shotgun. When I went through the living room, I could see Lightning standing in the shadow of the other bedroom and waved him back.

I flipped on the porch light. “What do you want, Roy?”

“I told you, Junebug. I warned you.” He stood outside the screen door, his face pressed against the wire. “Tell Fancy to get her ass out here.”

I stood close enough to smell the moonshine liquor on him. “You're drinking and it's got your head messed up. Go on home.”

“Don't lie to me, boy. She's in there. Get her out here or I'll come in and drag her out.” He pushed on the door.

I stuck the barrel of the shotgun to the screen. There was no way I could handle him man to man if he got to me. “You ain't coming in my house unless I say so.” He stopped; spit drooled down the corner of his mouth. I waited, hoping all his years of understanding that a colored man didn't challenge a white man, even a younger one like me, would be stronger than his rage.

“Here I am, Daddy.” Fancy startled both of us.

Roy's face clouded like a thunderhead. “Look at yourself. I didn't raise you to be some white man's whore. I ought to beat the hell out of both of you.”

Her voice choked. “I ain't a whore, Daddy.”

Red showed in the whites of Roy's eyes. “What the hell do you call it? Next you'll be having bastard children somebody else will have to raise. Who's going to marry you then?”

Fancy's voice trembled. “I ain't going to be having any babies.”

After a minute of the standoff, I decided to get it over with. I hoped to be able to calm him down. “Roy, I'm going to open the door so we can do some talking, but there won't be any hitting or cussing. You agree to that?” He looked down, forced to accept something he didn't want. I helped him up when he stumbled over the casing.

In the living room, I sat between Fancy and her daddy. “Go ahead and say your piece, Roy.”

His words slurred, and his neck was rubbery. “I always tried to protect you, Fancy, favored you as much as I knowed how. You're growing up to be a handsome woman, one with a chance to find a good man and have a decent life, not have to settle for some no-account nigger like me.” He rambled and blubbered about losing Lightning, and now all he had left to hope for was Fancy to make something out of herself. Drunken tears ran down his face.

Fancy got up and went to kneel beside him. Loud knocking came from the back door. The room hushed. I signaled Roy and Fancy with a finger to my lips and hoped Lightning was paying attention. My first thought went to Mr. Wilson or Bull Jones.

I walked through the kitchen and peeped through the curtain. I was so overcome with relief I had to hold on to the casing for support. It was Clemmy. I opened the door. “Junebug, I'm sorry. Roy got to drinking and found out Fancy wasn't home. I figured he might come here.”

She had a big bruise on her face. “He's in the living room.”

“Momma?” Fancy grabbed her shoulder, touching her bruised eye before balling her fist and turning back to her daddy. “God damn you, why you always got to be taking out your hatefulness on Momma and me? We're the only people you got! Why don't you pick on somebody who can fight back?”

Clemmy pushed Fancy to the couch. “Fancy, you hush. Sit your ass down and let me deal with this.” She took a chair beside Roy. “It's okay.” She talked easy to him.

Roy got weepy-eyed again. “I'm sorry, Clemmy. You know I didn't mean nothing by it.”

The floor creaked in the bedroom. Everybody turned toward the noise.

Roy fell out of his chair backward, knocking it over. “God almighty!” His eyes squinted to make sure he was seeing right. “Lightning?”

He stepped into the light. “Hey, Daddy. Hey, Momma.”

Roy rushed him, lifting him off the ground. Clemmy doubled over, holding her stomach. “Oh Jesus. Thank You, Jesus, You brought him home.” The three of them fell into each other, crying, laughing, and hugging.

“Boy, what are you doing here?” Roy held his son at arm's length.

“Been here staying with Junebug for a while. I knew the sheriff was trying to find me.”

“Is what he said true, son? Did you kill that white man?”

“Had to, Daddy. He was for sure intent on killing me.”

Clemmy touched the scar running down her son's face. “He did this to you?” As hard as she had tried to guard her children, the evil in the world had gotten to her son.

Lightning sat down between Roy and Clemmy on the couch. They insisted Lightning tell them what had happened and how he got home.

I went on the porch and smoked, letting them catch up in private. I was thumping my second cigarette to the yard when Roy came out. “I owe you an apology, Junebug. You've been looking after Lightning all this time.”

“You'd do it for me.”

Roy stuck out his hand. “I reckon I would.”

I fixed my eyes on Roy while I shook with him. “We still got some talking to do.”

