They trudged back through the snow to the car. The day was dreary, the sun refusing to come out from behind the blanket of clouds. As they reached the gravel lot, Valentine handed Bernard the car keys. “Go start up the engine, and turn the heater on.”
“You going someplace?”
“Just for a minute,” Valentine assured him.
Bernard said okay and walked away. Valentine retraced his steps, and found the petrified oak tree in the cemetery that was his landmark. He walked carefully around the headstones, then found the spot, and put the broom to work. Soon he was staring at his mother’s tombstone. He shut his eyes and said a prayer. His mother had died when he was twenty-one. As he’d grown older, he’d come to understand the life she’d lived more and more, and he prayed that she would find in heaven the harmony that had escaped her on this earth. Opening his eyes, he took a handful of rose petals from his pocket, and sprinkled them on her grave.
He found Bernard sitting behind the wheel of the running car, pretending to drive. He made him slide over, then got in. The cemetery was located in an area called Pleasantville, and he drove east on the causeway back to Atlantic City. Soon they were on the island, and heading south.
“How far?” Bernard asked after a few minutes.
“A couple of more blocks and we’ll be there,” Valentine said.
“I’m scared.”
“You want me to pull over?”
“Yeah,” the boy said.
The car’s tires kissed the curb. Valentine had expected this, and he turned and faced his passenger. Bernard’s face was drawn, and he looked more frightened than an eleven-year-old kid needed to be.
“What if it doesn’t work out?” Bernard asked.
“It
“Yeah, but what if it doesn’t? What if they hate me?”
“They won’t hate you.”
“It can happen. Or I can hate them.”
“You still have to try.”
“Why?”
Valentine looked through the windshield at the road in front of them. At the next block, it forked into two roads. Pointing, he said, “All you get in life are choices, Bernard. Which road should I go down? Which will get me where I want to go? You take the information you have, and make your choice.”
Bernard looked annoyed, like he was expecting something more profound.
“You’re saying that’s what life is all about? Just some choices?”
“If you’re lucky,” Valentine said.
Bernard took a deep breath. Then he rubbed his face. He was thinking really hard.
“Okay,” he said after a minute.
“Okay, what?”
“I’m ready to go down this road.”
Soon they were sitting in the driveway of a split-level ranch with white curtains in every window. As Valentine killed the engine, he saw movement behind one of the downstair’s windows. Bernard saw it too, and said, “She’s real nice, isn’t she?”
“Yes, she is. And you should taste her cooking.”
“Real good?”
“Some of the best food I’ve ever eaten.”
That got the boy smiling. “But he’s kind of strict, isn’t he?”
Valentine wanted to tell Bernard that all fathers were strict, but realized it would be lost on him. “Not once you know him,” he said.
“You think we’ll get along?”
“Yes, I do.”
They got out of the car. Valentine opened the trunk, and removed Bernard’s suitcase. It was big and heavy, but it had to be. Inside of it was everything the boy owned.
The front path had been recently shoveled, and was covered with salt. It crunched under Bernard’s shoes as he marched up to the front door, and pressed the bell. A chime rang inside the house. Bernard stepped back, looking at Valentine out of the corner of his eye. “You live near here?” he asked.
“A mile away.”
“Good,” the boy said.
The front door swung in, and Gloria Mink and her husband came onto the stoop. For a second, Bernard looked like he was going to cave in, and start crying. But he didn’t. He made Valentine proud, and sucked in his feelings.
“Welcome to our home, Bernard,” Gloria Mink said.
Valentine drove straight to his house. Fuller had called the day before, and alerted him that the bust was about to go down. He’d been waiting
