Memorial service? Dread gripped her belly. Then they really had given up on finding Rodney. Or maybe they’d found his body. He was really dead.
“Rodney Walker, however, declares the show must go on,” the anchor added. “Even though he hasn’t fully recovered from his injuries, the group plans to go onstage in Raleigh next week.”
She wrinkled her nose. Jack had no shame. With his brother’s memory barely in the grave, he couldn’t wait to take over his life. When he opened his mouth to sing, she hoped everyone figured out what he really was—a fraud.
* * *
“I need my own boat,” Rodney declared a week later at breakfast.
They ate oatmeal a lot because it was cheap, and Karen usually added fruit. The last thing they needed was another mouth to feed. And poor Timothy slept on the floor because he’d taken over his cot to heal.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” he added, “but I’ve put you all out enough.”
“You won’t be able to handle your own rig until your ankle heals,” Bubba pointed out.
“He’s right, Bill,” Karen added. “And we enjoy having you. It’s no bother.”
“Yeah, it’s fun,” Timothy echoed.
“Well, I’m feeling better every day and need to pull my own weight.” He turned to Bubba. “Do you suppose I can get any kind of job around here with no ID?”
He could use a change of clothes and wished he could use some of his old funds to buy things for these nice people. Especially Timothy.
“Maybe,” Bubba said. “When your ankle mends.”
The ankle again. Why couldn’t it heal as fast as his arm? Karen had already removed the fishing-line stitches she’d put there. Seemed he was stuck on this boat for a while if he wanted to stay incognito. He’d sleep on its deck, at least, so things wouldn’t feel so crowded.
“I still want to pull my own weight,” he said. “I’ll help with chores or whatever needs doing.”
“I’m going into town today to trade the fish I’ve caught for stuff we need. Why don’t you come along?”
“Sure. What would you like me to do?”
“Do the trading for me,” Bubba suggested. “I’m sure you’ll get better prices than I do.”
“Why’s that?” Rodney asked. “I’ve never even done it before.”
“Because you’re white,” Timothy said.
Oh.
“I’ll tell you what you need to know. Afterward, we can go the bar.” Bubba smiled. “Have a little man-to-man talk.”
“Sounds good to me,” Rodney said, polishing off the rest of his oatmeal.
And scary. It would be his first public appearance since the crash.
“Can I come, too?” Timothy asked.
“No, you have to get to school,” Karen said, “and I have to go to work.”
As usual, Bubba would drive them into town, also called Pearl River, in his boat. Karen worked at a local motel, cleaning rooms. Then he’d do his fishing. At the end of the day, he’d pick up his daughter and grandson. The routine was as steady and regular as the sun rising and setting. It would bore his brother to tears, but Rodney could really get used to it.
Hell, he already had.
* * *
Later that afternoon, Rodney sat in Salty’s Place, the local bar Bubba had taken him to. A guy stood on the corner of the small stage, wailing into a saxophone between drinks of beer.
Rodney wore one of Bubba’s baseball caps and loose shirts over his jeans. No one gave him a second glance. Of course, the clientele was mostly black. Still, no one had looked askance at him earlier today when he’d done Bubba’s trading, either.
A huge relief. But he also couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed. Had everyone believed he’d died? Even Dee?
Why wouldn’t she? Karen picked up old newspapers from her cleaning job, and the latest one mentioned his memorial service. Breeze had buried him and moved on.
“Damn, this is good,” he said as he drank his first beer since the crash.
“Have two if you want,” Bubba said. “With the extra money you haggled today for our fish, we can afford it.”
“That’s okay,” Rodney replied. “The money should go to your family. A growing boy needs a lot of things.”
Bubba’s smiling face grew serious. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Uh-oh. Was he getting around to their man-to-man talk?
“Timothy needs a father.”
Silence bloomed around the table, blocking out the clinking bottles and loud voices around them. Rodney choked on his beer. He’d suspected the man would bring up something like this, but he didn’t expect him to come to the point so fast.
“If I may ask, where’s his real one?”
“Left Karen before the baby was born,” Bubba replied. “She’s a fine woman. Works hard and loves that boy. Easy on the eyes, too.”
Rodney nodded, unable to deny a single point. Her nursing him and their living in such close proximity made it hard not to notice she was an attractive woman. If not for Dee, he’d probably be trying to figure out how to get her onto a cot without her father and son around.
“As you can see, life here isn’t easy.” He sipped some beer and pursed his lips as if choosing his next words. “I’ve been the man of the house…er, boat, but I’m getting on in years. Plus, I have a heart condition.”
Rodney frowned. “Sorry to hear it. Are you doing anything for it?”
“I take some medication, thanks to Medicare, but the only thing that would fix it is surgery.”
“I take it you can’t afford it.”
Bubba pointed his finger. “Bingo.”
How strange. Not long ago, Rodney had been rolling in money. Taking it for granted. He’d been too busy to consider how many people didn’t have enough.
“So, you see my dilemma.” He leaned forward, as if sensing Rodney’s hesitation. “Look here, be straight with me. I have no right to lay my problems on you.”
“You have every right,” Rodney said quietly. “I laid mine on you, and you’ve taken care of me. I wish I could help.”
“It’s because they’re black, isn’t it? You
