LIVING THE LEGACY

A NOVEL

By Sandy Tritt

Copyright 1998, Sandy Tritt

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Sandy Tritt
1527 18th Street
Parkersburg, WV 26101
tritt@wvadventures.net

The author invites you to visit her writer's resource website, http://tritt.wirefire.com . She would especially appreciate receiving critiques concerning the first 20-30 pages of the novel.

Author Biography

PART ONE

"Ain't nobody got an easy life. Nobody."
--- Ray Gambel, 1974

OCTOBER 19, 1968. WAYNESBORO, WEST VIRGINIA.
Ray Gambel stretched his long legs toward the aisle and squirmed. He wished they made bus seats bigger so people like him weren't cramped for hours, but he shouldn't complain. He was breathing American air and after twelve months in Vietnam, nothing smelled as fresh as American air.
He settled back in his seat and imagined his homecoming. His mother would fix a special dinner, probably baked steak. And mashed potatoes -- real mashed potatoes, none of that instant mush the military served -- with her thick and meaty gravy, and green beans canned from their garden and simmered in bacon and onions all day, and probably four or five fresh baked pies, cooling on the window sill, filling the house with temptation.
After dinner, after all the greetings and stories and jokes, his father would take him to Mabel's Bar and Grill and they'd drink whiskey and shoot pool and figure out how Ray could get his band back together. A contract for the National Hotel Performing Band Circuit had come in the mail the same day as his draft notice. It was time to return the signed copy. He might even ask his dad to travel with them.
Ray smiled. He was lucky. He'd been lucky in Vietnam to have a warehouse job. The closest he'd come to combat was the stories told by those passing through. And he was lucky to have a father like Sam -- a man quick with a smile or kind word, a man easy to talk to and confide in, a man with vast musical talent and the passion to teach it to his sons. And he was lucky to have a brother like Gary -- competitive, certainly, but always loyal, always dependable.
The Greyhound pulled off the highway and wound through the streets of Waynesboro. Sweater-clad mothers walked tottering babies through swirling orange and brown leaves. Woolworth's Five and Dime, Prattle's Pharmacy, Pettroni's Office Supply and J.C. Penney lined Main Street like props from a nativity scene. High School boys -- still wearing dress pants and short hair -- carried books for girls dressed in knee-length skirts and cashmere sweaters. Ray was glad nothing had changed, that the madness of drugs and demonstrations and social unrest that marred the rest of the nation still hadn't affected his hometown in the West Virginia hills.
The bus bumped to a stop, the air brakes sighing. Ray waited for the other riders to gather their belongings, then heaved his duffel bag over his shoulder. He squeezed through the aisle and down the steep steps. He smiled as he spotted Gary pacing the breezeway.
"Welcome home," Gary said. He had thickened in Ray's absence. His shoulders were broader, his legs stouter and his short neck disappeared into his square head. With his stiff posture and buzz-cut hair, he looked more military than Ray. Probably all that time spent lifting barbells and doing push-ups, as if putting up hay and cutting firewood wasn't exercise enough.
Ray laughed and grabbed Gary by his muscular shoulders, shaking him. "Where's Dad?"
Gary jerked free and poked at the soft roll of flesh hanging over Ray's belt. "How the hell did you --"
Ray slapped his hand away. "Where's Dad?"
"Mom's home. The boys are -- no, they should be home by now, too." Gary took the pack of Marlboro's from his shirt pocket. He shielded his face from the wind and lit one.
"You still doing that shit?"
"Don't start it."
Ray grinned. "Mom ever catch you?"
Gary pushed him, then ran a safe distance ahead.
Ray jogged to catch up. He punched his brother's arm. "You still ain't told me where Dad is. He got a gig?"
Gary turned to face him, his expression sober. "Mom kicked him out."
Ray chuckled. "No, really. Where is he?"
Gary didn't smile. He kicked a Stroh's bottle and watched it roll into the alley. "He hasn't been home since Good Friday. Mom threw him out."
The wind sliced through Ray. He paused while the information sunk in, while his hopes and expectations rearranged. "What?"
Gary shrugged. "I guess Mom finally got fed up. He came home drunk after a gig at the American Legion and she told him to hit the road."
Ray had wondered why his father's weekly letters stopped six months ago and no one answered his direct questions about his dad. "Where is he?"
"Aunt Madge said he was traveling, playing piano."
Ray rubbed his forehead. His father wasn't known for his assertiveness, but when it came to his boys, he'd take on anyone. Even his wife. And Ray would bet money his dad would show up before the week was out.
Gary opened the trunk of the 1959 Plymouth.
Ray tossed his bag on top of the empty feed sack, then sat in the front seat. He had no doubt his father would come home. He waited for Gary to get in, start the car and pull onto the street. "Let's get some beer."
"Mom doesn't --"
"Sure she will. Stop at that carry-out on 110."
"But Mom won't --"
"I'll handle Mom."
Gary flicked cigarette ashes out the window. "She's been sick."
"Who?"
"Mom. She has headaches. She hasn't been out of the house in weeks."
Ray looked at the passing store fronts. His mother wouldn't let a headache get her down. He was only eight years old, but he'd never forget the day Joey was born. His mother told him to call his father in from the barn as she put on a pot of beans, then went to her bedroom and had Joey. A couple of hours later she finished dinner, complete with homemade corn bread. "She been to a doctor?"
"You know better."
Ray watched a young couple walk arm-in-arm, oblivious to the world around them. They were probably the same age as Ray, but Ray suddenly felt much older. "Who's working the farm?"
"There's not much to do. We ate the chickens and sold the cows as we needed money." Gary adjusted the rear-view mirror. "And the tractor broke down. I tried to rebuild the engine, but it's plain worn out, so we only planted a small garden for us."
"Then what's Mom doing for money?"
"I'm working at Bob's Sunoco --"
Ray turned to face his brother. "You ain't going to school?"
"Not this year."
"You worked your ass off for that scholarship."
Gary shrugged. "I'll go back next year." They rode silently until he pulled into the Gas 'N Go Mart.
"Want anything?" Ray asked.
"I'll go in."
Ray took his time, examining magazines and candy bars and toys. He chose a package of marbles and some bubblegum for Danny, his youngest brother, then took the beer to the register, where Gary chatted with the clerk.
Ray paid, then followed Gary to the car.
"Mary Beth Connors," Gary said, opening the car door. "Remember her?"
"Should I?"
"The cashier. I went to school with her." Gary started the car and pulled out of the lot. "She was headline news the morning Dad left."
Ray raised his eyebrow.
"I'm surprised she still works there. She was closing up that night -- Good Friday -- late, when a masked gunman came in. He took the cash, then tried to kidnap her. A car coming down the road distracted him long enough for her to break free. She darted into the street to stop the driver, but it was foggy and he hit her. Knocked her unconscious." Gary lit a cigarette. "The driver must have been drunk. He covered her with a jacket and left her there, then called the cops and reported it, but never returned to the scene. He was never identified."
Gary took a long drag on the cigarette. "Then, once they got her to the hospital, they gave her something she was allergic to and she went into a coma."
"Damn. Talk about luck."
Gary smiled. "It was on the news that morning. We were all bummed because Dad was gone, and David, being the compassionate sort he is, saw the humor in it. He wrote a ditty -- Mary Beth Connors, Should've Been a Goner -- something like that. Came right out with it. But Mom wasn't in the best of moods. She backhanded him -- one of her fly-through-the-air-and-wonder-what-the-hell-hit-you slaps -- and said she never wanted to hear that song again."
Ray frowned. "You don't think Dad could've --"
"I did for awhile. It bothered me for a long time, so finally I came right out and asked Mom."
"What'd she say?"
"She was pissed that I asked. She said what happened was between her and Dad and she wasn't going to discuss it with me."
Ray rubbed his chin. "Even if it was, why would Dad leave? Why wouldn't he just admit it? It ain't like he killed someone."
"I don't know." Gary pulled off County Highway 110 and started up the windy road leading to Gambel Hill.
Ray watched the passing scenery. The rolling hills were more beautiful than he remembered, exploding with color, reds and golds and browns and greens. As the car made its way up the narrow dirt road, the fallen leaves swirled and rustled, bringing to life the crispness of the autumn air. He was comforted by the familiarity of the trees, by the calmness of the hills, by the peacefulness of the woods. He was home. Everything would be fine now.
Ray strained to see the old two-story farmhouse as Gary rounded the final curve. The house had been built in 1926 by Ray's grandfather, Frank Gambel. The farm had been profitable then, and although four-year-old Madge was still the only child, Frank hoped for a large family. He built the house with that in mind -- four bedrooms on the second floor, and a living room, dining room, study and eat-in kitchen on the first. But frail Suzannah almost died while giving birth to Sam, Ray's father, two years later, and Frank decided two children were enough.
Gary parked the Plymouth in the gravel driveway behind the '57 Ford pickup. To the right the old Mercury rested on cinder blocks, the hood propped with a heavy stick. The rusty toolbox lay open next to it.
The woods ran close to the right side of the garage, but on the left the steep hills rested momentarily with a stretch of level ground. Weeds overran the abandoned corn stalks, but a path was mowed from the house to the barn and then beyond to the tree line where the woods and rugged hills overcame the clearing.
"We'll go in the front door so you can see Mom first." Gary shoved the pack of cigarettes under the car seat and sprayed cologne on his hands.
Ray smiled, watching him, then jumped from the car and ran to the porch.
Deloris Gamble met her sons at the door. Although she was as tall and broad as most men, she seemed small, the old cotton robe hanging from her gaunt frame.
Ray hugged her, feeling her protruding bones, then pulled back and studied his mother at arm's length. Her tired brown eyes rested deep in their darkened sockets and her gray hair hung unkempt around her hollow face. "You been sick, Mama?"
"I'm glad you're home, Ray. We've missed you." Although Deloris had been in West Virginia since 1945, her Polish accent still decorated her words when she was tired or upset. And her accent was thick now.
Ray swallowed the sick feeling in his stomach. Despite Gary's warning, he wasn't prepared to see the skeleton of the woman his mother once was. He'd take her to the doctor tomorrow. As soon as possible. He'd get her the medicine she needed to get well and then he'd wait for his dad to call and then he'd get his band together. And then everything would be fine.
"Ray's home!" Danny ran into the living room, his black eyes sparkling.
"Hey, kiddo." Ray smiled. Danny hadn't changed. A little taller maybe, but he still had that mischievous glint in his eye and a toothy grin that covered his thin face. Ray embraced him with a bear hug, lifting him off the floor and twirling him around. He'd missed the brat. He couldn't believe his baby brother was ten years old already. He swung him in one more circle, then put him down.
Ray sighted his lanky brothers hanging in the doorway. Joey -- two months shy of fifteen -- was already taller than everyone but Ray, his long arms and legs dangling from his body as though they didn't belong and his school pants not quite reaching his ankles. And David was a copy of his father, with his blond hair, sapphire eyes and compact build. He'd be sixteen next month, old enough to drive a car. Ray waved them toward him. "Come here."
David swaggered toward Ray, followed reluctantly by Joey.
Ray pulled them against his broad chest for a quick hug before they squirmed away.
David looked at his mother. "We're ready for you to fix the gravy."
"Thank-you, David." Deloris turned toward the kitchen. "Danny, set the table, please. Gary, would you bring in the extra chair? Ray, you may have the bathroom first."
Ray took his time in the bathroom, then stopped in the dining room that was used as the music room. His grandmother's baby grand was still the centerpiece of the room, surrounded by bookcases of sheet music. Ray's fingers itched. He remembered the smoothness of the ivory keys, the mellowness of their tone. Before the evening ended, he'd sit down and see if he'd lost his touch.
The portrait Aunt Madge had painted hung above the piano. Sam -- not yet twenty-one -- sat on the piano bench, his hands on the keys, his smiling face shining on three-year-old Ray. And Ray looked up at his father, his eyes glowing with admiration.
Ray smiled and went to the kitchen, taking his place at the big oak table. He wouldn't be surprised if his father made it home tonight. Any minute, as a matter of fact.
David set a plate of dry hamburger patties on the table and Joey added a bowl of lumpy potatoes. Gravy and a dozen burnt biscuits completed the meal.
"You may lead the blessing, Ray," Deloris said.
Ray waited for his brothers to quiet, then folded his hands and thanked God for the food and for being home. His appetite had waned, but he cleaned his plate and answered his brothers' questions about where he'd been and what he'd done until David and Joey stood and cleared the table.
Gary leaned back in his chair and sucked air, held it and exhaled, as though smoking a cigarette.
Ray watched, grinning, then looked at his mother. "Mom, you care if Gary puts his beer in the refrigerator?"
Mrs. Gambel's shoulders straightened and her head raised, her eyes focused and clear. "I do not allow alcohol in this house."
"I know. I told Gary that. But he thought we should go bar-hopping in town --"
The vein on Gary's forehead pulsated with blood. He slid low and brought his heel down hard on Ray's leg.
"Shit!" Ray grabbed his shin and noisily scooted his chair back, aware his brothers were watching. No one argued with their mother and no one said "shit" in front of her. He smiled. "Sorry, Mom."
Deloris shook her head. "Ray --"
Ray made his eyes wide and innocent. "I ain't been home for a year..."
"Just this once, Ray." She stood unsteadily and leaned against Ray's shoulder. She had something important to say to her son, something she had planned for a long time. "Don't flirt with your father's demon," she said, her accent again thick. "She is a jealous mistress and will consume all else you love." Deloris remained silent for several minutes, allowing her words to penetrate. "I'm going to bed now," she said finally.
"Good-night, Mom." Ray watched her trudge through the dining room, and then listened as she climbed the stairs, resting after each step. He would take her to the doctor tomorrow.
Ray visited with his brothers until Danny's bed time passed and David and Joey excused themselves to do homework. He opened a beer and punched Gary's arm.
Gary scowled and looked out the back door. "Nice night. Too bad I got to iron my shirt for work tomorrow."
"Iron your shirt?"
"Yeah. Old man Stemple's got a thing about ironed uniforms."
Ray pushed past him. "Come out when you get done." He had missed quiet country nights. He stepped onto the porch and filled his lungs with the smells of pine and damp soil. It was good to be home. He balanced his large body on the thin porch rail and listened to the locusts and crickets. Their chirping followed a pattern understood only by insects, intensifying into a crescendo and then dissipating into silence.
The wind rustled through the trees, working its way earthward until it chilled his arms. The full moon hung low, just above the tree line. It was the time of night when wildlife became bolder, trusting the darkness for protection. He watched for skunks, but saw only deer peeking from the woods. A doe, followed by her yearling, stepped a few feet into the pasture, scanned for hidden enemies, then made her way mid-field. Another family -- a buck, doe and fawn -- leaped across the meadow to join them. Slowly, more deer joined, until twelve or thirteen roamed the desolate field. They scoured the area nervously, searching for remains of the last harvest.
The deer stopped, their heads raised and ears pointed.
Ray took a long drink from his beer and wondered what had caused their wariness. Then a rifle cracked beside him, the reverberations assaulting the stillness of the evening and the nervous systems of all living beings. Ray's arms flapped through the air like a giant duck until his weight shifted and he tumbled off the rail. He landed five feet below on the hard earth. Cold beer seeped over his arm.
Gary laughed.
Ray scrambled to his feet. "What the hell are you doing?"
Gary leaned the rifle against the door. "We're low on meat," he said between chuckles. "Help me drag him to the barn. You can skin him in the morning."
"You scared the shit outta me."
"Come on. Venison steak for dinner tomorrow."
Ray rubbed his bruised hip. "I should bust your face."
"What'd you want me to do? Holler out and say, 'Hold your ears, Ray. I'm gonna shoot?' He'd be gone."
"You set me up."
The light from the kitchen illuminated Gary's grin. "You deserved it."
"Shut up." Ray wiped his arm on his shirt. He was home. And some things hadn't changed a bit. Not a bit.

* * *

Ray walked the mile from the hospital to the Sunoco station. He found Gary in the bay, changing the oil on a pale blue Cadillac. He kicked his brother's feet until Gary rolled from beneath the car. "We gotta talk."
"I get off at three."
"Now."
Gary stood and wiped his hands on an oily rag. "What's up?"
"Let's walk." Ray's brain was going to explode. Too much was going on, too many things were changing. The Apollo 7 astronauts had finished eleven days in space. Fourteen North Vietnamese POW's were freed. Jackie Kennedy, the dead President's wife, married a Greek billionaire. Ray had read the front page of the newspaper over and over while waiting in the doctor's office. There were a lot of things he didn't understand, but more than anything, he didn't understand how the President's widow could marry a foreigner.
Gary followed Ray outside and toward town. He didn't like it that Ray was so quiet. "What did the doctor say about Mom?"
"He put her in the hospital."
Colorful leaves swirled around their ankles, the drier ones crunching under their heavy steps. Gary kicked them out of his way. "Why?"
"He got the tests back."
"And?"
A young mother, her sweater flapping in the wind, pushed a baby carriage over the uneven sidewalk with one hand and pulled a stubborn toddler with the other. Ray stepped into the street to let her pass.
"What did the doctor say?" Gary repeated.
"She's got cancer."
Gary stopped walking. "Cancer?"
Ray slowed his pace until Gary caught up. "Something about a mass in her brain."
Gary looked at Ray, waiting for more, waiting for reassurance that it would be all right.
But Ray was silent.
"Does she need surgery? Does she have to take chemo? Or radiation?"
"He says there ain't nothing they can do. He says it's too late." Ray remembered that part very well. He'd argued with Dr. Brown, insisting there had to be something. She had three young boys who needed her.
"Too late? Too late for what?"
"Dr. Brown says..." Ray couldn't think of the words to use. His head hurt. "He says it's too late. He says she ain't coming home."
They walked slower, silently, past the library and into the park. Pre-schoolers played on the swings and slide, laughing and shouting.
Gary leaned against an oak tree, his dirty gray jumpsuit blending into the trunk. He had always thought of his mother as being like a tree, strong and immovable. "What're we gonna do?" he said.
"About what?"
Gary took a new pack of Marlboro from his pocket and tapped them against his palm. "The boys."
"I guess we gotta pick them up from school and fix them something to eat."
"I don't mean now, dumb ass," Gary said, opening the cigarettes. "Until they're grown. Who'll take care of them?"
"Mom will."
Gary stared at his older brother. The dull, distant look in Ray's copper eyes worried him. "You okay?"
Ray scratched the five-day-old stubble on his chin. "They made a mistake. We just gotta find Dad and get this all straightened out. Dad will know what to do."
Gary lit a cigarette and slowly exhaled.
Ray watched the smoke disappear into the October-blue sky. A foreigner. Two hundred million people in the United States and the President's widow married a foreigner. No wonder the world was so damned screwed up.

* * *

"You don't want the morphine?" The short, chubby nurse with the cherubic face shook her head.
"No. Please leave." Deloris closed her eyes. She needed to elevate herself above the pain, the way she had in Warsaw when the German soldiers raped her. Like she had in New York City when the nurses took away her baby and left her empty. There were decisions to be made and she needed to think clearly.
Mrs. Jones, the retired nurse from the neighboring farm, had visited earlier. She and her husband were childless and doted on the Gambel boys. Ray and Gary spent their summer vacations working for Jonesy, and David and Joey stepped in when the older boys found real jobs. "Deloris," she'd said, moving close. "Jonesy and I discussed it, and we'd love to keep the boys. We've got plenty of room and you know how much we enjoy them."
It was tempting. But Ray and Gary were too old to be adopted and she didn't want her boys separated.
Madge, her sister-in-law, visited on Sunday. She, too, was childless, and intended to stay that way. "Sammy hasn't called since the day Ray came back, but he will. He always does. Do you want him to come home?"
"No." Spineless Sam had never been the father she wanted for her sons. The minute he'd awakened her that night of the accident, scared to the point of sobriety, she knew it was her chance to be rid of him. And she wasn't inviting him back.
"Mom?"
Deloris opened her eyes, the light searing through her head. The boys were there. They walked so quietly she often didn't hear them over the roar that lived in her brain. "Pull the curtain."
Ray closed the venetian blind. "How do you feel?"
Deloris knew it was hard for them to visit her now. Her large bones floated in a mass of skin, her thick, raven hair reduced to gray clumps. On some days, she shook violently. On others, she didn't recognize them.
She looked to see who'd come, squinting to regulate her vision. David was missing again, but she figured he was in the hall, too contrary to come in. "I want to talk to each of you privately. Ray first. And I expect to see David, too."
The younger boys filed out. Ray moved a chair next to her bed.
"I want you to keep the boys."
"Sure, Mom. Dad will be home soon --"
"Listen. I want you to keep the boys. I had the lawyer in yesterday and everything is legal. The papers are in this drawer. And your father already signed the house and farm over to you --"
"Why'd he --"
"It's already in your name." She'd been smart to think of that. Sam would have done anything she told him that night, and when she suggested signing everything over to Ray so the farm wouldn't be lost if they were sued, he eagerly obliged.
"But --"
"That's all I need from you."
Ray didn't move. He leaned forward, closer to his mother and touched her hand. "Why did Dad leave?" he asked softly.
Deloris bit her lip. She had snapped at Gary when he asked. "The boys are better off without him," she said.
"But why did he leave?"
"I sent him away."
"But --"
Deloris shook her head. She knew Ray was aware his father had a problem with liquor. But he didn't need to know how much worse it became after Ray left for Vietnam. Deloris was disgusted to find her husband in the morning, when the boys were getting ready for school, passed out in a chair, cradling a whiskey bottle in his arms, dried tears on his face. She looked at her son. "I told him to leave and not come back."
"Where did he go?"
Deloris closed her eyes. If Madge found out that Sam had been the drunk driver in the accident that made front page news the day Sam left, Madge would tell her brother the truth: the girl hadn't died like Sam believed, but he had, in fact, saved her life by frightening off an attacker. And then Sam would come home. And the boys were much better off with Ray than with a drunk. "Send Gary in."
"Mom, I need to know."
"Now, please."
Ray sighed and stood. He kissed his mother on the forehead before he lumbered toward the door.
"Ray?"
"Yeah, Mom?"
"Stay away from the whiskey. You're too good for that."
Ray frowned, allowing the words to penetrate, then stepped through the door.
Deloris rested her eyes until her second son sat next to her. "I told Ray I wanted him to keep the boys."
Gary nodded.
Her two oldest sons were responsible and resourceful. She had no doubt they could handle anything -- as long as they weren't fighting. They were as close as brothers could be, but she wasn't sure they'd outgrown their competitiveness. That was why she'd separated the responsibilities. Big-hearted Ray would do fine with the boys and frugal Gary would keep them solvent. "I want you to take charge of the finances."
"I'll do the best I can, Mom."
"I know you will." Gary had already completed one year toward his Accounting degree. "And I want you to go back to school just as soon as you can. You worked hard for that scholarship."
Gary nodded.
"Send David in," she said and concentrated on breathing.
David shuffled in, his jaw set.
Deloris hoped she had the strength to deal with her sixteen-year-old son. David was the only one of her sons to resemble his father, with his blond hair, sapphire eyes and compact build. She sometimes thought that was why they clashed so violently, but the resemblance was physical only -- Sam was a weak-willed Mama's boy and David had spunk. Lots of spunk.
"You want me?"
"Sit down."
"I want to stand."
"Sit."
David hesitated. He met her eyes, his eyebrow twitching in defiance, but sat.
"I've asked Ray to look after you boys."
"What about Dad?"
"David, I want you to help Ray. Set a good example for the younger boys. Be respectful."
David rolled his eyes.
Deloris had to respect him. Even when faced with her death, he didn't force pretensions. She had been harsh with her sons, but she wanted to make sure they were strong enough to survive in a world that wasn't always gentle. And David would be a survivor. "Someday, David, you will understand."
"Understand what?"
"That I love you boys far more than you realize."
David fingered the scar on his cheek. "Do you want Joey now?"
Deloris sighed. Ray was going to have his hands full with that one. "Send him in," she said.
Joey slouched in with his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the floor. Although he was over six feet tall, he looked small.
Deloris tried to think what she needed to say to him. There was nothing. He'd been her disappointment, the one who'd buckled under her domination. There were only thirteen months between her teenage sons, but Joey was the polar opposite of David. "David won't always be around to protect you. You must learn to stand up for yourself."
Joey chewed his lip.
There was nothing more she could say. She didn't hold much hope for him and she, like David, couldn't pretend enthusiasm she didn't feel. "Tell Danny to come in."
She closed her eyes to wait. She had considered not seeing Danny. He was her baby. She loved her other sons and she thought they probably loved her, but they didn't share their secrets with her, they didn't confide their problems to her. They didn't hug her and they didn't kiss her.
But Danny was different. He was affectionate and wanted a bedtime hug and kiss. Danny, unlike the others, was closer to her than to his father.
He walked in hesitantly, stopping at the foot of the bed.
"Come closer."
He went to her side.
She put her hand on his. He was a pretty boy, his silky cheeks rosy from the November cold and his black hair thick and straight. "I won't be coming home, Danny."
Deloris watched large tears roll down his smooth cheek. Danny's eyes were identical to her brother Jerzy's -- big, round and black, full of life and mischievousness. Jerzy was just ten -- the same age as Danny -- when the German soldiers led him outside. She could still hear the gunshot. "Ray will take good care of you."
"But I don't want you to --"
"Life is not about what we want, Danny. It is about survival. If we are to survive, we must be brave and strong. We must only look forward and never look back." Her own father had said those identical words to her in 1942.
"Mommy..."
Deloris took a deep breath. Danny had been the reason she'd prayed to live. But that was all in the past now and she couldn't dwell on it. She had arranged for her sons' future and now it was time to take care of her own. "Hand me that cosmetic case."
Danny rummaged through the drawer and found the pouch. He gave it to his mother.
"And pour me a fresh glass of water, please."
Danny only spilled a little as he splashed the iced water from the pitcher to the cup. He set it on the tray, then positioned the tray in front of his mother, careful not to knock it over.
"Thank you." She patted his small hand. "Be a good boy for Ray." She wanted to take him in her arms and hold him, but she knew if she did, she'd never let him go. Instead, she nudged him toward the door. "Tell the nurse to come."
Deloris waited until he was out of sight, then opened the cosmetic case. She counted twenty-seven tiny white pills. She hoped it'd be enough. For almost a month she had hidden the ritual sleeping pill in her palm and pretended to swallow. She took them now, three at a time until they were gone.
"Yes, Mrs. Gambel?" the nurse asked.
"I'd like the morphine now." Deloris closed her eyes.

* * *

Ray rolled to his left side. It was useless. He couldn't sleep. He hadn't slept more than three or four hours a night since he'd been home. His body was exhausted but his mind wouldn't rest.
Gary lay in the next bed, snoring contentedly.
Ray sighed and sat up. It was futile to fight it. He moved his feet to the cold floor and stood. He made his way down the hall and entered Danny's small room.
Danny lay on his side, hugging his pillow.
Ray pulled the blankets over his bony shoulders. He couldn't help but worry about the kid. More nights than not Danny cried himself to sleep, and he was much too thin, even considering he was small-boned like his father and David. During the time their mother was in the hospital, Ray hadn't noticed he wasn't eating. Ray made mashed potatoes almost every night and served Danny a good portion of meat before the other boys devoured it, but he still needed a little more meat on his ribs.
Ray tiptoed out and opened the next door. David looked ironically angelic in his slumber. Hardly a day went by that he didn't try to fight with Ray about something. Yesterday it was his hair. Ray mentioned that he'd take them for a haircut on Saturday and David threw a fit.
"You're not making me get my hair cut," David said, sticking his chest out and putting his fists on his hips. "It's my hair and I'll wear it how I want."
It wasn't important to Ray, certainly not something worth fighting over, so he just shrugged and set the table.
But David continued to rave until he finally realized Ray wasn't arguing. "Aren't you going to say anything?" David demanded.
Ray smiled. "Yeah. Get cleaned up for dinner."
And that's how it went with David. Ray figured sooner or later he'd butt heads with him, but for now he tried to let most things slide.
Returning down the hall, Ray passed his parents' room. He hesitated. He hadn't entered the master bedroom since he was a small boy.
But he twisted the knob and stepped inside. His mother's smell -- although he'd never been aware she'd had one -- ascended from the room. Ray's throat tightened, but he continued in.
The wallpaper -- tiny red roses floating on a creamy background -- looked old and yellowed. He remembered helping his father hang it, thinking he'd hate to sleep in a room of flowers, but his dad never complained. One of his mother's hand-crocheted spreads decorated the four-poster. Ray walked to the bed and touched the covering, his fingers exploring the intricate weavings of the yarn. As a child he'd been amazed at the speed of his mother's hands as she worked on her creations. He loved to watch her, especially when his father brought the piano to life and the house was full of love and music.
Ray's chest ached. He left the room quickly, pulling the door closed behind him.
He went downstairs, through the seldom-used living room, to the dining room his grandmother converted into a music room. Ray looked again at the portrait of his father and baby Ray. He rubbed his chest. He had seen Aunt Madge at the funeral and asked her about his father. She said he was traveling, playing piano, and she hadn't heard from him since the day Ray returned from Vietnam.
Ray knew there was no hope of returning to sleep. He went into the kitchen and made a pot of coffee. Four a.m. Two more hours and he'd make breakfast for the boys and get them off to school. Then he'd do laundry, sweep the floors, review the band's repertoire and decide what to add and what to rehearse, go to the Jones' farm and help Jonesy rebuild the east fence, then come home in time to fix dinner. And sometime he needed to look at the plumbing under the kitchen sink. The slow leak was getting worse.
At least music never let him down. He'd had no trouble getting his band together. Gary was his only hold-out, insisting his job at the Sunoco was more reliable, but once Ray agreed to work around his schedule, he'd accepted his old position. Of course, traveling was impossible, at least until his father returned, but thanks to Gary's local promotional efforts they were already booked months in advance.
Ray sipped coffee and sighed. When he'd promised his mother he'd keep the boys, he'd had no idea it would be so difficult. But his father would be home soon. Surely, his father would be home soon.

