Socrates watched her clutching her gloved hands and shaking like someone suffering from palsy. He reached out but she put up a tremulous hand.
?I don't need your help,? she said. ?Just let me have my cry alone.?
Socrates walked down to the car where Milton waited leaning up against the hood. He was smoking a cigarette and staring peacefully at the wispy clouds snaking their way through the blues skies.
?Hey,? Milton said.
Socrates nodded.
?She usually spends a while up there. And when she comes down she's all quiet and smaller, you know? Like she got the weight of the whole world on'er.?
Socrates nodded again.
?I think she was in love with him. That's what Dottie Monroe told me. Dottie said that when Luvia talks about Right she just loses it. Even now he been dead almost a year all you got to do is ask her about him and she can't get out but a few sentences 'fore she choke up.?
?Yeah, well,? Socrates said. ?Right was a good man. He never let the world break him down. He was old and crippled but he'd still stand up to anyone'a these young cowards you got runnin' around out here. I'm just surprised that he made it as long as he did.?
?You gonna pay half?? Milton asked.
?Halfa what??
?I charge fifteen dollars for the ride up here an' back to ten o'clock service. I figure wit' you here she could save a little.?
Luvia's church was on Sixty-third Place near Hooper. It was a large salmon pink building with a white cross, almost three stories high, rising from its roof.
The congregation was coming from all over the street into the three double doors that stood atop the building's wide stone staircase. There was the flowery smell of women's perfume in the air. Socrates and Milton both got out of the car to help Luvia but she pushed them away.
Many well-dressed parishioners took a second look at the big ex-convict in his army fatigue pants and tight black T-shirt. His big hands and stern features marked him out from that God-fearing crowd.
?See ya in a few weeks, Miss Prine,? Milton said. He gestured as if he were doffing his hat but he did not do so.
?You're welcome to come into church, Milton Langonier,? Luvia said.
?I got to get another fare, Miss Prine. Maybe next week.?
Luvia turned quickly toward Socrates, almost, he thought, like a frightened leaf eater who suspected a predator stalking from behind.
?You could come to church too, Mr. Fortlow. They made church for sinners. And it's only God can tell them no.? Her left eye shut for a moment and her gloved hands made themselves into fists.
?Thank you, Miss Prine, but not today. I appreciate it though.?
Luvia actually sighed in relief. For the first time Socrates saw gratefulness in her eyes.
?Wanna go down to MacArthur Park?? Milton asked when they were driving again.
?How much that gonna cost me??
?I'm off duty now, boy. You know I only do one ride on a Sunday and the rest I take off.?
They sat together on an iron bench that was painted pink. Milton brought out a pint bottle of peach-flavored schnapps and they passed it back and forth taking small swigs and gasping from the alcohol burn.
?She used to sit right over there on that bench,? Milton said, pointing to a tall pine tree.
?What bench?? asked Socrates.
