Chapter 106

Under a sky clean of stars, Harlan fought not to run, not to turn back or sit down and throw his hands up in surrender. June heat chomping at his neck, heart slamming, eyes stinging with perspiration, he hastened past hand-holding lovers, old people escaping the fever of their apartments, hoodlums hawking nickel bags, tall trees with limbs flung wide like comforting arms.

This freedom felt unreal to Harlan.

Providence?

Yes. Not earned, but inherited, bound to his DNA and passed down the line like his brown eyes. Even though it had cloaked him his entire life, Harlan was hesitant to utter the word. God . . .

The world was open, so where to now?

Back to the city Emma said was the only place she had roots, back to Macon, where he could finally plant himself and flower.