* * *

Rain dripped off Sam's short blond hair and ran down his neck. He squeezed the telephone receiver closer and covered his other ear with his hand.
"She's dead, Sammy."
"Who's dead?" He knew he'd heard his sister wrong. The storm drenching El Paso must have affected the telephone lines.
"Deloris. Deloris is dead."
Madge was six years older than Sam and had never forgiven him for being born. He wished he hadn't left the pint of Jack Daniel's in the car. "How?"
"Cancer. She had it all over, but it was the brain tumor that did her in."
Sam ran shaking fingers through his wet hair. Deloris was too strong to be dead.
Madge said something about the boys.
"How are the boys?" Sam shouted over the torrent.
"Fine. Just fine. Ray is strong and resilient. Like his mother." Madge delighted in twisting the dagger.
"I'll call you later, Madge." He replaced the receiver and stood in the drizzle for several minutes before returning to his car.
Sam remembered when Deloris had come to live with them, not long after his father was killed in France. His mother stayed in bed and lived on the nerve pills she got from Doc Gillis, and sixteen-year-old Sam was left to care for himself and the farm. He came home from school one day and Madge was there with a tall, dark, Jewish girl. Something unspeakable happened to her family in war-infested Poland and the Methodist church brought her to West Virginia.
Deloris -- the closest English he could figure for "Dlorisz" -- assumed all the household and farm chores. There was nothing she couldn't do -- gut a hog, birth a calf or bake exquisite pastries. And although she didn't speak English, she loved to listen to Sam play piano.
Sam took a long drink of whiskey and pulled the Rambler onto the highway. The rain followed him across the states, but he drove straight through, stopping only to refuel and take short naps. He usually didn't drink when driving, but whiskey eased the ache in his shoulders and helped pass the time.
He arrived at the farm shortly before dark. He parked far from the house, on the gravel turnaround his father had made for the school bus. He wasn't sure if he should walk in or knock first, or maybe drive back to town and announce his arrival by telephone. Regardless, he needed to get a feel for what was going on.
Sam slugged down a shot of Jack Daniel's, dribbling some down his chin, then put the pint in his shirt pocket. He stumbled getting out of the car, but caught himself and walked up the hill.
Sam headed for the house. Smoke from the wood stove puffed from the chimney, reminding him of the warmth of the big frame house. Peeking through the square window in the kitchen door, Sam saw Ray standing at the range turning pork chops, the spatula swallowed by his large hand. Ray was so much like his mother, thriving in any situation. The boys would starve if left in Sam's care -- he didn't know how to boil an egg or fry a hamburger. He had never written a check, never paid a bill. He didn't know how much insurance they had or from what company. He didn't know any of the things grown-up people were supposed to know. Deloris had handled everything.
He watched for a long time, careful to stay in the shadows where he couldn't be seen. There was no one he loved as much as Ray. His oldest son was born a month before Sam's eighteenth birthday. Stubborn Deloris refused to go to the hospital and he'd been forced to catch Ray as he emerged from the birth canal. He washed the mucus from the red little body and fell deeply in love with his newborn son. Nothing hurt him as much as the day Ray left for Vietnam. And nothing, not even his music or his whiskey, could calm him until Madge told him Ray was safe back home.
He moved to the other side of the window. Danny sat at the table, working on homework and talking to Ray. He was a special kid, too. Happy, gregarious Danny was the only one of the five able to charm his mother. She smiled at his foolishness and laughed at his jokes and overlooked most of his transgressions.
Music filtered through the distance. He took another long drink, then walked across the back yard, past the big oak tree. The tree house he and Ray had built was still there. The same day they finished it, four-year-old David fell out and broke his arm. He should have known better than to make it so high. He sighed and continued toward the music.
David and Joey were in the barn, singing one of the ballads they'd written. He'd forgotten the depth and richness of Joey's voice and the agility of David's fingers on the guitar. Sam always thought they'd be famous some day. He was supposed to take them to Columbus to record a tape the day he was forced to leave home.
He took a swig from the pint and slipped behind the barn door. Little Joey was the one he worried about. The older boys had been tough from the day they were born, but Joey was a nervous and sensitive baby. He recalled the summer between Joey's fourth and fifth birthdays, the summer Danny was an infant. Sam was plowing the fields when Gary galloped across the dirt. "Ray tried to stop her!" he yelled.
Sam ran to the house. The old leather belt snapped through the air and struck Ray's legs. He ripped it from his wife's hands and threw it across the room. He knew Ray was okay -- he was twelve, a big kid and as tough emotionally as he was physically. But Joey wasn't. He stood in the corner, welts covering his skinny little legs and his body shaking. David, not much bigger than Joey, hugged him, trying to comfort him. Sam scooped the boy into his arms and rocked him until he finally calmed, but Joey was never the same.
Sam's anger enabled him to stand up to Deloris. They fought bitterly, but there was no reasoning with her. The best he could do was be there when his boys needed protection, but it wasn't enough. Even now, Joey talked to no one but David and relaxed only when playing music.
David put down the guitar and flashed his charismatic grin. "Want to try the banjo?"
Joey looked at his watch. "After dinner. Ray said he wouldn't come and get us the next time we were late, and I'm hungry." He was soft-spoken, barely audible. That was another reason his robust singing voice was startling -- it was in such contrast to his quiet speaking tone.
David laughed. "He won't let us starve." But he jumped off the stage Sam helped them make from bales of hay and plywood panels, and led the way.
Sam waited until they were out of sight, then followed. He stood outside the back window and studied his family. He wished he was as strong as Deloris, as strong as Ray. Because Deloris was competent enough for both of them, his sons never knew how inept he was. But without her, his weakness would be exposed.
So many times Deloris said the boys would be better off without him. And now he knew it was the truth. As much as he wanted to be with his boys, it was best for him, best for them, if he stayed away.
He brought the pint to his lips and guzzled until nothing but air remained.

* * *

"C'mon, Gary," Ray hollered from the base of the stairs. "We're running late." He was going to have ulcers before this was all over. There weren't enough hours in the day to do everything that needed done.
Initially they held their rehearsals in the Gambel's garage, since David and Joey had claimed the deserted barn as their stage and studio. But Stan, the drummer, complained the travel to Gambel Hill caused his tardiness. Bob, the bass guitarist, offered his garage, so Ray moved the rehearsals to town.
Gary ran down the steps. "It's only a quarter after. What's your hurry?"
"I broke my E-string, remember? We gotta get one before rehearsal."
Gary buckled his belt. "Maybe David has a spare."
"Good idea. I'll race you to the barn." Ray jogged out the back door.
Gary passed him, grinning.
Ray sped up. They reached the barn simultaneously, laughing.
"You check Joey's." Ray squatted on the dirty floor and flipped the snap on David's case. He lifted the guitar and opened the small lidded compartment. There were several strings on top, still in the wrapper. He sorted through them. "I got it, Gar." As he put the strings back, he saw the plastic bag.
"What's that?" Gary asked.
Ray opened the sandwich bag of dried herbs and sniffed. "Damn."
"What is it?"
Ray fell back on his haunches. There had to be a reasonable explanation. A mistake of some sort.
"What is it?" Gary repeated, squatting next to him.
"Marijuana."
"You sure?"
"Yeah." Ray might not have been where the fighting was in Vietnam, but that didn't mean he'd missed all the action.
"Shit."
Ray rubbed his hand over his face. He wished his father would come home.
"What're we gonna do?"
Ray shrugged. "I guess we gotta talk to them and find out what's going on."
"They're smoking dope, dumb ass. That's what's going on."
Ray shook his head. "They wouldn't do that."
"Then what the hell is it doing in their case?"
Ray thought for a minute. "Either someone planted it or someone duped them into keeping it for them."
"Oh, come on, Ray."
"I'll talk to them."
"Talk won't do it. They need their asses beat."
Ray shook his head again. "They'll be fine. They listen to me."
"David doesn't listen to anyone."
Ray put the pot in his pocket and closed David's case. "Sure he will. Once he realizes what this is."
"Ray --"
"Come on. We better get moving."
They arrived at Bob's garage on time. The space heater hummed and coffee percolated on the table.
"Stan here yet?" Ray asked.
Bob shook his head and tuned his guitar.
Ray rearranged the amplifiers and adjusted the microphones, then looked at his watch. When he was in Nam he swore he'd never live by a clock again. Life was too short, too sweet, to spend in a rush. But now he was back in reality and he didn't have time to wait. The boys would be home from school in just over an hour and he liked to be there to fix them a decent meal.
"Let's start without him," Gary said, tuning his guitar one more time.
Ray put down his guitar and moved to the piano. "Let's work on Hello, I Love You." He was still trying to catch up on the year he'd been out of country and he found the Doors' music well-suited for his deep baritone. "Did you get the guitar down for that, Bob?"
Bob was only a mediocre musician, but he was easy-going and tried hard and Ray couldn't help but like the guy. "I think so."
"Let's do it." Ray's fingers danced over the piano keys. Gary came in perfectly, but Bob had the wrong key. Ray stopped.
"Sorry. I got it now."
"Okay. Let's..."
The door banged open and Stan, with dirty hair and ripped jeans, stumbled in.
Ray was pretty sure Stan smoked dope. Maybe it was Stan's marijuana he held in his pocket -- the last time they rehearsed at the farm, Stan spent time with David and Joey, showing them the basics of drumming. Ray's eyes narrowed. If it was Stan's, he'd fire him. Right after he knocked him into the next century. Drugs was one thing Ray couldn't tolerate and he'd made his opinion clear to Stan more than once. "We started at one."
"It's only ten after."
"We start on time."
Stan shrugged. He tested the tension on his drums.
Ray had lost his temper with Stan once. Years before, when they were still in high school, he'd gotten in Stan's face and told him to cut the crap. Stan walked. After six weeks of searching for a replacement, Ray apologized and asked him back. He still wasn't sure it was the right thing to do. But it made him appreciate Gary. Gary, at twenty, was two years younger than the rest of them, but Ray never had to worry about Gary being on time or in key or behaving professionally. "We're working on Hello, I Love You. Take it from the top."
Stan immediately came in on drums, strong and rhythmic. His voice blended with Ray's effortlessly, bringing the group together.
Ray relaxed. He'd save his fight with Stan for another day. He'd save it as long as he possibly could, because when the music was right, when the harmony rang true, things like hair and promptness and arrogance gave way to the tranquillity that music inspired. He looked at Gary and smiled. The rest of his life was chaos, but he loved his job.
But the comfort the music provided never lasted long enough. As soon as the rehearsal ended, they drove back up the windy road to Gambel Hill. Ray made dinner, his mind off music and on the problem that still confronted him. He waited until they had eaten and Danny left for his bath. "I gotta talk to you guys about something," he said and pointed to the chairs. He waited for David and Joey to sit, then tossed the plastic bag on the kitchen table. He was pretty sure he'd be taking a drive back into town and looking up Stan. "Know what that is?"
Joey paled and looked like he might be sick.
David snatched the bag. "What the hell you doing in my guitar case?"
Ray frowned. "Looking for a string and found that. Know what it is?"
David snorted. "Yeah. Do you?"
"Is it Stan's?"
"Stan's?" The blank look on David's face eliminated the possibility.
"My drummer," Ray said.
David scrunched up his face. "Hell, no."
"Well, it ain't yours."
"Why the hell else would it be in my case?"
Ray leaned forward in his chair, his eyebrows drawn in confusion. "You don't smoke --"
"What the hell do you think we do with it?"
Ray stared at David.
David stood. "You done? Can we go now?"
"Sit down." Ray massaged his forehead. He hadn't prepared for the possibility that his brothers regularly and knowingly used drugs.
"I got other shit to do than sit here all night." David eyed his escape routes.
Ray scooted his chair to block the doors to the living area and driveway, and motioned Gary to cover the back door.
David looked at Ray, over six feet and built like a linebacker, then at Gary, two-hundred pounds of concentrated muscle. He stuffed the pot in his pocket and slid into his seat.
Ray sighed. "Okay, guys. Let's just get this over with. I can't let you do drugs --"
"It's none of your goddam business," David said.
"The hell it ain't. I'm looking after you guys until Dad gets home --"
"He's not coming home."
"The point is," Ray said, "there ain't gonna be no illegal drugs on this property and you guys ain't gonna be doing that shit."
"It's no worse than your beer or Gary's cigarettes," David said.
"Bull shit," Ray said. "When you buy pot, you ain't got no idea what you're getting."
"We're not stupid."
"I ain't stupid, neither. And I know that drug dealers ain't the most trustworthy people --"
David rolled his eyes.
"It's illegal," Ray paused a minute to gather his thoughts. "Every time you buy it, every time you smoke it, every time you hide it, you're gambling you won't get your ass thrown in jail and the rest of your life screwed up."
"How do you think you'll stop us?" David's sharp blue eyes penetrated Ray's.
"I ain't gonna stop you. I expect you to cooperate."
David's eyebrow arched.
"Life will be a lot easier around here if we get along and try to make the best of things." Ray leaned back in his chair. "Then when Dad comes home, we can all go back to being normal and get on with our lives." He looked at his teenage brothers, Joey with his eyes on his hands and David on the edge of the chair, ready to spring. "Now why don't you and Joey go get whatever else you got and we'll flush this crap down the toilet and forget this ever happened?"
"You're full of shit, too."
"Let me take him out back," Gary said.
Ray shook his head, but felt his patience fading and his frustration building.
David stood. "Can we go now?"
"Just David," Gary said. "Let me take David outside."
"No." Ray leaned forward. "If they ain't gonna cooperate, I'll board up the goddam barn and separate them. You can move into their room and David can sleep in our room. If they ain't got no privacy, they can't get into nothing."
"Give them the pot," Joey said, his eyes still on his hands and his voice so quiet it was barely audible.
David made a face. "They can't stop us --"
Joey looked at David. "Give it to them."
David made another face, but threw the pot on the table.
"You got anything else?" Ray asked. "Papers? Matches?"
David took rolling papers from his shirt pocket and tossed them next to the pot. "I'm keeping my matches." He paced the area between Ray and Gary. "We done now? Can we go?"
Ray nodded.
"You damn-well better not buy more," Gary said. He returned his chair to the table.
"Assholes," David said as he and Joey went out the back door.
Ray waited until the door shut after them, then looked at Gary. "I hope Dad gets home soon."
Gary lit a cigarette and leaned back. "I wouldn't mind a beer about now."
Ray smiled. "You read my mind, little brother. We got money?"
"I'll find some."

* * *

Ray sunk his hands deep into his pocket and felt the roll of bills. Poor Boys Pub had paid cash for the whole month. He looked at Danny and smiled. "Want a root beer float?"
Danny grinned. He loved it when Ray let him tag along. He skipped to keep up with Ray's long strides as they walked down Main Street. The door chimed as they entered Prattle's Pharmacy.
Danny led the way to the tall stools circling the glistening white counter.
"Hi, Ray." The pony-tailed waitress smoothed her tight uniform and smiled at Ray.
Ray glanced at her name badge. Cathy. She was one of the teeny-boppers who followed him wherever he played.
"What's your schedule this month?" She held her pen poised to write on the back cover of her order book.
Danny's eyes locked on her chest. The fabric between the buttons gapped, showing her silky undergarments. If he was Ray, he'd ask her out.
"Poor Boys. All month. How 'bout two root beer floats?"
"Sure thing." She reluctantly pulled away from Ray and turned to make them.
"Why don't you ask her out?" Danny whispered.
Ray smiled. She was a high-school girl, closer to David's age than his, and with everything else going on, he didn't have time to think about girls. He shook his head.
"You think she'd go out with me, if I asked?"
Ray laughed. "I think she's a little old for you."
"Here you go," Cathy said, setting a foamy float in front of each of them. She lingered until the widowed Blantem sisters waved for her attention.
Danny stirred ice cream into the root beer. "Can I be in your band when I'm old enough?"
"Sure."
"I want to be a drummer. I'm really good on drums. Can I be the drummer?"
Ray was pretty sure he wouldn't put up with Stan that long. "Probably."
"I can sing real good."
"I know you can."
Danny smiled. He'd sung Honey at the talent show at school last year. The girls in his class said he was every bit as good as Bobby Goldsboro, and although he was only in the fourth grade, he beat out the fifth and sixth graders. David helped him get his act ready and his mother -- even though it was after his father left and she was getting mean -- sewed a stage costume for him. Danny sighed. He missed his mother.
"You ready?" Ray put a dollar and some change on the counter. Gary would question him about the missing money, but he'd get over it.
Danny slid off the stool and followed Ray through the door.
"Hey, mister." A small red-haired boy with freckles and a toothless smile held a box. "Want a puppy?"
Danny looked into the box. Five blonde dogs squirmed against one another. "Can I hold one?"
"Sure," the little boy said.
Danny scooped the biggest one into his arms.
The puppy scratched at his chest, then snuggled into the crook of his arm.
Danny looked at Ray, his black eyes shining. "Can I keep her?"
Ray massaged his head.
"Please?"
"What breed?" Ray asked.
"Golden Retriever mix."
Ray smiled. He and Gary hadn't had a good fight since Ray bought beer with the gas money last week.
"Please? If I can have her, I'll be so good. I promise."
Ray nodded.
"That one's 'Boomer'," the small boy said.
"Boomer," Danny repeated, petting her head. He'd always wanted his own dog. Always. As long as he could remember. He hugged Boomer against him and looked at Ray. "Thanks." He would try to be good. He really would.

* * *

Ray waited until dinner ended to open the report cards. He looked at Danny's first. It was bad. Four D's and an F in the academic subjects. "What's the problem?"
"Miss Beatty hates me," Danny answered. That was part of the truth. The other part was he didn't like doing homework. Especially now that he had Boomer to play with every night.
"I had her," David said, turning from the soapy pan of dishes. "She's a bitch."
"If you don't get these grades up, you're gonna have her again next year."
"She's mean to me." Danny bit his thumbnail.
"She's mean to everyone," David said.
"She's meaner to me."
"Danny --"
"She is, Ray. She calls me 'orphan boy' and checks my hair every day to see if I have lice and makes me sit in the back corner."
Ray rubbed his forehead. When his mother died, he'd gone to the school and explained the situation to Miss Beatty. She was curt and said she expected her students to leave their home problems at home. "Who's the other fifth grade teacher?"
"Miss Ellis."
"Okay. I'll go to school tomorrow and get you moved to her class."
Miss Ellis was not only nicer than Miss Beatty, but prettier, too. Danny smiled. A lot prettier. "Can you do that?"
"I will do it." Ray opened David's report card. Straight A's, the same as always. The kid had a mouth on him, but he was smart. He opened Joey's. Joey's A in Biology had dropped to a B and his B in Geometry had dropped to a C, but otherwise, his grades were perfect.
The light reflected unevenly on the row of zeros beneath the absences column. Ray looked closer. A pencil had been used to convert "6" into "0" for each class. He returned to David's card and examined it. It was the same. "What's going on with your absences?"
"What do you mean?" David asked.
Ray pointed to the numbers at the bottom of the card. "These sixes were changed to look like zeros."
"Let me see." David glanced at the card and shrugged. "I'll bet the school secretary did that. You know how sloppy teachers write."
"No, I don't."
"Oh, c'mon, Ray. We wouldn't skip school six times in six weeks. We're not that stupid."
"I ain't neither. I'll stop by the high school and check it out while I'm in town tomorrow."
"I can't believe you don't trust us." David slapped his hands to his hips and slid his left foot forward.
"If you're telling the truth, you ain't got nothing to worry about, do you?"
David rolled his eyes. "Just sign the cards."
"I'm taking them with me."
David spread the dish towel over the dishes. "You'll feel pretty stupid when you find out what angels we've been."
Ray laughed. "Yeah, David. You're right there."
The next day was Thursday, the day David and Joey skipped each week. They ditched their books in the barn and hiked to the cave.
David knelt on his knees, rolling the joint on the large flat boulder.
"Think Ray will go to school?" Joey's big brown eyes shimmered with worry.
David grunted. "No."
"He kept our report cards. He said he would."
David figured Joey would have an ulcer before he got out of high school. He didn't know anyone who worried as much. "He was playing mind games. He wanted to see if we'd rip out our hearts and confess."
"If he does find out, what do you think he'll do?"
"Give us one of his 'we need to cooperate' speeches. Then we'll promise to be good little boys and never do it again." David smiled. "He's a pushover."
Joey chewed his lip. Ray had been good to them. Very good. Not once had he hit them, not even when David mouthed him off. "I don't like lying to him."
"You don't have to. I'll do all the talking."
Joey shook his head. "I don't like it."
"Ray's not the smartest guy in the world, you know." David touched his tongue down the side and sealed the cigarette paper. He admired his handiwork, then lit it. He took a deep drag, holding the smoke in his lungs until Joey also had a hit. "I'm glad Mom's dead."
Joey coughed, gagging on the smoke. "Don't say that."
David fingered the scar on his cheek. That last terrible summer before Ray came home, his mother was unbearably mean. He knew now that her brain was being consumed by cancer, but at the time he only knew she was meaner than she'd ever been. When she started beating Joey with the belt, David tried to wrestle it away. She grabbed the wooden spoon and cracked it across his face, splitting his cheek open.
David sucked again on the joint, then spoke between his teeth while holding his breath. "You're glad, too, and you know it."
"I am not."
"You want her to come back?"
"If she wouldn't be mean, I would."
"If she wasn't mean, she wouldn't be Mom." He released the smoke, filtering it through his teeth. "Remember the brownies?"
Joey laughed. "When she --" He strangled on smoke and fell to the ground, giggling and gagging.
David chuckled. "That was ... That was ..." he said, but laughter shook his body and he couldn't continue.
Joey wiped tears from his eyes and held his stomach. Last summer he and David had baked brownies laced with marijuana. Just as they took them from the oven, Jonesy telephoned and needed emergency help with a cow that had fallen into a ravine. Since their mother was napping and Danny was fishing, they left the brownies on the counter to cool and rode their bikes to the neighboring farm. When they returned, a large portion was missing and their mother was singing as she cleaned the mess they'd left. She smiled at them -- a rare act that summer -- and said that for the first time in weeks, her headache had subsided.
"Maybe it was the brownies," David said, trying to withhold his giggles.
"I think it was," his mother agreed. "I usually don't eat chocolate."
"We'll bake you some every day," David said.
Their mother laughed, a sound they hadn't heard since their father disappeared. "I don't think so."
But they did try it a few more times, although it never had quite the same effect. Danny got into them once, although no one noticed a difference in his normal insouciant behavior. Then their mother noticed an off-taste and wondered what the ingredients were and Joey worried Gary would figure out what was happening. So they stopped their experiments.
"We should make some for Ray," David said, recovering from his gasps.
Joey still struggled to breathe between his giggles and coughs. "Better not."
David nodded, wiping his eyes on his sleeve. "We couldn't afford it." He took the harmonica from his pocket and played a few chords until he found a tune he liked. He leaned against the boulder and relaxed.
Joey snuffed out the joint. "Let's finish writing that song."
They lounged around the cave until three-thirty, then hiked down the hill. The most challenging part of the game was making sure Ray wasn't outside. Of course, they could just stay in the woods and go around to the other end of the house, but they liked to keep their stash in the barn. They peeked from the edge of the tree line, then ran to the back of the barn. A crate was below the window so they could crawl through.
David jumped on the crate and reached to push the window open. "What the..." A sheet of plywood had been nailed over the window. He looked at Joey.
"Let's try the door."
They sneaked around the side of the barn, crawling on their hands and knees. Before they reached the door, David knew what they'd find.
The barn door was also boarded up.
"I get the feeling Ray went to school."
"What're we gonna do?" Joey whispered.
David motioned for him to return the way they'd come. "Hide the shit in the woods."
"But what will Ray do?"
David didn't answer. He wasn't so sure anymore.
"David?"
"Let's go find out." He said the words in a braver tone than he felt, but he couldn't let Joey panic. He walked to the house and pushed the side door open. Their books were on the counter. David wished Ray had locked them in the barn.
Ray turned the fried potatoes, then faced them, his eyes hard. "Mr. Johnson sure was glad to see me."
"We --"
"He thought I was in the hospital, suffering from complications after gall-bladder surgery. And he thought you were such considerate boys, taking your little brother to Columbus every Thursday for dialysis." Ray scraped at the potatoes.
David took a deep breath. "As long as our grades --"
"I don't like being lied to."
"But we --"
"And I ain't gonna tolerate it. You can both stay in the goddam house for two weeks."
David made a face and looked at Joey. "Fine. Let me go get our guitars --"
"No."
"But our guitars --"
"Are staying in the goddam barn."
"But we --"
"You ain't doing nothing for two weeks. Nothing."
David's left foot slid forward and his chest puffed out. "You can't take our music away."
"Don't tell me what I can't do."
David's fists went to his hips. "You ass."
"Three weeks." Ray spotted the harmonica in David's pocket and snatched it.
David grabbed for it, but Ray was so much larger he didn't have a chance. "You goddam son-of-a-bitch --"
"Four weeks."
"David ..." Joey shifted his weight from one leg to the other. "C'mon. Don't."
David slammed his fist into the stack of textbooks on the counter. They scattered across the floor.
Ray's face reddened. "Six weeks. You got it? Six goddam weeks." He towered over David, their faces inches apart. "You got anything else to say?"
David's lip curled. "You make me wish Mom wasn't dead." He paused long enough to allow Ray to absorb his words, then pushed Ray away from him. He swaggered from the room. Joey slunk behind him.
Ray stepped into the doorway and watched them go. He shouldn't let David get to him. The next six weeks were going to be hell for all of them, but David had met his match this time and Ray wasn't budging an inch. Not an inch. If he had to sit on David every night, he would.
He returned to the range, scraped burned potatoes from the bottom of the skillet and turned off the flame under the smoldering ham. He needed to calm down. He had a show tonight, the laundry was stacking up and he'd promised Jonesy he'd give him a hand with the chicken coop.
Ray kicked the Algebra text near him. Life wasn't the way he'd planned. And what exactly did David mean, he wished Mom wasn't dead? Ray took a deep breath and held it, then picked up the books. He hoped his father was miserable.

* * *

Danny chewed his thumbnail. The school bus bounced into a rut on the spiraling dirt road. His thumb slipped from his mouth and his teeth dug into his lip. Ray was going to be mad.
The bus pulled into the turn-around and Danny stepped off. Last time they got their report cards, he'd convinced Ray it was the teacher's fault. But he'd spent this six weeks in Miss Ellis' class and he didn't think Ray would accept that excuse.
Boomer pounced from the woods and jumped on Danny, splattering mud on his school pants.
"Hey, girl." Danny fell to the soft earth and wrestled with the half-grown dog. He knew he was getting his clothes dirty, but Ray never complained about washing them. He sat up suddenly. "I know what to do," he said, rubbing Boomer's ears. He took his report card from his pocket and tossed it into the woods.
Boomer bounced after it, returning it to Danny with her ears perked and her tail wagging.
"No, Boom. Let it go." Danny threw it further.
Again, Boomer retrieved it, proud of herself.
Danny sighed. "You don't understand. I want to lose it." He took the muddy report card and propped it on a tree branch. "That's my report card. It stays here."
Boomer barked and jumped toward it.
"Come on. Let's go home." Danny stepped toward the road. His foot sunk deep into a mud puddle. "Daggone it. Now I'm gonna have to wash my socks." They were the last two socks he could find. He was sure there were some in the mound of things he'd shoved under his bed when Ray told him to clean his room, but there was no way he was going to pull that stuff out. The peanut butter and jelly sandwich was already green and fuzzy and there were some other gross-looking things he couldn't identify. And that had been more than a week ago. He sighed and looked at his socks. He'd worn them for five days. They probably needed washed, anyway.
"C'mon, Boom. I'll race you to the house." Danny ran, his left foot heavy with mud.
Boomer swirled around him.
Danny laughed. When he reached the house, he fell on the step and kicked off his shoes before going in.
"Hi, kiddo." Ray turned from the oven and smiled. "How was school?"
"Okay."
"Get your report card?"
"Yeah. I, uh ..." Danny searched his pockets.
Boomer barked at the door.
Ray let her out.
"I must've lost it."
"How'd you do?"
"A lot better. All B's and C's."
"Good. Better go get those muddy clothes off."
Danny nodded and ran up the stairs. He left his dirty clothes in a pile on the bathroom floor and pulled on the jeans Ray must have washed for him. He peeked out the window. David and Joey were just coming up the drive. He ran to their room and took a pair of socks from David's drawer. He pulled them on, then ran back downstairs.
"Look what Boomer found." David waved the dirty manila envelope over Danny's head. "It was stuck in a tree."
"Give it to me." Danny grabbed for it, but David jerked it from his reach.
Ray took it from David. He wiped the envelope on his shirt, then pulled the card out. "Those B's look more like D's to me."
Danny bit his thumbnail.
"What's the problem?"
Danny shrugged.
"Last time it was the teacher, but we got you a new one."
Danny's cheeks burned. He hated anyone to be mad at him, but especially Ray.
"It might help if he did his homework," David said.
"Stay out of it."
David had other things on his mind, anyway. He looked out the back door, straining to see if Ray had removed the boards from the barn.
Ray put the card on the counter and looked at David's, then Joey's. "Good job, guys."
"Did you --"
"Yeah. But that don't --"
David and Joey sprinted from the room, bouncing into one another.
Ray shrugged and took the casserole from the oven.
Danny figured Ray would say something when David and Joey left, but he didn't. Neither did he say anything during dinner. Danny fidgeted and tried to eat, but nothing tasted good. As soon as dinner was over, he sneaked out the back door.
He found Boomer's brush under the step where he'd left it. "Come on, Boom," he said, petting her until she sat between his legs and he could brush her. She licked his face before resting, her tongue dangling from the side of her mouth. Danny gently stroked her blond coat. At least Boomer never got mad at him and liked him no matter what he did.
Ray eased his broad body down next to his little brother. "You ain't gotta lie to me."
Danny concentrated on untangling a glob of Boomer's long hair. His face burned, but there was no place to hide. "I didn't want you mad at me," he said.
"I ain't mad. But I want you to tell me the truth, okay?"
"Okay. Sorry." And he was. He was sorry David had found his report card.
Ray opened his penknife and cut the matted fur. "You gotta get your grades up, kiddo."
"I know."
"I never liked school, neither, but you gotta get through it."
"All I want is to be a drummer. I don't need math and English and history to do that."
"Sure you do. You gotta know fractions to count the beat and you gotta read..."
Danny made a face.
"I know it's been a tough year. But why don't we make a deal? You don't get nothing but A's and B's on your next report card and I'll buy you a drum set."
Danny stopped brushing. He looked at Ray. "A real one?"
"Yeah."
"A new one?"
"Any one you want. I'll take you to Charleston and you can pick it out."
Danny jumped up and danced on the step. "You will? You really will?"
Ray smiled. "Yeah. But no C's or D's. Or F's."
Danny grabbed Boomer's front paws and twirled her around.
Ray stood. "This's between me and you, okay? Ain't everybody gotta know." When Ray bought Danny the magician's kit, Gary had threatened to switch the house money to an account without Ray's name on it. They had fought for days over ten dollars. Ray smiled. He couldn't wait to see stingy Gary's face this time. The drum set would just about deplete their emergency cash.
Danny stopped dancing. "What if I get all A's and one C?"
"No. No C's." Ray lumbered into the house.
Danny watched him go. He needed to call someone in his class and get the spelling words for tomorrow's test. And a book report was due on Friday. He'd have to find his library book that was already two weeks overdue. He bit his thumbnail. It looked like he would need to start studying.