“Well, let's get to it.” He waited for me to lead the way.

I sat down beside Fancy. Things went dead silent when I reached and took her hand. She hesitated at first. “Roy, Clemmy, we want to tell you Fancy and me has developed feelings for each other. We understand it's not right in the face of the world and didn't intend for things to turn out this way, but it happened and we don't see nothing changing.”

The room was midnight quiet except for the ticking of the wall clock. Lightning turned his head toward the window. Finally her momma spoke. “Fancy.” Clemmy's light brown face folded in rows from her eyes down to her chin. “I never thought you'd go this far. You may think you know this world, but you don't by a long shot. And Junebug, you can't imagine what danger you're putting her in.”

Fancy took a deep breath. “I know how things are, Momma; I'm not stupid. We're not looking to cause trouble, all we're asking you is to let us decide. Y'all are all I got, and I don't want hard feelings, but there comes a time to loosen the rope some, let me figure out things for myself.”

Roy's eyes had cleared some, but his voice now sounded hurt, not angry. “Fancy, your momma and me have sheltered you the best we could. You don't know what meanness is out there in the world. There's folks who will hurt you just because of your black skin, others would kill you for living in sin with a white man. And they won't stop with you.” He let his last words sink in.

I put my hand to Fancy's shoulder to stop her from answering, and moved my eyes from one face to another. I didn't see any sympathy. “Roy, I know them people, sit with them in the church pews. They can pray to God on Sunday, then put on white sheets Monday. That kind of hate is bred deep down over a lot of years, and I know it ain't going away just 'cause we hope it will. But I read about stuff happening across the country. Folks are starting to speak up. Grandma told me once she was proud I didn't like the things I see, and I don't believe I'm the only one. I ain't stupid enough to think they can't harm us, but you and Clemmy should know I'll draw my last breath if anybody tries to hurt Fancy.”

The look in Clemmy's eyes was frightful. “I'm not agreeing to this,” she said. “Junebug, this would never have happened if Miss Rosa Belle was alive. I can't let you think what you're doing is right, or real, or is anything more than two kids caught up in some fairy tale you think is going to have a happy ending. It's not. If you go flaunting yourselves, y'all are going to see what an ugly face the devil has. I hear what you're saying, Junebug, and I pray change will come, but this is still the South and we're still niggers, to be tolerated only as long as we keep our place. That's the reality, and all your high-minded feelings ain't going to change it.”

Clemmy stood up. “We need to get home, Roy.” She grabbed her son's hand. “Lightning, you got to stay absolutely out of sight. We'll sneak off down here once in a while. I'm just happy to know you're alive, and can touch you.” She turned back to me. “Junebug, I'm grateful and won't forget what you're doing for Lightning.”

Lightning hugged Clemmy. “I'll be careful, Momma. You can't believe how good it is to see you and Daddy. I've been suffering from the loneliness for a long time.” Lightning hadn't said anything during the conversation about Fancy and me.

As I watched them fade into the dark, I didn't know how I felt at that moment. The look on Clemmy's face had cut me to the quick. I'd been considering myself like some comic-book hero who could right the wrongs I saw, and she'd tolerated me. Now I knew she'd just been playing along with my foolish games. Who the hell did I think I was?

C
HAPTER
33

A
t dinner the next day, I went to the mailbox and got the newspaper. “Come look at this, Fancy.” She put her head alongside mine. There were pictures of police dragging colored people by feet and shirt collars.

The story was about ongoing civil unrest, showing photos of folks on a hunger strike at the post office in Chapel Hill, and protesting in front of the Howard Johnson hotel in Durham. There were pictures of police using clubs on anybody who didn't move. “We talked about how things would change one of these days, Fancy. I think it's coming fast.”

She read over my shoulder. “I don't know if I would be as brave as them.”

“It's 1963, Fancy. Ten years ago, them police would have been shooting instead of clubbing. And the Boo Boys would be out there helping them.”

C
HAPTER
34

“F
ancy still in bed?” Lightning came wandering into the kitchen while I was frying bacon and fixing eggs. The morning brought a chilly rain, and I'd made a fire in the potbelly to keep off some of the dampness.

“You can wake her up if you want to, breakfast is about ready.” My attitude had changed when it came to Fancy. It felt like I'd fought for her and now she belonged to me. I'd prove Clemmy wrong if it was the last thing I did.

I scratched pieces of egg around on my plate. “Lightning, what's the plan for this thing tonight?”

