Page 35 of A Boy Called Lovesong

Panting, panicked, I checked the crack.

I ran my finger along the jagged, paper-thin fissure that had threatened to take him from me.

There was no sign of anything leaking out, no ashes seeping onto the floor, no hourglass cascade of Joel’s remains that could never truly be salvaged from the grimy, grease-stained floor of this mechanic’s workshop.

I looked up to see the strangers staring at me, their faces sorrowful as they registered what I was clutching.

“Is that…” Leroy was pointing at the urn in my arms.

“It’s none of your business,” I told him.

“Here, let us help.” Cybil knelt and started picking up my fallen clothes.

“Please. Don’t.”

She stopped immediately.

With her cane, Maybelle pointed out the door, shooing Leroy and Cybil out. “Thank you for trying to help, but now git you two. We all got things to do. A busy little town like Clara’s Crossing don’t run itself and the others will be back from the fields any minute now, wetter than a mischief of swamp rats. Now off you go.”

Hurrying into the rain, Li’l Leroy and Cybil disappeared down the street.

I suddenly felt guilty that I’d snapped at them when they were only trying to help. “Do they need umbrellas? Will they be okay?”

Maybelle laughed. “It’s only rain, honey. It ain’t acid. The Lord ain’t that angry at us yet.”

From under the workbench, Chet barked in need of comfort or at the very least attention.

Maybelle turned, both hands on her hips now as she steadied herself in a school ma’am stance. “And what, pray tell, is allyourfussin’ about? You’re a dog, ain’t you? It’s not your business to run away from a storm, it’s your business to fight back. When that thunder barks at you, you bark right back, little man. Y’hear?”

Chet tilted his head, ears up, as though taking in her words… which he clearly did, because with the next clap of thunder, Chet looked up at the roof of the auto shop and barked like a watchdog on duty.

“That’s better.” Outside the rain began to ease and Maybelle gave an impressed nod in Chet’s direction. “See what happens when you show ’em how brave you are?”

Chet wagged his tail.

A moment later, Earl shut the hood. “Speaking of brave, I have no idea where you came from, son, but you’re one courageous soul to get as far as you did in this car.”

“New York.” I started scooping up shirts and underwear. “We drove from New York.”

“What’s a boy from New York doingaaaaaallthe way down here?” asked Maybelle.

I didn’t know how to answer that.

I didn’twantto answer that.

Carefully I placed the urn like an egg in a nest of clothes before shutting the suitcase as best I could, then asked Earl, “How long do you think it’ll take to fix the car?”

“My dear boy, from what I can tell, I could build you a new car faster than I can fix this one.”

A sigh of frustration escaped my lungs in a dramatic gush. “Seriously?”

“What do you want me to do, pull a miracle out of my ass? You need to talk to Reverend Jim across the road if you want that kinda favor performed. Not that he’s likely to oblige. He don’t take too kindly to strangers.”

I shook my head. “No thanks. I don’t believe in that kind of thing anyway. I just want my car fixed.”

Maybelle stepped toward me, where I still knelt beside my suitcase. “Then I suggest we let Earl start on getting things fixed, while I get you acquainted with the manor. Come along now, I have just the room for you.”

Outside the rain stopped altogether.

---