* * *

Sam pulled into Sinatra's, a large night club outside Philadelphia. Few cars were parked in the lot, but it was still early. As his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he noticed the console piano centered on the dance floor.
He walked to the bar. "Whiskey and water," he said, handing one of his last dollars to the cigar-chomping bartender. He took his drink to the pay phone and dialed.
"Hello?" It was Danny's young voice. In the background, he heard someone playing his mother's baby grand. It had to be either Ray or Joey. He'd taught each of his boys piano from the time they were old enough to sit on his lap and pound at the keys, but only Ray and Joey had the passion to master it.
"Hello?"
Sam listened for assurance that his boys were okay. He still called Madge regularly, but sometimes he just had to hear their voices.
"Hello? Is anybody there?"
"Who is it, Danny?" The background voice was a bit harder to identify. Probably David.
"I think it's an obscene phone call," Danny said.
"Then it's for Joey," David said.
"Leave me alone," Joey said.
The phone clicked and the dial tone buzzed in Sam's ear. He replaced the receiver and returned to the bar. "Is the manager in?"
"What'd'ya want?" The bartender spoke without moving his mouth, his teeth clamped around a cigar stub.
"Could I play the piano for tips?"
The bartender raised his eyebrows, looking around the sparse crowd. He grunted. "Yeah. Sure. Go right ahead."
Sam placed his drink on a cardboard coaster. He sat on the bench and ran his fingers over the keys. They had a nice feel, a good sound. They reminded him of his mother's piano that soothed him through his childhood of never being good enough or smart enough or brave enough. Through his father's death and his mother's infirmity. Through years of Madge's meanness. He played a few warm-up scales, then submitted himself to the music.
Consummation of the soul. That's what Sam called the gratification he received from music. When his passion became so intense it begged to be satisfied, pleaded to be released, and he was helpless to resist its urges. When his fingers assumed a life of their own, titillating the ivory keys with the complex music of Bach and Mozart and Beethoven, and he became one with the cadence, breathing with the crescendos, his fingers caressing the keys, stroking them, his every breath in rhythm with the tempo, his every sense focused on the fulfillment of the melody, until everything else faded, everything else disappeared, and only the music existed.
When his submission was complete, his body exhausted and his soul fulfilled, Sam basked in the afterglow, refreshed from the release, complete and whole.
A short, thin man with horn-rimmed glasses stood near him. As Sam returned to reality, the man placed a one hundred dollar bill in his tip jar. Sam stopped playing.
The man smiled. "Could I buy you a drink?"
Sam hesitated, looking around the club. He hoped he hadn't stumbled into some sort of illicit establishment.
The small man handed him a business card. "It's legit. I'm an agent. I represent musicians like yourself, help you get steady jobs."
Sam extended his hand. "Sam Gambel."
"Pete Harrowitz." The man shook his hand firmly. "The last time I heard a piano played like that was at Carnegie Hall. I can keep you as busy as you like. Weekends, weekdays..."
"Everyday. I'd be happy if I never had a day off."
"You got it. I can book you into Star Plaza for cocktail hour tomorrow. It's just down the road. Why don't you follow me over and we'll get you a room and a meal and pick you up some proper attire..."

* * *

Joey's long legs dangled over the foot of the sofa. Summer had gone fast and he'd be glad when school started next week. Not that he minded working at the Jones' farm -- old Jonesy appreciated everything they did and Mrs. Jones fussed over them and made them a hot lunch every day and brought them her delicious lemonade. But it was hard work and after ten hours in the sun, he was beat.
He especially liked Mrs. Jones. Never had she scolded him. Not once. The time the lemonade glass fell through his sweaty hand and shattered into a hundred pieces, she'd hugged him. Hugged him. "Now, honey, don't you worry about that," she said, and he knew she meant it.
Often, very often, she sent them home with their arms loaded with "leftovers" -- uncut pies, meaty casseroles and more than once, a whole ham or a stuffed turkey. Just last night, Jonesy told Ray someone hadn't come for half a cow and begged Ray to take it home so it wouldn't go to waste. Strangely, the same thing happened right after their mother died.
But it was pretty much over now. Jonesy had paid them for their summer work and Ray said he'd take them all to town tomorrow for school clothes. Once school started, Ray would still help Jonesy during the day and Joey and David would give him a hand after school for an hour or two as needed.
Ray and Gary banged in the side door.
"I said you ain't." Ray slammed the door behind him.
"I'm in charge of the money --"
"Shut up. You ain't getting the boys' money."
Gary shoved him.
Ray raised his eyebrow. "Stop it."
Gary pushed him again.
Ray tightened his fist. "You want decked?"
"I want you to stay the hell out of the money."
"I give you every goddam dime I make, but you ain't gonna take from the boys."
"I wouldn't have to if you hadn't emptied the account to buy that goddam drum set for Danny."
"Let it rest. You've bitched about it for three months already."
"What's going to happen if you get sick? Or run out of work? We're dependent on your income now."
"I don't never get sick and we're booked solid through Christmas."
"Would you two shut up?" David yelled from the den. "I'm trying to get a date for tonight and I can't even hear myself talk."
Ray moved toward the living room. "We got a show in two hours." He edged near the stairs, taunting Gary. "I get the tub first."
"The hell you do!" Gary chased him through the living room. They raced up the steps, yelling and pushing.
Joey shook his head. It was hard to believe they were in their twenties. He hoped he and David never regressed that far.

* * *

"That is what I call sexy."
Carol Stampley looked at her youngest sister and shook her head. She'd quit falling in love with the boys in the band when she was sixteen and she'd rather be home now, in her cozy little apartment, snuggled in her comforter and reading a novel.
"Look at him, Carol."
Carol didn't need to ask which one. She knew Linda meant the lead singer, the big dark-haired guy with the scruffy beard. "He's not your type."
"I just want him for one night."
Carol arched her eyebrow. "Uh-uh. I live in this town."
"A man who sings with that much passion has to be a great lover."
Carol adjusted her glasses. She and Linda were about as opposite as sisters could be. Linda was tall and shapely and attractive -- Carol short, trim and plain. Linda was loud and impulsive, Carol studious and prudent. Linda's goal in life was to find a wealthy man, but Carol was content living alone on her school teacher's salary.
"I promised we'd feature Gary tonight," Ray said to the audience. "For those that came in late, this's his last night with the band. He likes money better'n he does music, so he's leaving for Marshall tomorrow to become an accountant --"
"Marshall?" Linda tossed her honey-brown hair behind her shoulder. "Maybe I can get to know him very well."
"I thought it was the lead singer you liked."
Linda laughed. "No. You're the one who likes the fat ones."
"We got a request..." Ray held a napkin to the light and squinted. He turned and looked at Gary. "Guess what for?"
Gary shook his head. "No way! Let Roger do it. He's my replacement."
Ray cocked his eyebrow. "You ain't done nothing but give me a bad time all day." He looked at Stan, the long-haired drummer. "You got the vise grips?"
Stan waved the tool.
Gary stepped back, his face scrunched in mock horror. "Come on, Ray. Don't do this to me."
Ray and Bob, the bass guitarist, approached him. "Sorry, Gar. But a request is a request --"
"Roger. You got to do Roger --"
"Would you hold still?" Ray grabbed one arm, Bob the other. They restrained him, his lower body hidden by the equipment.
Stan opened the vise, holding it high so all could see. "Hold him tight." He pretended to tighten the tool.
"Start singing."
"Eee-eee-eee," Gary sang in his deep baritone.
"Tighter," Ray said.
Stan labored, his hands out of sight.
"No. No..." Gary tried to pull away.
"Sing."
"Eee-eee-eee," he sang an octave higher.
Ray signaled Stan to tighten more.
With a pained expression, Gary's voice raised another octave, singing the opening lines of The Lion Sleeps Tonight a cappella, his clear voice ringing through the crowded room.
The band members rushed to their instruments and joined in the song.
Carol smiled and looked at Linda.
Tears streamed down Linda's face as she struggled for her breath. "I'm going to pee my pants," she gasped, then ran for the rest rooms.
Carol sipped her wine. This was the second club they'd been to. The band at the first was too loud and not very good, but this one wasn't bad. Especially the lead singer, Ray. He had a deep, rich voice, but it was his personality that captivated Carol. She liked the way he laughed and joked with the audience and acted as though there was nowhere he'd rather be or nothing he'd rather do.
Linda fell back into the chair next to Carol. "They're good, aren't they?"
Carol nodded.
The band finished The Lion Sleeps Tonight. Ray moved to the piano. His fingers slid over the keys effortlessly. He sang You're My Soul and Inspiration, his voice floating through the dim bar, charging the air with sensuality.
"Man, is he good," Carol whispered, not wanting to break the spell.
"Yeah, and I'll bet Jerry or Gary or whatever his name, is too."
Carol finished her wine, then relaxed. She could listen to this music all night.
Ray finished the song, then leaned into the microphone. "While we're in a Righteous mood, let's send out You've Lost that Lovin' Feelin' to John, from Sherry." His smooth voice crooned the words of the song. As the final words drifted away, the lights brightened and the band packed their equipment.
"Let's go meet them," Linda said, standing.
"No. We're going home."
"Come on. That guitar guy has a build under that shirt -- and beneath those pants. I'm going to have him."
"Behave yourself."
"Don't you want the fat guy?"
"He's not fat. Now, come on. We're going home."
Linda sighed. "You're no fun, Carol. No fun at all. No wonder you're an old maid."
"I like being an old maid. Now, come on. You've got to drive to Huntington tomorrow."
Linda rolled her eyes. Carol still thought it was her duty to boss her around. But Carol wasn't going to college with her and Carol wasn't going to stop her from finding that musician. And once she found him, she was going to have him. Man, was she going to have him.

* * *

Ray re-read the hand-written note and sighed. "What's this about, David?"
"I don't know. I didn't write it."
"Did you read it?" He wished David would stay out of trouble for at least one week.
"Of course. Do you think I'd bring a note home from my teacher without reading it first?" David looked like a Bantam rooster with his hands low on his hips, his weight on his left leg and his chest thrust out.
"Why does she want to see me?"
"I told you, I don't know."
"You acting up in class?"
"No."
"You going to class?"
"Yes."
"You doing your homework?"
"Yes, Ray. I've been a good little boy." David rolled his eyes. "Maybe that's why she wants to see you. To tell you what a sweet, intelligent, polite young man I am."
"I doubt that." Ray went to the phone. He spoke briefly to Miss Stampley, explaining that he was David's guardian, and scheduled an appointment for the next day.
"Well?" David asked.
"She said she wanted to discuss some poetry you wrote."
David stared at Ray, his expression sobering. "Oh, shit."
"You know what she's talking about, huh?"
David made a face. "It's the one I should've submitted to Playboy instead of my English teacher."
Ray rubbed his forehead. "You mean you wrote a dirty poem?"
"I'd prefer to say risquÈ."
"Why would you give it to your teacher?"
"I thought she was open-minded. She tells us to write what we think."
"Ain't no school teacher that open-minded." Ray shook his head. "You never fail to amaze me."
David smiled. "Try to smooth it over for me, okay? I really like her and I don't want her mad at me."
"I'll see what I can do."
Ray was ten minutes early for his appointment the next day. He stood in the doorway and tugged at his beard, wondering if he should interrupt or come back later.
Carol Stampley looked up from her paperwork. "Come on in."
"I'm Ray Gambel." He extended his hand. "David's brother."
Carol accepted his hand shake. Although he looked nothing like David, there was something familiar about him. She motioned toward an empty chair and waited while he sat. "This is a creative writing class, generally for seniors, but David submitted writing samples last spring to qualify. He's the only junior in the class."
Ray nodded. He knew the kid was smart.
Carol shuffled through the folders on her desk. "I'm concerned about some of his poetry. I wondered if you would take a few minutes to read it."
"Sure."
She handed him a stack of papers. Some teachers would have graded the papers and forgotten the content, but Carol worried about her students.
Ray slowly read through the poems. The first was titled "If I'd Have Loved You More." Ray immediately knew it was about their mother. David and Joey had written songs during the summer with the same type of stark lyrics. He looked at the next one. "I Loved to Hate You" was the title, which was repeated at the end of each stanza except the last, which read, "I Hated to Love You." He glanced over the words again, his eyes stopping on the lines: "You erased the smile from his face; You stole the spirit from his soul. I loved to hate you."
Ray sighed and looked at the next title, "When Wishes Come True." He rubbed his forehead and handed the paper back to Carol. "Our mother died last November. David never got along with her too good."
"David seems to have a lot of anger and guilt he's trying to work through. I'd like to refer him to Mr. Meeks, the school counselor."
"We talked to Rev. Mitchell right after Mom died, but David wouldn't cooperate. Rev. Mitchell said not to bring him back unless David decided he wanted to talk about it."
Carol smiled. David had always been polite in class, but he had that air of arrogance that said he wasn't going to do anything he didn't want to.
"Him and Joey -- that's another brother -- they wrote some songs this summer about Mom."
Carol's eyes widened in sudden recognition. "You're a musician, aren't you?"
"I got a band."
"You played at Dino's Lounge on Labor Day Weekend." He was the one with the wonderful voice, the one who filled the air with ions of sensuality.
Ray's face reddened. Labor Day Weekend was Gary's last time with the band. They'd chugged two pitchers of beer and gotten rowdy -- even did the Lion Sleeps thing. It wasn't the type of show he'd want a school teacher to attend. "You weren't there late, were you?"
Carol's blue eyes danced. "You were wonderful."
Ray took a deep breath. "Uh, thanks." He hesitated, but Miss Stampley only smiled. "When David said you wanted to see me, he said it was because of some, uh -- dirty, poetry he wrote."
Carol's eyes sparkled. "I don't keep those because they tend to upset parents, but it was nothing to worry about. Probably the most normal thing he's written."
Ray wished his face would quit burning.
"Would you mind if I gave David's poetry to Mr. Meeks? And suggest he talk to him?"
"No."
"I'll ask David for his permission before I do." She rose to her feet. "I think David will be fine. Thank you for coming in."
Ray stood.
Carol offered her hand. "Anytime you need to talk to someone, give me a call. I'm in the phone book."
Ray shook her hand. "Thank you."
"It was wonderful meeting you, Mr. Gambel," Carol said, allowing her hand to linger in his. "I hope to see you again. Soon." And she was sure that one way or another, she would.

* * *

"What did you want?" David stood in front of Carol Stampley's desk.
"Thanks for coming in. Why don't you take a seat?"
David lifted the side chair to the front and straddled it.
"I'd like to show your poetry to Mr. Meeks, the guidance counselor."
"What for?"
"I think you should talk to him."
"Why?"
Carol hesitated. She knew David would badger her until she spit out the truth. "I think you need help dealing with your mother's death."
"No, I don't."
"It wasn't your fault, David."
"I know."
"You can't wish someone dead."
David's fist tightened. With one swing he could clear Miss Stampley's overly neat desk of the stapler, paper clips and pencil jar. He swallowed. "Is that all you want? I'm missing my lunch."
"Are you sure you won't talk to Mr. --"
"No. And I'd appreciate it if you'd respect my privacy and not show my poetry to anyone."
"I let your brother see it last night."
"Ray?" David rolled his eyes. "He probably didn't understand it."
"Don't underestimate him."
David stood. "We got a deal?"
"I won't show your work without your permission."
"Thanks."
"If you're not comfortable talking to Mr. Meeks, I could find someone else."
"I told you, I'm okay. Can I go eat my lunch now?"
Carol sighed. "My door's always open, okay?"
"Thanks," David said on his way out.
But Miss Stampley's words gnawed at him. The next day he met her as she was leaving for lunch.
"Did you want to see me?"
David looked down the hall where Joey waited, leaning against a locker.
"Come on," Miss Stampley said, motioning him back into her room.
David followed her and sat as he had the day before. "I'm sorry about yesterday."
"It didn't bother me."
"I just don't want to be psycho-analyzed. Can you understand that?"
Carol nodded.
"My mother was a bitch." David flinched as he said the word, one he should have euphemized for his teacher. "And if I go in and tell that to a psychiatrist, they'll think I'm psycho and commit me."
"I doubt --"
"You're supposed to love your mother, you know? Especially if she's dead. But I can't help it. Joey was scared to death of her. He still isn't right." David brushed his fingers over his scar. "My dad always took up for us so she ran him off."
Miss Stampley's face slackened with compassion.
"And, yeah, I'm mad. And sometimes I think I should have tried harder to get along with her and sometimes I feel bad that I used to wish she was dead, but there's nothing anyone can do about it now. Talking to some head doctor isn't going to bring my dad home or fix Joey or erase this scar."
"They might help you deal with it."
"My life is better now than it's ever been."
Miss Stampley's gaze drilled through him. "What about Joey?" she said softly. "Maybe he could --"
"Joey doesn't need anybody screwing with his mind."
"But --"
"He's getting better. He's starting to realize Ray isn't like Mom. He's gonna be okay."
"But maybe --"
David stood. "If you want to send someone to the psychiatrist, maybe it should be Harry Hanson. He sits back there and sketches war scenes of dead people with scattered body parts. He can't wait to visit Vietnam."
Before Miss Stampley could respond, David strode out the door.

* * *

Ray watched as David cleared the table. Twice he grabbed his side, doubling over, his face contorted in pain. "You okay?"
David nodded, his lips clamped white.
"Go sit down. I'll help Joey finish."
"Thanks." David walked from the room, hunched over.
Joey watched him go. "Something's wrong with him."
"He's just got a tummy ache," Ray said, wiping the table.
"He threw up before dinner."
"Probably the flu."
Joey washed another plate. It wasn't the flu. Something was wrong with David. He knew it. "Would you check on him?"
"He's okay."
Joey placed the plate in the drainer. David wasn't okay. He didn't know how he knew, but he did. Just like the time David fell off the hay loft. Joey was in the corn field and turned cold with dread. He went looking for David and found him unconscious, covered with blood from a large gash on the back of his head.
Joey turned off the water. "Please. Something is wrong with him."
Ray nodded. The worry on Joey's face was enough to convince him. He went upstairs and found David lying in a tight fetal position. Joey was right. It wasn't the flu. "C'mon, David. Let's get you to the hospital."

* * *

Carol Stampley stood in the door of the hospital room. She had come to see how David was doing, but she couldn't keep her eyes off his older brother.
Ray patted David's forehead with a damp cloth. "Wanna drink?"
David didn't reply. His breathing slowed into sleep.
Ray watched him for a few minutes, then pulled the sheet around his shoulders. Without taking his eyes from David, he pulled the chair closer to the bed and fell into it.
Carol stepped forward. "How is he?"
Ray jumped and turned to face her. He lumbered to his feet. "I'm sorry. You been here long?"
"How's David?"
"He made it through surgery without no complications, but he ain't feeling real good right now." Ray rubbed his forehead. "They said his appendix was pretty ugly."
"Were you with him all day?"
"Since last night."
"Would you let me stay while you get something to eat?"
David moaned.
Ray stepped closer to him. "I better not leave him."
"He'll be fine." There was something about this man that sent sparks through her nervous system. She had already pulled his file from the office and learned he had turned twenty-three in August -- three years younger than she. But she'd been around enough to know the good ones were grabbed early.
Ray smiled. "Thanks. I won't be gone long."
Carol watched him walk out the door. She had phoned Linda the night Ray stopped in for the conference, and Linda insisted it was fate. They had giggled like school girls and Carol admitted he took her breath away. Linda warned her not to be too prudish, but she already knew how to get what she wanted. And she wanted to get to know this man better. A lot better.

* * *

Ray smiled as Carol came in and motioned Joey and Danny to move back to make room for her. "I think they're gonna send him home early. He's getting into too much trouble."
"They won't let me eat," David complained. "They bring me Jello and broth and sherbet. I want steak."
"I brought you something to get your mind off it." She put the cardboard binder on his table and handed him a sealed envelope. "Everyone in class wrote you a poem or a story and your fan club wrote a special poem. They wouldn't let me read it."
"His fan club?" Ray asked.
"A group of girls has a crush on David." Carol smiled at Ray. "They got out of hand one day while David was reading one of his more explicit poems, so I called them his fan club. Now they call themselves that."
David ripped the envelope open. He chuckled, then grabbed his stomach. "It hurts to laugh." He handed the note to Joey. "Maybe tomorrow I'll feel up to writing them a poem."
Joey replaced the note in the envelope, his face crimson.
"Can I read it?" Danny asked.
David tossed it to him. "Don't let Ray catch you."
Ray looked at Joey. "Should Danny read it?"
Joey shook his head.
"You wimp," David said, rolling his eyes.
Ray took the paper from Danny and put it back in the envelope.
Danny made a face. "C'mon, Ray."
"I'll sneak it to you later," David said with a wink.
Carol laughed.
Ray looked at her. "David keeps stuff like this going constantly. There ain't no rest with him around."
"At least he's feeling better."
"Will you tell my fan club I said, 'okay' ?"
"Okay to what?" Ray asked.
"They want to see my scar." David grinned. "Among other things."
Ray looked at Carol, waiting for her reaction.
She laughed. "You've got your hands full."
"He ain't even well yet. I expected to get more than two days rest outta this." Ray glanced at his watch. "We better get home and get something to eat."
On Friday, Carol came to David's room during lunch break.
Ray stood. "I think he's all better. He's flirting with the nurses and giving me a bad time."
"When does he go home?" she asked.

"Maybe Monday."
Carol set a stack of paper in front of David, then looked at Ray. "My sister's coming for a visit next weekend. She wants to know if your band is playing anywhere."
"The Holiday Inn."
"Would it embarrass you if we stopped by?"
"No, Miss Stampley. Of course not," Ray answered.
"Great. And I prefer to be called Carol."
"Carol." Ray nodded. "I'm Ray."
"And I'm David. If you guys want some privacy, I think the room next door is vacant."
Ray stared at David.
Carol laughed. "I need to get back to school. But I'll look forward to seeing you next Friday, Ray."
David waited until she left. "She's got the hots for you. Big time."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"It's not me she's coming to see every day."
"I think them drugs are frying your brain."
David's eyebrow fluttered. "She's going to watch you play next weekend?"
"She likes my music."
"Don't encourage her, okay? She's my teacher."
"You ain't got nothing to worry about."
But each day Ray became more nervous. He phoned Gary and convinced him to skip his late class Friday and come home early. He called an extra rehearsal and scheduled all four sets, leaving nothing to chance. And by Friday evening his stomach somersaulted and his appetite vanished.
"What's that horrible smell?" David curled his nose. He'd been home since Monday and Ray hoped he could return to school soon. "You put perfume on, didn't you?" He eyed Ray. "You got enough starch in that shirt?"
"You worry too much."
"She's my teacher, Ray. Leave her alone."
"Hey, Gary!" Ray yelled toward the stairs. "You ready?"
Gary jogged into the room, carrying his shoes.
"Why is Gary going?" David asked.
"Mind your own business, David. And don't leave Danny by hisself tonight. If you go to the barn, take him with you."
David rolled his eyes. "He's got Boomer."
"You heard me."
Carol and Linda arrived at the beginning of the first set.
Gary escorted them to his table in the front. He didn't understand what Ray saw in Carol -- it was too easy to imagine her in fifty years, peering through her bifocals, her gray hair in a bun, her bony shoulders covered with a shawl, saying, "Now, class..."
But the sister -- Linda -- was another story. She had a body that didn't stop and a roving eye that suggested she didn't say no. She danced most numbers, some with Gary and some with anyone she could grab. She was an extraordinary dancer, uninhibited and confident.
"Where'd you learn to dance like that?" Gary asked.
"Fifteen years of dance school," Linda said. "Carol, too. And Diane, my sister between me and Carol. Of course, we each preferred a different style. Carol loved ballet, Diane tap and me jazz."
Gary finished the set on the dance floor, then joined Ray in the men's room. "She likes you."
"Who does?"
"Carol." Gary lit a cigarette. "I mean it. I've been watching her. She doesn't take her eyes off you. Except to exchange looks with Linda. I heard her tell Linda how great you were with the boys --"
"She's a smart woman."
"Why don't you dance with her? I'll play a set for you."
Ray hadn't danced with a woman for a long time. He wasn't sure he remembered how. "I'll play another set and drink a few more beers. Then we'll see."
"I ordered wine for you." Gary leaned against the wall. "Maybe you can get lucky."
Ray raised his eyebrow. "She's David's teacher."
"So? Teachers get horny, too."
"Gary --"
"Let me take this set."
"No."
Gary took a long drag from his cigarette and slowly exhaled. "I wouldn't mind taking Linda for a ride."
Ray shook his head. "Keep your hands off Linda."
"Why?"
"She's Carol's sister." He pushed the rest room door open.
"Let me have this set."
"No."
Gary followed him back to the table. "Want me to take this set for you?" he said so Carol and Linda could hear, then turned to avoid Ray's glare.
"Can you do that?" Carol asked.
"If he'll let me. He likes to keep all the attention to himself."
Ray took a long drink from the wine.
"Go on," Linda said. "I want to hear you sing."
"I do mainly backup. When Ray's out, Stan takes the lead."
"Last time you sang Hooked on a Feeling."
Gary nodded.
"Do it again."
Gary smiled and looked at Ray.
Ray scratched his beard. He'd have words with Gary later. "Go ahead."
Gary emptied his second beer and jumped to the stage. He was eager to show off. He had a pretty good idea that big-mouthed Linda was hot to trot. He led the band, singing every love song he knew, his attention on Linda.
"Gary has a good voice, too," Carol said. "Are all your brothers talented?"
"Joey's the best. That kid puts his heart and soul into it. David can pick up any instrument and play it, and together they write real good music. Lyrics and melody. Danny's got a lot of talent, too, but the only thing he wants is to play the drums."
Stan, the drummer, took the lead, singing the Righteous Brothers' Unchained Melody.
Linda jumped from her seat and grabbed a man returning from the rest room. Despite his protests, she herded him to the dance floor.
Ray looked at Carol. "Wanna dance?" The words tumbled out before he realized what he was asking.
"Sure."
Ray took her arm and led her to an open corner. He held her at a proper distance.
Carol wiggled closer to him and rested her head against his large chest.
He adjusted his arms, wrapping his left around her waist. He hadn't considered that the evening could turn out like this, but Carol felt warm and comfortable next to him. Like she belonged there. The thought of her being a school teacher intimidated him, but she didn't seem to mind. She was kind and understanding and funny and smart. And real. He'd never liked the girls with the false eyelashes and helpless acts. He liked the ones he could talk to, the ones who could be a friend. And he liked Carol. He closed his eyes. As time goes by, so slowly, and time can do so much... Ray usually sang lead on this, but Stan did a good job. And it was nice to hold a woman. Very nice. He'd been so busy with the boys and the band and all the other bullshit that he'd forgotten what it was like.
I need your love, I need your love, God-speed your love, to-o-o me... The words echoed in his mind as he turned in time to the rhythm. He buried his nose in the fragrant smell of her hair. Her cashmere sweater was soft beneath his touch and the heat of her body flushed him. Reality melted and he submitted to the raw sensuality of the music. O-oh, my love, my darling, I hunger for your touch... The smells of their perfumes and the warmth of their bodies and the feel of their skin swirled together. The beat of the drums pulsed through his body, the purity of the melody drifted through his consciousness. I need your love, I need your love, God-speed your love, to-o-o me...
The realization that the music stopped was gradual. He felt dazed, as though awakening from a dream. He looked at Gary to make sure it had ended.
Gary winked.
Stan caught his eye and gave him a thumbs-up sign.
Ray's face burned.
"Thank you," Carol whispered.
He squeezed her hand and led her back to the table.
Linda smiled as they returned. "How many times did he repeat that?"
"Repeat what?" Ray's face grew hotter. The feel of Carol's body against his was etched in his memory.
"The song. He sang it at least twice."
Carol shrugged. "I didn't notice."
"I didn't neither." Ray needed to cool off before he returned to work.
Linda's steel gray eyes slithered over his body. "Are you hot, Ray?" she asked, her eyebrow cocked.
Carol gave Linda an icy look. She held the bottle of wine over Ray's glass. "Refill?"
"No, I better not." He should step outside and let the December chill cool him. "I need a Coke. Gary can't cover for me all night." He didn't wait for the waitress, but excused himself and walked to the bar. As he waited, Gary finished the next number and ended the set.
Gary hurried to meet him before he returned to the table. "Why don't you drive Carol home? I'll ask Linda to give me a ride."
"I told you to leave Linda alone."
Gary scowled. "I'm just trying to find a way for you to be alone with Carol."
"She's David's teacher and we're gonna treat her -- and her sister -- with respect."
Gary rolled his eyes. "Fine." He lit a cigarette. "Open this set with Light My Fire."
"I ain't got that on the schedule tonight."
"Then put it on there."
"Why?"
"Carol said she hoped you'd do it," Gary lied.
Ray sighed. He returned to the stage and tuned his guitar. He glanced through the requests, then opened with Light My Fire, his deep baritone caressing the words.
Gary had Linda on the dance floor within seconds. They danced close, too close, and before the song was over, they disappeared out the back door.
Ray watched for them to return, and when they didn't, he decided he would kick Gary's ass. He hated Carol being alone at the table and kept a close watch that no one bothered her. He refused encores and joined her as soon as he cased his guitar.
"I think Gary and Linda left," she said.
Ray nodded. "Do you need a ride home?"
"I should have known better than to let Linda drive. She's done this to me before."
Ray helped her with her coat. "I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault."
Ray drove to her small apartment and walked her to the door.
"I can't believe Gary done that." Despite the freezing temperature, Ray's face was hot. He wanted to cram his fist down Gary's throat. He had hoped so much to make a good impression. "I'll make sure it don't happen again."
"You can't help what your brother does any more than I can help what my sister does."
"I know, but he..." Ray swallowed the glob of irritation stuck in his throat. "I told him not to."
Carol unlocked the door. "Why don't you come in?"
Ray hesitated.
"I'll make some coffee."
Ray followed her into the tiny apartment. It was immaculate -- bare, almost, compared to the cluttered farmhouse. There were several paperbacks on the coffee table and a large bookcase filled to capacity against the wall. "You must like to read."
She took his jacket. "I prefer to stay home, but when Linda visits she wants to go constantly." Carol moved into the kitchenette and measured coffee into the percolator. When she finished, she motioned to the sofa. "Sit down." She waited until he chose the far end, then sat next to him and slipped off her heels.
"How did you get interested in music?" Carol asked.
Ray smiled. "At my house, that's like asking how you got interested in breathing. My dad's probably the best musician I ever heard anywhere. He taught us classical piano and classical guitar. But when me and Gary discovered Bill Haley and Chubby Checker and the Everly Brothers, we knew that's what we wanted to do."
"What did your dad think about that?"
"He put away the classical shit and gave us a concert. We knew he played at the American Legion and the Eagles every weekend, but we assumed he played like he did at home. We didn't have no idea he did Elvis and Johnny Cash."
"He didn't practice at home?"
"No. He only played classics at home. That was probably when I first realized how good he was. He could hear something once and play it. I gotta work at it, you know? I gotta peck it out."
"It didn't upset him for you to switch to rock 'n roll?"
"Oh, no. No. Dad's real easy going. I ain't never heard him raise his voice. I ain't never seen him upset, except for the time me and Gary..." Ray stopped.
"You and Gary what?"
"I don't think you want to know about that."
Carol laughed. "Sure I do. Go on."
Ray hesitated. "It was Gary's idea."
"Of course it was. What did you do?"
"I was probably fifteen -- old enough to know better, so Gary would've been thirteen, and David, uh, about eight, almost nine. And he was a brat. Me and Gary was trying to get our band started and David did nothing but bug us. Joey was there, too, of course, 'cause Joey was always wherever David was, but he never said nothing. He'd just sit and watch."
"Kind of like he does now, huh?"
"Yeah. Joey's always been real quiet. But David, I don't know how he's managed to live this long. For days he pestered us. So Gary says, 'Let's take him out back and make a man out of him.' And that sounded good to me. So we took David behind the barn and started punching him. Not hard. Just playing with him more than anything. But Joey ran and got Dad, and I'm telling you, I ain't never seen him like that before. Or since."
Ray unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. "Course, he got there just as I was taking my turn. And he was mad. I thought he was gonna hit me, but he didn't. He never once hit none of us. He just looked at me, those blue eyes -- he's got the same eyes as David -- those blue eyes sparking and staring clean through me. And then he just turned and walked away, not even saying one word." Ray straightened. "Is that coffee ready yet?"
"Should be."
Ray followed her to the kitchen.
"Cream or sugar?" Carol asked.
"Black."
Carol poured his cup, then fixed her own. "So then what happened?"
"Nothing right then. But after dinner, I went out to help Dad bring the cows in, and he jumped all over me." Ray sipped the coffee. "And man, that got to me. I mean, me and Dad were close. He'd never been mad at me before. He'd never yelled at me before. And then he says, 'I'm disappointed in you.' So, here I am, this big fifteen-year-old kid, and I start bawling. And I ain't no little kid. I'm already taller than Dad and bigger than Dad, 'cause Dad ain't real big -- he's about the size of David. And I'm bawling. Bawling like a baby. Snot running down my face, the whole works. Dad just stares at me, then he takes out his hankie and wipes my face and hugs me. We're standing out in the middle of the pasture and he's holding me, rocking me, like a baby. And I ain't never laid a hand on none of the younger boys since."
Carol stirred her coffee. "Where's your dad now?"
The words may as well have come from a shot gun. Ray's breath left him. His jaw slacked.
Carol touched his arm. "I'm sorry."
Ray shrugged. "I don't know where he is. I don't even know if he's..." He set down his cup. "Where's your bathroom?"
By the time Ray returned, Carol had moved their coffee to the living room, turned on soft music and lit a candle.
They talked for a long time. They discussed David's attitude and Joey's introversion and Danny's insecurity. They discussed books and music. They discussed Gary and Linda and the responsibilities of being the oldest.
Just as the early morning light began to lighten the room, Linda popped in. "Hi, guys. Want me to leave?"
Ray stood. "No. I gotta get going."
Carol walked him to the door.
"Thanks for coming to my show."
"I had a good time," she answered.
"I did, too." He still hated to leave her. He wondered if he should try to kiss her -- she was standing close enough to him -- but he didn't want to come on too strong. Instead, he touched her hand. "Maybe we can do it again sometime."
"I'd like that."
He took a deep breath and went to his car.
Ray spent the remainder of the weekend fighting with Gary. Gary refused to cooperate. When Ray insisted Gary's behavior was lewd, embarrassing and damaging to Ray's future with Carol, he laughed. When Ray forbade him to see Linda again, he arranged a date for Saturday night. When Ray threatened to kick his ass, Gary punched him.
Ray was still upset Sunday afternoon as Gary loaded his car for his return to school.
"Lighten up," Gary said as he tossed his tennis shoes in the back seat. "Linda says Carol is giving her hell, too."
"She should."
Gary sighed. He'd tried reasoning with Ray. He'd tried ignoring him. The only thing he hadn't tried was lying. "Now that you've acted like a self-righteous arrogant ass all weekend, I suppose I should confess."
"What?"
"We're just friends."
"Who?"
"Linda and I have a lot in common. We're the same age, we go to the same school, we both have older siblings who think it's their God-given duty to run our lives..."
"What the hell are you saying?"
"It's just your dirty mind working overtime that assumes I'm out having sordid sex when I'm just enjoying the innocent company of a friend."
"Bull shit."
"You spent the night with Carol Friday night. I believed you when you said all you did was talk."
"Why didn't you tell me that yesterday morning?"
"Because I like to aggravate you."
Ray scratched his beard.
Gary smiled. Ray believed him. Now Ray would get off his ass and he could have some real fun. He punched Ray's arm. "Call me if you decide to ask Carol out this weekend. I'll come home early and cover the band for you."
"We got money?"
"I'll find some."
Ray thought about Carol until Tuesday. He wanted to ask her out, to take her on a real date, but what if she didn't want to see him? She seemed to like him, but what if she realized he was uneducated and financially unstable and over his head in responsibility? She grew up with dance lessons and party dresses and Shirley Temple curls -- a long way from farm chores and busted lips and patched jeans.
Ray sat at the piano and allowed his fingers to pick out a melancholy tune.
She had come to hear him play. She had invited him to her apartment. David and Gary had both said she liked him. His melody turned into Something -- the Beatles hit that was just dropping on the charts. Something in the way she moves... The words played through his mind.
He nodded. There was something about her and he had to take the chance that she wouldn't turn him down. He didn't have to look up her number -- he'd already memorized it. He took a deep breath and picked up the phone.
It rang three times. Ray couldn't remember another time when his knees actually shook, but they did now. He leaned against the wall for support.
"Hello?"
"Carol?"
"Yes?"
"This's Ray Gambel."
"Hi, Ray."
"I wondered, if maybe, if you'd go to dinner with me? Friday night?"
"That'd be great."
Ray hoped she could hear him over the noise his heart made as it forced blood through his veins in strong, loud pulses. "Six o'clock? Could I pick you up at six?"
"Yes."
"And maybe we could go dancing afterward?"
"Sure. I'll look forward to seeing you."
"Thanks. Bye."
Ray hung up the phone. He slid down the wall and sat on the floor and laughed. Out loud. He'd done it. He felt like he was sixteen years old, but he'd done it.

