They studied each other, Lucky tilting his head back to get a good look at the lone tall Lucklighter. Maybe he’d save calling the guy the mailman’s kid for when Mama wasn’t around.
The moment stretched. Dallas moved first, wrapping Lucky in a bear hug. “I’m sorry, man. I’m so, so sorry.”
Lucky wriggled enough to breathe again. “For what?”
“For believing the worst about you.”
“Brother, I got convicted and sentenced to ten years. I’m not exactly an angel with a bright shiny halo.” How dull would sainthood be? Besides, Lucky couldn’t take another person beating themselves up like Daddy just did.
“I know. But still…”
What could Lucky do to dry the tears in Dallas’s eyes?
As quick as he’d been twenty years ago—at least in Lucky’s mind—he grabbed his brother in a headlock and scraped his knuckles against Dallas’s scalp in a noogie.
“If you boys are gonna wrestle, take it out to the barn,” Mama said, echoing what she’d uttered many times over the years. She opened the oven and removed a pan of biscuits, nice and brown on the top.
Folks always said everything changed. Thank God, some things stayed the same.
“Let’s sit, shall we?” Mama bustled around the table. “Bo, sure you don’t want some bacon?”
Out of habit, Lucky and Dallas took their old places at the table. Bo took the spot normally reserved for Daytona. No one so much as glanced at Daddy’s place at the head chair.
“I’m sure. But I will have a biscuit or two.” Bo raised his brow at the meat Mama piled on Lucky’s plate. Lucky shrugged. Couldn’t let Mama down, could he? He tucked in, avoiding Bo’s eyes.
“Richmond, Bo here tells me his Mama died when he was a young’un.” Mama dropped the biggest biscuit onto Bo’s plate. “Tell me, Bo, are you any relation to the Chapel Hill Schollenbergers?”
“No, ma’am. Not that I’m aware of. I’m closer to my mama’s family than my daddy’s. They’re Cleggs. My Aunt Janie raised me and my brother.” Bo spooned strawberry jam onto his biscuit. One taste of Mama’s jam and he might rethink his stance on avoiding sugar.
“Any kin to—”
“He’s from Arkansas, Mama,” Lucky said. Good Lord. Why did Southerners have to play Six Degrees of Separation with everyone they met?
Mama passed around a bowl of scrambled eggs. Lucky grabbed another slice of bacon.
“What part of Arkansas?” Leave it to Mama Lucklighter to search and search until she found someone she and Bo knew in common.
Bo swallowed a mouthful of biscuit. “Pine Bluff.”
“Oh! Then do you know—”
Lucky and Dallas both blurted, “Mom!”
“I was just curious.” Their scolding kept her quiet all of a minute. “The Stevensons. They used to run a hardware store there.”
“I’m afraid I don’t, ma’am.” Bo shot Lucky wide “Help me!” eyes.
A car engine rumbled ever closer up the driveway. Mama stiffened, then relaxed. The engine sputtered and quieted, a door slammed, and Lucky tracked footsteps across the front porch.
Mama, Bo, and Dallas jumped up and busied themselves cleaning the kitchen. Uh-oh. What did they know that Lucky didn’t?
The front door slammed. Daytona strolled in and claimed the last biscuit.
Lucky’s youngest brother dropped into a chair next to Lucky and took a bite of biscuit, keeping his eyes focused on his food. “I figured you might be here when I saw that Durango out front.” He ripped the biscuit into tiny pieces, raining crumbs onto the table. “I know it ain’t right of me, but I need some time, okay?” He raised his eyes then. “I’ve spent so many years hating you, blaming you. Yeah, Bristol egged me on a bit, but I should’ve known you wouldn’t do me like that.”
Lucky stayed quiet.
“Anyway, I’m sorry, but I need to figure things out. Everything I believed turned out to be lies.” He shook his head. “Now Bristol’s dead. I gotta think. You always did say I wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.” His forced grin wouldn’t fool anyone. “So, anyway, I’m going to my room. Maybe next time you come visit we can talk.”
