Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Aggie

Since it’s Sunday morning, I wait until nine o’clock to call Michael. I don’t want to wake him if he’s sleeping in, but he’s the principal, and I feel like I owe it to him to give him a heads-up if I know. When I tell him what happened, I can tell he’s taking it hard. “There was nothing they could do,” I say as an ending.

“There’s something we could’ve done. We failed to keep those kids from bullying him, and in the process, we failed him. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

“Sir, we only have so much control over others. After that, they have to take responsibility for themselves.”

“I know. I just feel horrible. I’ll call April and tell her so she’ll be ready.” AprilMorrissey is our school counselor. She’ll need to hit the ground running tomorrow morning. I figure a lot of kids will already know because it’ll travel fast through all the churches in the area. They’ll hear about it there.

Darius was asleep when I made the call, but I hang up and turn to find him standing in the doorway, leaning against the jamb. “Hey. Good morning, handsome.”

“Morning.”

“Hungry?”

“You know what? I feel like going to the pancake place and having pancakes. Whaddya think?”

The idea makes me smile. “Sure. That sounds good. I’ll throw something on and shower when we come back.”

“Same.”

The pancake place is in Hazard, so I know he’s thinking we’ll be gone awhile. We ride along in silence, but he holds my hand the whole time. We’re about halfway there when he says, “I think I’m gonna buy a car.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Paddy bought one a while back. Bulldog’s got his bike and Tinsley’s car, and I think they’re going to trade both of them in on a minivan.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. They’re having a baby. Bulldog’s all in. And Tinsley’s little car isn’t big enough or set up for a car seat, so she needs something else.”

“Could you buy it from her? It’s cute.”

He tips his head a little. “Might. It’s in really good shape, and you’re right. It’s a nice car.”

“Yeah. So if you do that, then she can keep it in the family,” I say with a laugh.

“True. And she’s pretty attached to it. She’s had it forever.”

“Ask her about it. Worst she can say is no, and you know nobody’s going to give them much for trade-in. You can give her a lot more than they’ll get otherwise.”

“I know that’s right.” He falls silent again, so I say nothing. After the wee hours of this morning, we’ve both got a lot on our minds.

The pancake place is busy, but we manage to find a table and take a seat. After we’ve both gotten coffee and juice, he reaches across the table and takes my hands. “Was last night okay?”

“It was more than okay. Was it okay for you?”

“It was super okay, but don’t put your fingers in the rungs again,” he says in a pretend stern voice and a sly grin.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I answer with a chuckle.

“Good. I can’t go through that again.”

Our food comes, and we dig in. He’s still pretty quiet overall, but I don’t press it. We’re both tired, I think. When we’re almost finished, he looks across the table at me. “I think I want to go back and take another nap. I’m exhausted.”

“Me too. That’s fine with me.”

“Are you going home later?”

I shrug. “I suppose so. I mean, I’ve got work tomorrow.”

“And it’s going to be a really hard day for you.”

I can’t help but sigh. “It is.”

“Let’s just go back and play it by ear. And when you get ready to go, you can go. Doesn’t mean we won’t see each other again tomorrow, or the next day, or the next.” I keep thinking he’ll ask if I want to come out and stay with him, but so far, he hasn’t. Maybe I’m hoping for too much too soon. I must be lousy at hiding facial expressions because he adds, “It’s not that I don’t want you with me. I’d love that. But I know you have a life, and it’ll take us a while to figure this all out. I’m a patient guy. I just want you to do what’s best for you.”

Even though I fear I’m overstepping, I reply with, “I think what’s best for me is being with you.”

“You’re always welcome to be with me. Always. Being this close to you this weekend has been more than I ever dreamed of. I wish I could take out the bad parts and leave only the good parts, but that’s how we figure out if we can weather the storms of life together, I suppose.”

“Can you tell me your philosophy on relationships?”

He grins. “I wish I could, but since I’ve never had one, I really don’t have a philosophy. Do you have one?”

“Actually, I do.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“I believe we have to be able to blend our lives so that we still have individuality, but our primary focus should always be to think of the needs of the other person first. If both parties are doing that, our individual needs get met as well as our couple ones. Does that make sense?”

“Makes perfect sense.”

“And now, my main focus is getting you back home so you can rest.”

“And my main focus is getting you back home so you can rest, so I think both of us will have our needs met,” he says, his smile soft and warm.