* * *

Gary heard the tap at his door and smiled. He swung the door open.
"Hi, Gar." Linda grinned. "Wanna screw?"
"Shhh!" He looked up and down the hallway. "Get in here." He pulled her into his room and locked the door.
She laughed, holding onto his arm for support.
Linda was one crazy girl, there was no doubt about that. And it was convenient, she being Carol's sister and also a student at Marshall. Since that night two months ago when they'd left Ray's show early, they'd been together more nights than not.
"Can I ride home with you this weekend?" She ran her hand along his inner thigh.
"Of course." He grabbed her hand.
"Carol hasn't got Ray in the sack yet." She unbuckled his belt.
"You didn't tell her --"
"She's not stupid. She knows I'm not coming to see her every weekend."
"If Ray finds out, he'll watch me like a hawk."
Linda rubbed his bulging crotch. "You're a big boy."
Gary knew there wasn't much sense in trying to explain Ray. Ray got what Ray wanted and Ray wanted the relationship between Gary and Linda chaste -- although Gary had serious doubts that Ray was practicing abstinence.
She unzipped his pants and reached inside. "I got class in fifteen minutes."
Gary sighed. He'd worry about Ray later.

* * *

Ray set the pitcher of orange juice on the table and watched the boys eat breakfast. "I won't be home for dinner tonight."
"So what else is new?" David folded his toast in half and took a large bite.
"I'll put in a roast, so all you gotta do is take it out and eat, okay?"
David was accustomed to the routine. Ray was gone every night, out screwing Miss Stampley, leaving David with all the responsibilities: seeing that Danny did his homework, cleaning up after Danny, putting up with Danny's bullshit.
Ray took a deep breath. "And I don't want you ignoring Danny. If you go to the barn, take him with you."
David rolled his eyes. He didn't like to fight in the morning. That was why this was getting so out of hand -- the only time he saw Ray was at breakfast.
"I don't want him alone."
"Then hire a baby-sitter."
Ray raised his eyebrow.
David scratched his nose with his middle finger. If he remembered right, this was PTA night, so Ray would be home early. It would be a good night to let Ray know he was fed up, since Ray hadn't seemed to recognize the hints David left almost every night. David sipped his juice. He didn't have a plan yet, but he'd think of something by tonight.
As soon as the boys were out the door, Ray began his morning ritual: wash the breakfast dishes, throw in a load of laundry, decide on dinner and take something from the freezer if necessary. He didn't mind the work, but he resented the responsibility. It hadn't bothered him so much before, but now he wanted to spend his time with Carol and he felt so damned guilty about leaving Danny.
He hurried through his chores and kept his eye on the clock. The days went too slow and the evenings too quick. But finally the afternoon peaked and it was time to meet Carol.
He arrived at her apartment a few minutes before she did. He let himself in with the key she'd given him and put the casserole in the oven. They didn't have much time -- it was PTA night. He waited at the door for her. As soon as she walked in, Ray wrapped his arms around her. "I missed you," he whispered, kissing her forehead.
The exhaustion of Carol's day evaporated with his touch. She wilted in his arms and told him about the difficult parent she'd encountered and the even more difficult senior and the new student, a scared girl with a haunted look whom Carol knew would need a lot of attention.
Ray rubbed her back and listened until she exorcised her frustration. He wished he could erase all her worries, but that was one of the things he loved most about her -- the way she cared about her students. He kissed her gently, starting at her forehead and moving down her face to her neck, then back up to her ear.
She squirmed closer to him, as close as she could get while clothes were still a barrier. With locked lips, they waddled to the bedroom. Ray loved all of her -- her honey brown hair and her sparkling blue eyes and her perfect teeth. He loved her arms, the way her smooth skin stretched over the muscles. He loved her back, the fragile way her slender neck connected to her shoulders and he could feel the vertebra. He loved her tummy, with the fine blond hair and gentle curves. He loved every inch of her.
Their clothes fell away as they caressed one another until nothing obstructed their desire and they made love, slow, spiritual love, their bodies a tool for a deeper union.
Ray outlined the curves of her face with his finger. He never wanted to leave her. He glanced at the clock. "You gotta get ready."
Carol belted her robe. "We forgot to eat."
"Eat when you get home," Ray said. He hadn't had much of an appetite lately.
"You can stay. Or come back."
Ray squeezed her hand. He didn't want to resent the boys, but damn, if it wasn't for his obligation, he'd be by Carol's side every breathing minute. "You know I can't."
Carol sighed. "I know."
"Tomorrow. I'll see you tomorrow," he said, giving her a final kiss.
He drove home slowly, unwilling to relinquish the tranquillity that bathed his body. He didn't think he'd ever tire of her. She soothed him. She made him feel good. He could still smell her, still feel her touch. It was a wonderful spell she cast on him, but it evaporated each time he returned home and faced the boys. David made sure of that.
Every night it was something. One night he'd come home and the dinner dishes, complete with hardened food, were still on the table and spilled milk was on the floor. Ray considered waking the boys, but it was after midnight and they had school. So he had gone to bed, angry and restless, and woke the boys an hour early. "We thought since we were doing your job, you wouldn't mind doing ours," David said. But David wasn't as stubborn in the mornings and Ray only had to pull him off the bed twice before he got up and helped Joey with the mess.
Another time Ray came home late to find a squirrel in his bedroom. He knew the squirrel couldn't have gotten in on its own, so Ray threw a towel over it and set it free in David and Joey's room. Nothing more was ever said about it.
And then last week he'd come home and a pack of cigarettes was on the table next to an ashtray of used butts. Ray left them there, and when the boys gathered for breakfast, he looked at David and said, "You want to ruin your voice?"
"He tried to get me to smoke them," Danny said.
If it hadn't been that Boomer, Danny and Joey were between Ray and David, Ray probably would have done something he'd regretted.
"But Joey got mad and made him stop," Danny added.
Ray pointed at David. "Want your ass kicked?"
"Maybe you should stay home more," David said.
Ray pulled into the driveway and parked. Boomer met him at the door, but there were no sights or sounds of the boys. "Where's Danny?" he asked the panting mutt, following her to the den.
Danny's feet dangled over the chair, his nose buried in a book.
"Hi, kiddo. What'cha reading?"
"Nothing." Danny shoved the book under the cushion, his face crimson.
"Let me see."
Danny shook his head.
"Give it here."
He reluctantly handed it to Ray.
Ray glanced at the naked woman on the cover and felt his blood pressure rise. "Where's David?"
"In the barn."
Ray stormed from the room and across the yard. He flung the barn door open, then slammed it behind him with enough force to rattle the windows.
David and Joey froze, their eyes locked on Ray.
Ray hurled the book at David. "What the hell is that?"
David dodged. "A flying book?"
"Is that what you do? Give him a goddam dirty book to keep him occupied and then do what the hell you want?"
"He needs to read more."
"Shut up. I told you to keep Danny with you."
David thrust out his chest. "And I told you to hire a goddam baby-sitter."
Ray imagined his fist slamming through David's mouth and the crunching sound as his teeth shattered. He took a step back. He had to get away. He turned and marched across the barn, grabbing the flashlight hanging by the door.
Instead of turning toward the house, he headed for the woods. The darkness didn't slow his pace. He hiked deep into the trees, making enough noise that any snakes or skunks had plenty of warning of his approach.
By the time he reached the cave, he was breathless. He leaned against the big rock, heaving.
It wasn't David he should be so damned mad at. It was his father. His father was the reason he was stuck in this predicament. If he was home, Ray could stay with Carol as much as he wanted and he wouldn't have to be torn between what he wanted to do and what he had to do.
Ray tapped his fist on the boulder. Where the hell was his father? Was he dead? Was he hurt somewhere? Or was he just out having a good time, mindless of his boys?
The damp March wind whistled through the trees, reminding Ray he'd stormed off without a jacket. He unrolled the sleeves of his flannel shirt and buttoned the cuffs.
He had to let it go. He had to believe in his heart that his father was dead. There was no other explanation for the disappearance of a loving father. He was dead. Ray wished someone would find the body and notify them so they could have a proper burial and stop wondering all the time if he might return.
Ray kicked at the boulder. His foot hit the crevice that his father's twenty-two had made the night of Ray's fifth birthday. The only thing Ray had wanted that year was a camping trip. His mother made him a back-pack from scraps of material and his father, despite the unbearable heat of the August night, took him to the cave. It was cool in the recesses of the cave, and Ray drifted off to sleep with visions of black bears dozing next to him. He awoke suddenly, aware of something on his leg. "Dad!" he called hoarsely. And then he heard the rattle.
"Don't move," Sam said, his voice unnaturally calm. Ray heard his father moving around in the blackness, then the flashlight turned on. A moment later, his father stood over him, a stick in his hand. He slowly, patiently, unwound the snake from Ray's leg, careful to make no sudden moves. Once detached, he threw it. He handed Ray the flashlight. "Hold it on him," he said, taking out his pistol. He shot four times, missing each time, as the snake slithered out the cave and into the darkness. Sam pulled Ray onto his lap and held him until daybreak.
Ray shivered. It was getting colder by the minute and he hadn't brought spare batteries. He slid down the rocks to the dirt path and hiked home.
The barn was dark, but every light in the house was on. As he neared, he sensed something was wrong. Boomer barked outside. Ray broke into a trot. He jerked the back door open.
Joey stood in the kitchen with the broom. Shards of glass and small puddles of blood littered the linoleum.
"What's going on?"
"Danny got cut."
"Where is he?"
"David took him to the bathroom."
Ray and Boomer raced up the steps. The bathroom door was open.
David held Danny's arm high, a washcloth squeezed against his wrist. More blood was splattered over the basin and the floor.
"It hurts," Danny whined.
"I know," David said. "Just hold still."
"You okay? What happened?" Ray tried to pry the washcloth off.
"Stop it," David said, pushing him away. "It will start bleeding again."
Boomer pushed her nose between them, licking Danny's other hand.
"Get her out of here," David said.
Ray shoved Boomer out of the bathroom and closed the door. Danny looked all right. David had everything under control. He sunk onto the toilet, his legs shaky. "What happened?"
"Danny was standing on the sink, trying to get one of those Mason jars down and it dropped. It must have shattered when it hit the edge, but he still tried to catch it."
Ray rubbed his forehead.
"It wouldn't have happened if he would've listened to me. I told him to get down."
It wouldn't have happened if Ray had been home, either.
Danny whimpered.
"Do we have Band-Aids or anything?" David asked.
Ray stood and opened the medicine cabinet above the basin. He found a roll of gauze.
"Better grab that alcohol, too."
"No," Danny said.
Ray nodded. "Yeah. He's right."
David lowered Danny's arm over the sink and removed the washcloth. The bleeding had stopped, but the jagged cut looked bad.
Ray dripped alcohol over it.
"It b-burns!" Danny struggled to get out of David's grip.
"It'll stop in a minute." Ray dried Danny's arm with a clean washcloth, then wrapped the gauze around it. "There you go, kiddo. Try not to swing it around too much."
When they returned downstairs, Joey had the kitchen cleaned. Ray poured Danny a glass of milk, then sent him to bed. He looked at David and Joey.
"We have to talk," David said, his eyebrow arched.
It took Ray a minute to remember why he was so mad at David earlier. David had given Danny the dirty book and left him inside alone. It didn't seem quite so bad now. He nodded and fell into the chair.
David remained standing. "This is going to stop. Joey and I are fed up with handling your responsibilities while you're out screwing around and we're not doing it any more."
Ray rubbed his forehead. He supposed he was dumping his responsibility on David the same way his father had dumped on him. At least David had someone to rave against.
"Between school and working at Jonesy's and homework and our chores, we have very little time left for our music."
"I know."
"It isn't fair for you to take that from us so you can screw without feeling guilty."
"Sorry."
"I mean it. We won't do it."
Ray nodded.
David looked at Joey. He hadn't expected Ray to give up that easy. "Aren't you going to argue with me?"
"No. You're right. I gotta quit spending so much time with Carol." Ray stood and walked slowly toward the door.
David almost felt sorry for him. Ray worked hard, too. He never complained about cooking and cleaning and spending all his money on bills and food. David sighed. "Ray?"
Ray paused in the doorway and turned. "Yeah?"
"Once or twice a week, okay? On Tuesdays and Thursdays we'll let him play his drums with us."
Ray looked at David for a long time. He'd be damned if he could figure the kid. He slowly nodded. "Thanks."

* * *

As soon as she pulled into the driveway, Carol knew Gambel Hill was where she belonged. Although the isolated farmhouse, surrounded by the damp and musty smell of the woods, was nothing like the big brick home in the Cincinnati suburbs where she grew up, she knew she wanted to spend the rest of her life here. She'd felt that way the first day of kindergarten. She knew she'd be a teacher, that she'd spend her life in school.
She removed the keys from the ignition and looked at the house. Ray stood in the doorway, his large body filling the space. Her heart beat a little faster. He wasn't the type of man she thought she'd fall in love with, but there was something about him that made her feel so alive that just being around him made her blood tingle.
He walked out to meet her and opened her car door. She stepped into his huge arms, loving the way they surrounded her and pulled her close against him. There was no other feeling like it in the world. She felt safe, loved, content. The way she'd felt when she was ten years old and snuggled on her father's lap.
Ray led her inside.
The house was warm and smelled of bread and spices. The kitchen reminded Carol of her grandmother's country kitchen. A wooden ledge separated the walls horizontally, the lower part covered with gray linoleum and the upper painted yellow. On one wall, white-painted cabinets were topped with warped red linoleum. Above the cabinets stood open shelves stocked with dinnerware and groceries: bags of flour and sugar closed with rubber bands, salt, spices, Corn Flakes and several Mason jars filled with home-canned vegetables. A free-standing cast-iron sink with rusted chrome faucets interrupted the cupboards. And, of course, the huge oak table that consumed most of the floor space.
She realized the kitchen was exactly as she expected: warm, sturdy, homey. Full of character earned by surviving hard-times. A lot like Ray. But what she hadn't expected was the cleanliness. With five boys living alone, she expected cobwebs, layers of dust and piles of garbage. Instead, everything glistened and nothing was out of place.
Ray filled the table with food. Meatloaf, chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, noodles, green beans, corn, applesauce, bread and cake.
Carol watched. "Do you always cook like this?"
"Sometimes I'll just make a big pot of spaghetti or a hot dish or we'll have hamburgers."
"Who baked the bread?"
"I bake a dozen loaves every Monday."
"And the cake?"
"Me and Betty Crocker." He stepped toward the dining room. "Let me call the boys and we can eat."
Carol set the milk on the table. She was going to marry this man. She was sure of it.

* * *

Ray sighed. David and Joey had taken his car to the library last night and the seat was littered with gum wrappers and scraps of paper. They usually picked up after themselves, but sometimes they forgot. He gathered the trash in his large hand.
As soon as he touched the rigid square, he knew what it was. He brought it closer. It was a condom -- the cellophane covering was cracked and wrinkled, but "TROJAN" was clearly readable. He remembered when he and Gary bought one in the service station restroom and carried it around with them for months. They were probably twelve and fourteen at the time and thought it made them mature. But David was seventeen and Joey sixteen. He scratched his beard. Maybe he better talk to them.
He dropped it in his pocket and waited for dinner to end.
Ray helped Joey clear the table. "Stay here," he said as Danny started to leave.
"Why?" Danny asked.
"I wanna talk to you boys. Sit down." He waited until they were quiet, then tossed the condom on the table. "I found that in the car today."
"What is it?" Danny picked it up, examining it.
Joey's face reddened.
"Whose is it?"
"I want it," Danny said. "Can I keep it?"
"Can't be mine," David said. "It's been carried around too much. Mine never last that long."
Ray wasn't going to take the bait. "Whose is it?" he repeated.
David shrugged. "Must be Joey's."
Joey's blush deepened.
"Why do you got a rubber?"
"Why do you think?" David asked.
"I'm asking Joey."
Joey looked at his hands. He would never keep another one. No matter what names David called him.
"Joey?"
"I don't know." His soft voice was barely audible.
"In case I need a spare," David continued. "Every once in a while, I run out and Joey gives me his. He's celibate. I can always count on him for emergencies."
Ray stared at David. "I hope you're joking."
"About Joey being celibate?"
"About you needing a condom."
David cocked his eyebrow, daring Ray to continue the questioning.
Ray didn't feel up to the challenge. He threw the package to Joey. "I'd suggest you keep it in your pocket." He looked from Joey to David. "And I don't mean the rubber."
Danny's big black eyes fixed on David. "Will you get me one? I want one."
David met Ray's eyes. "It gives you something to think about, doesn't it?"
Ray sighed. That was all he needed. Something else to think about.

* * *

"Does Ray know you're screwing Linda?"
Gary stared at David. "What?"
David's hand rested on his hip and his weight leaned on his left foot. "Does Ray know you sneak Linda into your bedroom?"
"You want your face busted?"
David laughed. "No. I want my laundry done. And Joey's. For two weeks. Washed, dried, folded and put away."
Gary glared at him. "Go to hell."
David shrugged. "If Ray finds out, he'll put a stop to it."
"If you feel compelled to tell Ray, go right ahead. And if I feel compelled to rearrange your face, I will."
"We got a deal or not?"
"Go away. You're annoying me."
David shrugged. "You'll be sorry." He swaggered from the room.
Gary released his breath. The last thing he wanted was for Ray to know about Linda. They had the perfect arrangement now. Gary stayed home on Friday and Saturday nights to "study". As soon as Ray picked up Carol for his show, Linda drove out, leaving her car in the bus turnaround. She sneaked in the front door and to his room while he kept Danny busy in the den.
Gary lit a cigarette. Ray worried too much about the example they set for the boys. That's why Ray never spent the night with Carol and that's why Ray would never tolerate Gary having a woman at the house. Especially Linda. Ray had some kind of protective, big brother attitude toward Carol's youngest sister.
Gary watched his smoke rings expand to the ceiling. Damn David, anyway. He thought he'd been discreet. Linda was the best thing that had happened to him and he wasn't going to let David disrupt things. If David wanted to screw with his sex life, he'd screw with David.

* * *

Sam was surrounded by blackness. Deep, dense blackness with wisps of gray fog. A light appeared in the shape of a person. The luminescent body flew toward him. He ducked, covering his head with his arms, then peeked through the crook in his elbow. He saw her face, a young girl with brown hair and eyes.
Sam jolted awake. He looked around the dark room. God forgive me. His hands shook as he reached for the whiskey and took a long drink.

* * *

Gary swallowed from the long neck and eyed the pool table. Ray hadn't left him much of a shot. He might be able to bank the two if he could get enough English on it. He calculated the angle and gently tapped the cue ball. The two rolled toward the corner, but bounced shy of the pocket.
"Nice try," Ray said. He had the nine dead in and the eight on the pocket. He chalked his cue.
"What're you going to do after the wedding?" Gary asked. Carol had gone to Cincinnati for the week to pick out her gown and plan the wedding with her mother. Gary thought they were rushing it -- it hadn't been a full year since they'd met. He suggested they shack up for awhile, but Ray wouldn't hear of it.
"Same thing I do now, I suppose." Ray studied the table.
They were playing for a beer and Gary hated throwing his money away on booze. His only hope now was to distract Ray. "You'll have too much time on your hands."
"How's that?" Ray lined up his shot and nodded toward the corner pocket.
"The band doesn't keep you busy full time. And Carol will be taking over the women's work..."
Ray slammed the nine into the corner, leaving the cue ball directly behind the eight. "The what?"
"The women's work."
"What do you mean by that?"
"You know. The house work. The cooking and cleaning and laundry --"
"Uh-uh." Ray nodded at the side pocket and looked down his stick. "Ain't nothing gonna change like that." He tapped the eight into the side.
Gary scowled. He hated getting beat by Ray. Ray had trouble with fractions and never had taken geometry. There was no way he should be able to win every damned game they played. "Don't you expect Carol to take over the housework?"
"No. I don't."
"Why not?"
"I ain't marrying her so she can be the goddam maid." He chugged his beer and handed the empty bottle to Gary. "And she don't know how to cook."
Gary shook his head. Ray was insane. He walked to the bar. "Two more," he said, counting out the money. He walked back to the pool table, feeling light-headed. He'd decided a long time ago he'd never be like either of his parents, especially not like his father. But he had already passed his self-imposed two-beer limit today.
Ray racked the balls.
"Then why in hell are you getting married?"
"What's it to you?"
Gary lit a cigarette and sucked on it. She wasn't even good-looking. Not compared to Linda, anyway. Ray could do better.
"David was hinting around that you might have a thing for Linda."
The vein on Gary's forehead filled with blood. "What did he mean by that?"
Ray chuckled. "I don't know. He said I should keep an eye on you."
"He's gonna get his face busted."
Ray positioned the cue ball to break the rack. "I told him it wasn't you I needed to keep an eye on." He cracked the cue and the balls scattered across the table. "Did I tell you about finding the condom in the car? About a month before school was out?"
Gary sipped his beer. He should take David behind the barn and teach him a little respect.
"I'll bet you five bucks I can bank the seven into the three," Ray said.
Gary surveyed the table. "You can't squeeze it by the thirteen."
"Sure I can."
"I'll call you on it."
Ray chalked the cue and made his shot. The seven ball bounced off the opposite rail and tapped the three into the corner pocket.
"Shit!" He hated it when Ray was hot.
Ray smiled. "Double or nothing." He used the cue to show the double bank the nine ball would take before sinking into the side.
Gary shook his head. "No. No more bets. No more beer."
Ray shrugged. He leaned over the table and shot. The nine ball bounced inches from the pocket. "Too bad you didn't bet."
"You did that on purpose." Gary shoved Ray out of his way. He ran the remaining balls, sinking the eight into the side pocket. He made sure Ray was watching before he triple-banked the cue ball into the corner pocket, then tossed the cue on the table. He wasn't taking any shit from David. Or Ray.

