Page 52 of A Boy Called Lovesong

“Him and his wife both. You get used to it. Hard to believe Lovesong turned out relatively normal, given those are the people who raised him. Thankfully nature proved stronger than nurture in his case, and don’t the reverend and his wife hate it.”

I was putting two and two together in my head. “You mean, they’re not Lovesong’s biological parents?”

Cybil shook her head. “Nobody knows who the boy’s biological daddy is, but his mama disappeared when he was just a baby. Left him in a basket at the crossroads. It was the reverend’s wife who found him and took him in.”

“Jesus,” I said.

“That’s exactly what they believe, that Jesus guided the reverend’s wife to Lovesong that day. That they saved that poor innocent child from the Devil himself.”

A chill plucked at my spine. All the talk of Heaven and Hell had left me feeling completely unnerved. As Cybil locked the roller doors, I asked, “Would you like me to walk you back?”

She smiled in the moonlight and shook her head. “Thanks, but really I’m fine. It takes a lot more than the reverend’s fear-mongering to rattle me. Sometimes when he’s standing at that pulpit I tune out altogether. I mostly only go to church to hear Lovesong play. You gotta find joy where you can, right? And hell can that boy play.”

“He can play, all right.”

She gave me a look that was difficult to discern in the moonlight. “Makes you wonder where that kinda talent comes from.”

I wanted to ask what she meant by that, but it was late and I’d already disrupted her evening enough.

I wished her goodnight, and from the side ofEarl’s AutoI watched to make sure she reached the door to Earl’s house safely.

I carried Chet back to the manor, feeling a desperate need to protect him.

The wind was not strong, but it still made an eerie rustling sound through the cotton fields all around us. It teased the chains leading up the bell tower, making them rattle and clatter against one another, imitating the sound of creatures scurrying through the night. The padlock and chain on the church entrance swayed in the breeze and banged on the door, like someone inside was knocking to get out.

I reached the manor, grateful to see no padlock on the door. Clearly Maybelle did not feel the need to heed the reverend’s advice.

I could hear the muffled laughter from the bar next door, but there was no longer any music playing.

I wondered if Lovesong had retired to his room.

Our room.

I decided to enter as quietly as possible.

The lamp on the dresser beside my bed was on, and when I peered around the opening door, I saw Lovesong sitting up on the side of his bed, as if he had been waiting up for me.

He was wearing nothing but the crucifix around his neck and a pair of baggy old boxer shorts that looked way too big for him. They reminded me of myself, always dressing in Joel’s clothes which were too big for me, although by now I had gotten used to it.

Lovesong’s head was tilted toward the door as I entered.

Obviously, he had heard the elevator, heard my footsteps down the hall, heard the turn of the doorknob no matter how silently I had tried to enter.

“Hi,” he said in a quiet voice. “Are you all right? Y’all left in kind of a hurry tonight.”

Before I could answer, an excited Chet jumped out of my arms and up onto Lovesong’s bed, his tail and tongue both working overtime.

Lovesong laughed with surprise as Chet licked his chin and cheeks. “Hi to you too! How you be, little buddy?”

“Chet, don’t be a handful.”

“He ain’t a handful. He’s a bundle of love is what he is.”

“I guess so. He used to be. He hasn’t been himself lately, but I guess he likes you.”

“Well, that’s a good thing, cause I like him too.” He asked Chet, “How come you ain’t been yourself lately? Huh?”

I answered the question, trying to remove all emotion from my voice. “My partner died ten months ago. Chet was his dog.”

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