and it’s what your momma would have wanted.”
Katie had thought a lot about God when she was lying in the hospital, after Aunt Mary told her that everyone in her family was dead. She was angry with Him. Katie and her mother and brothers and sister had gone to church every Sunday morning, and every night since she could remember, Katie knelt down next to her bed and prayed before she went to sleep.
Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
At the end of the prayer, she always asked God to bless Mother and Father, her sister, and her brothers. If there was anyone she knew who was sick or having problems, she’d ask God to bless them, too. She never asked Him to bless her; she thought it would be selfish. She never asked Him for a thing. Maybe she should have asked Him to keep her family safe.
When they finally arrived in Tennessee in the middle of the night, Aunt Mary and Katie carried their things inside. The house was dark except for a lamp near the front door. The hardwood floors creaked under Katie’s feet with every step, and the wind was rattling the shutters outside the windows. The house smelled odd, like a doctor’s office.
A light came on down a short hallway to Katie’s right, and a door opened. A black woman stepped into the hall and walked toward them. The woman stopped and looked down at Katie. She smiled. She had the darkest eyes and the whitest teeth Katie had ever seen, and her face was as shiny and round as a ceramic dinner plate. She was much bigger than Aunt Mary. Her hair was wrapped in a blue bandanna, and she was wearing a faded blue flannel robe.
Katie heard a muffled sound coming from the other side of the door. It sounded almost like a sheep bawling.
“Welcome home, Mary,” the black woman said to Aunt Mary. They embraced.
“It’s good to be here,” Aunt Mary said.
Aunt Mary put her hand on Katie’s shoulder. “This is Katie,” she said. “Katie, this is Lottie, my good friend.”
“Nice to meet you, Miss Katie,” Lottie said in a soft, smooth, Southern way. She knelt down and hugged her. “You’re gonna be real happy here. Real happy.”
Katie heard the sound coming from behind the door again—“ nnggghhaaaaah ”—and looked nervously up at Aunt Mary.
“He knows you’re here,” Lottie said to Aunt Mary. “He’s missed you something terrible.”
“Why don’t you take Katie upstairs and get her settled?” Aunt Mary said. “I’ll look in on him.”
Lottie picked up Katie’s suitcase with one hand, wrapped the other around Katie’s hand, and led her toward the stairs. Katie looked back over her shoulder and saw Aunt Mary disappear into the same room from which Lottie had emerged. She heard the bawling sound again, this time much louder.
“That’s Luke,” Lottie said as they made their way slowly up the stairs. “He’s a special boy. I expect you’ll meet him tomorrow.”
7
“I gave these damned things up a long time ago,” Ray Miller says as he blows a smoke ring toward the night sky and leans against the rail on the deck. “Now look at me.”
Dinner was awkward. Caroline fixed lasagna and salad, and she and Toni chatted while we all downed a couple of glasses of wine. After dessert, Ray stepped outside to smoke, and I tagged along to keep him company. I don’t know how much he had to drink before he came over, but he seems lethargic and distracted. He hasn’t uttered a complete sentence since he walked in the door.
I, too, lean against the rail, not knowing what to say. I know all about the turmoil surrounding his life, but I don’t know whether he wants to talk about it. I finally decide to breach the line.
“So, how are you holding up?” I try to be nonchalant as I search out the Big Dipper to the north. I hear him take a short breath, as though I’ve startled him.
“You don’t want to know,” Ray says. He’s a substantial man, and his voice is a
Katie had thought a lot about God when she was lying in the hospital, after Aunt Mary told her that everyone in her family was dead. She was angry with Him. Katie and her mother and brothers and sister had gone to church every Sunday morning, and every night since she could remember, Katie knelt down next to her bed and prayed before she went to sleep.
Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I should die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
At the end of the prayer, she always asked God to bless Mother and Father, her sister, and her brothers. If there was anyone she knew who was sick or having problems, she’d ask God to bless them, too. She never asked Him to bless her; she thought it would be selfish. She never asked Him for a thing. Maybe she should have asked Him to keep her family safe.
When they finally arrived in Tennessee in the middle of the night, Aunt Mary and Katie carried their things inside. The house was dark except for a lamp near the front door. The hardwood floors creaked under Katie’s feet with every step, and the wind was rattling the shutters outside the windows. The house smelled odd, like a doctor’s office.
A light came on down a short hallway to Katie’s right, and a door opened. A black woman stepped into the hall and walked toward them. The woman stopped and looked down at Katie. She smiled. She had the darkest eyes and the whitest teeth Katie had ever seen, and her face was as shiny and round as a ceramic dinner plate. She was much bigger than Aunt Mary. Her hair was wrapped in a blue bandanna, and she was wearing a faded blue flannel robe.
Katie heard a muffled sound coming from the other side of the door. It sounded almost like a sheep bawling.
“Welcome home, Mary,” the black woman said to Aunt Mary. They embraced.
“It’s good to be here,” Aunt Mary said.
Aunt Mary put her hand on Katie’s shoulder. “This is Katie,” she said. “Katie, this is Lottie, my good friend.”
“Nice to meet you, Miss Katie,” Lottie said in a soft, smooth, Southern way. She knelt down and hugged her. “You’re gonna be real happy here. Real happy.”
Katie heard the sound coming from behind the door again—“ nnggghhaaaaah ”—and looked nervously up at Aunt Mary.
“He knows you’re here,” Lottie said to Aunt Mary. “He’s missed you something terrible.”
“Why don’t you take Katie upstairs and get her settled?” Aunt Mary said. “I’ll look in on him.”
Lottie picked up Katie’s suitcase with one hand, wrapped the other around Katie’s hand, and led her toward the stairs. Katie looked back over her shoulder and saw Aunt Mary disappear into the same room from which Lottie had emerged. She heard the bawling sound again, this time much louder.
“That’s Luke,” Lottie said as they made their way slowly up the stairs. “He’s a special boy. I expect you’ll meet him tomorrow.”
7
“I gave these damned things up a long time ago,” Ray Miller says as he blows a smoke ring toward the night sky and leans against the rail on the deck. “Now look at me.”
Dinner was awkward. Caroline fixed lasagna and salad, and she and Toni chatted while we all downed a couple of glasses of wine. After dessert, Ray stepped outside to smoke, and I tagged along to keep him company. I don’t know how much he had to drink before he came over, but he seems lethargic and distracted. He hasn’t uttered a complete sentence since he walked in the door.
I, too, lean against the rail, not knowing what to say. I know all about the turmoil surrounding his life, but I don’t know whether he wants to talk about it. I finally decide to breach the line.
“So, how are you holding up?” I try to be nonchalant as I search out the Big Dipper to the north. I hear him take a short breath, as though I’ve startled him.
“You don’t want to know,” Ray says. He’s a substantial man, and his voice is a
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