“I think you’re right. Whenever you’re ready.”

“I’m ready now.” Darius stands and reaches for my hand to help me up, so I slide out of the booth and reach back for him.

And honestly, I can’t wait to be back in that bed and in his arms.

Priest

“Tell you what. When we get a chance, let’s go get one of everything you need so you have it here,” I say as she packs stuff up to go.

She smiles. “Are you trying to say you want me here as often as possible?”

“Am I that transparent?” I ask with a laugh.

“Yeah, pretty much!”

“Yes. I do want you here whenever you can be. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long, long time, and I want to spend all the time with you that I can.”

“Well, you dropped helping the guys with the boat this afternoon, and you can’t do that very often. Reboot needs your help.”

“I know. But I wanted to spend it with you.”

Her hand rises and she pinches my chin with her thumb and forefinger. “The new will wear off soon enough.”

“Nope. Never.”

“Never’s a long time.”

“I know! And I still say never.”

When we’ve got everything in her car, she turns to me and leans back against the door. “I’m gonna do some laundry when I get home. Graded all the papers before I left school Friday so that’s done. I guess just being prepared for what I’ll be walking into tomorrow will be enough.”

“I think so. So give me a call later?”

She leans toward me and I give her a peck on the lips. “I will.”

“Be careful going home.” She climbs into her car and I stand there, watching her go. If I had my way, I’d chase her down and drag her back, but it’s going to take some time to figure all of this out.

As I walk back toward the kitchen, I see somebody step out of the lodge, and in a second, they motion toward me. It’s Patch, so I walk that direction, wondering what he wants with me. When I draw near to him, he asks, “Get her headed toward home okay?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow’s gonna be a hard day for her.”

“I bet. So did you guys have a good weekend?”

“We did. A couple of little hiccups, but nothing big. She told me she talked to you.”

“I hope that was in the context of talking to you about it.”

I give him one nod. “It was.”

“And I hope you were honest with her.”

“I was. Totally.”

“Good. That’s the only way this will work.”

“I know. And thanks for talking to her but letting the actually telling come from me.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way. Your life, your experiences, those are your stories, not mine. Besides, I don’t know that much about yours. I don’t need to. If you want me to know, you’ll tell me, and you haven’t.”

“You don’t need to know. That’s ancient history. Today is today. I have to live today looking forward to tomorrow, not backward at yesterday.”

“Agreed. If you need me, you know where I am.” He reaches for me, and we hug. Being hugged by Patch tells me what it would’ve been like to have a real dad. He’s just that kind of guy, and I’m so thankful for him.

“Thanks. I appreciate it. See ya later.” As I make my way back to my cottage, I realize how lucky I am to have this place and these men. They’ve shown me more about how to be a man than anybody else ever could’ve.

I do some laundry, pick up around my place, and check the refrigerator for stuff that needs to be thrown out. Then I settle in to watch some TV.

My phone rings at nine thirty, so I check it and answer with, “Hey, gorgeous.”

“Hey yourself! Get a bunch of stuff done?”

“I did. But I wish you were here.”

“I wish I was there too. Maybe tomorrow night?”

“Sure. See how things go. And call me if you need moral support tomorrow.”

“I will. It’s going to be a rough day.”

“I’m sure. Just be sure to protect your heart.”

“That’s going to be hard, but I’ll try.”

“I’ll be thinking about you. And Aggie?”

“Hmmm?”

“I love you, girl.”

“Love you too. Talk to you soon. Bye.”

“Bye, babe.” When the phone goes dead, I stare at the screen for a minute in disbelief.

I’m in my very first full-fledged relationship with a woman. Hot damn. I’ve sure come a long, long way.

Aggie

I’m mentally and physically exhausted, and it’s just Monday afternoon. Today was one of the hardest days I’ve ever encountered in my career. And honestly, I don’t know which was harder, the kids crying because of what happened to Tim, or the ones who were laughing and calling him a loser for being the victim of bullying and then the victim of a horrible accident.

Wait. I do know which was harder. And I think anybody else would feel the same way.

By the time I get home, I’m totally wrung out. It’s a quarter to five when somebody knocks on my front door, and I open it to quite a sight. “Hey, MissAggie!”

“Hi, Brandon. Whatcha got there?”

