Reunion: Diversion Six

by Eden Winters

  Son. A sliver of ice chipped off Lucky’s innards. “It’s weird being back.”

  Dad scrutinized Lucky long enough to make Lucky squirm. “I’m glad to have you back. Even if…”

  Even if he had to lose Bristol. Lucky kept his mouth shut.

  “And all this time I was convinced you’d sent Daytona drugs when he’d just gotten out of rehab.”

  “I didn’t, and I wouldn’t.” How could his own family believe he’d supply his brother’s habit for even a moment?

  “Seems you’ve done well for yourself.” Nice to hear pride in the man’s voice. No matter what happened between them over the years, the little boy in Lucky still wanted his father’s approval.

  But the grown man in him, the one who no longer crawled, needed to punch the crap out of something in a boxing ring. “I have.” With Bo and Walter’s help.

  The skin around his father’s eyes crinkled. “You do understand I’ll have to give this man of yours hell, see if he’s good enough for my boy, right? It’s the Lucklighter way.”

  Maybe now, but where was this protectiveness when Charlotte married the undisputed prince of assholes? Dad could have saved her a lot of beatings and a cross country move to escape. Victor came to her rescue, not their father.

  Bo was a better man than Lucky could have dreamed of, no matter what Dad thought.

  “Bo’s a good man. The best. Take that as a given. Besides, he won’t give you a chance to not like him.” He’d have Daddy Lucklighter eating out of his hand in no time. Mama probably already was. Stress from the last twenty-four hours pressed down. Lucky needed sleep, and didn’t want to consider his father’s words until more of his brain worked.

  Daddy flapped a hand. “Now, go on and get out of here. I’m sure the rest of the family wants time with you.”

  Lucky stood. “Aren’t you coming?”

  “Probably best I don’t. They’re not very happy with me right now, and I don’t want to meet your man if I’m never going to get to see him again. Maybe later, under better circumstances.” Dad rose and gripped Lucky in a hug. “I love you, son. I want you to know I never stopped loving you, though I know I had a piss poor way of showing it.” He gave a final squeeze and let go.

  “I know, Daddy. I know.” Saying the words right now seemed shallow, a kneejerk response to Dad’s own declaration. Not that he didn’t, but… His thoughts churned, making too little sense at the moment. An anchor. He needed his anchor. Lucky stood at the door, watching the man who’d once been his hero—might still be his hero—shuffle to the window and gaze outside. He might be down, but not out. Lucklighter stubbornness came in handy at times.

  Lucky followed voices into the kitchen, rich with the scents of bacon and fresh baked biscuits. May Bo forgive him for the food sins of the next ten minutes.

  Dallas and Bo stood by the sink. They stopped talking when Lucky walked in. Dallas opened and closed his mouth a few times. Nothing emerged.

  Words needed saying, but maybe not today. “Well, lookie here,” Lucky said. “If it ain’t Little Dover Lucklighter, all growed up.”

  “Don’t call me that.” Dallas’s grin called his gruff tone a lie.

  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.”

  Daytona dashed out the door, his footsteps pounding like thunder on the stairs.

  Lucky’d gotten his family back, but maybe not all. “Day, wait…”

  Mama murmured, “Let him go.”

  Dallas put a hand on Lucky’s arm. “He’ll come around. He always does. He’s just a little slow about it at times. After all the things he’s said about you over the years, he’s carrying around a load of guilt.” More quietly, he added, “We all are.”

  “Shouldn’t I go talk to him?” Lucky started toward the stairs.

  “I’ll go.” Charlotte disappeared out the door.

  Lucky carried his plate to the sink. His family s
tayed quiet, probably straining to hear anything from Daytona’s bedroom, directly above the kitchen.

  Footfalls tapped down the stairs. Mama and Dallas sprang into action, rushing around the kitchen and trying way too hard to look like they hadn’t been concerned.

  Charlotte entered the room. “He’s on the phone with his sponsor. He’ll be okay.”

  Maybe Lucky had been selfish to come here and disrupt lives so used to not having him around. “As long as he don’t start using again, he can take all the time in the world.” Damn. The years had not been kind to the Lucklighter clan.

  Still so much needed saying. And Lucky might never tell his folks about Bristol taking out life insurance on Dad. Nothing good would come of him implicating Bristol in Uncle Ned’s death. He’d work with Charlotte to settle his brother’s affairs and keep the details to a minimum.

  They’d been through enough already. Lucky rinsed his coffee cup. “Mama, me and Bo got to get back.”