* * *

Ray stood in his mother's bedroom, surveying the dust-laden contents that had never been disturbed. Gary was right. It was the best room for him and Carol. He looked at the faded floral wallpaper. Gary was right about that, too. They needed to rip it out and let Carol choose a replacement.
Ray walked around the bed and opened the windows. He should have aired the room while it was still cool. Now, he was just trading stuffy heat for muggy heat. He ran his hand over the smooth oak of the four-poster. It was going to the attic and they would move Carol's bed in.
Ray sighed. It had to be done. He again touched the crocheted spread. Carol had asked that they keep it, use it on their bed, but Ray wasn't so sure. It would be like having his mother in the room. He stripped the bed slowly, folding each layer. When he reached the feather mattress, he remembered how he and Gary would sneak into their parents' room and jump on the mattress until feathers flew. Of course, Deloris always caught them and took her heavy hair brush to their butts.
Ray went to the night stand and picked up her brush. Long black hair was still nestled in the bristles. He touched one, pulling it through until it broke. Deloris usually wore her hair in a bun, tight and severe. The few times Ray saw it down, he was surprised by its length and fullness. He never understood why she was afraid to show her beauty.
Ray put her brush in one of the cardboard boxes he'd brought to do the job. He added the silver mirror and ballerina music box. He'd been with his father when he'd bought the music box. It wasn't her birthday or Mother's Day or Christmas, but Sam gave the clerk all the money he had for it. Deloris scolded him for wasting money, but later Ray caught her playing it, a distant look on her face and a smile on her lips.
Ray opened the drawer and surveyed the contents: a bottle of aspirin, a key, a silk handkerchief and a leather-bound book. He removed the book and examined it. It was a journal, or perhaps a diary, written in his mother's fluid script. In Polish.
Ray wiped the sweat from his face. He never knew his mother kept a diary. She never discussed her feelings, never spoke of her past. Ray touched the words as though reading Braille. He could hear his mother's voice, heavily-accented, reading aloud. She told him once that Sam taught her English -- speaking and reading -- in the evenings after school.
Her diary, no doubt, contained all the secrets she'd never wanted to share. Her dreams, her hopes, her fears. Her past. Her feelings. Gary would probably know how to get it translated.
Ray swallowed hard. His mother had been a very private person and he would respect her privacy. He picked up the diary, put it in one of the cardboard boxes he'd brought and quickly covered it with the other items in the room. He taped the box shut and put it in the hallway.
He looked at it for a long time, but he felt satisfied. He didn't need to know if his mother ever loved his father or if she had only used him to stay in the States. There had been tenderness between them at one time and that was all he needed to remember.
Ray returned to the room and looked around. Yes, they would redecorate it completely. New wallpaper, Carol's furniture, a new light fixture. The past was gone, sealed forever, and the future was before him. Life went on.

* * *

Carol couldn't eat another bite. Although she spent a lot of time at the farmhouse, she was still amazed at the amount of food Ray cooked. She tried to imagine what it would be like to live there. She'd know in two weeks. Her eyes caught Linda's and she knew Linda was fondling Gary under the table.
"Can I be excused now?" Danny asked.
"Help clear the table," Ray said.
"But I don't want to miss it when they walk on the moon."
"They ain't even landed yet." Ray scooped another slice of apple pie onto his plate.
David pushed back from the table. "It's bullshit."
Ray raised his eyebrow.
"Politics," David continued. "They take money that could be used to feed starving people and use it to put a man on the moon just so people will have something to talk about other than Vietnam. It's bullshit."
Gary and Linda stood and headed for the back door.

"Ain't you gonna watch the astronauts?" Ray asked.
"Linda wants to see some wildlife," Gary answered.
Carol knew what kind of wildlife Linda was looking for. She usually felt sorry for the men taken by Linda's spell, but Gary deserved her.
"Take her by the cave," Ray suggested.
"That's a good idea," Gary said. "Maybe we should take that old quilt with us."
"Yeah. I just washed it." Ray slipped into the den and returned with the folded quilt.
Carol smiled. That was one of the things she loved about Ray. He was so trusting.
David rolled his eyes and shook his head. He punched Joey. "Come on. Let's get these dishes done. We've got things to do."
"You guys go on," Carol said. "I'll do the dishes."
"That's all right," Ray said. "They're used to it."
"They deserve a day off." She cleared Gary's and Linda's plates. Those two were worse than the kids. They never offered to help and didn't bother to clean up after themselves.
Ray shrugged. "Okay. I'll help you."
"Can I go watch Buzz Armstrong now?" Danny asked.
"Yeah," Ray answered.
"Neil Armstrong," David corrected as he darted through the house. He ran back through, a camera hidden in his hand. "Come on, Joey," he called. "Let's go."
Joey raced out the door after him.
Ray wrapped his arms around Carol from behind and lightly kissed her neck, the wiry hairs of his beard tickling her sensitive skin.
Carol's knees weakened. No man had ever affected her the way Ray did. She couldn't wait to be married. To sleep next to him, to awaken next to him. To be with him all the time. Before she knew Ray, she would have been content to live her life alone. But now she couldn't imagine living without him. She'd do anything for him. Anything.
"We better get these dishes done." Ray kissed her cheek.
"Do you do that on purpose?"
Ray smiled. "What?" He stacked the plates in the sink.
"Drive me out of my mind."
He reached over her, rubbing his body against hers as he set the glasses in the sink. "Maybe we'll have to go upstairs after we get the dishes done. Decide on wallpaper or something."
"Get them over here fast."
Ray laughed, but he did quicken his pace.
They were almost done when the back door flew open and David ran in, closely followed by Joey. "Hold that!" David tossed the camera to Ray. He and Joey raced through the house.
Gary banged through the back door, his face red, his vein bulging and his shirt unbuttoned and untucked. "Where'd they go?"
David and Joey pounded up the stairs.
Gary bolted after them.
A door slammed shut. Sounds of furniture moving and Gary banging on the door filled the house.
Linda walked in the back door. She spotted the camera in Ray's hand and grabbed it. She removed the film, put it in her purse and gave the camera back to Ray.
"What's going on?" Ray asked.
"Nothing, Ray," she answered with a smirk. "Absolutely nothing."
Ray shrugged. "I better go calm Gary before he breaks something."
David and Joey sneaked in the side door.
Ray stared at them. "How'd you--"
David grinned. "Out the window, onto the awning and down the tree." He grabbed the camera. "You've never seen us." He and Joey jogged out the back door.
"I'll tell Gary I got the film." Linda ran from the room.
Ray looked at Carol. "I think they're all gone now." He put his arms around her and pulled her close. Their lips met with the passion that had been building since dinner. Ray slipped his hand down the back of her stretch pants.
Danny bounced into the kitchen. "The Eagle just landed."
Ray moved away from Carol and took a deep breath.
"Want to come watch?"
"We'll be right in." Ray looked at Carol and rolled his eyes. They'd have to come up with a plan if they were to have any privacy.
Carol squeezed his hand. "It's going to be fun living here."
Ray sighed. "I'm glad you think so."

* * *

Joey banged in the back door, his face pale. "They're fighting."
Ray looked up from the toaster and the dozens of tiny screws and springs and nuts spread over the table. "Who is?"
Joey grabbed his stomach and ran through the house.
Ray sighed. He knew who. He had spoken to Gary before about pushing the younger boys around. He dropped the screwdriver and jogged to the barn.
David crouched defensively, his face scarlet, his fists poised in front of him.
Gary punched low with his left fist. David instinctively protected his stomach, leaving his face open. Gary slapped him.
"Hey!" Ray yelled and ran toward them.
Gary turned.
It was all the time David needed. His right fist slammed into Gary's right cheekbone. Gary stepped back and David followed through with a left jab to the jaw.
Gary stumbled, then sat hard.
David was on him, his fists flying, knocking Gary flat.
"Stop it!" Ray straddled Gary and grabbed David by the shoulders.
David struggled against him, jerking first to the left, then to the right.
"That's enough!" Ray tightened his grip.
Gary tried to sit.
"Stay down," Ray ordered, pulling David away. He turned David toward him and scanned for damage. Other than a busted lip and a white hand print on his red face, he looked okay. "Go get some ice on that."
Gary clamored to his feet, his fists tight and his vein throbbing.
Ray held out his arm to keep Gary distanced from David. "Go," he said to David, pushing him. "Get in the house."
"Son-of-a-bitch," David spat at Gary.
Gary bolted for David, but Ray grabbed him and jerked him back. "Go!" Ray watched until David was out the door. He released Gary with a shove. "You know better than that."
Gary's right eye flickered, the lids growing fatter and closer together. "I'm gonna kill the son-of-a-bitch."
"No, you ain't."
"I'm gonna --"
Ray grabbed Gary's shirt in his left fist and pulled him close. "I'll tell you what you're gonna do," he said, his eyes narrow. "You're gonna stop this bullshit and get off David's ass."
"He --"
"Shut up. I told you before I wouldn't put up with this. It's a goddam good thing you already look like hell."
"Let go or I'll bust you."
"Go right ahead, little brother," Ray said, tightening his grip and shaking Gary. "Throw the first punch. It'll be your last."
Gary's vein threatened to erupt. He tried to push Ray away from him, but Ray held steady.
"And I ain't gonna have this shit when Carol moves in. You understand that?"
Gary tried to snarl, but his swollen lips wouldn't cooperate.
Ray jerked him closer, their faces inches apart. "Do you?"
The skin below Gary's right eye puffed out, closing his lids. Blood dripped from his nose and the right side of his face twitched.
Ray knew Gary was hurting, his pride more than his face. He released him, his anger evaporating as quickly as it had come. "You better go get some ice on that."
"I'm not taking orders from you."
Ray's eyebrow raised. "Give it a rest. The longer you stand here and argue, the bigger that shiner's gonna get. And the bigger the shiner, the cockier David will be. So I suggest you go get some goddam ice on it and quit being an ass."
"You know I could've knocked the son-of-a-bitch into the next century. I could've crushed every bone in his goddam face. But all I did was slap him around. He's the one who used his fist. You should yell at him, not me." Gary turned and swaggered toward the house.
Ray sighed. Now was the worst time in the world for his brothers to start acting up. He already worried that Carol would change her mind about marrying him if she knew how much fighting went on. He kicked a bale of hay. He'd have to wait until they all cooled off and then have another talk with them. And in the mean time, he'd better get in the house and keep David and Gary away from each other. As if he didn't have enough to do.

* * *

Ray sat on the sofa in the corner of the finished basement, sipping whiskey on the rocks. The first time he'd gone to Cincinnati with Carol, he'd been intimidated by the sprawling brick house with the impeccable yard and the manicured poodle. But Clyde and Betty welcomed him with such warmth that he'd brought the boys with him on his second trip. And, of course, this time.
The "men" -- except for Gary, who had disappeared twenty or thirty minutes ago -- were gathered in the den and the women, including Carol's middle sister, Diane, were chatting above them in the living room. Ray sipped his drink and surveyed the room. Danny was mesmerized by the television that had all his favorite shows in "living" color, and Clyde, the big, bald, friendly man who would be his father-in-law by this time tomorrow, cradled David's guitar in his arms.
"Show me that first one again," Clyde said.
David moved Clyde's fingers to the correct positions. "You can play a song with just those three chords."
"Show me."
David took the guitar and strummed the chords in varying rhythms.
Gary patted down the stairs, wearing socks but no shoes and carrying an iced tea. He dropped on the couch next to Ray.
"Where you been?"
Gary chuckled. "None of your business."
Ray shrugged.
"How come David is sweet as pie around Clyde?" Gary asked, his eye still swollen and discolored.
"Because Clyde is good to him," Ray answered.
"Then you just harmonize the chords to what you're singing," David continued, singing a ditty.
"Nah. He just likes to show off."
Ray cocked his eyebrow. "You promised to leave David alone."
Gary shrugged. "That doesn't mean I have to like him."
Ray rubbed his forehead. He was glad he'd accepted Clyde and Betty's offer to keep the boys while he and Carol went to Acapulco -- a gift from his new in-laws -- for their honeymoon. After spending the week separating Gary and David, he didn't trust Gary alone with David. And the boys had immediately taken to Clyde, who loved to take them to Reds' games and amusement parks and fancy restaurants. He even planned to take them to a Simon and Garfunkel concert.
Maybe that's why he felt melancholy. Watching Clyde enjoying the boys and Betty fussing over them reminded him of what it would be like to have a normal family.
Ray took a long drink from his whiskey. Tomorrow would be one of the most important days of his life and neither of his parents would share it with him. He swizzled the ice in his drink. Many times the loneliness had threatened to overwhelm him, but he'd always managed to outrun it. But tonight it washed over him, and he allowed himself to wallow in it.

* * *

Blue lights flashed in Sam's rear-view mirror. He checked the speedometer, but was five miles under the speed limit. He was sure they were after someone else, but they made no attempt to pass him. He pulled to the side of the road and shoved the pint under his jacket.
"Could I see your license and registration, sir?" The trooper was just a kid. A kid with red hair and freckles and the ability to turn Sam's nervous system into mush.
"Yes, sir." Sam dug through the glove box and found the registration, then took his license from his wallet. "What's the problem?"
"Your plates are expired."
Sam caught his breath. He'd thought of that once or twice, but didn't know what to do about it. He'd been driving on them for so long he assumed no one cared. He watched the officer take his license and return to the cruiser.
Did Iowa have one of those reciprocal agreements with West Virginia? Would the trooper discover there was a warrant for him and arrest him? He shoved the pint of Jack Daniel's into his pocket and grabbed his jacket, eyeing his escape routes. He'd never been brave or daring, but he'd never been trapped, either. Sam opened the car door and ran as fast as he could.
"Hey!" The cop yelled.
Sam ducked into the drainage pipe and ran under the road. He climbed the embankment to return to the highway, facing west now instead of east. He stuck out his thumb, his knees barely able to hold his weight. Two cars passed without a glance.
"God help me," he whispered.
A tractor-trailer pulled over. Sam climbed in, looking over his shoulder.
"Where you headed?" the trucker asked.
"Circleville."
The driver stared at Sam for an uncomfortably long time. "That's east. We're heading west."
"Oh."
The driver shrugged. "There's a truck stop a few miles ahead. I'll find you someone going back."
"Thank you."
At the truck stop, the driver stopped in front of another semi, got out and chatted with another trucker. A moment later he was back. "Cyclone'll take you."
Sam pulled himself into the cab. The truck began moving before he closed the door.
"You the one dey's lookin' for?" the big man with tattoos asked.
Sam ran his fingers through his hair. "What?"
"You runnin' from the law?"
Sam's face burned. He'd always been a law-abiding citizen, always done what was right. He'd never intentionally hurt anyone. Not intentionally.
The big driver laughed. "Hey, I don't care one way or t'other. Just wondered why you ran."
Sam fingered the bottle jammed into his pocket. They passed his abandoned car, now surrounded by three sets of flashing lights. Troopers inspected the contents of his suitcase and searched his glove box.
He needed a drink. He was too desperate to care what the trucker thought. He pulled out the bottle and took a long swallow.
Cyclone chuckled. "So that's it. I got some bennies and some red devils. Which you like?"
Sam didn't know what bennies or red devils were, but he assumed they were drugs. "No." He combed his fingers through his hair again. "But thanks anyway. And thanks for the ride."
He arrived at the Hilton five minutes before due. He waited until his break, then called his agent. "I have a problem, Pete," he confessed. He hoped Pete would understand. He liked their arrangement. He was sure they were making a killing off him, but he had a bed every night and meals and a little spending money. "My car broke down."
Pete was silent for several seconds. When he finally spoke, his tone was cheerful. "Okay, Sam. I'll tell you what we'll do. You've done a great job for us. Super. Why don't we lease you a car?"
Sam hesitated. "I don't have an address to register it..."
"We'll register it through the agency. Call me on Friday and I'll tell you where to pick it up."
"Okay. Thanks."
"No problem, Sam. Keep up the good work."
Sam hung up the phone and took a long swallow from his bottle.

* * *

Ray sipped his whiskey. He picked up the salt shaker and threw it against the wall. He watched it bounce to the floor, then threw the pepper shaker. His father was alive.
He hadn't expected the news to upset him so much. When the Iowa State Police called last week, he'd been flooded with relief and concern. But now all he felt was rage.
His father was alive and well and doing fine. Out traveling the country, seeing the world, with no cares, no worries, no responsibilities. And not even the decency to call.
Ray fingered the glass ashtray.
"Got that handled." Gary took the ashtray from him and tapped his ashes into it.
Ray poured another shot into his cup. That's where he should be. On the road, with his band.
"They kept telling me they couldn't do it, but I did a lot of fast talking. Instead of us owing them, they sold the car, paid the fines, and they're sending us a check for fifty-three dollars. Not bad, huh?"
Ray shrugged. Instead, he was tied down with his father's responsibilities.
Gary sucked on his cigarette. "Where's Carol?"
He enjoyed the boys. He did. He really did. But he'd rather be their brother, just their brother, not their mother and father.
"Couldn't take your mood, huh?"
Ray slugged down the whiskey. So many times he'd awakened at night, wondering if his dad was alive or dead, wondering if something horrible had happened to him that prevented him from calling.
"You have a show tonight."
Ray rubbed his forehead. "Damn him."
"Go get cleaned up. I'll make coffee." Gary moved the bottle of Jack Daniel's off the table. "Carol going tonight?"
"Why the hell couldn't he call?"
"I'll drive you in. Now, go on. Go get your bath."
Ray lumbered to his feet. "He damn well better not show his face around here."
"Forget about Dad. You have a show. Go get ready."
Ray made his way unsteadily through the house.

* * *

"I need new clothes," Danny said.
Ray nodded. He'd noticed earlier in the week that Danny's pants were an inch above his ankles and his shirts gapped between the buttons. "We'll find you something in the attic."
Carol sipped her coffee. "What's in the attic?"
"Clothes. He's too skinny to wear anything me or Gary had, but there should be plenty of David and Joey's old stuff, plus anytime Mom found good clothes at the Union Mission, she'd get them, even if none of us needed them right then."
Carol fingered her cup. In the five months she'd been married, she usually agreed with Ray's handling of situations, and when she didn't, she tried not to interfere. But sometimes Ray didn't realize the effect of his decisions.
Boomer nudged Danny.
Danny scratched her ears. "Come on. Let's go play ball."
Carol waited until Danny was outside. "I want to take Danny shopping for clothes."
"There's plenty to fit him in the attic."
"It's important for Danny to fit in with the other kids."
"He's got lots of friends. Everyone likes Danny."
"He's self-conscious."
"Of course he is. He's twelve years old."
Carol took a deep breath. "I want to get him new clothes, stylish clothes."
"I ain't got that kind of money."
"Yes, we do."
"The boys are my responsibility, not yours."
"I married all of you, Ray. Not just part of you."
Ray rolled his eyes.
"You've done a great job with these boys, Ray. A great job. David is more cooperative, Joey talks more and Danny acts more confident. But it's important that he feels good about himself -- including his clothes."
Ray sighed. "Gary told me this would happen."
"What?"
"He said if I married a woman smarter than me, I wouldn't never win an argument."
Carol kissed his cheek.
"Just don't get him none of them hippie clothes."
"Yes. If that's what he wants."
Ray made a face.
Carol laughed. She loved Ray. She loved being married. And although she knew Ray would fuss when he saw Danny's new wardrobe, she also knew Ray liked spoiling the kid as much as she did. If not more.
Ray pulled her onto his lap and kissed her full on the lips. "I'm sure glad you found me."

* * *

"Hey, Ray." David breezed into the den. "Can me and Joey use your car tomorrow?"
"What's up?"
"We want to go to Kent State." A large pewter peace sign hung around his neck.
"Why?"
"To check out the campus. WVU wasn't the only scholarship offer I got, you know."
Carol closed her book and looked at Ray. "It's the one year anniversary of the shootings."
Ray vaguely recalled something happening there. "What shootings?"
"On May fourth of last year. The National Guard killed four students."
Ray moved his eyes from Carol to David. "So what's that got to do with you?"
"Nothing. We just want to check out the campus and see if we'd rather go there than WVU."
"There's supposed to be a demonstration there tomorrow," Carol said.
David scowled. "Whatever. Can we have the car?"
"Do you wanna tell me the truth about why you wanna go?"
"Yeah. Okay. We want to be part of the rally. You got a problem with that?"
"Yes. I do."
David thrust out his chest. "That's too bad because I'm going. Can I use your car or not?"
"You ain't going nowhere."
"I'm going. It's just whether I take your car or the Mercury."
Ray raised his eyebrow. "I said you ain't going."
"I'm eighteen and I'll go where I want to go."
"Where's Joey? Tell Joey to get in here."
Joey stepped in from around the corner.
Ray pointed at him. "You ain't going nowhere but school tomorrow. Got it?"
Joey looked at David.
"Leave him alone," David said.
"I ain't talking to you. I'm talking to Joey. And Joey ain't going to no goddam demonstration."
Joey chewed his lip.
"Fine," David said. "We won't go." He swaggered from the room.
Ray knew better than to believe him. He stopped by the kitchen on his way to bed, but as usual, David was a step ahead of him. The keys to the Mercury were already missing from the key rack. Ray scratched his head. If he barged into their room tonight and demanded the keys, David would say he didn't have them and would make enough racket to wake Danny and Carol. It'd be better if he caught them red-handed in the morning.
Ray made a bed on the living room recliner. He was a light sleeper and knew he'd hear them as they walked by. He dozed, waking frequently. At four a.m. he thought he heard something. He got up, but the boys were still sleeping. At five, the sound of the old Mercury sputtering and gasping woke him.
He ran to the window and looked out, but only smoke from the exhaust remained. He rubbed his beard. They had climbed out the window and down the tree. He sighed. At least he had all day to figure out what to do about it.

* * *

Joey played with the radio dial. The Akron/Canton stations had faded and they weren't close enough to pick up anything except a Republican talk show.
"That's why I wanted to use Ray's car," David said. "At least he's got a decent radio."
Joey tried to concentrate on the passing scenery, but it was too dark to see anything. "What do you think Ray will do?"
"Why do you always worry about him? He's a pussy cat."
Joey squirmed. He was tired. He hadn't slept at all last night and they'd been on their feet all day, standing around and walking, and the car didn't have room to stretch his long legs. "We should've called. We're not going to get home before midnight."
"He knows where we are."
"He's going to be mad."
"You worry too much."
"He never made a point before to specifically tell me I couldn't do something."
"Okay. I'll tell you what will happen. He'll be in the kitchen, pacing the floor and sneaking whiskey, and the second we walk in, he'll start it. 'Give me the goddam car keys,' David mimicked Ray's deep voice. " 'You're both grounded the rest of the week.' And then I'll say, 'I'm eighteen. You can't tell me what to do.' And he'll say, 'The hell I can't. As long as you live in this goddam house --- '"
"You like that shit, don't you?"
David smiled. "He's so damned predictable."
"Don't provoke him, okay? You know that makes me nervous."
David rhythmically patted his hand against his thigh. "Grab that guitar."
Joey pulled the guitar out of the back seat and tuned it. They sang and laughed, making up songs as they went. The time passed quickly and he was surprised when David pulled into the drive.
David shut off the engine. "The house is dark."
Joey chewed his lip. "Maybe he locked us out."
David laughed. "You can think of more shit to worry about." He jumped out of the car and bounced up the three steps to the side door, then waited for Joey to catch up. He turned the knob. "It's open." David stepped into the kitchen and switched on the light. "Want something to eat?"
Ray appeared in the doorway. He poked Joey on the shoulder. "You disobeyed me."
Joey was now taller than Ray, well over six feet, but he shrunk, his shoulders collapsing and his head lowering.
"Look at me," Ray said.
"Leave him alone," David said.
"You stay out of it." Ray's copper eyes drilled through Joey's identical eyes. "You're grounded for a week."
"Leave him alone!"
Ray kept his eyes on Joey. "You ain't to leave your room except to eat, go to the bathroom and go to school. Got it?"
Joey nodded, swallowing hard.
David's fists went to his hips. "What about me?"
"Joey ain't allowed no company while he's grounded, so I moved your clothes and books to Gary's room. You can sleep there."
"What?" David's left leg slid forward and his chest thrust out.
"You can still drive the car to school, but Joey ain't going with you. He's riding with Carol." Ray cocked his eyebrow. "And if I catch Joey talking to you or out of his room or you in his room, I'm gonna beat his ass. Understand?"
David's eyes narrowed. "You lay a hand on him and I'll kill you."
Ray ignored him. "You got any questions, Joey?"
Joey shook his head slightly.
"Then go to bed."
Joey hurried from the room.
David paced the floor. "You can't do that to him."
Ray wrinkled his face. "Seems to me that he's the one that disobeyed me."
"And you know damn well I talked him into it. It's my fault."
Ray shrugged. "You're eighteen. He ain't."
"Punish me. Leave him alone."
"I ain't discussing it with you. I'm going to bed."
David took a deep breath. "You can't do that to Joey. He can't take it."
"He should've thought of that before he disobeyed me."
David pushed past Ray. "I'm talking to Carol tomorrow. She'll straighten you out."
Ray snorted. "Go right ahead."
David and Joey were quiet through dinner the next evening.
Danny stood and scavenged the plates for scraps, tossing them to Boomer. "C'mon, Boom," he said. "Smothers Brothers is on tonight. Let's go."
Joey stacked the dishes.
"David can do them alone," Ray said. "You get back to your room."
Joey looked hard at Ray for a long minute, then turned and walked out.
David watched him, then looked at Ray. "We got to talk."
Ray leaned back in his chair. "I ain't gonna listen to your mouth."
Carol stood and scraped the plates.
"Let David do them," Ray said.
Carol ignored him and continued to stack the plates.
David pushed away the dishes in front of him and leaned his elbows on the table. "Let me trade places with Joey."
"No."
David took a deep breath. "Okay, Ray. I'm gonna try very, very hard to talk to you. I don't want to play games, okay? We both know you're doing this to Joey to get to me --"
"I told you last night. You're eighteen. Joey ain't. He's the one --"
Carol put her hand on Ray's shoulder. "Let him talk."
Ray made a face.
David leaned forward. "You've won, Ray, okay? You got me. And you can do anything you want to me. Anything. I don't care. Ground me. Beat me. Anything. But don't use Joey --"
"I ain't --"
Carol took Ray's dishes to the sink. "Let him talk."
"You on his side or something?"
"David is very upset with you right now and he's trying to talk to you about it in a mature, adult way. You can at least respect that and listen to what he has to say."
Ray sighed. "Okay. Go on."
"You don't understand Joey --"
"I understand --"
"Ray!" Carol pointed at her husband.
"Okay. Okay."
David took a deep breath. "Joey isn't like you and me. He's not a fighter. Don't you remember when he was little? When Mom beat him? He couldn't take it. He just couldn't. He's more sensitive than we are. Everything bothers him more." David pushed his hair out of his eyes. "And he is good. Remember the night I gave Danny the Playmate book?"
Ray nodded.
"I was pretty mad at you. I planned to take Danny to the barn and teach him to smoke dope."
Ray's mouth fell open.
"And Joey stopped me."
"I would've killed you."
"He said it wasn't fair for me to use Danny to get back at you."
"You're damned right --"
"And so now you're using Joey to get to me."
Ray allowed Carol to refill his coffee cup. He took a long sip.
"And that's not right. Not even Mom did that."
Ray was quiet for a long time. "Maybe we can negotiate."
"Like?"
"Like maybe I could change it that you're both grounded for a week and neither of you can use the car."
"And he can talk to me and not have to stay in his room?"
Ray nodded. "But I guess that means that even though you're eighteen, you still gotta live by my rules."
"Asshole."
Ray smiled. "You're the one begging for it. So, you got it."
David shook his head. "Sometimes you're not as dumb as you act."
"And sometimes you ain't as smart as you think you are." Ray stood. "So go get Joey and get these goddam dishes done."