“These are for you.” A bouquet the size of a Pilates ball is thrust in my face, and I reach out to take it, smiling the whole time. “Boy, that’s a really big bunch of flowers. Somebody really likes you.”

“Thanks, honey. Here.” I set the vase down, reach for my wallet, and give him a ten. Then I add a five. The kid’s going to school all day and then hustling to make deliveries in the afternoons afterward just to help his family out. Gotta respect that.

“Oh, wow! Thanks, MissAggie!”

“You’re welcome, hon. Have a good evening.”

“You too! Bye!” I watch him wander off back to the delivery van, staring at the bills in his hand like they’re pure gold. Then I turn back to the bouquet.

It’s enormous. There’s a card on a plastic pick stuck right in the middle of the flowers, so I pull it out and open it up. It’s a woman’s handwriting, so he called it in.

Baby girl,

I know today was hard and I’m so sorry I’m not there for you. I’ll call you later, but know that I love you and I’m thinking about you.

Darius

This is the first time in my life that I’ve gotten flowers from a man for no typical reason, like a birthday or anniversary, and I’m shocked and excited. They’re beautiful, an explosion of color and fragrance, all the bells and whistles in the form of greenery and ribbons, and they must’ve cost him a fortune. The vase is so large that it takes a minute to fill it with fresh water, careful not to knock any of the blooms off in the process.

There’s not much in the house, but I’m trying to find something to have for dinner when my phone rings, and I look at the screen and smile before I answer, “Hey, handsome!”

“Hey yourself, gorgeous.”

“Thank you for the flowers.” I can feel my lower lip trembling.

“You okay?”

I swallow hard before I answer. “It was a… hard day.”

“I know it had to be. I’m sorry.”

All of my efforts fail, and I can’t hold it in anymore. “Oh, god, Darius, I couldn’t believe all the kids laughing and talking about what a loser he was! It was awful! He was a sweet kid, and he didn’t deserve that. I just keep wondering how long he laid out there in the woods, hurting and wondering if anybody would find him before he finally…” I can’t even finish the sentence.

“I’m sorry, baby. Kids can be so fucking cruel sometimes. Their parents ought to be ashamed.”

“I hope they are! I mean, it was… They were…” There’s no filter left, and I just dissolve into tears. It hurt my heart to hear them talking about him that way, poor child.

“You said you worked with him after school, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. He was so smart and funny, Darius. He just had this light, you know? He made me smile every time I worked with him.”

“He knew he was loved, baby girl. I promise you, he knew he was loved.”

“I’m just so scared that the last voices he heard in his head as he left this world were the voices of kids taunting him, making fun of him, ridiculing him. You know what I mean.”

“I want to believe that the last voices he heard in his head were his parents telling him how much they love him, that he heard you telling him what a good job he was doing, that he heard his friends talking about how much fun they were going to have over fall break. I want to believe that, and you should try to believe that too. By the way, we talked about it, and all of us will be at the funeral. Patch said Tim’s mom called and wanted to know if we would be pallbearers. None of us would say no.”

Now I’m crying so hard that I can’t talk. These men didn’t even know Tim, and they’re willing to give up an entire day of their time to go and perform a service for his family that’s not part of their job, something they want to do out of the goodness of their hearts. Nobody’s ever said anything to me about knowing them, but I’m telling you right now, they’d better not. These men… I’d want them standing behind me for anything that life could throw my way, more so than any men I’ve ever known. I finally manage to choke out, “They… asked me… to sing.”

“Whatcha gonna sing?”

After a few deep sniffs and a sigh, I croak out, “‘In The Sweet By and By.’”

“I don’t know that song, but I bet it’s pretty.” I’m sure he didn’t go to church when he was younger, but everybody here did, and everybody knows that song.

“It is. It talks about how we’ll all be together again someday.”

“You really believe that?”

“I do. With all my heart.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“So you’ll be there and I’ll be there. I doubt we’ll get to sit together, seeing as how you’re going to be a pallbearer, but just knowing you’re there will give me courage.”

“Good. Because I’m dreading it, but I’m glad to be of service. So how ’bout you get some sleep tonight and I guess we’ll see each other tomorrow.”

“Yep. You won’t be able to miss me. I’ll be the short, fat, black woman with the fuzzy hair and big boobs.”

“You are not fat and your hair is not fuzzy. You’re beautiful. And I’ll still be able to single you out because you’ll be the most beautiful woman there.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You hush that, baby girl. You’re my goddess.”

