“I didn’t know Alexander well, but I knew Rayette and I thought she was a wonderful mother and a fine person,” Jo said.
I didn’t really know Alejandro either, Lucinda wanted to tell her. And if a mother doesn’t know her son, who does? Long before this terrible thing happened, she’d lain awake nights wondering if she loved Alejandro enough. But how can you love someone you don’t know? And now, with all these well-meaning people around her, she wondered why grief was not tearing her apart.
“How’s Misty?” Jo asked.
“She is wonderful.”
“If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”
There was something, yes, but Lucinda couldn’t say it, not there, not like this, with so many around to hear.
“Thank you,” she said instead. “You have always been so kind.”
They stood a moment, and Lucinda thought from the way Jo gazed into her eyes that maybe she had divined what was on Lucinda’s mind and was waiting for Lucinda to ask. It was as if she was offering Lucinda permission to speak the unspeakable. Lucinda opened her mouth, knowing suddenly that she would ask, right there, ask the unspeakable of this woman who was as near to a friend as Lucinda had.
Before she could say a word, however, the Red Boyz walked in.
Lucinda knew some of them. The one named Blessing she certainly recognized. An odd name, she’d always thought, because he never seemed to her to be concerned about what God had given him. Whenever she’d seen him in Alejandro’s company, he’d looked stern and unhappy. Now he looked worried.
He spotted Will first, who was standing with Jo O’Connor’s husband. He spoke to Will in a voice that could be heard above all the others in the room, “Your son, our brother, was a great man. We’ve come to pay our respects.”
Nothing about Rayette, Lucinda thought with disapproval.
Will opened his hand, gesturing toward the caskets. “Then pay them.”
Blessing hesitated and eyed Cork O’Connor. “I heard what happened last night. Don’t say I didn’t warn you about Lonnie Thunder.”
Lucinda could see the anger in O’Connor’s face, but he spoke so quietly in reply that she couldn’t hear what he said. Whatever it was, it made Blessing laugh in a brutal way.
“I’ll pass that along to him,” Blessing said. “Threats from an old man. He’ll get a real kick out of it. Make his day.”
“You said you came to pay your respects.” Will opened his hand again toward Lucinda and the caskets beyond her. “I suggest you do that.”
Blessing made his way across the room with the other Red Boyz following. He stood before Lucinda and drew himself up in a formal way.
“I’m sorry for your loss. We give you our promise that whoever did this will pay. Kakaik was our friend, our brother, our leader. Kakaik was a great warrior.”
Out of the depth of her weariness, Lucinda stared at him.
“His name was Alejandro,” she said, and turned away.
TWENTY-FOUR
They drove home from the visitation separately and Cork parked his Bronco behind Jo’s Camry in the driveway. Once inside, they spent a while around the kitchen table over the usual O’Connor nighttime fare: cookies and milk. Stevie went upstairs to get ready for bed, and then Cork went up to say good night. His son scooted over to make room on the mattress and Cork sat down. Trixie, who’d settled herself at Stevie’s feet, crawled up and wedged herself between them.
“Are you going back to Sam’s Place?” Stevie asked.
“Yeah, buddy, I am.”
“Somebody might shoot at you again.”
“I’m thinking that, for them, once was enough.”
“Then why are you still staying at Sam’s Place?”
“Just playing it safe.”
“Because of us, you mean. Me, Annie, Mom.”
“Don’t forget Trixie.” Cork scratched Trixie’s head, behind her ears. The dog’s tail thumped the mattress with a slow beat.
“You don’t want us around if there’s more shooting, right?”
“That’s right.”
Stevie looked troubled. “You said you wouldn’t do anything that would get you hurt.”
“I’m kind of in a spot there, guy. It doesn’t seem to matter what I do, people still shoot at me.”
“They’re afraid of you. And they oughta be.”
“You think so?”
“Uh-huh.” He nodded seriously. “Is Mom still mad at you?”
“What makes you think she’s mad?”
“When Mom’s mad, everybody knows it.” Stevie yawned.
“She’s coming around.”
“She’s just worried. Moms do that.” His eyes seemed to be getting heavy.
“I’ll leave the light on if you want to read a little while.”
Stevie shook his head.
“’Night, buddy.” Cork bent and gave his son a kiss on the forehead. “Sleep tight.”
“’Night, Dad.”
As he left the room, Cork turned off the light. Behind him, he heard his son mumble dreamily, “’Night, Trixie.”
He paused at the open door to Annie’s room. His daughter sat at her desk, facing her computer. The glow from the monitor surrounded her shoulders and head like a halo.
“So, without school taking up all your time, what’s on your agenda tomorrow?” he asked.
Annie spun around in her chair to face him. “I don’t know. Run first thing in the morning. Finish my term paper. Mom says since I’m home all this week, I’m responsible for dinners.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“Maybe I’ll try some new recipes from that cookbook Aunt Rose sent me.”
“Adventurous.” He leaned against the door frame and smiled.
“Dad, I’m worried about Uly Kingbird.”
“How so?”
“It’s never been easy for him here. Now it’s even worse. And he won’t ask for any help.”
“I’m sure Will and Lucinda are doing all they can.” He saw the sour look on her face. “What?”
“Parents are clueless.”
“Oh?”
“I could tell you stories.”
“About you? I’m all ears.”
“Someday, maybe, when I’m past being grounded for life.” She smiled, but only briefly. “Uly’s dad isn’t like you.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Uly doesn’t talk about it, but I get the feeling Mr. Kingbird rides him all the time. Uly can’t do anything right.”
Cork came in and sat down on the bed. “Let me tell you about Will Kingbird. His mother died when he was very young and his father remarried a woman with several children of her own already. Will’s father was an alcoholic. Not a mean drunk, but chronic. Had trouble holding a job. His second wife finally got tired of his drinking