* * *

Ray parked the car and went into the dark house. It was hard to believe school was out already. They'd gone to David's graduation the night before last. David was the valedictorian. Ray held Carol's hand tightly, afraid of the words that would come from David's mouth, but David toned down his defiance and did a wonderful job.
He couldn't help but be proud of the kid. He'd received a full scholarship to WVU, won a state award for an essay he'd written and received a two hundred dollar savings bond from a poetry contest. Ray smiled. Having Carol around the house soothed all of them. The sparkle was back in Danny's eyes. Joey was not only talking, but even smiled on occasion. And David had been on his very best behavior, better than Ray thought he was capable of. He had not picked on Danny, fought with Gary, or thrown one fit since the Kent State thing. Maybe he was finally growing up.
Ray made his way upstairs, stepping lightly so as not to wake anyone. Working until the bars closed was a lonely job. Carol occasionally went with him, but she wasn't a night person. Ray paused outside the bathroom door, hearing a tapping sound. It became louder as he neared Gary's room. Ray scratched his beard. Gary was still at school, taking finals, and everyone else was sleeping.
The noise stopped.
Ray opened the door and flipped on the light.
David lay on top of a girl, his bare ass shining. "Turn out the goddam light."
Ray switched off the light.
"Get the hell out of here."
Ray hesitated, not sure what to do, not sure he'd seen what he knew he'd seen. "Meet me downstairs in five minutes."
"Yeah. Okay. Get out."
Ray went downstairs and paced the floor. So much for thinking David had become cooperative.
David strode in, wearing only jeans.
"Where's the girl?"
"Upstairs."
"I'm calling her parents. They can come get her and you can explain what was going on."
"Go to hell. I'm eighteen. She's eighteen. It's none of your goddam business."
Ray took a deep breath. "Get her out of here."
"I will. After you're in bed."
"Now."
"I won't parade her past you. She's already humiliated."
"I ain't gonna allow this."
"It's none of your goddam business." David cocked his eyebrow. "Are you finished?"
Ray expelled his breath. "Yeah. Go on." He'd fight with him later.
The next day was Saturday. Carol took Danny shopping for summer clothes. Ray had given up worrying about the money. With Carol's salary they could afford it and Carol enjoyed it as much as Danny. She had taken David and Joey once, but they came back with only a dozen pair of socks, some underwear and an amplifier. They usually bought their own clothes from what they earned from Jonesy, anyway.
Ray scanned the newspaper.
David and Joey walked into the kitchen. David grabbed the Corn Flakes and Joey took milk from the refrigerator.
Ray folded the paper and stood. "It ain't gonna happen again."
David dropped the cereal. "You gonna start bitching at me before breakfast?"
"I'm just telling you I ain't gonna have it."
David's sapphire eyes flashed. "What is it with you? Do you think it's your God-given right to run everyone's life?"
"This's my house and I set the rules."
"I'm eighteen. You won't tell me what to do."
"I won't take none of your shit. That's what I won't do."
David glared at him. "I hope you rot in hell with Mom." He turned and slammed out the back door.
Ray scratched his beard. He looked at Joey.
"He's been trying so hard to get along," Joey said in his quiet voice before he lowered his eyes.
Ray sighed. "Go on and take breakfast out to him."
David never came back. Ray debated on going out and talking to him, but figured he'd give him time to cool off. He busied himself with the laundry and the housework. It was almost noon when someone pounded at the door.
The rural mail carrier handed Ray a letter. "I need a signature."
Ray signed the note. He waited until the carrier was out of sight, then looked at the letter. It was addressed to David and was from the Department of Defense. Despite the warmth of the June afternoon, Ray shivered. He remembered receiving an identical envelope in 1965. Six years ago. It seemed a lifetime. He walked to the barn, passing gas with each step.
David and Joey sat on the stage of hay, listening to a recording.
David scowled at him. "What the hell do you want?"
"You got mail." Ray handed the envelope to David.
David jerked it from his hands. He glanced at the address, then opened it.
"What is it?" Joey asked.
"My draft notice." David scanned the formal sheet.
Joey took a step back. His shoulders sagged. "You've been drafted?" he said, his voice almost a whisper.
"Yeah." David finished reviewing the document, then returned it to the envelope.
"You're certainly not going." Joey's brown eyes were wide and dark.
"I gotta think about it."
Ray scratched his head. President Nixon had just signed the bill to eliminate deferments, effective for classes starting in September, but supposedly the draft was being reduced and American troops were returning home. So even though David had a low draft number, he didn't think he'd be called. "We'll get with Gary and figure out what we can do."
David thrust his chest out. "The hell we will. This is my decision and no one is telling me what to do."
Ray wondered if David would survive boot camp. "I'll be in the house if you want to talk."
David was quiet the next few days. On Tuesday, the first heat wave of the summer hit. David wiped the sweat from his forehead. His guitar had swollen from the humidity and his perspiring fingers stuck to the strings. He shoved his guitar in its case. "Forget it." He paced the dirt floor. The heat was just one more annoyance, one more reminder that he had no control over anything. If it wasn't Ray telling him what to do, it was the government. He hadn't slept for three nights and he thought he just might explode if anything else went wrong.
Joey sat on the stage of hay, cradling his guitar. "Maybe you could stay with Carol's parents."
"What for?"
"You know."
"I said, what for?"
"It'd be better than Canada. Or jail."
"It's none of your damn business."
Joey chewed his lip. "You're not going to Vietnam."
"Don't tell me where I'm going."
"We've always said we'd fight it. We'd go to jail --"
"I'm not going to fuck up my life over it."
Joey pushed his guitar to the side. He looked at the dirty plywood panels he sat on, then at the rusted, cobweb-covered tools hanging from the wall. "I thought you'd stand up for what you believed in," he finally said, his voice soft.
"You don't know what the hell you'll do until ...," David swatted at the sweat on his face. "Until it happens."
Joey met David's eyes without wavering. "I'd stand up for what I believe in."
David scowled. "You're one to talk, aren't you? When have you ever stood up to any one or for any thing? You've --"
"Shut up."
"You won't even stand up to me, will you?"
Joey jumped off the stage and strode out the door without looking at David.
"You're the chicken shit!" David shouted after him.
A few minutes before dinner, David made his way to the house.
"Where's Joey?" Ray asked.
David shrugged. He took the plates from the shelf and set them on the table.
Ray watched him. "Wanna talk about it?"
David faced Ray. "I've decided..."
Joey walked in, glaring at David.
David turned away and took the silverware from the drawer.
Danny ran into the kitchen. He locked his knees and slid across the floor in his stocking feet. "Dinner ready?"
"Yeah." Ray set the meatloaf on the table. "Go get Carol. She's playing with her flowers out front."
Danny and Carol carried the conversation throughout dinner. Ray kept his eyes on the silent David and Joey.
Joey sat with his shoulders tilted away from David.
"Pass the bread," David said.
Joey ignored him.
"I said, give me the goddam bread."
Ray stood and reached across the table, handing the bread to David. "We're at the table," he said quietly. "Watch your mouth."
David glanced at Carol. "Sorry." He leaned forward to return the basket of bread to the table. As he sank back in his seat, he elbowed Joey's arm.
Joey dropped his fork and grabbed his arm, glaring at David. He stood.
"Sit down," Ray said.
Joey took a step toward the door, then looked at Ray.
"Sit down," Ray repeated.
Joey lowered his eyes and slunk into his chair.
"That's enough out of both of you. If you wanna fight, you can wait until after dinner and go outside and fight all you want, but you ain't gonna behave like this at the table."
David snorted. "Joey? Fight? He's too chicken-shit."
Joey folded his arms across his chest and stared at his plate.
Ray raised his eyebrow. "Knock it off or I'll take both of you out there."
After dinner, Joey cleared the table while David filled the sink with hot, soapy water. "Gonna pout all evening?" David said as Joey slid the silverware into the water.
Joey didn't answer. He stacked the plates and carried them to the sink.
"Self-righteous ass," David said.
Joey dropped the plates. Soapy water splashed over David.
"You son-of-a-bitch!"
Joey shrunk back.
Carol grabbed the dish towel and sopped up the mess.
"Okay, guys," Ray said. "Take it outside."
Joey took a step back and lowered his eyes.
David glared at Joey, but shook his head.
"You either wanna fight or you don't," Ray said. "If you do, I want it outside. If you don't, cut the crap."
Carol forced a smile. "Ray, would you and David return my library books for me? I'll help Joey finish the dishes."
Ray rolled his eyes.
"Ray?"
Ray knew there was only one right answer and it wasn't to shove his brothers out the door. "I suppose."
"David?" Carol continued, the sweetness of her tone overshadowed by the intensity of her eyes locked on David.
David sighed. "Let me change my shirt."
Ray drove to Mabel's. It was cool in the dark bar, even without air-conditioning. The ceiling fans spun at full speed and four floor fans kept the air moving. Ray filled the beer mugs from the pitcher Mabel's latest husband provided.
"The library's changed since I was here last," David said.
Ray smiled. "Carol didn't even give me no books. Just that look that said I'd better not argue."
David nodded. "I wasn't about to cross her." He played with the ashtray, then concentrated on balancing the salt shaker on a grain of salt. "So I'm supposed to spill my guts or something?"
"Not until the third pitcher." Ray took out his wallet and counted his money. "Yeah, I got enough."
David chugged his beer. "I'm not the one with the problem. Joey is."
"He seemed a little out of sorts."
"He doesn't like the decision I made."
"Wanna talk about it?"
David refilled his mug. "I'm gonna go."
"Canada?"
"Guess again."
Ray frowned. "Why?"
"I won't spend my life on the run. I'm gonna go, get it over with and be done with it."
Ray guzzled half his beer. "You ain't gotta. We can look at the options --"
"I said I'm going."
Ray sighed. "I can't tell you what to do."
"You finally got that figured out, huh?"
Ray smiled and fingered his beer. "It ain't gonna be much fun over there."
"You got along okay."
"Yeah, but I was one of the lucky ones. I got a gravy job in a warehouse and never saw no fighting."
"I probably won't either. It's about over. What branch do you think I should try for?"
"With your brains, you'd do best in the Air Force."
"I'll ask for the Marines."
Ray shook his head. "I'm gonna miss you, David."

* * *

Joey lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Even with the fan in the window, the room was humid and stuffy. But he wasn't going downstairs. He wasn't going to give David the opportunity to rationalize his betrayal.
David was a hypocrite. As long as Joey could remember, he'd opposed the war. They wrote letters to Congress and David gave a speech at the student council meeting and they went to every peace march they could. And so many times they talked deep into the night about the stupidity of it all.
And now he was joining it.
Joey chewed his lip. He should have guessed it. David never did walk away from a fight. He talked about peace, but that's all it was. Talk.
"I hate him, Mom," he said aloud. "He's a hypocrite." He studied the cracks in the ceiling. He wasn't sure why he talked to his mother when he was upset. He had never talked to her when she was alive. But she seemed closer to him now, more sympathetic, more understanding. Like being dead had changed her.
The door opened. David slid in and shut it after him. "Talking to Mom again?"
Joey scowled. "Leave me alone."
"Look, I don't have much time before I leave and I want to have some fun."
Joey bit his lip. He wasn't going to let David off that easy. Carol had given him the speech about David needing his support right now, but she didn't understand how David had betrayed him.
"I got some smoke yesterday. Looks like good shit, too. I'm gonna ask Ray to do it with me."
Joey smiled. He tried not to, he tried to restrain it, but the image of David and Ray smoking a joint together was so absurd he couldn't help it.
David grinned. "Come on. Let's hike up to the cave and try it out."
Joey rolled off the bed. It sure as hell would be lonely without David.

* * *

Ray stood at the counter, peeling potatoes. Tomorrow the silence would end. David would be home from boot camp and the house would explode with energy again. He hadn't realized how much of the noise and confusion belonged to David. And damn, he had missed it.
Joey walked in the side door.
Ray looked up from the potato and almost cut his finger. He set the knife down, staring at Joey. Joey's long hair was cut GI style.
"I didn't want David to feel bad when he got home."
Ray smiled. He'd be glad to see David, too. He wondered how boot camp had changed him.
"Can I go with you to pick up David?"
"Sure."
Joey was nervous throughout the evening, and when Ray stopped at the high school the next day, he was already waiting on the street corner.
"You think the bus will be on time?" he asked.
"They're usually pretty close," Ray answered.
He was right. The Greyhound rounded the corner five minutes early.
David bounced down the steep steps. He looked young, his face widened by the short hair and his cheeks rosy from the excitement. His sapphire eyes danced as he grinned at Ray and Joey.
Ray hung back and watched his brothers greet one another. They smiled but didn't touch. David hadn't grown any taller -- he was still a good six inches shorter than tall, lanky Joey, but he'd filled out some. Ray smiled. He approached David, his arms open for a hug.
David stepped back, his eyebrow raised with a don't-you-dare-embarrass-me look.
Ray's grin broadened. He dropped his left arm and patted David's back with his right. "You look good, David," he said. "Had lunch?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Let's go home."
Although only the three of them were there, the house seemed full of life again.
Ray put the lasagna in the oven. His eye caught Boomer waiting expectantly by the side door. He glanced at the clock. "Let Boomer out. She knows it's time for the school bus." He took three beers from the refrigerator and joined David and Joey at the table.
"Lasagna?" David opened his beer.
"That's your favorite, ain't it?"
"Yeah. I didn't think I'd ever admit it, but I've missed your cooking."
Ray eyed him. "Looks like you put on some weight."
David took off his shirt and flexed his biceps. "I got to do twice the exercises as everyone else."
Ray considered his statement, then slowly smiled. "Couldn't keep your mouth shut, huh?"
David's blue eyes glistened. "Those DI's have absolutely no sense of humor."
Ray laughed. "It only took me once to learn to keep my mouth shut."
David shook his head and sighed. "Not me. It got to the point where I just automatically dropped for an extra fifty." He chugged half the beer. "And Joey, I actually met someone more psychotic than you."
Joey played with his unopened beer.
"We called him 'the Virgin'. For three days, he cried for his mommy. He was scared to hold a gun. He shook when the DI yelled. Everyone picked on him, which got me into trouble --"
"You picked on him, too?" Ray asked.
David swigged his remaining beer and took Joey's. "Of course not. He reminded me too much of Joey, so I had to take up for him. This one guy, Kevin Walsh, got nasty about it, so I busted his mouth."
Ray raised his eyebrow.
David laughed. "Yeah. I did. And he hit back and that really pissed me off, so I plowed into him and we made a pretty good ruckus." He opened Joey's beer and took a drink. "So the next day, the DI drew a big circle in the sand and called me and Walsh up front. He said he'd heard we liked to fight and he wanted to watch us. For three days we beat the shit out of each other." David gulped from the bottle. "And we were getting tired of it. Our knuckles were so bruised and swollen it hurt to hit. It was hell. So on the fourth day, the DI drew the circle and called us up. But instead of fighting, we put our arms around each other and slow-danced." David grinned, fingering the beer. "Everyone cracked up, even the DI. He asked if we were done fighting and we said we were."
"So now you're buddies?"
"Not quite. I should've been first in our unit. We were pretty much neck-to-neck in everything and I beat him on the three-mile, but the son-of-a-bitch scored higher than me in the academics. Two points. Two goddam points."
The side door banged open and Gary pushed in. He tossed his laundry bag on the floor and looked at David. "You put on weight. How was boot camp?"
"A breeze. Everyone was moaning and groaning about how tough it was. I thought I was on vacation. After living under Ray's command, those DI's are pussies."
Gary laughed. "Right. You told them so, too, didn't you?"
"Several times." David eyed Gary up and down. "You still screwing Carol's sister?"
Gary's smile disappeared. "Don't start it."
David grinned. "I thought so." He looked at Ray. "You got a show tonight?"
"Yeah. Want to come?"
"No. I just wanted to know if you'd be gone so me and Joey could get into trouble."
Ray shook his head. "You ain't changed a bit."
The next two weeks went fast. Too fast. It was fun having David home again. Ray hadn't realized how much he'd missed David's wit. David's mouth. David's ability to break all the rules and do whatever he wanted and still get by with it.
On the morning David was to leave, Ray took his time as he peeled potatoes. He hadn't been able to sleep again, so he'd gotten up and started breakfast before anyone stirred.
"What're you making?"
He turned and smiled at David. "Fried potatoes and bacon and scrambled eggs and corn bread muffins."
"Don't you sleep?"
"Not a lot. You?"
"I'm too restless."
"I know." Ray set a glass of orange juice on the table.
"Thanks." David stood and poured himself a cup of coffee.
"I didn't know you liked coffee."
"I don't. But I like the caffeine rush. I got hooked on it at boot camp."
Ray peeled the bacon apart and arranged it in the pan. "We're gonna miss you, David."
"Without me around to make all the noise, you'll find out what a pain in the ass Joey is."
Ray laughed. "Right. Joey ain't never been a problem."
"He will be. Trust me. He will be."
"He'll be fine."
David peeled a banana and took a large bite. "You do have a tendency to be overbearing, you know. And without me around to take the pressure off Joey, he's gonna crack."
Ray smiled. "We'll get along fine."
"He's not like you and me. We get pissed, we throw a fit and we're over it. Not Joey. He holds everything in."
"He'll be fine."
David finished the banana and tossed the peel in the trash. "Keep an eye on him for me, will you?"
"You just take care of yourself. Joey will be fine."
David sighed. "I hope so."

* * *

Ray set the tape recorder on the kitchen table and opened his spiral notebook. The draft registration form fell out. He'd almost forgotten again. "Hey, Joey, I gotta talk to you before you run off."
Joey placed the dishtowel over the clean dishes and returned the heavy skillet to the stove. "About what?"
"Sit down. We gotta fill this out."
"What's that?"
"I stopped by the Post Office and picked up a draft registration form for you."
Joey glanced at the form. "I don't need it."
"It's been three weeks since your birthday. You only got thirty days."
"I'm not going to register."
"You got to. It's the law."
Joey shook his head and headed toward his room.
Ray scooted his chair back to block his path. "If you don't register, you'll go to jail."
Joey shrugged.
"Write down your social security number and sign it."
Joey shook his head.
Ray looked at him. He'd thought at first Joey didn't understand, but that wasn't the problem. Joey was being defiant. "I said do it."
"No."
Ray scowled and forged Joey's signature. "I'll get your social security number tomorrow, before I turn it in."
Joey grabbed the form and ripped it apart. He turned and walked out the back door.
Ray stretched his beard. David was right about one thing. He didn't understand Joey. Didn't understand him at all.

* * *

It was late when Ray returned home from his show. He stopped by Joey's room before he went to his own. He repeated the numbers in his mind as he switched on his bedroom light and searched for a piece of paper.
Carol squinted against the brightness. "Hi, honey. How was your evening?"
"Just a minute," Ray said, jotting the numbers. He folded the paper and put it in his wallet. "At least I got that taken care of."
"What's that?"
"Joey's social security number. I got it from his driver's license."
Carol sat up. "Ray, you can't do that."
"I did."
"Joey will be furious."
"At least he ain't going to prison."
"He's old enough to make his own decisions. I don't think you should interfere."
Ray undressed and crawled into bed. "I ain't gonna let him screw up the rest of his life over such a stupid thing. If he wants to rebel, he can do it after he gets drafted."
"I think you're making a mistake."
"He'll get over it."
Ray waited until after school the next day to tell Joey.
Joey stared at Ray. "You did what?"
"I registered you."
Joey dropped the dish he was drying and allowed it to crash to the floor.
"Wanna talk about it?"
Joey lowered his head and pushed past Ray.
"Joey --"
"Leave me alone."
"Joey!"
Joey ran up the stairs.
Ray sighed. He missed David.

* * *

It was bitterly cold. Even with the car heater on high and her coat and gloves on, Carol was cold. She pulled into the driveway.
Ray was near the garage, wearing only jeans and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He swung a broom at the dry grains of snow. They swirled from his path and resettled behind him.
Carol smiled. Leave it to Ray to fight the snowy dust. They'd been married over two years, but her heart still raced at the sight of him -- those huge, strong arms, that huggable barrel chest, those soft copper eyes, that rough, scraggly beard. And, of course, that big heart. She'd never known anyone who tried as hard as he.
Ray walked to her car and opened the door. "How was your day?"
"All right."
He carried her briefcase and books into the house.
Carol took a minute to savor the warmth. She loved coming home to that old farmhouse. The smell of wood burning in the Old Hickory comforted her. She took a deep breath and the inviting aroma of dinner teased her taste buds.
She turned and wrapped her arms around Ray's stout trunk. She buried her head in his broad chest, savoring the smell of his bleached undershirt and the softness of his flannel shirt. There was no where she'd rather be.
But she still had to tell him. "I went off the pill."
"You did?"
"I thought it was time."
Ray laughed and lifted her off the floor, twirling her around. They'd often talked about having babies. Ray wanted a houseful, but Carol said two -- maybe three -- and then they'd see. He kissed her hard on the mouth.
Carol pushed away from him. That wasn't the news that would upset him. She took a deep breath. "Joey wasn't at school today."
"He wasn't?"
"No." She rubbed her head against his chest. "He wasn't there yesterday, either."
"What?"
"Now, Ray, don't get riled, okay?"
"I ain't gonna let him screw up his life. He's gonna go to school if I gotta take him and sit through every class with him."
Carol hugged him. "It's hard for him to be interested in school when he's worried about David."
"David's fine. The war is all but over and he says all they do is march around once a day. He'll be home any day."
"It's still hard for him, Ray. Joey doesn't have any other friends."
"He ain't gonna get no scholarship if he don't straighten up. And there ain't no way in hell he's gonna go to college without one."
"He'll be all right."
Joey walked in the back door.
Ray released Carol. "Next time you can't find your way to school, I'm gonna take you," he said. "Your grades have been terrible all year."
Joey's brown eyes turned dark. "Leave me alone."
Ray watched him saunter through the house, then pulled Carol back into his arms.
Just over a week later, Joey skipped again. Ray didn't say anything to Carol, but waited for Joey the next morning. "Get in the car. I'm driving you to school today."
"Why?"
"I'm going to your classes with you."
Joey looked at Ray before he dropped his eyes. "I don't think so."
"I told you what would happen and I keep my word. Get in."
It wasn't one of Ray's better ideas. He hadn't liked school the first time around and sitting through Joey's college prep classes was unbearable. The last class of the day was Carol's. She hadn't been happy to see Ray at lunch and it bothered him that she was angry. But Carol never stayed mad long, so whenever she looked his way, he winked at her. He hoped she'd get pregnant soon. He'd love to have a bunch of babies toddling around the house.
About halfway through the class, she pulled a chair to the front of the room. "Ray, would you come up front, please?"
Ray scratched his beard but obeyed.
"I have a special class assignment today. This is Ray. I want you to look at him and make up a story about him. Who is he? What is his occupation? Why is he in this class today? Let your imagination run wild. Tell me as much about him as you can."
Ray caught Joey's eye.
Joey looked at his hands.
As they drove home, Joey pounded the dash with his fist.
"Can you find your own way to school tomorrow, or do I gotta go with you again?"
Joey slammed his fist into the dash. The glove box fell open.
"Can you?"
"Just leave me alone." Joey slapped the compartment shut, but it wouldn't stay.
Ray reached over and closed it. "And I suppose that was your paper in Carol's class. The one without a name, that just said, 'He's an ass.'"
Joey stared out the window.

* * *

David paced the small area between the trees. The waiting was the worst part. The waiting and the waiting and the waiting. How the hell he'd been "volunteered" for this assignment was beyond him. But he had. He and Kevin Walsh, the guy he'd fought with in boot camp, were chosen because "we need some men with sense out there." When the sergeant then asked for one more volunteer, everyone but David was shocked when the Virgin stepped forward.
"Better sit down, Moe," Kevin said.
Everyone had a nickname. Kevin was "the Doc" because he'd finished a full year of college before he lost his student deferment, and David was "Moe" -- short for "Mozart," and Wild Willy liked the Nam. Each time he rotated out, Wild Willy requested a reassignment. He wore a leather strip around his neck displaying the ears he'd cut from Viet Cong he'd killed.
Wild Willy's brutality didn't seem as bad now as it had two weeks earlier. Being hunted and shot at day and night changed the word "brutality" into "survival."
"Moe, you're gonna draw fire," Kevin said. "Sit down."
"Let them shoot. Just let them. At least we could do something other than go crazy." David slapped a mosquito. "Why can't they bring us a drop? We haven't had mail or beer or tokes for a week."
"That's 'cause we ain't here," Wild Willy said, whittling a cocker spaniel from a block of pine bark. "There ain't no American ground troops anywheres near An Loc. Ain't you seen the reports?"
David rolled his eyes.
"Ain't nobody being killed, neither."
David continued pacing. Three from their unit were hit by sniper bullets yesterday, two a few days before. But of course it never really happened. They weren't really there.
"You sure that ten-pack is gone?" the Virgin asked.
They all laughed. Two weeks ago, two long weeks ago, before this so-called "Easter Offensive" started, the Virgin blushed if someone as much as mentioned a joint. But a few fire-fights and a night ambush later, all he wanted was weed. And it was easy to get most of the time. Just place an order when the supplies were dumped and it came the next trip. Last time they bought a ten-pack -- ten pre-rolled marijuana joints soaked in Opium -- to share. Half of one joint was enough to get all of them high.
Kevin snapped off a short blade of elephant grass and rolled it. "Here you go, Virg. This ain't as good as weed and it's hard to keep lit, but its got a goddam good high."
The Virgin looked at David.
"He's jerking you." Sometimes David tired of looking after him. He was worse than Joey, much worse. Joey at least had common sense. David sighed. He was glad he'd grown up tough. He couldn't imagine coming into this shit the way the Virgin had. One night last week during a fire fight, it occurred to him that this was what his mother was preparing him for. She had survived the Holocaust -- most likely the only one in her family to do so -- so she knew about Hell.
And now it made sense. He remembered his parents fighting once when she beat Joey. Joey could never take it and his father was furious. David stayed in the bathroom with his ear against the water pipe, listening.
"You will never do this again," his father had said.
"Yes. I will," his mother said, her accent thick, the way it'd be when she was upset. "I will not allow my sons to grow up weak. The world is hard and they must be tough to survive it. And they will be tough."
"You're breaking that child. Joey can't take your meanness."
"Then how will he survive the meanness of the world?"
"Deloris --"
"You've never been in the world, Sam. In the real world. And someday, my boys may go into that world and I want them to survive it."
And now he understood. He understood the meanness of the world and he understood that his mother loved them more than he thought.
"Huey," Wild Willy said.
David looked at him, blinking. Every forty-five minutes, day and night and night and day, American B-52's flew over, scattering bombs. Sometimes they dropped a bit too close for comfort, but how were they to know? Only Viet Cong were supposedly left in these hills.
Wild Willy jumped to his feet. "Huey!"
And then David heard the tat-tat-tat of the giant helicopter. "They better have good shit for us," he said. "C'mon. Me and the Virgin will go."
David and the Virgin made their way through the thick brush, their M-16's chest-high in front of them. They stayed in the cover until the helicopter landed, then joined eight other GI's in grabbing the boxes and bags as they were thrown off.
"Beer!" someone yelled.
"Ice cream!" someone else said, laughing.
David grabbed a bag of mail and turned to throw it to the Virgin.
The Virgin reached, then his mouth fell open and his body arched into the air. His right shoulder jerked again and he fell to the ground, his head tilted unnaturally. Blood seeped through his cammies.
David dropped the bag. He pointed his M-16 and ran toward the source of the gun fire, spraying bullets. "Come out, you bastards," he yelled. "Come out!"
He ran into the brush, still shouting and shooting, a part of him knowing he shouldn't, another part knowing the Virgin was dead. He saw the weeds move and lunged forward.
A Viet Cong stood, his rifle pointed at David's chest.
David didn't hesitate. He opened up, the bullets from his gun flying through the dark little man until nothing was left but his ears. Until nothing was left at all.

* * *

Joey took David's letter to his room to read. He didn't want to open it. He didn't know exactly where David was or what he was doing, but he knew it wasn't good. For two or three weeks now, he hadn't been able to shake the sick feeling that sometimes left him dizzy or with the taste of vomit in his mouth. Sometimes at school or sometimes in the middle of the night, he'd be overcome by a horrible sense of dread.
He lay on his bed and pried the letter from the envelope. His eyes scanned the page. There was no salutation, no signature. Just words scribbled on the back of the crinkled letter Joey had written the day Ray went to school with him.

Sorry to hear you're having problems with Ray. I've had a bad day, too. Watched one of my best pals get shot full of shit and lost my temper and went after the son-of-a-bitch that did it. Found him, too. Still have his ears.
Any time you want to swap problems, let me know.

Joey stared at the words, watching them blur together. He heard the knock at his door, but ignored it.
The door opened and Ray walked in. "Dinner's ready."
"I'm not hungry."
"You gotta eat."
"I'll eat later."
"You'll eat now or you won't eat at all."
"Leave me alone."
Ray arched his eyebrow. Joey spent all his time in his room now -- the only time he bothered to join the family was to eat, and Ray was certain he'd be more than content to do that alone, too, if it was permitted.
"You best be hungry tomorrow, cause I ain't gonna have this." Ray left.
Joey fell back on his bed and read David's letter again. He couldn't imagine David in a world so far away, a world where life had little meaning and death was never far. Joey chewed his lip. For eighteen years, David had protected him. And now David needed protecting, but there was nothing he could do. Nothing anyone could do.
Joey gnawed at his lip, feeling the skin tighten and then break. He ran his tongue over the cut. The saltiness puckered his cheeks and he swallowed. His stomach churned. Nothing sickened him as much as the taste of blood.

* * *

Carol filled a plate with leftovers before she cleared the table.
"Who's that for?" Ray asked.
"Joey."
"Uh-uh. I told him he had to eat with the rest of us."
Carol took a deep breath. "You're being too hard on him, Ray."
"Too hard? All I did was tell him he had to eat with the family. If he wants to pout instead, that's his problem."
Carol set the pan down and turned off the water. She faced Ray. "Joey is having a very difficult time right now. He needs our support and understanding."
"I'm tired of him moping around with a chip on his shoulder."
"Joey is sensitive. It humiliated him for you to go to school with him."
"Then maybe he'll go on his own."
Carol set her jaw. "You're pushing him, Ray. He's going back into his shell."
Ray sighed. He wasn't going to fight with Carol. "What do you want me to do?"
"Take dinner to him."
"Okay."
"And be nice."
Ray took the plate upstairs and knocked on Joey's door. There was no answer, so he opened it.
Joey sat on the bed, a joint in his hand. Without moving, he looked at Ray.
Ray stared at him, the strong, sweet smell of marijuana consuming the room. He dropped the plate and glass of milk on the desk. "What the hell are you doing?"
Joey didn't answer.
Ray snatched the cigarette and threw it in the milk. "Want your ass kicked?"
Joey swallowed hard, but said nothing.
Ray closed his eyes. "Okay. I'm gonna walk out of here. Man, I gotta walk outta here." He took a few steps toward the door. "And this ain't gonna happen again. You got it?"
Joey didn't answer.
"You better got it. 'Cause it does and I'll beat the living shit outta you."
Joey chewed his lip.
Ray backed out the door. "And that's a promise."

* * *

Gary carried his dinner tray across the cafeteria. Linda infuriated him. Every time they argued, she screwed every guy in sight. He dropped his tray on her table and looked at the pimply-faced geek. "You can leave now."
The young man nervously piled his plate and drinks on his tray and shuffled to his feet.
"Sit down." Linda took a long drag on her cigarette, exhaling slowly.
"Go." Gary pointed his thumb toward the exit.
The young man hurried away.
Gary slid into the vacated seat.
Linda blew smoke in his face. "You don't own me."
"You should thank me for getting rid of him."
Linda shrugged. "So how was Cindy Cheerleader?"
"Jealous?"
She laughed. "No. I just write it off as another of your feeble attempts to even the score." She tapped the cigarette with her long ruby fingernails, knocking the ashes into the tray. "If you didn't have the sexiest bod on campus, I'd never tolerate you."
Electricity jolted through Gary. "If you weren't such an easy lay, I'd never put up with you."
Linda snorted. "I have no doubt."
"I just wish to hell you'd be a bit more --"
"Submissive? Not my style, dear."
"Conservative." Gary picked at his beef stroganoff. School would be out soon. Linda already had a job lined up in Cincinnati, working at her father's company, and he hoped to get the accounting job at Richardson's and Sons in Waynesboro. He'd miss her. He'd definitely miss her.
"Don't even think about it. The only thing we have in common is great sex. The only thing. I'd never marry someone like you."
"Marry?" Gary laughed. "You're not my type."
"You're too damned possessive and you don't have enough money." She reached under the table and rubbed his crotch. "Hurry up."
He pushed his tray aside. "I'll eat later."

* * *

Joey checked the mail on his way to the house. He took out the letter from David and shoved the rest back into the box. He walked past the house to the barn. He opened the envelope and unfolded the letter.

Hey, Joey.
Sorry about the last letter. I shouldn't have written when I was bummed.
I hope you never lose your innocence, Joey. I really do. I don't think you could survive it. I was wrong to protect you all those years, just as I was wrong to let the Virgin think I could protect him.
Life sucks, Joey, and there's nothing I can do to keep it from hurting you. I'm sorry.
David.

