“No, he won’t. He’s got Uncle Will, so why does he need me? I won’t be in the way at your meeting, Deborah. Honest. I can stay in the pool or watch television or something.”
“Is this because of your Aunt Pam?” I asked.
He turned back to the window and stared out at the setting sun without answering.
Jonna’s sister is bipolar and his last experience with her had been a terrifying ordeal. No wonder he was apprehensive about the possibility of a repeat.
With my left hand on the steering wheel, I reached over and touched his shoulder. “You absolutely do
I gave him a couple of miles to process my assurance, then added, “Jimmy Radcliff’s going to be really disappointed if you stay home.”
Jimmy’s dad, Paul, is the chief of police up in Shaysville. He and Dwight are old Army buddies and Paul had promised to take Cal and Jimmy camping on the New River while Dwight attended his conference.
Some of the tension went out of Cal’s small frame. “Okay,” he said with a nod.
“Pam’s a big part of it,” I told Dwight when we lay in bed that night, “but I think he may be dreading the house itself. It’s going to make him remember Jonna and what his life was like before she died, so cut him a little slack if he gives you a hard time, okay?”
He stopped nuzzling my ear long enough to murmur, “Okay,” then turned his attention back to where his hands were and what they were doing and after that, I have to admit that I did, too.
“I’m gonna miss you,” he said later when we lay face-to-face in the darkness with our legs entwined.
“Me, too, you,” I said, kissing his chest.
“This is your first judges’ conference since we got together.”
Uh-oh.
Dwight and my brothers were inseparable as kids and I’ve known him since I was a baby. After he and Jonna split and he came back to Colleton County to become Sheriff Bo Poole’s second in command, we would hang out together whenever we were at loose ends and not seeing anyone. I used to cry on his shoulder about relationships that went nowhere and he would unburden his guilt about missing Cal’s childhood and whether or not he should take Jonna back to court to amend the custody arrangements. He was smart enough not to give details about his romantic entanglements but I always talked way too much about mine, some of which did indeed begin with the summer conferences at the beach or end with the fall conferences up in the mountains.
“Remember that you’re a married lady now,” he growled. “Or should I ask Judge Parker to keep an eye on you for me?”
Luther Parker was the first black judge elected in our district and he takes a semi-paternal interest in me.
“You can ask,” I said, “but he’s in bed every night by nine o’clock.”
“Just see that you are, too,” he said. “Alone.”
I laughed. His tone was light, but I heard the tiniest touch of apprehension in his voice.
Nice to know your husband doesn’t take you for granted, right?
Will called the next morning to confirm the time and place to meet with Dwight. He’s three brothers up from me and makes his living as an estate appraiser and an auctioneer. Even though he’s never had any formal training for either, he’s pretty savvy and seems to know instinctively the value of a piece of furniture or a porcelain figurine. Occasionally he messes up on the worth of a chest or a family portrait, “But hell,” he says, “that’s what keeps the fancy-pants dealers coming to my auctions. They think I’m so ignorant that they’re going to get something good for pennies on the dollar. Once in a while they might do, but most times they wind up buying what I’m selling for more than they meant to spend. It all evens out.”
After Jonna’s death up there in Virginia, he offered to go through the house with Dwight and to help move everything of sentimental or monetary value back down here so that we could get a better sense of what might be important to Cal someday and what could be disposed of now. This was the first chance they’d had to go up and even now it was only because of that training seminar up in Charlottesville.
Dwight planned to help Will load the truck, list the house with a real estate agent, go to the seminar on Monday and Tuesday, then pick Cal up on his way home on Wednesday, the day before I was due to get back.
Cal understood that the house and most of the furniture had to go, and he was enough a child of the age to be interested in how much money might wind up in his college fund when everything was sold. At least that’s what we hoped.
“Peanut butter or chicken salad?” I asked him now as I opened a loaf of whole-wheat bread to pack a lunch for them.
He frowned at the carrots and apples I’d pulled from the refrigerator. “Dad and I always stop at McDonald’s,” he said, referring to the times he and Dwight had driven back and forth to Shaysville whenever it was Dwight’s weekend to have him.
“This is better for you guys,” I said lightly, mindful of my new nutritional responsibilities to a growing boy.
Dwight entered the kitchen, freshly shaved, and carrying his duffel bag. “Ready to hit the road, buddy?”
He set the bag by the back door and went over to pour himself a final cup of coffee.
Cal immediately took advantage of his turned back and said, “Can we stop for lunch in Greensboro, Dad? Like we always do?”
“Sure thing,” Dwight said, completely oblivious to what was going on here. “Uncle Will’s never said no to a cheeseburger.”
“Fine,” I said and shoved the stuff back into the refrigerator. I did not slam the refrigerator door and I did not