“Well, nobody’s ever called me that before!” I say with a laugh.

“That’s because you’ve never had a real man before.”

“Okay, on that note, Mr.America, I’m going to finish up my laundry. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll give you a call before bedtime,” he says.

“Okay. Talk to you then. Love you.”

I hear him chuckle. “Love you too, baby girl. Bye.”

I’m a goddess. Oddly, I don’t see her when I pass the mirror, but I’m sure glad he does. I guess the fact that he sees the goddess is the only thing that matters.

Priest

The general consensus is that Bear is the tallest and Hollywood is the shortest, so they’ll sit it out. The other six of us, being more well-matched in height, will serve as pallbearers. I don’t know what to expect. I’ve never been to a funeral here before. The only ones I ever went to before were gang members, and it was always a sideshow, complete with firearms and rival gangs driving by to throw gang symbols, yell, curse, and sometimes fire shots. More than one funeral I went to devolved into an all-out gang war before it was over, including somebody shooting up the casket and body and the dead guy’s mother being shot. Total chaos and mayhem.

We roll up to the church to find nothing even remotely like that. Everybody is somber, dressed in their nicest clothes, which for anywhere else would be substandard. But for here, it’s the nicest they have. That’s something special. And there are dozens, hundreds, of folks here. Everybody turns out for a child’s burial, I heard somebody say, and it’s true. A great many are kids, and I know the school gave anyone who wanted to come to the funeral today an excused absence. What that really means is that a lot of the kids who taunted him and bullied him won’t be at school, but I’m pretty sure they won’t be here either.

The casket is already inside, and we step in to find the funeral director, Mr.Wakefield, looking for us. “Y’all will all sit up front. Wear these in your pockets,” he says and hands us little flappy things with PALLBEARER printed on them. We stick the cardboard part in our shirt pockets and the flap hangs out. Not sure why we need those, but we put them in anyway.

Tim’s parents are standing by the casket, and we take turns stepping up to them and telling them how sorry we are. We all watch, gutted, as his crying mother hugs Patch and thanks him for having us look for their son. Laid out there all nice and neat in his little plaid shirt, no one looking at Tim’s little face would imagine what we found there in the woods, how we sat there, grown men, and cried as Bulldog and Ghost removed the handlebar from his midsection, took his pulse, closed his eyes, and folded his hands across his chest, or how we struggled to see the trail through our tears as we carried him out, taking turns in teams of four, tripping on roots and twisting our ankles on stones. It was the first time we’d recovered a child that young, and it was the most heartbreaking thing I’ve ever done. Showing up at that trailhead with that stretcher and seeing his mother’s face ripped me in two. If I live to be a hundred and never have to go through that again, it will be too soon.

The service is short. A lady from their church sings “This Little Light of Mine,” which the pastor says was his favorite song when he was small. Mr.Powell, the principal, speaks briefly of what a good student Tim was and how he was loved by the faculty. Then the pastor speaks again, consoling his parents, before everybody streams past the casket for the last time. We all wait until the lid is closed and it’s rolled out to the hearse before we head to our vehicles. Aggie is somewhere, but I don’t know where.

Another man from the funeral service flags us into line behind the hearse, and we drive out into the country, down a small gravel road, to a cemetery that no one would’ve even known was there unless they’d been there before. There are cars as far as I can see behind us, and when we pull around to the back side of the cemetery, I realize that a lot of the stones around us have the name Crandall on them. It’s a family cemetery, and I wonder how long the Crandalls have been burying their people here. That kind of community is foreign to me.

We step out of our cars and head to the hearse. As they roll the casket out on the rollers, we step up in twos and take the handles. And I’m surprised―it’s much lighter than I expected. There’s a pronounced embankment up into the burial area itself, so we have to be very careful, but we make it with no trouble and slide the casket onto the funeral bier. The funeral service employee points to a spot just back from the chairs at the edge of the area, so we line up there, our hands clasped in front of us.

As soon as his parents are seated there, the pastor starts to speak. He recites the Lord’s Prayer, then turns and nods to someone. And Aggie stands. She takes a step or two until she’s at the head of the casket, places her hand on it briefly, then clasps her hands together just under her breasts and starts to sing.

