Page 90 of A Boy Called Lovesong

I sat there in silence a moment, stunned.

I wasn’t sure how to process the vitriol, the malice, the corrosiveness that had just come from the reverend’s mouth in a tone so casual, he might as well have been reciting a recipe for bundt cake.

When I finally found my voice, all I could say was, “You can keep your Bible, Reverend.”

The reverend sat forward. “Very well, if you insist on being this trying, I’ll strike you a bargain. In the barn outside is an old black Cadillac, in perfect working condition. My wife and Ihave no real need for it, and the Lord knows our son Lafayette will never be able to drive it. If you leave town before dawn tomorrow, without saying goodbye to a single soul including our son, the car is yours. I guarantee it’s worth a substantial amount more than the wreck you arrived in.”

I pushed the Bible back across the desk to him. “How can I make this any clearer? I don’t want anything that’s yours, Reverend. Not your Bible. Not your car.”

“I hope you’ll include my son on that list.”

I shook my head. “I said I didn’t want anything that’s yours. Look a little deeper into your son’s soul, and I think you’ll find he was never yours to begin with.”

The reverend snatched up his Bible and opened the small chest on his desk. He was about to return his precious book when I caught sight of something else inside the box.

Was that—

An envelope…?

With Lovesong’s name written on it…?

In Joel’s handwriting?

“What’s that?” I snapped, reaching for the chest. But Reverend Jim promptly tossed the Bible into the box and slammed the lid shut.

He twisted the key in the lock, pulled it out and slipped it into the desk drawer.

I felt my throat tighten, I bunched up my fist, I wanted to demand he open the chest again. I wanted to see what was in there, to make certain I wasn’t just imagining what I thought I saw. I wanted to scream at him to open the box, to fight him for it.

But I thought better of it, knowing the chest was locked, knowing if there was something in there that the reverend was hiding from the world, he certainly wasn’t about to open it for me.

From the kitchen, the reverend’s wife called. “Gentlemen, supper will be ready momentarily.”

I wasn’t interested in staying a second longer, and I got the feeling the reverend wanted me gone as badly as I wanted to go.

I turned for the door to his study. “Apologize to your wife for me, but I won’t be staying for supper. I seem to have lost my appetite.”

With that I promptly left the house.

CHAPTER 17

I ran allthe way back to town and went straight toMoonshine Maybelle’s, but there was no sign of Lovesong at the piano.

“He headed to his room early,” Leroy told me when he saw me scanning the bar. “Said there were some adjustments he wanted to make to his guitar.”

In the manor, I took the elevator upstairs and opened the door to our room.

There I found Lovesong sitting on his bed with Chet by his side. On Lovesong’s lap was his electric guitar, the strings unraveled and the tuning pegs unscrewed. Beside Chet I saw an open toolbox with screws, putty and a drill on the bed, as well as an extra tuning peg that looked like it belonged on his acoustic guitar.

It dawned on me what he was doing.

He was adding a seventh string to his guitar.

“Noah? Why are you back so soon? Ain’t y’all supposed to be having supper?”

My reply was not an answer to his question. “What the fuck are you doing to your guitar?”

He shrugged innocently. “I’m doing a little modification.”

---