“Nothing to plan. We show up with our stuff, they bring the money, and everybody goes home.”

“You know they'll be toting guns.”

“So, take your gun.” He put down his fork and looked at me hard. “They ain't going to mess up a business that makes them money, Junebug. It would be stupid, and I don't think Twin's a stupid man. Ugly, yes, but stupid, no.”

I broke open a biscuit and soaked the halves with molasses. “Tell me something.” I cut the coated bread with my fork. “You ain't by chance made a separate deal with Twin that don't include me and Fancy, have you?”

He kept crunching bacon and looking down at his plate. “What are you talking about?”

“I didn't stutter. Just so you understand, I'm going to take my gun and if any funny business happens, I'm going to start shooting. If you have any thoughts about hanging us out to dry, don't.”

He pushed his plate away. “Listen, Junebug, I've carried you this far because you've helped me while I'm in this mess. It's hurtful you think I'd do something behind your back like that.”

“Lightning, you ain't carried me anywhere except to a place that could get me killed or put in prison.”

He slammed down his hand, pushed back from the table, and stomped out the back door.

I walked down to the road, stood, and gazed out at the woods. Clemmy was right saying this would never have happened if Grandma were here. Maybe I should just stop this whole thing. I stewed about it all afternoon, but in the end, figured I was in too deep to quit now.

After dark, I pulled the truck down to the tobacco barn. We packed the mason jars in the bed and covered them with a tarp. At nine thirty, I laid my hand on Fancy's shoulder. “Why don't you stay here?”

She pushed my hand off. “I'm riding with you.” She got in the truck.

Lightning shrugged and got in beside her.

“If anything messes up, stay in the truck. I don't want you in the way or getting hurt.”

“If I need advice, my momma lives up the road,” she snapped. We were all uptight.

Fifteen minutes later, we were crossing the highway bridge. I spotted the cutoff between some chest-high bulrushes leading down to the water. The rear tires bounced hard when I turned off the paved road. “Easy, Junebug, don't break the jars,” Lightning said. Thick fog rolled up from the creek, making the bare limbs on the trees along the bank look like black witch's arms.

Twin stood beside a long dark Cadillac, smoking a cigar. I drove around him and pointed the nose of the truck back toward the main road, leaving about twenty yards between us. His Cadillac idled and its lights were on. I set the hand brake, put the truck in Neutral, and left it running. “Wonder where the other one is?” It felt like a belt was cinched across my chest.

Lightning craned his neck both ways. “Maybe he didn't come.” He got out.

I eased open the door, pulled the shotgun from behind the seat, and rested it in the crook of my arm. The other man was here somewhere; Twin wouldn't have come without him. I stopped at the rear fender, close enough to hear and watch.

Twin puffed on his cigar and I could smell the marijuana. “About to give you boys up. Dark out here in the sticks.”

“No way we'd stand you up, nothing to worry over. You by yourself?” Lightning asked Twin.

It was dark as pitch every place the headlights on his car and my truck didn't touch. “You be careful, Lightning.”

“Don't see anybody else, do you? You got the stuff?”

“Yep. You got your part?”

Twin reached in the back door of the Caddy and pulled out two grocery bags. He handed them to Lightning. “You want to count it?”

“Nah, I trust you.”

“I don't.” I stepped away from the truck and made sure Twin could see the shotgun.

“Well, if it ain't John Dillinger Jr. Sure you can count that high, boy?”

“She can.” I nodded to Fancy in the cab of the truck. Lightning handed me the two paper sacks, and I pushed them inside, whispering to her, “Don't worry about counting, just make sure ain't nothing in there but money.”

Fancy nodded.

“You want to count yours?” I asked Twin.

He yanked the tarp, turned a flashlight on the jars, and fingered each one. “Seems to be right, but if it's not, I'll be coming to visit you. You boys want to help me?”

Lightning let down the tailgate. He and Twin started carrying jars. I stayed put, not willing to lay down the gun, keeping an eye on the edge of the tree line. The rank smell of stale creek water drifted on the clammy breeze. It took a good twenty minutes to transfer the jars. Twin pulled a quilt from the backseat and covered them before he slammed the trunk shut. “Your little chocolate sugar through counting?”

I backed up to the window. Fancy nodded. “Yep, guess we need to get moving.” All we had to do was leave.

Twin pitched the stub of his cigar and reached inside his coat pocket. “Pleasure doing business with you boys. How about a cigar to celebrate?” When his hand came out, he was holding a pistol.

