His father shuffled back toward the house. Lucky watched him leave, leaning into his wife for support.
“Let’s go.” He climbed back into the Durango.
At the end of the driveway Bo’s phone rang. “Schollenberger. Oh shit. Really?” He let out a sigh. “Okay. I’ll be there.”
He hung up the phone and pulled the truck onto the road. “I’m so sorry, Lucky. That was Jimmy. I gotta drop you off and get back to work. But I promise, come hell or high water, I’ll be there for the funeral.”
Fuck.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The old wooden church hadn’t changed much. Same plank flooring and massive ceiling fans. They’d added a sound system and a TV monitor, but the table at the front might have been the same one from when Mama dragged Lucky and his siblings to church.
For the first time in years, Lucky sat with his family, Charlotte on one side, Bo on the other, Dallas and Daytona supporting Mama on the pew in front of him. Todd and Ty sat behind their mother. As many times as Lucky’d dreamed of being with them all again, the reason sucked.
Grandma and Grandpa Lucklighter sat on the same row as his mother, surrounded by various family members, many Lucky hadn’t seen in twenty years.
Daddy sat alone, off to the side. Lucky crossed the distance and led him back into the fold. He took a place next to Charlotte. No one complained. Lucklighters stuck together, no matter what. Bo nodded his approval.
Bristol’s girlfriend wasn’t there, nor friends, if he had any. Nothing left of Bristol either but a box full of ashes. Charlotte sniffled. Lucky tightened his arm around her back, and met his Dad’s arm embracing her from the other side.
The preacher said a few words, and one by one the family passed by the box holding Bristol’s remains.
Lucky hugged Charlotte, he hugged Mama, and he hugged his Daddy. He hugged his two remaining brothers, his nephews, and his grandparents. Now wasn’t the time for a lengthy conversation, but one day soon.
The truth might have set him free, but it brought none of the relief and peace the preacher used to promise. His brother. Dead.
Because of him. No, not because of him. Bristol made his own choices; a fact the ever-patient Dr. Drake might need to repeat a few dozen times before the fact sank through Lucky’s incredibly thick skull.
Lucky plodded out of the church into the adjoining cemetery, filled with Lucklighters past. He roamed the grounds, clearing his head and paying respects to his great-grandparents. A relatively new headstone caught his eyes: Richmond Eugene Lucklighter: Beloved Son.
And damned if the tears he’d been holding back didn’t fall like rain.
He never questioned the arms around him. Familiarity told him who comforted him. That and the scent of Bo’s cologne. Bo held him while he cried—for Bristol, for Daytona, Mama, Daddy, Charlotte, Dallas, and finally, for himself and a lot of wasted years.
***
Lucky lazed on the grassy hill where he’d spent so much time as a kid. And like most times before, his sister stretched out beside him. His lover lay on his other side. The partner he’d never expected way back when.
Bo joined his hand with Lucky’s. “You’ve got a great family. I really like ‘em.”
Poor guy. He’d gotten the shit end of the stick, family-wise. Yeah, Lucky’d been, well, lucky.
“They’re okay, I reckon, ‘cept for Dover and Talladega.” Years ago the family stopped talking about Lucky. Now no one spoke Bristol’s name. Let them have their silence for now, but sooner or later they needed to work everything out.
“Hey!” Charlotte shouted. “Just ‘cause we’re supposed to be adults don’t mean I can’t still kick your ass.”
“Can n—”
Bo placed a restraining hand on his arm. “Remember her heavy purse? She’s armed.”
Yes, she was. Lucky’d let her threat go for now, but when she least expected, she’d find a rubber snake in her bed. He owed her.
And he’d yet to pay Bo back for stealing his clothes.
A few feet away, two teenaged boys wrestled in the grass. How strange to answer to “Uncle Richie” again.
Lucky said, “If there’s anything we can do to help, let us know.” Helping Mama and Daddy might put Bo and Lucky back some, but they’d manage. More medical bills rolled in each day.