Joey read the letter again, then dug under the hay and found his stash. He rolled a joint and sucked the smoke deep into his lungs.

* * *

Ray checked his watch. It was after six and Joey wasn't home. Carol said he'd been at school and Danny said he was on the bus, but he hadn't come into the house. Ray tried to eat the spaghetti, but it stuck in his throat. His leg bounced with nervous energy as his fingers tapped the table.
Even Danny was quiet, eating his food in gulps, his black eyes darting around the room.
The back door banged open. Joey stumbled in, walking slowly. He paused and looked at Ray through narrow red eyes.
The blood rushed through Ray's veins. He stood.
Carol jumped between Ray and Joey. She put her hand on Ray's arm and looked at Joey. "Go to your room."
Joey hesitated, watching Ray.
Ray took a deep breath. He wanted to use Joey for a ping pong ball and bounce him against the wall a few times.
Joey shuffled from the room.
Carol audibly released her breath. "We'll deal with it later."
"I'm gonna beat his ass."
"No, Ray. Now just sit down here and take it easy."
He needed a drink. He jerked the cabinet open and pulled out the bottle of whiskey. He twisted off the cap and chugged it until his veins burned and his throat could bear no more.
"This has been a very difficult year for him, Ray. You've got to remember that."
"I'm gonna beat his ass."
"No, you're not." Carol rubbed his thick neck. "You're going to calm down."
"But I ain't --"
"I'll talk to Joey tomorrow," Carol said. "Let me handle it, okay?"
"I'll take care of it," Ray said. He waited until Carol's calmness soothed him, until he could visualize Joey's blood-shot eyes without clenching his fists, until it was late and Carol and Danny had gone to bed. He went upstairs and tapped on Joey's door. As he expected, there was no answer. Ray turned the knob and walked in. "You straight now?"
Joey lay on his bed. He rolled over to look at Ray. "I can't take you tonight."
"We're gonna talk."
Joey closed his eyes and shook his head.
"I don't want to beat your ass, Joey. I really don't. But you ain't leaving me a lot of choice."
"Please get out of my room."
"You got exactly two choices. You can start telling me why you ain't gonna do this no more or I can beat the hell out of you."
"Leave me alone." There was an edge to Joey's voice, a desperation Ray had never heard before.
"Have it your way, then. I'll beat your ass and then we'll talk." Ray unbuckled his belt.
Joey sat up. "Get the hell out of my room."
Ray jerked the belt through the loops.
Joey sprung from the bed, his face scrunched and his long arms swinging in stiff arcs. "We can talk. You wanna talk? You wanna know what you do to me? You squash me. Just like a bug. Grind me into the ground and stomp all over me until I'm so used up I don't know who I am." He grabbed the stapler and hurled it at Ray.
Ray stepped back, bumping into the door.
"You registered me. I tried to stand up for what I thought was right, but you didn't let me. You put my integrity in the mail box." Joey threw the glass paperweight. It hit the wall and shattered.
Ray's mouth fell open. He looked from Joey to the glass and back.
"You followed me around school like I was a baby. Do you know how that made me feel?" He threw the dictionary.
It hit Ray in the stomach.
"You barge in here whenever you please. I have no privacy, no where to escape from you." He strode to Ray and kicked the door, splintering the wood.
Ray dropped the belt.
Joey stood inches from Ray, his brown eyes slightly above Ray's. "I'm not like David. You didn't scare him. You didn't flatten him." He kicked the door again, harder, leaving a large hole. "But you squash me."
"Joey --" Ray raised his arm to touch Joey's shoulder.
Joey jumped out of his reach. "David wasn't afraid of anything. Nothing. Not you, not Mom, not even -- not even..." He jerked back and fell on the bed, crumbling into a pile of arms and legs.
Ray stared at him.
He rocked, cradling his head in his arms.
Ray walked to him. "Are you okay?"
Joey didn't answer.
"Did you take something else? Some other drug?"
He still didn't answer, his face hidden.
"Was it just pot you smoked? Was there hashish or opium in it?"
Joey rocked harder.
"You're scaring me."
"David killed someone." He spoke from deep within the recesses of his arms.
"What?"
Joey lowered his arms but continued to rock. "He killed someone."
"What are you talking about?"
"He's not where he was. I don't know where he is. But he's getting shot at and he's shooting people and he killed someone."
Ray tried to comprehend.
"And I can't deal with your shit right now."
Ray moved onto the bed next to him.
Joey buried his head again.
"We'll work things out. I didn't know."
"I can't take it."
"I know."
"I can't take being pushed around. I can't handle being threatened and humiliated."
"I'm sorry, Joey. Let's go downstairs and get you something to eat and you can tell me more about David, okay?" Ray stood.
Joey didn't move.
"You got to talk to me, Joey. I can't read your mind. When things are eating at you, you gotta tell me."
"You don't listen."
"I'm sorry, Joey. I will."
Joey was quiet for a long time.
"I didn't know I was bugging you so much. I'm sorry."
Joey was still silent.
"And I didn't know David was having trouble. I thought he was coming home soon. Will you tell me what's going on?"
Joey looked up. "You didn't know David was transferred?"
"No. I ain't got a letter for a month." Ray took a deep breath. "Will you tell me?"
"Will you lay off me?"
"Yeah. Yeah, Joey. Come on."

* * *

"The Eastern World, it is exploding. Violence flaring, bullets loading. You're old enough to kill but not for voting. You don't believe in war but what's that gun you're toting..."
Carol shuddered. "That gives me cold chills."
Ray nodded. The rest of the Happy Hour crowd was spellbound by Joey's rich baritone. "The first time I heard this was the day I left for the Army."
"Barry McGuire. Eve of Destruction." Carol fingered her wine goblet. "I'd just graduated from college."
"That kid puts everything he's got into it."
"Don't you understand what I'm trying to say? Can't you feel the fears I'm feeling today? If the button is pushed there's no runnin' away. They'll be no one to save with the world in a grave. Take a look around ya, boy, it's bound to scare ya, boy..."
Carol took a deep breath. "You didn't hear the news today, did you?"
"They confirmed what we heard yesterday. The VC shut down Route 13 between Saigon and An Loc."
"Do you think that's where David is?"
"I'd guess." Ray put his arm around her. "I sure as hell wish he'd get home."
"Yeah, my blood's so mad feels like coagulatin'. I'm sitting here just contemplatin'..."
Carol sipped her wine. "I'm glad you got this job for Joey. It keeps his mind off the things he can't do anything about."
"I should've thought of it sooner."
She squeezed his hand. "You've done a great job with these boys, Ray."
He pulled her closer to him. "I'd never make it without you."
Joey played the harmonica, then returned to his guitar. "And you tell me over and over and over and over again, my friend, you don't believe we're on the Eve of Destruction. You don't believe we're on the Eve of Destruction."

* * *

PART TWO

"It takes more courage to live than to die."
--- David Gambel, 1972

MAY 26, 1972. WAYNESBORO, WEST VIRGINIA.
"By applying the basic theory of trigonometry, the cosine in this equation will show us..."
Joey slowly twisted his pencil, watching the patterns created by the reflected light. He should have eaten breakfast this morning like Ray said, but he hadn't felt well. And he still didn't. He was shaky and nervous, disturbed by the nightmare that left him covered with a chilling sweat. Even now, images flickered across his mind, remaining long enough to disconcert him, but disappearing before he could identify the topic or the setting.
He stretched his long legs into the aisle and looked at his watch. It was almost lunch time. He hoped he'd feel better after he'd eaten.
Mrs. Wells, the school secretary, walked into the classroom.
Joey's stomach turned. He pulled his books from beneath the seat and stacked them. She had come for him. He knew she had come for him.
Mrs. Wells spoke quietly to Mrs. O'Brien, then turned and looked at Joey.
He didn't remember getting up or walking across the room, but he must have.
Mrs. Wells forced a smile. "Someone is here for you."
Joey followed her through the long hallway and down the stairs. Gary graduated from college tonight. They had plans to go to Huntington and celebrate with him. So nothing bad could happen. Nothing could happen on the same day as Gary's graduation.
They turned the final corner and Ray stood in the vacant corridor. His face was pale and puffy, his eyes swollen and narrow. Trembling hands massaged his forehead.
Joey floated to him, his feet barely touching the floor.
Ray's mouth opened to speak, but no words came out.
"David?"
Ray nodded.
The next several days ran together like a bad dream, hazy and trance-like. Preparations were made. People came and went. Ray and Gary huddled for hours, speaking in low voices, sometimes including Carol or uniformed strangers in their discussions. But none of it was real to Joey. He sat around and watched, empty of all thoughts and emotions.
They were notified when the body arrived and all of them -- Ray and Carol, Carol's parents, Gary, Joey and Danny -- packed into the Plymouth and drove to the funeral home. Joey had no desire to see whatever was in the big black box, so he sat in the back and studied the decor. The room was masked in pretension. Comfortable easy chairs surrounded burgundy fringed lamps, crystal chandeliers emitted soft light, and floral striped wallpaper hugged the walls. Piped organ music flowed from the ornate ceiling, and an odor, not exactly antiseptic and not fully floral, hung heavy in the air. The centerpiece of the room, of course, was the shining casket raised on a pedestal. Ray and Carol peered into it, clinging to one another as Clyde and Betty hovered over them.

"Want me to go with you?" It was Rev. Mitchell, the preacher at Bellview Methodist. He'd been concerned about their well-being when their mother died. David loved to torment him, telling him he was glad his mother was dead and asking what hell was really like. David was half-joking and half-serious, and Rev. Mitchell never quite knew how to take him. "Come on. I'll go with you."
Joey looked at his shoes. Actually, they were Ray's shoes. Ray's show shoes he wore when he performed. Shoes that danced and tapped to music and were happy.
"Joey..."
Joey shook his head.
Rev. Mitchell took Joey's arm and nudged him to his feet. He guided him across the room.
Joey stood in front of the coffin and gazed at the purple and white flowers with the banner saying "Brother." They were fancy flowers, not the kind that grew wild around the farm, or even the type Carol cultivated so carefully in front of the house. His eyes moved to the foot of the casket. The white satin lining was much too pretty to be anything David would choose. It even had lace. Like David would be caught dead surrounded by lace. The polished mahogany was all right, of course, but lace?
His eyes followed the quilted throw that covered the bottom half of the body. Chalky hands were neatly folded on top of the blanket. It was David's high school ring on the right ring finger, but the veins didn't protrude the way David's did. Joey studied the fingers. They were too beige, too pudgy. David's slender fingers could fly over guitar strings with speed and agility.
The brass buttons caught the light and drew his attention upward to the chest. It was dressed in Marine dress blues and had several ribbons pinned to it. Joey shook his head. Even if David had earned a commendation, he wouldn't flaunt it. He wouldn't be proud of participating in acts of war. In fact, David would never agree to be buried as a soldier.
The idea struck him. He knew it was absurd, he knew it was crazy, but what if it was true? He took a deep breath and raised his eyes to the face. His mouth fell open and air expelled from his lungs. It wasn't David. It simply wasn't. It looked like David -- the blond hair, the delicate features, the smooth skin, even the scar across his left cheek -- but it wasn't. There was no life, no soul, nothing but a wax reproduction.
Joey was sickened by the obscene joke. He jerked away from Rev. Mitchell and ran across the room and into the lobby. The door of a small broom closet was ajar and he slipped into it, then shut it behind him.
He fit perfectly. He was surrounded by wood on all sides, his back pressed against the rear wall and a high shelf skimming his head. The door was inches from his face, completing the sensation of encasement. And it was dark, very dark. He folded his hands in front of him and shut his eyes.
Joey heard people milling about and calling his name, but he was content in his solitude and confinement. He stood there in his three-piece suit and polished shoes for a long time. He stood there and wondered what it would be like to stand there forever, surrounded by white lace and satin. He stood there until he could stand no more.
He eased the door open and blinked against the brightness.
"Joey!" Mrs. Jones put her arm around him. "We've been looking for you, honey."
Gary came from behind and clamped his vise-like hand around Joey's arm, digging his fingers into the soft flesh between the bone and the muscle. "Get your ass in here and sit down," he growled in Joey's ear. He jerked him into the showing room and shoved him into a chair. He positioned himself behind Joey like a Presidential bodyguard, and when Joey rose later to go to the men's room, he followed.
After that, Joey did as he was told. He sat when he was told to sit and he stood when he was told to stand and he ate when he was told to eat. He stayed in his room as much as he could, lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. The only decision he made was not to return to school after David's funeral. He expected Ray to argue with him, but Ray only shrugged.
Then the letter arrived. It was after dinner and almost dark before anyone thought to get the mail, but Joey smiled as he held the envelope. He hadn't realized it before, but now that it was there, he knew he'd been expecting it. He waited until he was in his room to open it. But instead of David's small, neat handwriting, the letter was written in a sprawling script. He scanned the page quickly, then fell on the bed and read it slowly, his hands trembling.

26 May 1972 0130 hours
Dear Joey,
I'm sorry. David passed on just a few minutes ago. I'm very sorry. He wanted me to write you and tell you it takes more courage to live than to die and that you have a lot more courage than you think you do.
Someday I'd like to talk to you, but
right now there isn't much to say. Take care, Kevin Walsh

Joey stared at the letter. It didn't say what he'd anticipated. He expected David to say his death was a farce, a cruel joke, and he'd meet him in Canada or somewhere. Joey shut his eyes tightly, so tightly they hurt, and when he opened them, he saw something at the foot of his bed.
David stood there, dressed in fatigues, his hands low on his hips, his chest thrust out and his weight balanced on one leg. He smiled that challenging smile of his, then cocked his eyebrow, his sapphire eyes twinkling.
Joey jumped to his feet, but the ghost was gone. He stared at the empty space. There'd been many times lately when he'd wondered about his sanity and now he knew. He was losing his mind. He backed out of the room and ran downstairs. He found his family in the den, watching television.
Ray looked up. "You okay?"
Joey nodded. He dropped between Ray and Gary and aimed his eyes at the TV screen.
"You sure you're okay?" Carol asked, looking up from the novel she was reading.
Joey bit his lip and nodded again. He remained between his brothers until they stretched and went to bed.
He awoke before dawn and stared at the nothingness: the empty bed, the closed guitar case, the space David had filled. He looked at the foot of his own bed, expecting the apparition to reappear, but it, too, was gone.
Joey rolled out of bed and switched on the light. He pulled the ancient suitcase from the closet and filled it with clothes. He scanned the room, then put David's final letter in his wallet and hung David's pewter peace necklace around his neck.
He went downstairs and rummaged through the refrigerator and kitchen cabinets, taking fruit, cheese and crackers. He turned to put them in the suitcase.
Ray's large frame filled the doorway.
Joey didn't look up. He dropped the food into the Pullman, snapped the locks and slid the suitcase off the table. He filled his lungs with air, then forced his eyes to meet Ray's. "You're not going to stop me."
"Where're you going?"
"I've got to get out of here."
Ray pulled his beard. "How're you gonna get there?"
Joey held up his thumb. "I'm taking this suitcase and some food. Is that okay?"
Ray studied him. "I'll drive you to the highway. We'll stop and have some breakfast."
"I won't change my mind."
"I ain't asking you to."
Ray put Joey's suitcase in the trunk while Joey ran to the barn for his guitar. They drove to town in silence.
Joey squirmed in the restaurant booth. "I'll just have milk."
"You gotta eat."
"I'm not hungry."
"You can eat anyway."
Joey shrugged. Ray didn't have much longer to boss him around.
Ray placed their orders, then leaned back and sipped his coffee. "You can't run from life, Joey."
Joey set his jaw. "My mind's made up. You can't talk me out of it."
"I ain't trying to. I just want you to know that leaving won't solve your problems."
"If I don't get out of here, I'll go crazy."
"I know."
Joey fidgeted until the waitress served their food.
Ray picked at his eggs. "You gotta call me. Call me and let me know you're all right. You'll do that, won't you?"
Joey nodded.
Ray rubbed his beard. "Call me tonight, okay?"
"Yeah." Joey forced down as much of the food as he could. He was relieved when Ray pushed his plate aside and rose to leave.
Ray drove until they were out of the city limits, then pulled the car to the berm. "How's this?"
"Fine. I appreciate the ride."
Ray got out of the car and helped Joey with his suitcase and guitar. "One more thing, Joey," he said, forcing a wad of bills into Joey's hand.
"No. I told you I had money."
"This's the only way I can feel a little better about you being out there all by yourself. You owe me that much."
"I don't --"
"Take it."
"I'll send it back when I get settled."
"That ain't necessary. Just call me, okay?"
"I will."
Ray patted his arm. "Take care of yourself," he said, his voice breaking. He walked quickly to his car.
Joey turned his back to Ray and stepped as far from the noisy highway as he could. He knew he should raise his thumb, but instead, he stood there, his luggage at his feet and his arms at his side. He watched the speeding cars and the powerful semi's whiz past. He filled his lungs as full as he could with air, then slowly exhaled. He touched David's pewter necklace, then moved closer to the precarious road and raised his thumb.

* * *

Sam pulled the pillow from the tightly made bed and shoved it behind his back. The afternoons were tough. At one time he had spent them sight-seeing, but then he started seeing the boys -- he'd see a dark-haired kid about fourteen and think he was Danny or see a big man and think he was Ray. The day he saw the college students -- one dark and tall and the other blonde and compact -- he ran after them. "David! Joey!" he shouted. They didn't turn, so he caught up and touched the blonde's arm. "David..."
But it wasn't David. It wasn't Joey. Sam apologized, and after that he stayed in his room.
Sam put the phone on his lap and dialed.
"Hello?"
It was Ray's voice. Sam sometimes had to guess with the younger boys, but he always knew Ray's booming voice.
"Hello?" Ray repeated.
The last time Sam had called, a woman answered.
"Joey?" Ray asked. "Is that you?"
Sam wondered where Joey was and if he could possibly be somewhere without David.
"Joey? This phone is acting up again. I'll hang up. If you can hear me, call back. Call collect."
There was something in Ray's voice -- worry, exhaustion, apathy -- that bothered Sam. He hung up and dialed his sister's number.
"Sammy?" Madge sounded surprised to hear from him.
"Yeah. Hi. Sorry I haven't called."
There was silence on the other end.
Sam figured it was his punishment for avoiding his responsibilities. "How are the boys?"
"Are you alone, Sammy?"
Sam smiled. She seemed concerned. "Yes. Of course. How are the boys?"
"Do you have any friends, Sammy? Anyone to stay with you?"
Sam's stomach turned. He reached for the bottle of Jack Daniel's on the night stand. "What's wrong?"
"David..." Madge coughed.
His heart pounded. There was nothing sensitive or sympathetic about Madge. She was a bitch. But she didn't sound like one now. "What? Tell me."
"He was killed, Sammy. In Vietnam. I'm so sorry, Sammy. Please come home."
The phone stuck to Sam's ear as though held by an invisible force.
"Are you okay, Sammy? Where are you? Do you want me to come there?"
Sam allowed the receiver to drop into the cradle. He struggled to twist the lid off the whiskey, his hands surprisingly weak. He took a long drink straight from the bottle.
He checked the travel alarm. Two hours before he was due on. One of the best assignments he'd had. Sophisticated clientele who appreciated his classics. He took another long swallow from the bottle, the liquor sliding down his numb throat.
A sharp pain stabbed through his stomach. It took him by surprise, even though his stomach was often upset. Sam ran to the bathroom and vomited. The flu. He hoped he wasn't getting the flu. He rinsed his mouth and stepped into the shower, still queasy.
As soon as he dressed, he'd get downstairs and start early. He hungered for the feel of the keyboard -- he always craved it, but now his urgency climaxed. He'd keep a tight repertoire tonight -- only the masters. Only Bach and Mozart and Tchaikovsky. Beethoven and Haydn.
The lively melody of Beethoven's Piano Sonata No. 21 in C Major played through Sam's head. He quickly rinsed and dried. He needed the piano, he needed the music. He needed the world his passion created.

* * *

"Ray, Mom and Dad are going to Hawaii for two weeks."
Ray blinked, looking at his wife. Carol and her parents had been great with Danny, giving him the time and attention Ray wasn't able to.
"They want to take Danny with them."
"Why?"
"It would do him good to get away from here for awhile."
Ray rubbed his beard. It would. Without a doubt, it would. He knew the kid needed help dealing with the loss of his brothers, and Ray had nothing left to give. But he'd already lost two brothers and he wasn't losing Danny. "No."
"Why not?"
"Your parents deserve a vacation without baby-sitting Danny."
"They love having him around. He keeps them entertained."
"It's too much money."
"Daddy loves spending his money on kids. You know that."
"He's only fourteen. He ain't going that far from home."
Carol studied him. "You're scared to let him go, aren't you?"
Ray rubbed his forehead.
Carol wrapped her arms around his ample waist and hugged him. "You can't let your fears keep Danny from having a life. The past six weeks have been as tough on him as they have on us. He needs to go."
The same day Danny left, Gary approached Ray. "I'm thinking about getting a small apartment in town."
Ray considered his words. It made sense. Somehow in the midst of confusion, Gary had been hired as an accountant for Richardson's and Sons. He worked twelve or more hours every day, then studied the remainder of the evening for his CPA exam. Moving to town would save him an hour a day in travel.
"I'm not running out on you. You and Carol need some privacy. I'm never home anyway. It just might be easier."
Ray nodded. So that was it. Gary couldn't stand this quiet old house with all its memories. "Okay."
"I already have a place. Will you help me move?"
"Will you come home on Sundays and eat with us?"
Gary smiled. "You bet."
So the house became quieter. Ray kept the television on and tuned each of the radios to different stations, but still the silence overwhelmed him. Each day was an effort to survive.
Ray checked the time. Carol would be home soon. She'd offered to give up her summer school job, but he'd convinced her he was fine. He replaced the Jack Daniel's behind the Windex and put a mint in his mouth. He took the casserole from the oven and stepped outside to wait for her.
"Let's go on vacation," Carol suggested as they finished eating.
"Joey might come home." Ray alternated between being angry that the kid hadn't kept his promise to call and being sick with worry.
"Let's at least go out for an evening, Ray. Dinner and a movie."
"I ain't going nowhere." He filled the dishpan with hot, soapy water.
Carol cleared the table.
"I wanna do them alone."
"I'll wipe the table."
"I wanna be alone."
Carol wished there was something she could do. It had been nine weeks since David's funeral, eight since Joey left. She rubbed his shoulder until he squirmed away from her. "Okay," she sighed and left the kitchen.
Ray filled a water tumbler half full with whiskey and sipped it. He played with each dish as he washed it, fighting to keep his mind on the task. Just a year ago, David and Joey did the dishes. He imagined them standing at the sink, poking and jabbing, whispering their secrets, laughing at their jokes.
Ray scrubbed a plate. His chest felt like an elephant sat on it. He rubbed it and took another drink. A year ago, David and Joey were making plans. They were excited about their future. They spent hours discussing college, the courses to study, the books to read, the girls. One year ago.
Visions of David pummeled Ray. David's defiant stance, daring an argument. David laughing about giving Danny the dirty book. David bragging he could beat someone twice his size in arm-wrestling. David with his eyebrow arched, challenging Ray to continue his questioning. David showing off his biceps, boasting of doing twice the calisthenics of the other recruits. David asking Ray to look after Joey.
A tear fell into the dishpan, then a few more. Ray brushed them away, blinking back the ones not fallen. But it was too late. His tears cascaded like a waterfall, forceful and unstoppable.
Ray dried his hands and blew his nose on his handkerchief. The dishes would have to wait. He slid into a chair and buried his head in his arms. He wept. For David, for Joey, for his mother, for his father. For his family that was broken and could never be repaired. For his own life that would never be the same. He wept until his tears were exhausted, until his body ached from the exertion.
As he quieted he realized he was surrounded by another body. Carol was draped over him, her chest pressed against his back, her arms covering his arms. He savored her warmth, then turned, drawing her into his arms.
He clung to her until the summer sun disappeared and darkness filled the house, until she finally stood and took his hand. She led him through the house, to the bedroom his parents once shared. She covered him and lay next to him and held him until the night became day again.

* * *

Joey wandered for three months, going wherever his rides took him, playing his guitar whenever they'd pay him. He stood now on Interstate 20, just west of Atlanta. He'd only been there fifteen or twenty minutes, but the heat from the August sun was already draining the energy from him.
The pale blue Chevy chugged to a stop. Joey peeked at the driver. He had learned it was easier to refuse a ride than get out after the car was moving. And that was only one of the many skills he'd acquired.
A young girl looked at him, her fingers wrapped around a gold crucifix. She wasn't pretty, but cute in a Raggedy-Ann sort of way, with wide-set green eyes, pug nose and mass of auburn curls.
He opened the door and got in.
"Where're you going?" the girl asked in a soft Southern drawl. She wore a pale cotton shift that covered her knees, obvious because it was so unlike the brightly colored psychedelic clothing most of the young people wore.
"California," he replied. Not having a destination seemed to make people uneasy, especially since his wavy dark hair now touched his shoulders.
The girl released her crucifix and smiled. "Me, too. Laguna Beach. What about you?" She eased the car back on the highway.
He tried to recall the location of Laguna Beach, but all he could remember was David pointing at the map and saying, "Southern California. That's where the action is." He arranged his long legs in the floor space. "Is that south of LA?"
"Yes. My aunt lives there."
Joey nodded. That sounded like a good destination to him. Maybe he'd even call Ray when he got there.
They drove silently for several minutes. "My name's Rosie," she finally said.
"I'm Joey." He had never been good at starting or maintaining conversations, and Rosie either shared this trait or had her mind on other things, which was fine with him. He was content to sit quietly and watch the Georgia pines thicken as Atlanta shrunk behind them.
Rosie turned the radio dial. She located a country station and tuned it in. "I hope you like country music," she said.
He shrugged. He preferred rock, but any music was better than none.
She helped Loretta Lynn sing One's on the Way in a strong, clear voice, but when the song ended, she returned to driving as though she'd never sung a word.
It wasn't long before Rosie squirmed and rubbed her neck.
"Want me to drive?" Joey asked.
"No." She glanced at him. "But thanks."
Joey wondered what she was doing on her own. She couldn't be more than sixteen or seventeen, and her conservative dress and polite, reserved manner suggested she wasn't a runaway or a street urchin.
Later, they stopped for sandwiches, and Rosie allowed Joey to drive. "Just don't go over the speed limit," she cautioned.
Joey finished the last few miles of Alabama and made it through Mississippi before dark, but it was late and he was tired half-way through Louisiana. He watched the sunset and wondered how to broach the subject of sleeping. That was one thing that was different with each ride, and it sometimes got complex when women were involved. Just last week, he traveled with an attractive young woman through Florida, who assumed sleeping arrangements included sex. He was sure David would have hyperventilated with laughter, but Joey was so embarrassed he excused himself to use the toilet, then ran through the dark and hid in the high brush until day break. His face still burned from the memory.
The steering wheel vibrated and Joey's attention was forced back to his task. He turned off the radio and leaned forward. "Something's not right."
Rosie fingered her gold crucifix. "What?"
"I don't know." He slowed as the engine roughened, then eased the big car onto the berm and brought it to a stop as smoke seeped from under the hood. He stepped from the car and sprung the hood. Smoke billowed out and flames sparked around the engine.
Joey jumped back, his mind racing. The fire wasn't far from the gas line and he didn't know how fast it might travel.
He ran to the passenger side. "Get out." He jerked the back door open and threw his guitar and both suitcases to the ground.
"What's wrong?"
"Get me that blanket."
"Why?"
"To smother the flames."
"My grandma made --"
"Now!"
Flames exploded around the hood.
"Shit." He pushed Rosie away from the car.
She struggled to get past him. "My quilt!"
"No." He held her arms.
"My grandma..."
Joey sprung into the front seat and grabbed the blanket and pillow. The fire was spreading fast. He pushed their belongings a safer distance from the car.
Rosie hugged the quilt against her.
Joey slowly let his breath out, watching the flames lap into the passenger area. "Got insurance?"
"I don't know. Probably." The freckles on her fair skin faded as her face reddened.
He looked at the twelve year old car. "Probably not comprehensive."
"What're we going to do?"
A Louisiana State Patrol pulled over and the officer approached. "What's the problem?"
Joey wished his hair was shorter. "We had a car fire. It's totaled."
The officer examined the damage. "Sure is. Which towing company you want?"
"How much will it cost?" Rosie asked.
"From here to Wilcox is about seventeen miles. Usually five bucks plus a dollar a mile, so about twenty-two total."
Rosie nodded, her auburn curls falling into her face.
"And the dump charges fifteen dollars."
"Can we just leave it here?" she asked.
"Not unless you want a fine for littering and then have it towed and dumped at your expense."
Rosie looked at Joey, her eyes brimming with tears.
"Call the cheapest one," Joey said. He moved protectively closer to Rosie. She wasn't as tall as his shoulder, her gentle roundness contrasting with his angularity.
"What are we going to do?" she whispered as the officer returned to his cruiser.
Joey was too hot and sweaty and tired to think. He couldn't abandon her and he couldn't expect her to sleep on the side of the road. "Let's get a room and deal with it tomorrow."
"A room?"
Even in the dark, Joey could feel her green eyes penetrating him. "A hotel room."
"I won't sleep with you."
"I didn't mean --"
"You can think I'm square if you want, but I'm Catholic and I don't believe in premarital sex."
Joey's cheeks burned. "I just thought --"
"And I'm only seventeen. So you'll be in a whole heck of a lot of trouble if you --"
"I don't want to sleep with you." Joey raised his voice to interrupt her, but enough was enough. He still had to hope the tow truck driver would give them a lift to town and they could find a cheap room. He straddled his suitcase. "We'll get you a room and I'll find a place to sleep outside."
Rosie was quiet for a minute. "Outside?"
"In a park, in the woods, whatever."
"You sleep outside?"
"Sometimes."
It was two hours before the tobacco-chewing tow-truck driver showed, and another hour before they stood on the threshold of the antiquated hotel room.
Joey carried her luggage inside. "Would you mind if I took a shower?" he asked. "Then I'll leave."
Rosie said, "Go ahead," and sat heavily on the bed.
Joey showered quickly and brushed his teeth. He ran a comb through his wet hair before leaving the privacy of the bathroom.
"You paid for the room," Rosie said. "You can sleep here."
"No. That's okay. I'll meet you --"
"I want you to."
It was a hard offer to refuse. It had been a long day. "I'll sleep on the floor."
Rosie handed the pillow and spread to him.
"Thanks. There's some apples in my suitcase if you get hungry."
Rosie's eyes twinkled and the corners of her lips turned up. Slowly, the smile broadened and worked its way up until her entire face glowed.
Joey smiled. He liked Rosie.