I knew Lightning was a dead man. “Watch out!”

Lightning dived to the ground. Twin's first shot missed me and went through the back window of the cab. Fancy screamed. The next bullet kicked up mud near where Lightning crawled like a cockroach. “Help me, Junebug!”

I fired at Twin and missed, pumped in another shell and hit him in the left arm before he could duck behind the Cadillac. He ripped off pistol shots that went over my head or into the tailgate. His man came running out of the fog near the creek. Bullets were flying, Lightning was yelling and clawing the mud, and Fancy was hollering my name. I ducked down, put my hand over one ear, and slammed the other ear into the fender. The noise was overpowering. “I told you, Lightning, you stupid bastard,” I yelled.

When I came up again, the second man had almost reached Twin. I heard Twin, “Kill that bastard!” The man changed directions, running straight at me. I propped the shotgun barrel on the fender, and the double-ought buckshot caught him full in the face. He went down, clawing at his head.

Twin growled like a dog. His left arm hung limp as he came toward the truck. Spurts of flame leaped from his right hand as fast as he could pull the trigger. I ducked, but one of his bullets slammed off the fender and I felt a sharp pain in my head. I chambered another round, edged low around the tailgate, and knocked him backward with a round to the chest. Suddenly everything went still.

A song played softly on the truck radio, Marty Robbins singing something about having the blues. Lightning was whimpering and Fancy was crying. I jerked open the truck door. Fancy lay crumpled on the seat, holding her shoulder. Blood was everywhere. “Fancy! Where are you hurt?”

She opened her eyes, moved her hand, and showed me the bloody hole. “Junebug, help me. It hurts awful bad.” She fainted.

I went behind the truck and dragged Lightning up by the collar. “Are you shot?”

He grabbed my shoulder for support. “I thought I was a dead man, Junebug.”

“You should be, I ought to kill you myself. Get in the truck. We got to help your sister.”

“Your head's bleeding,” said Lightning.

“I'll deal with it when we get home.”

He looked back. “What about them?”

“I'll take care of that, you just do something for your sister for once in your sorry-ass life.” I took off my shirt. “Hold this tight to where she's bleeding.”

I went back to where the bodies lay while my head throbbed like a drum. I had to stop and squat down for a minute to let my vision clear. When I reached Twin's man whom I'd shot in the face, he had no pulse. I reached Twin and knelt down. The throbbing had turned to pounding. Twin raised his big hand and gripped my ankle. “You got to help me.” Blood soaked the front of his shirt. His head fell back, his eyes closed, and he went silent.

“Are you dead?” I waited. When he didn't say anything, I tapped his face with the toe of my shoe. “I said, are you dead?”

Twin's fat tongue rolled out of his mouth. “No.” His voice sounded like something was choking him. I stood up and looked around, trying to figure out what to do. If I left him and he lived it would be a death sentence for all of us; there would be nowhere we could run.

“You bastard, why couldn't you just do the deal like we agreed? Now I got to kill you.” It was different standing over a live helpless man; this way seemed more like cold-blooded murder. The Bible says, “Thou shalt not kill.” I'd already broken that commandment and was getting ready to add some baggage for my trip to hell. Sweat ran down my face. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. I could hear Fancy crying in the truck. I needed to get her some help.

With the amount of blood soaking Twin's chest, I didn't see any way he would live. But could I risk it? I looked down and Twin opened his eyes again. He lifted his head and tried to spit at me, but only succeeded in dribbling mucus and blood on his chin. “You ain't got the guts, White Boy.”

I pulled the trigger of the shotgun again.

Twin's head blew apart and the strong iron smell of blood made my nose burn. Wind off the water brought the heavy sour stink of creek mud. I sucked air into my lungs to keep from vomiting.

At the truck I laid the shotgun in the bed, then bent over and pressed my head against the coolness of the fender, trying to think of anything that would show we'd been here. I couldn't. I got under the steering wheel.

Lightning leaned around Fancy and looked over at me. “You want to get the dope back?”

I grabbed his throat, slamming his head back against the passenger window. “Say one more word and I'll leave your stupid ass lying here with them.” I took off, sliding and spinning wheels on the slick ground before hitting pavement. In a few minutes, we were at the house.

“Help me carry her to the bed.” Fancy moaned with every step. We struggled to the bedroom. I handed Lightning a clean towel. “Keep that pressed down hard until I get back.”