  “What? You just got here. I planned to make up your old room.”

  He exchanged a glance with Bo. “We got work to do.” And thoughts to sort out.

  One more hug couldn’t hurt. If he woke to find he’d dreamed this reunion, he’d at least have something to remember. Damn, but having his mother’s arms around him felt good.

  She’d changed. Hard to imagine her and Daddy no longer being an unbreakable team.

  Her eyes glistened when she stepped back. She latched onto Bo. “Now, don’t be a stranger. And keep Richmond in line, okay?”

  Bo grinned his most evil. “I’ll do my best, ma’am.”

  “You are coming to the funeral, right?” A tear spilled down Mama’s cheek.

  “If I can.” Lucky hugged her one more time.

  Time to go. But one day soon he’d be back. When he could stay longer. And under better circumstances.

  Lucky took his place in the Durango, watching his family retreat into the house.

  Bo put the truck into gear and started turning around.

  Movement in the side mirror caught Lucky’s eye. “Bo! Stop!”

  Bo slammed on the brakes. Lucky hopped out of the truck, hiding a wince when he hit the ground a bit too hard.

  His dad hit equally hard, clutching Lucky in a death grip, his blubbering mangling his words. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

  Daddy’s tears mingled with Mama’s on Lucky’s shirt collar.

  His father hugged him from the front and Bo from the back. Together, they might’ve exerted enough force to fuse the long-broken pieces of Lucky’s heart.

  “I hope you’ll come back and see us soon,” his father said.

  “I will, Daddy, I will.” Maybe after Lucky worked some shit out in his head.

  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.

  Charlotte sat up. “Which reminds me! I started one of those online contribution things to help raise money to cover Daddy’s expenses. With everything going on, I haven’t checked donations lately.”

  She punched a few buttons on her cell phone, then punched a few more. Her face went white. “Rich, would you make sure I’m not hallucinating?”

  Lucky scrolled through her iPhone. Mr. and Mrs. Smith from Atlanta contributed two thousand dollars. Dayum! “Mr. Tibbles, ten bucks, Twinkles, ten bucks, Patches, ten bucks. Oh. Mrs. Griggs, fifty.” Trust the woman to make donations in her cats’ names. More contributors filled the list, this or that cousin or other relative, folks from Mama’s church, with the occasional neighbor pitching in, a donation from Loretta Johnson, and…

  “Bo?” Lucky handed the phone off like Charlotte had, mouth suddenly dry.

  The last entry read, “Anonymous, Nice, France. One hundred thousand dollars.”

  Ano
nymous, hell.

  The color came back to Charlotte’s grinning face. “You know that’ll pay off the rest of Dad’s bills and yours, and keep him and Mama going till he gets back on his feet, right?”

  Just enough, and not too much more. Trust Lucky’s mentors to take care of things, like they always had.

  But they better not expect any favors in return. And he’d probably never find a trace of who really sent the money, no matter how hard he looked. He’d always considered himself the best, but lately he’d found a few better.

  Not by much, but better.

  “Victor donated the money, didn’t he?” Charlotte blurted.

  Time to have a talk with his sister about mentioning Victor’s name around Bo. The past was the past, but still… Bo didn’t need to hear about Lucky’s ex.

  “Nice, France. He’s got a sister there.” And she’d never trouble herself with Lucky’s family. So had to be Victor. Or more likely, Victor and Nestor.

  Charlotte kept going. “You know he made a college fund for the boys, right?”

  “Yeah. He said he did.”

  “Todd’s decided on Clemson. We’ll be down in a few weeks to move him into his dorm.” She fixed her gaze on Lucky. “Okay if we stay with you a few days? Now you’re back, I don’t intend to let you get away again.”

  Charlotte and her boys? In Lucky and Bo’s house? The noise, the running around?

  Oh, hell yeah. “Sure. We can put you up for a few days. I’ll start getting things ready as soon as we get home.” Though leaving the farm tomorrow might kill him. Only, with Mama in the next room, Bo still on assignment, and no time to sneak out to the barn, Lucky might die from lack of sex. “Um… Okay with you, Bo?”

  “You even have to ask?”

  No, reckon not. “You’ve been off work a few weeks already. Will your boss give you more time?” Sooner or later, Charlotte would have to return to Spokane. Damn it.

  Charlotte reclined on her arms, turning her face to the sun. “Um… That’s something else I need to talk to you about. I’m quitting my job and enrolling in nursing school. I’ve been taking classes online already.”