CHAPTER 42

Fancy went home before daylight on Christmas morning. I pulled the drug money from the back of Grandma’s closet and counted out Lightning’s half, ten thousand dollars. As I stacked the money, I remembered the shock on his face in the pack house cellar, and the sound his body made when it hit the bottom of the well.

The money rightfully belonged to Fancy. She had paid a price for it, and it would give her a fighting chance. Still, it was painful knowing once she left I’d probably never see her again. I was the only thing I had left to lose.

It was pretty miserable sitting alone in the house all Christmas Day. Fancy came in the porch after dark, toting one suitcase that was tied together with tobacco twine. I lifted it onto the kitchen table. She ran her hand across the worn brown cloth. “Don’t seem much to show for a life, does it, Junebug?” She grabbed around my waist. “What am I going to do without you?”

I held on to her. “You’re going to get a chance to have a new life, Fancy, one you get to make for yourself. My granddaddy used to tell me, ‘Don’t stand in the back of the boat to see where you’ve been, stand in the front to decide where you’re headed.”

She searched my eyes. “Come with me, Junebug.”

“I can’t, Fancy, this place and this life is all I know.” The real reason was fifty yards away and fifty feet down. “I can survive here, but don’t know if I could there.”

She laid her head against my chest. “I know.”

That night we clung to each other. “Do you want me to stay, Junebug?”

“No.” I sat up and looked her in the eyes, stroking the face I was going to miss terribly. “You remember those dreams you told me about that night at Mr. Wilson’s?”

She rubbed at the wetness on her cheeks. “Yes.”

“That’s what I want you to think about, Fancy.” As much as I was going to miss her, I refused to argue for her to stay because I knew she would if I asked. “You’ll never find them here, and you’d never have a chance to chase them down with somebody like me holding you back.”

* * *

With the morning came hard rain, sounding like a drummer gone mad on the tin roof. I slipped out of bed to fix breakfast. In a few minutes, Fancy walked in the kitchen, wearing a freshly ironed blue dress. “Morning,” I said. I set the food on the table.

She came behind me and coiled her arms around my waist. “I’m scared.”

“You’ll handle whatever you need to, Fancy, just like you told me when Grandma died.” I pulled out a chair for her. “Try to eat something.” We pushed food around on the plates until I got up. “Wait here.”

I came back with the money wrapped in a paper sack. I opened it and showed her. “This is so you can get on your feet. You keep some in your pocket, but the rest you hide.”

“How much is it, Junebug?”

“Ten thousand dollars.”

Her hand went to her mouth. “I’m not taking all that. What will you live on without money coming in?”

I wanted to tell Fancy what I’d done. Maybe someday I would. “It’s my share plus yours. I ain’t going to starve.” I faked a grin. “Besides, if you make it big in New York, you can lend me some.”

She came around the table, gripped my neck, and laid her face against my head. “Junebug, you’re the best man I’ll ever know.”

I closed my eyes, ashamed.

The loneliest steps I’d ever walked was carrying her bag to the truck. Daylight forced its way through the heavy clouds, but it didn’t stop the rain. The only sound on the ride to Durham was the slapping of windshield wipers. They sounded like a sad heartbeat. “Expect you’ll have some wondrous things to see in New York.”

“I won’t know how to act around big-city folks.” She pushed on her dress, drying her hands over and over. “What if I can’t find a job?”

I reached across the suitcase to calm her bouncing knee. “You’re a good person, Fancy. Folks will see that right off.” She pulled my hand up and kissed the back of it.

The bus station was big and square, framed in dirty red brick. A streetlight on the corner was still burning because of the dark morning. Large glass panes across the front of the building had the blinds open to get what little light there was. The stink of diesel from the large buses was strong as they pulled onto the street, headed for some far-off place. My forearm dangled over the steering wheel. I laid my head against it, talking to the horn. “I can’t go in with you, Fancy. I don’t think I can watch you leave.” I reached out and ran my fingers over her face, touching like a blind man.

“I’ll always love you, Junebug, no matter what.” She kissed me on the cheek, grabbed her suitcase, and pushed open the door. “You take care of yourself.” She ran up the steps to the glass doors. I waited, but she didn’t come back.