There’s a land that is fairer than day /

And by faith we can see it afar. /

For the Father waits over the way /

To prepare us a dwelling place there. /

In the sweet by and by /

We shall meet on that beautiful shore. /

In the sweet by and by /

We shall meet on that beautiful shore.

I’ve never heard anybody sing like that. If the sky suddenly opened and angels appeared, I wouldn’t be the least bit shocked, but something even more amazing happens when she starts the second verse. Dozens of voices join hers, and I’m in awe.

We shall sing on that beautiful shore /

The melodious songs of the blest /

And our spirit shall sorrow no more. /

Not a sigh for the blessing of rest.

From everywhere around us, the crowd gathered there begins to sing the second verse with her, and they’re not just singing. They’re harmonizing, some of them in a call and response style when they get to the chorus, and I realize that’s what they do every Sunday morning in every little church up and down these hollers. Every time they get a chance, they lift their voices together, and the sense of community I feel, the love I feel, is overwhelming. It has to be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard, and I have to bow my head and pinch my eyes with my thumb and forefinger to keep from breaking down. This is what I’ve wanted my entire life, to belong somewhere, to feel like a part of something bigger than myself. What I’ve had with the team has been that, but this… I can’t imagine having grown up in this community, to have known this my entire life. If I’d had this growing up, I never would’ve wound up in prison. I never would’ve shot anybody. I never would’ve looked anywhere else.

By the third and final verse, we’re all singing. I don’t know what I’m singing, but I can sing, and by now, I know the chorus. As my voice mingles with all the rest, I feel a kinship here that I’ve never felt before. At the end of the chorus, the melodies drift away in the breeze, and it’s quiet. Then I hear Aggie’s voice shout out, “God is good…”

The entire crowd answers, “All the time.”

“And all the time…”

They all respond with, “God is good.”

“Amen,” she says firmly, then returns to her seat.

Tim’s parents stand and place red roses on the casket. The pastor places a red carnation onto the casket, and we’ve all been given a red carnation to put there too. We pass the casket, place them, and line up again on the other side behind Tim’s parents. Then Mr.Powell, Mr.Reitgarten, Aggie, and several other teachers do the same.

As soon as that’s over, the pastor stands. “This concludes the service for Tim and his family. For any of y’all who’d like, the ladies over at Wolfpen Creek Missionary Baptist have put together a meal. Y’all are free to join the family there and laugh and recollect about Tim with us. Thank y’all for bein’ here.”

Everyone begins to walk away, but I’m rooted there to the spot. I’m still standing there, frozen, when I feel someone on my left side. “Babe, you okay?” Aggie whispers.

“I…” I can’t speak. No words will come. I don’t know how to say what I’m thinking.

“Priest, you okay?” I hear another voice on my right ask, and it’s Patch.

I glance back and forth at them, a woman I’ve fallen in love with and a man I trust more than I trust myself, and I feel something inside my chest open up. “This is what I want.”

Patch’s voice is calm. “What do you mean, buddy?”

“This is what I want. This. This… thing everybody here has. A place to be. People who know me and love me. To be part of a community. To have friends and folks who speak to me on the street. To not have to worry about guns and violence and bad people around every corner. To… to know songs that everybody else knows and to sing them together. This is what I want. It’s what I’ve wanted my whole fucking life and I never knew what was missing! Oh, god, please, this is it! I want… I want this!” Tears are pouring down my face, and I don’t care who sees them. I’m shaking all over, and I can feel my knees weakening.

“Come over here and sit down,” Patch orders. Him on one side and Aggie on the other, I make my way around the casket and sit down in one of the chairs. Aggie’s still holding my hand, but Patch draws his left arm around me and puts his right hand on my thigh, then twists until he’s looking into my face. “Priest, this is what I’m working toward. This is what I want for all of you guys, a place to belong, a place where everybody knows you and respects you, a place where you don’t have to be afraid to walk down the street because you’re accepted and cared for. This was, is , my dream for the farm. Penny was a transplant, but Mavis, Audrey, and Tinsley grew up here. We’re on our way, man. We’re making people understand that we’re here to help. They trust us. They’re growing to love us. You did this inside the walls of the prison with the Guardians, so you understand it better than any of us.”

“Baby,” Aggie starts, “I was at the funeral home early. I talked to Tim’s parents, and they’re so grateful to you guys for being there for him, for bringing him home to them. You have no idea what your team has done for them. They want all of you as part of this community. You’ve proven your worth time and time again. But you’ve all been out there, a little afraid to come into town, to interact and show them who you really are, because you’re afraid of being rejected. Every one of you has got to shed that fear and step into the light. They want you as part of their extended family. Show them that you want to be part of it too.”

I’ve wanted a lot of things in my life, but none as much as I want this very thing, right now. I can do this. I know I can. I’ve done a lot more with a lot less. I’ll show them all that I want to be part of their world. “I get it. I do. Are we going over to the meal?”

“If you want to,” Patch says and grips the back of my neck with a strong hand.

“I do. I want to be there.”

Aggie stands and extends her hand to me. “Then let’s go.”

By the time we get to the church, I’ve dried my tears and I hope my eyes are as bright as my soul. I have a mission and a purpose. I want to belong. We barely make it through the door before Virginia, Tim’s mom, rushes us. “Oh, Aggie,” she whispers through her tears as she hugs my girl, “thank you so much for singing. And you!” She hugs me and I’m a little surprised, but I hug her back. “Thank you so much! I’m so thankful for you and all your friends. Please, come. Have some lunch. There’s plenty and we’re glad you’re here.”

“I’m glad to be here, even if I wish it was for a different reason,” I tell her.

“It’s okay. Tim would be glad you’re here. Go help yourselves. Oh, Patch, I’m so glad you’re here,” she says as she turns to my boss, so Aggie and I head to the buffet line.

I’ve heard about southern funeral food, but now I understand. There’s so much here that it’s hard to take it all in. Bulldog and Tinsley are over across the way, holding a lively discussion with two women who are bound to be Tinsley’s customers. Hollywood and Audrey are sitting across the table from another couple whose little boy must be friends with Taylor, because neither kid is eating―they’re too busy looking at some action figures they have with them. Mavis, Reboot, Lenny, and Sarah are sitting with a few other couples, laughing and talking, and Bear, Ghost, and Izzy are sitting with a table full of law enforcement and first responders, having some kind of animated conversation that includes an explosion, based on the sounds and gestures coming from the table. Patch and Penny are sitting with Tim’s parents and the pastor, and from time to time I see them smile or gesture, so I have to believe the pastor is doing his best to get them talking about things other than Tim and the service. There are laughter and smiles everywhere, and I know this is the kind of memories Tim would’ve wanted everyone to make. I hear Aggie from somewhere beside me say, “Mind if we sit?”

“Oh, of course not! Join us!” MichaelPowell says, and I see Mr.Reitgarten and some of the other teachers sitting around. “Mr.Fowler, nice to see you again.”

“Thanks. Nice to see you too, and you can call me Priest.”

“I remember now! So, ever been to a spread like this before?” Michael asks.

“Nope, but I heard about them all the way up in Chicago when I was growing up.”

“And it’s all true, right?” Mr.Reitgarten asks.

“Sure is.”

“By the way, it’s Ben,” he says, then points to two of the women. “And this is Deborah and Jody.”

“Nice to meet y’all,” I say, trying out the vernacular. It feels comfortable to me.

“Yeah, Deborah here is the one who told me you were checking out my butt the day you came to the school,” Aggie says, grinning.

“I did not!” the woman barks, laughing.

“Oh, no, don’t you go lyin’, girl. You know you did!” Aggie’s laughing now.

“Well, okay. But he was. You were!” she says, turning her attention to me.

I start to laugh. “I ain’t lyin’. I sure was.”

“Um-hmmm. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, knowwhatI’msayin’?” Aggie says and grins at me. “Thought you was bein’ slick but ya got caught.”

“At’s okay. I got the girl, din I?”

“You shore did.” She leans toward me and bumps my shoulder, laughing.

Somebody slaps my shoulder and I turn to find Ghost passing behind me. “You over here charmin’ these ladyfolk?”

“You betcha.”

“Uh-huh. Y’all gotta watch him. He works with leathah. He’s a leathah daddy,” he says, laughing.

All three women let out an “Oooooo!”

“Hush, y’all. Act respectable. I know it’s hard, but you can do it,” I tell them, grinning, and pop a sliced dill in my mouth. Michael and Ben are shaking their heads and laughing.

This. This is what I was looking for. A sense of community. A place to belong. I finally feel like that’s what I have, and nobody can know how good that feels to me.