* * *

Danny paged through the manual of ballet positions, stopping to examine an especially well-developed dancer. "I really want to go to band camp."
Carol dropped next to him on the dirty plywood. "I know you do." Band camp was scheduled the same week as Carol's surgery to open her fallopian tubes. She'd tried to convince Ray it would be good for Danny to be gone that week, but Ray worried.
"I could just go and you could cover for me. Tell Ray I'm at Nancy's or something. He wouldn't know better."
"Ray has to know."
"Tell him after I'm gone."
Carol smiled. "I can't do that."
"I don't know why he can't just let me go. He never lets me do anything --"
"You know that isn't true." She stood. "Come on. Let's see if you remember what we did yesterday."
Danny tossed the book aside and jumped to his feet. "First position." He stood with his heels together and his toes pointed out, then slid his feet apart. "Second position."
"Good. Great." Carol had been surprised when Danny said he wanted to learn ballet, but he was working hard at it. "Now move into third. Remember how?"
"What the hell are you doing?" Ray squinted from the barn door, then approached.
Carol smiled and went to his side. "Ballet. Danny --"
"Uh-uh. I put up with the tap dance bullshit and ignored that jumping jazz shit, but you ain't gonna turn him into a goddam ballerina."
"Ballet is very athletic, Ray. It requires --"
"I said he ain't gonna be no prissy-assed ballerina."
"Why don't you go with me to Swan Lake? Danny was impressed --"
"I know what the hell Danny was impressed with. A way to feel up half-naked women --"
"Ray Gambel!"
"And he ain't doing it." Ray pointed at Danny's body suit. "Get some clothes on."
Danny looked at Carol.
Carol sighed. Ray moped around so much of the time, she welcomed his grumbling, but Danny didn't need discouraged. "Go on," she said and waited for Danny to leave.
"I ain't gonna --"
Carol wrapped her arms around Ray's waist. He had lost so much weight she could reach around him. He still wasn't thin, but she wished he'd put on a few pounds so his face wouldn't look so drawn. "It's good for him, Ray. It gives him exercise, discipline --"
"No."
"There's nothing wrong with it. Nothing."

"I said no. And I ain't changing my mind."
"Now, Ray, don't be like that."
Ray rubbed his forehead. "I don't know why Danny wants to learn ballet, but I know it ain't 'cause he wants to be a ballerina. He's got something else in mind. Probably girls. That's all he ever thinks about. And I ain't gonna let him get by with it."
Carol pulled a sweatshirt over her leotard. She sat on the floor of the stage and removed her ballet slippers, then put on and tied her tennis shoes.
"You know how he is."
Carol stood. "You're probably right."
"You're damn right I'm right."
"Intolerable, too."
Ray wrapped his arm around her. "Sorry."
Carol smiled. "How sorry?"
"Real sorry."
"Then let Danny go to band camp."
"He don't --"
"Ray ..."
"Okay. Fine. He can go."
Carol leaned into his broad chest. "Thank you."
Ray tightened his arms, pulling her against him. He kissed the top of her head.
Danny bounced in, still in his jumpsuit, Boomer at his ankles. "You gotta drive me to town. The registration's got to be postmarked by today. And I need fifty dollars."
"See? He's a brat. He don't need to go nowhere."
Danny flashed his irresistible grin. "At least I won't be dressed like Peter Pan."
Ray cocked his eyebrow. "I can still change my mind."
"I'll be good," Danny said, jumping for the door. "C'mon, Boom, let's go get some clothes on."
Ray took Carol's hand. "Just think. After your surgery, we can have a whole houseful of little Dannys."
"One at a time, Ray. One at a time."

* * *

Before he was fully awake, Joey became aware of his surroundings. He was on a bed, a real bed, and his arm dangled over something soft and warm. Something that gently moved up and down. His eyes jolted open.
Rosie Maseroni lay next to him, snuggled beneath his arm.
He caught his breath, afraid to breathe, afraid he'd awaken her. He must have fallen asleep before he moved to the floor. He smiled. Sweet Rosie -- conservatively Catholic and unbelievably naive -- had come to presume the chastity of their relationship at the same time Joey realized he could be persuaded to cross the bounds of friendship. But he couldn't think about that now.
Instead, he watched Rosie sleep. They'd been fortunate to find a job. Every night club in town told him the same thing: there was no demand for a long-haired rock and roll singer. Finally, at Rupert Jackson Hotel, Rosie slipped away as the hotel manager shook his head. She belted out, "I Never Promised You a Rose Garden" in a surprisingly strong voice, her fingers fluid on the piano keys. The manager and Joey were speechless, and Rosie was hired on the spot.
Joey smiled and touched her deep red curl. They had worked hard to develop a country music show. Rosie knew mostly spirituals and Joey rock 'n roll, but they listened to tapes and bought sheet music and practiced until they were hoarse and exhausted.
And then, last night, after a long performance, he had come out of the shower to find her sobbing. He wasn't sure if he should try to comfort her or give her privacy. He stood in the doorway for a long time, uncertain. Finally she calmed and he walked in.
"I'm sorry," Rosie hiccuped.
Joey realized she was clinging to a torn, worn tissue. He stepped into the bathroom, removed the box of tissues and took it to her.
"Thank you," Rosie said, wiping her face.
"You okay?" Joey remained standing.
Rosie nodded. "It's just ..." She paused and blew her nose. "It's my mother's birthday."
"Why don't you call her?"
"I can't," Rosie said, her body shaking with a new onset of sobs. Joey paced in front of her, wringing his hands. He wished he knew how to help her. He tried to think what Ray would do. He sat next to her and took her hand.
Rosie patted her face with a clean tissue. "My parents were killed in April. In an automobile accident."
Joey's lungs collapsed as though a high-powered vacuum sucked away the air. He gasped for oxygen, but none was available.
She dabbed at her eyes. "I miss them."
Joey thought he might suffocate. He bent from the waist, trying to force air into his lungs. He hated it when this happened. The first time was in the middle of the night, just a few days after he left home. He awoke from a dream, unable to catch his breath. He watched the stars above him swirl as his heart echoed against empty lungs. It didn't last long -- only a minute or so, but it left him exhausted and frightened. And then it happened again, once when he hesitated before requesting a job and once in a car when the middle-aged driver asked if he was dodging the draft.
"Oh, Joey," Rosie continued, oblivious to Joey's problems. "It's so hard. Know what I mean?"
Joey nodded. He was able to swallow. He felt his lungs expand. He was shaky, but he could breathe again. He moved closer to her, put his arm around her and spoke in his quiet voice, "My mother died when I was fourteen."
Rosie was silent for a long time. "How did you handle it?" she finally asked.
He shrugged. His breath came easy now. His only discomfort was his guilt at knowing he was not telling the truth, or at least not the whole truth, but he couldn't talk about David. He couldn't even think about David.
Rosie went to the bathroom and washed her splotchy face. She returned and sat next to Joey on the bed. "I went to stay with my uncle, but Jeff, my cousin, tried to, you know," she hesitated, searching for the words, "get funny with me."
It took Joey a minute to comprehend her meaning. "Did you tell your uncle?"
"No. Of course not. I just told him I wanted to live with Aunt Betty. He wanted to fly me out and everything, but my parents' money is held up in probate until I turn eighteen and all his money is tied up in trying to get Jeff out of some kind of run-in with the law and he has enough problems without me, so I just took my car and left."
"Won't he wonder where you are?"
"Oh, I told him. He called Aunt Betty and made the arrangements. She's expecting me." She buried her head in her hands. "Or, she was."
Joey reclined on the bed, resting his aching shoulders. "I'll see that you get there." He closed his eyes, just for a minute.
That was seven hours ago. And now he lay next to Rosie, sweet Rosie who counted on her rosary each night and didn't know if she had insurance and was frightened of loud noises and being alone. For the first time in his life, Joey was the older, wiser, stronger one. He was needed. And he liked the way it made him feel.
"Why are you smiling?"
Joey jumped, jerking his arm off her. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were awake."
Rosie's green eyes sparkled and the corners of her lips turned up. Slowly, the smile broadened and worked its way up her face. "I told you I wouldn't sleep with you."
"I know. And I told you I wouldn't sleep with you, either." The words tumbled from Joey's mouth before he could check them, but he felt comfortable with Rosie, the way he had with David.
"It wasn't that scary. I woke once and couldn't figure out why I felt so safe. Then I realized you had your arm around me. It felt good." Her auburn curls fell over her eyes.
The color rose in Joey's cheeks, but he couldn't resist asking, "You mean, you'll sleep with me again?"
Rosie's smile reached her eyes, her face glowing. "Maybe."
Joey liked sleeping with Rosie. He liked everything about Rosie, but most especially, he liked waking first and watching her sleep.
Each day, she seemed more attractive to him. He loved the way her auburn curls bounced with each move of her head. He loved the way her beautiful voice harmonized with his. He loved watching the slow smile appear on her face. He loved the way her eyes twinkled when she argued with him.
He wanted to hold her close and hug her. He wanted to kiss her. But for now, he'd be happy just sleeping with her.
It took three more weeks to save enough to travel. After checking the bus ticket prices, they decided to buy a cheap car. They found a fifteen-year-old rusted utility van for seventy-five dollars. Joey figured they could drive it until it died and they wouldn't be out much. He replaced the spark plugs and a belt, and it ran beautifully. They drove to California without incidence, arriving at Rosie's aunt's condominium late on Sunday afternoon.
Joey was awed by the beauty and the wealth. He watched the high-tide waves break at their feet. "Your aunt lives right on the ocean?"
"Oh, yeah. I always loved visiting her. My family would fly out three or four times a year, then my mom quit coming, then last year my mom didn't want me coming. I never knew why."
Joey could not imagine a lifestyle of flying on whim, of three million dollar homes, of never worrying about money. He studied the large colorful flowers blooming around them as Rosie rang the door buzzer.
The door swung open and a stocky person with short hair stood there. It was difficult to tell if it was a man or a woman.
"Rosalyn Marie!" the deep voice boomed. "God Almighty, girl, just look at you!"
Rosie looked like she might cry.
"Come in. Both of you, now."
They stepped inside. "Aunt Betty?" Rosie asked uncertainly.
"Bob. I go by Bob, now, sweetheart. Please, come in. Sit down."
The apartment was furnished starkly in modern style -- sharp contours of black and white and glass and chrome.
Aunt Betty/Bob put an arm around each of them and hugged them against her. "God, it's good to see you, girl."
A woman jogged down the suspended glass stairs.
"Annie, get in here. Look what came in. My dear niece, little Rosie, the one I told you about. And her friend. What's your name, hon?"
"Joey Gambel."
"And Joey." Aunt Betty/Bob put her arm around Annie. "This is Annie." She turned back to Rosie. "They told you why I wasn't at the funeral, didn't they, hon?"
"You were in the hospital?" Rosie wasn't sure about anything.
"Yes. Three more surgeries and I'll be a new man." She laughed huskily.
Rosie gripped her crucifix.
Joey bit his lip to keep from smiling. The absurdity of the situation appealed to his sense of humor. But then, he thought Kurt Vonnegut was funny.
"Now dear, go get your things. Will your boyfriend be staying? He's welcome, hon. The spare room is big enough for both of you."
Rosie's lip trembled. "I won't be staying, Aunt Betty. We just stopped by to visit."
"You can't be out on your own, dear."
Joey stood taller. If he could ask for auditions and scramble for food, he could save the one he loved. He cleared his throat. "She's not on her own. She's with me."
Aunt Betty/Bob took a step back and examined Joey as though peering through his skin and deep into his soul.
Joey ignored her scrutiny, keeping his eyes on frightened Rosie.
"What are your intentions?"
"We'll travel until she turns eighteen, then I'll take her back to Atlanta to finish her education."
"Travel where? Doing what?"
"I'm a musician. I play for tips wherever I can get a job."
Aunt Betty/Bob shook her head. "Rosie, dear, your sweet mother would roll over in her grave if she knew what your were doing."
Rosie's lip quivered.
Joey reached for her hand and squeezed. "Her mother would be proud of the way she's handled herself."
Aunt Betty/Bob smiled. "I'm sure she would. I was referring to living on the road. Of the danger."
"I won't let her out of my sight." Joey forced his eyes to stay level.
Aunt Betty/Bob again studied him, then nodded. "I think you're in good hands, my dear. But you will spend the night, won't you? There is the most radical crab house on the island --"
"We can't. But thanks." Rosie almost ran to the door.
"It was nice meeting you," Joey said, chasing after her. He was giddy, like he'd won the Super Bowl or the World Series or the jackpot at Vegas.
"Let me give you some money," Aunt Betty/Bob called after them.
"We're fine, thanks," Rosie shouted.
"Call me. Anytime."
Joey started the van and waited until he was down the street before he laughed.
"It's not..." Rosie burst into tears.
"I'm sorry," Joey said, although he didn't feel any sorrow at all. But Rosie's distress tempered his euphoria. He patted her leg. He could get by with touching her when she was upset.
"Thanks for getting me out of that." Rosie dug through her purse for a tissue.
"I thought she seemed nice."
"She's queer."
Joey bit his lip again to keep from smiling. He didn't know anyone as conservative as Rosie. "It's not contagious, you know."
"I couldn't stay there. And she thought we were, you know, sleeping together." Rosie sniffed again.
"We are," Joey couldn't resist from saying.
"Yes, but we're not, you know..." Rosie fingered her crucifix.
Joey smiled. He pulled onto the Pacific Coast Highway, not sure where they were headed. He drove until he spotted a parking place near the beach. "Let's take a walk."
They walked side by side through the sand, the sun setting over the ocean. The rhythmic sound of waves pounding the boulders was comforting to Rosie, although the salty wind stung her cheeks.
Joey's arm brushed hers and he reached for her hand.
She tightened her fingers around his palm.
Joey tried not to show his happiness.
"Oh, Joey. What am I gonna do?"
"Stay with me."
"What would we do?"
"Just exactly what I told your aunt. Travel until next August, until you turn eighteen, playing our music in as many towns as we can. Then I'll take you to Atlanta and you can claim your inheritance and go back to school."
Rosie wrapped her arms around him and put her head on his heart. "You are so good, Joey. You were truly sent to me by God."
Joey doubted that, but he wasn't going to argue with her when she held him so close. And maybe, if everything worked out the way he wanted, he'd figure out a way to get even closer.

* * *

Ray stood in the living room and looked out the window. It was Christmas and Joey hadn't called since Thanksgiving. Ray thought he should be mad that Joey didn't keep in touch like he'd promised, but he wasn't. He was just sad.
Ray looked toward the back yard. His mouth fell open as he watched Danny drag a sheet of plywood, then prop one end on cement blocks to make a ramp. Danny had a poster of Evel Knievel in his room and that worried Ray. He hadn't wanted to get him that damned dirt bike to start with. The kid was fourteen and didn't need any help hurting himself.
Carol wrapped her arms around his waist. "He's okay."
Ray pounded on the glass, but Danny couldn't hear over the noise of the bike. Or, if he did, he ignored it. "He's gonna get killed."
Carol smiled. "You're being an old grump today. Why don't we go out for dinner?"
"Nowhere's open."
"Joey hasn't called yet, huh?"
Ray shrugged. Certainly Joey would call on Christmas day.
The phone rang. Ray jerked free from Carol and bolted for it. "Hello?"
"Merry Christmas."
"Joey! Where the hell are you?"
"Dallas."
"Dammit, I want you home."
"How was your Christmas?"
"Lonely. Still got the girlfriend?"
"She's just a friend."
Ray smiled. He was glad Joey had someone to talk to and be with. "Good. You doing okay? Need money?"
"I'm fine."
"Don't wait so long to call, okay? I worry about you."
"Is Danny around?"
"He's outside. I'll let you talk to Carol while I get him." Ray handed the phone to Carol and took a deep breath. Joey was okay. Maybe he'd go ahead and make that big Christmas dinner after all.

* * *

Joey lay in bed, watching Rosie sleep. He gently pushed her auburn curls out of her eyes. He wished he could protect her from the harshness of life. He wished he could keep her safe from worry and sadness. Damn, he wished he could hold her and kiss her and make love with her.
Again, his body responded to his thoughts and his face flushed. He shouldn't think like that. As soon as she turned eighteen, she'd be going home, back to her school, her friends, her life. Back to the high-society where she belonged.
He placed his hand on her waist. Watching her closely to make sure she didn't wake, he followed the curves of her hips. His hand rested at the peak, then, ever so slowly, moved to her plump bottom. He had never felt the hunger he felt now. He had never wanted a girl the way he wanted Rosie.
Rosie stirred.
Joey jerked his hand back, his cheeks burning. It was bad enough that he lay here after she fell asleep, studying her. That he strained to see the contours of her breasts and the roundness of her hips. That he imagined holding her in his arms and kissing her. That he fantasized about making love with her.
His greatest fear was that she would brush against him and feel his hunger. Or see it. Sleeping with Rosie was exhausting. He had to rely on mind games to keep his body in control.
Joey closed his eyes and forced his brain to recall every detail of the bathroom in Aunt Madge's house. The color of the tile, the contour of the tub, the smell of the potpourri. The toilet seat with the plush pink cover that fell if it wasn't held upright. The frilly curtains with the fancy tie-backs. The water bugs that David captured from the farm and let loose in the sparkling sink, next to the seashell-shaped soaps.
Joey opened his eyes and dared another peek at the girl next to him. Sweet Rosie had no idea of what she did to him. And with any luck, she'd never find out.

* * *

Danny buttoned his coat.
"Where're you going?" Ray asked.
"Riding my dirt bike."
"You clean up that mess in the bathroom?"
Danny frowned. He'd forgotten. "Yeah," he said. Carol probably already did it, anyway.
"Be careful. And don't go around the cave."
"Okay." Danny patted Boomer on the head. "C'mon, Boom."
Danny headed for the cave, Boomer racing along next to him. He plowed through pockets of snow and slid on icy patches, laughing. The dirt bike was fun. He was glad Carol talked Ray into it.
The last several feet before the cave were steep and the bike slid and whined until he gave up and walked it the last few steps. He parked the bike and rested in the cave's mouth, scanning the countryside. There was a large patch of ice next to the cliff.
"C'mon, Boomer!" Danny rode across the ice, laughing at Boomer as she slipped. "I'm doing better'n you, girl. C'mon!"
Danny went full speed across the icy surface. He slammed on the brakes, spinning and laughing and sliding and giggling until the ice disappeared and white-spotted earth twenty-some feet below appeared.
Boomer barked.
The ground approached.
Danny somersaulted, clinging to the handle bars until he realized he didn't want to fall on the bike. He let go and watched it tumble away. He tried to right himself, to land on his feet, but he ran out of air.
His left leg snapped as he hit. He rolled back on his butt and shoulder, but felt no pain. Just fear. He wasn't breathing. He didn't know what death felt like, but this must be it. He was afraid to open his eyes, afraid he'd see angels and harps and clouds.
Then the pain slammed through his body. Everything hurt. His leg, his back, his shoulder, his chest, everything. He wasn't dead. Nobody could hurt like that and be dead.
Boomer nudged him with her nose.
Danny struggled to get his breath, but his lungs wouldn't cooperate. "Go -- get -- Ray," he whispered.
Boomer barked, then nudged Danny again.
"Go home. Get Ray."
Boomer licked his ear, then galloped off.
The wind blew and Danny shivered, his teeth clashing together. He'd never been so damned miserable in all his life. He closed his eyes and waited for the angels.

* * *

Ray's head ached. He had played until one that morning. Gary went to his show and afterwards they drank beer at Gary's apartment. He didn't get home until almost five. It was after six before he fell asleep, and he was up at nine. And even he needed more than three hours sleep. He leaned back in the recliner and closed his eyes.
Ray heard the noise again. He blinked. Where was Carol?
The loud, urgent scratching continued at the back door.
Ray sighed and went to check it out.
Boomer stood there.
He opened the door for her. "Where's Danny?"
Boomer refused to come in. She bolted toward the corn field, then turned to see if Ray was following.
"Get in here," he yelled. "It's too cold to leave the goddam door hanging open."
Boomer ran to the door and turned sharply as she neared it.
"I think she wants you to follow her," Carol said from behind him.
Ray frowned. "Where the hell is Danny?"
Boomer again ran toward the woods and turned to wait for him.
"You better see what she wants."
Ray scowled. He was tired. He didn't feel like playing games with Danny and his dog.
Boomer barked.
"Yeah. Okay." Ray put on his jacket and trudged behind her.
Boomer raced around him, urging him to move faster.
Ray broke into a jog and followed the dog up the hill toward the cave.
Boomer disappeared over the cliff.
Ray struggled around the rocks and looked down. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows, making it difficult to see. He saw the bike first, twisted and bent. Where was Danny?
His eyes followed Boomer. Danny lay halfway down the incline, his leg twisted unnaturally.
Ray's stomach turned. He eased over the cliff and hung onto branches, working his way toward Danny. "I'm coming, Danny," he said, sliding. "I'm coming."
Boomer lay close to Danny, her neck resting on Danny's chest.
Danny's big black eyes were large and frightened and his face pale. He trembled.
Ray knew he couldn't leave him to get help. He tried to remember the first aid class he'd had in the Army. He took off his jacket and wrapped it around Danny. "Lay back down there, Boomer," he said. "Keep him warm." He touched Danny's cold, clammy face. "Where do you hurt?"
Danny didn't answer.
Ray swallowed his panic. He didn't see any visible signs of head injuries, but he didn't like the unfocused look of Danny's eyes. He worked to keep his voice calm. "Come on, Danny. Help me. Where do you hurt?"
"M-m-my leg." Danny's voice was weak and distant, but at least he could speak.
"I can see that." Ray knelt next to him and ran his hands over Danny's body.
Danny whimpered when Ray touched his shoulder.
"Let me see you move your leg -- the good one." Ray watched Danny wiggle it. "Good. Move your arms."
"I hurt."
"I know. But we got to get you out of here and I don't wanna kill you doing it." Ray took both Danny's hands in his own. "Squeeze my hands."
Danny's right hand moved.
"Your left."
"I -- I can't."
"Just wiggle a finger. Anything."
Two of Danny's fingers twitched.
"Good. Thank God." Ray studied Danny's leg. His jeans were bulging from the swelling. Ray used his pocket knife to slit the seam. Danny's leg popped through like dough in a can of biscuits. It was broken midway on the shin. A large knot threatened to erupt through the skin, already stretched farther than skin should have to stretch.
Ray knew it should be set, but he didn't know how to do it and he was afraid he'd make it worse if he tried. The best he could do was immobilize it and get him to the hospital. Ray struggled to control the shaking of his hands as he positioned sturdy sticks around Danny's leg, then eased his belt under it. "I'm gonna need your belt, too," he said. He unbuckled Danny's belt and pulled it through the hoops. "You okay, kid?"
Danny stared at Ray, his eyes glassy.
Ray squelched all thoughts of internal injuries and spine damage. He had to stay calm. Danny's life depended upon it. He attached the sticks the best he could. "Let's get my jacket under you, okay? We can use it as a big sling." Ray maneuvered his jacket under Danny. He studied it. "I guess the only way we can do this is to zip you up in my jacket, except I want you to keep your arms on your chest, not in the arm holes."
Ray gently zipped Danny into the giant jacket, glad now he'd gotten the largest one he could find, even though Carol said it was too big. "Now, I just gotta tie it." Balancing carefully over Danny, Ray strained to tie the empty arms around his shoulder. He raised to his knees and straddled Danny. "Now, hold on. I'm gonna stand." He pushed to his feet, staggering. Danny didn't look very big, but he weighed close to 130 pounds and it was all dead weight.
Ray struggled for balance. He'd have to go home the long way -- he couldn't climb back up the cliff. Ice clung between wet leaves, making the path slippery. Ray made his way slowly, planting his feet one after the other, his arms cradled around Danny. "Hang in there, kiddo," he panted. His legs quivered with exhaustion and his shoulder ached, but he had to get Danny to the hospital.
When they reached the clearing, Carol ran from the house and across the field to meet them.
"What happened?" she asked, looking for a way to help Ray.
"Help me put him down." Ray eased to his knees.
Carol untied the jacket.
Ray slid Danny to the ground. "You okay, kid?"
Danny moaned.
Ray left his jacket around Danny and looked at Carol. "Can you drive the car out here?" He fell to the ground next to Danny and waited for Carol.

* * *

Ray paced the waiting room. It was the same floor he'd paced three months earlier when Carol had undergone surgery to open her fallopian tubes. It was pleasant enough, with cushioned chairs, a coffee pot and a ten-year supply of Reader's Digest.
"He'll be fine," Carol said.
Ray nodded. After three hours in the Emergency Room, the doctors had told them that much. Danny's shoulder was dislocated, his kidney bruised and he was in surgery to repair his leg.
"Why don't we grab a bite to eat?" Gary asked.
Ray shook his head. "I'm going for a walk."
"I'll go with you," Gary said, grabbing his jacket.
"No." Ray hesitated long enough to let Gary know he meant it, then strode out of the hospital and down the street. He probably should have taken his coat, but the cold air felt good. Danny was all right. He knew that. He also knew it would be a long two months with hyperactive Danny in a cast. But at least the kid was all right.
Ray walked fast. He didn't know where he was going, but anywhere was better than the waiting room. He heard music, and the inviting door of the corner tavern stood open.
Ray marched to the bar. "A double shot of Jack Daniel's," he said.
He swallowed the liquor immediately and motioned the bartender for a refill. He emptied the second glass as quickly, then sat on the bar stool. The fire surged through his veins. He smiled and requested the next one with water. He was exhausted, he hadn't eaten, but he was feeling better. Jack never let him down.

* * *

Gary sighed. Danny's surgery was successful and he was recovering in his room, but Ray hadn't returned.
"Maybe he was mugged," Carol said.
Gary smiled. Waynesboro wasn't known for its high crime rate and there wouldn't be too many muggers dumb enough to pick Ray for a victim. "I'll go look for him."
Carol went through the coats they'd thrown in the corner. "Here, take his jacket. He might need it."
Gary nodded. He stopped in the lobby and called Mabel's. It was across town, but he knew it was Ray's favorite hangout and he'd find a way to get there. But he wasn't there. Gary sighed and walked outside. He figured Ray went toward town. He pulled his car out of the lot and drove slowly.
He only went a few blocks when he saw the corner tavern. It was worth checking, so he parked and went in. Before his eyes adjusted to the smoky darkness, Gary recognized the big body at the end of the bar as Ray.
Gary took a big breath. "Hey, Ray," he said, trying to sound cheerful.
Ray looked at him, his eyes narrow.
"Ready to go home?"
"No, Idonwannna..." Ray mumbled. He slumped over his glass, guarding it.
Gary went to the pay phone and called the hospital. He considered his words as he waited to be switched to Danny's room.
"Hello?" Carol answered.
"Hi, Carol." Gary tried to keep his voice casual. "Danny okay?"
"Yeah. He's awake, but they have him pretty doped up. Did you find Ray?"
"Yeah. I thought I'd run him on out to the house, if that's okay."
"Why? What's wrong?"
"He's just tired. You know how emotional he is."
"What's going on?"
Gary knew from the tone of Carol's voice that she wasn't going to let it slide. He sighed. "He had a couple of beers and doesn't want to come back to the hospital smelling like a brewery."
"Is he drunk?"
"No. Of course not --"
"Let me talk to him."
"Someone's waiting for the phone. I'll be down in a bit." He hung up before Carol could respond. She'd probably cross-examine him later, but now he had a bigger problem. A two-hundred and fifty pound problem. He went to his brother. "Come on, Ray. It's time to go home."
Ray mumbled.
"Yeah, I know, but I'm not going to carry you, so why don't you get up and walk out to the car with me?"
Ray turned unsteadily, still protecting his glass.
"You can take it with you, okay? We'll get you a paper cup." Gary took his arm and helped him off the bar stool. "Need to take a leak before we go?"
Ray muttered something. Gary assumed it meant he did and led him to the men's room. He stood behind Ray, steadying him. "Okay, let's walk to the car. Want your jacket?"
Ray was incoherent.
Gary sighed. It wasn't that cold out. "Come on." He held Ray's arm and pulled him to the car. He knew Ray didn't like Carol to know how much he drank, but unless Ray sobered up fast or at least slept soundly without puking his guts out, this might be one time she found out.
Gary shook his head. He was glad he didn't over-indulge.

* * *

August came before Joey was ready for it. He and Rosie had traveled through twenty-six states during the past year. They were in Georgia now, returning to Atlanta where Rosie would leave the uncertainty of the road and become a student.
They were quiet, each absorbed in his or her own world. Rosie thought about school and friends and the future. Joey tried not to think at all.
Rosie touched Joey's hand that rested on the gear stick. "You're going to do it, Joey. I know you are."
Joey smiled. He knew she meant he was going to have a hit on the top forty. He had admitted to her his secret ambition, his goal to write and perform and record a song played nationally. That was a good thought. That gave him something to think about that didn't hurt.
And then they were there, spiraling through the dark tunnels of the parking garage until Joey had to accept one of the parking squares.
"You sure you don't want to stick around for a while?" Rosie asked.
He tried to memorize her features. Her auburn curls. Her green eyes. Her pug nose. Her dimples. He took her luggage from the back. "I can carry that in for you."
"No. I'll get it."
He wrapped his long, lanky arms around her. "I love you, Rosie." He had never spoken those words before, never tested the bounds of friendship.
She hugged him tightly. "I love you, too, Joey. Thanks for staying with me." She smiled and walked to the elevator.
He sat in the van for a long time. As much as it hurt, separating was the best thing for her. She had a good life ahead of her and he'd only hold her back. She needed to finish her education and have the life she deserved. Not a life on the road. Not a life with a rambling musician. A real life.
But damn, did it hurt.

* * *

Sam walked along the railroad tracks on the ugly side of Louisville. He had no money, he had no job, and he'd drank the final few drops from his last bottle of whiskey. Even his music had left him. For the first time in his career, he'd been fired. The manager interrupted him in a middle of the set and asked him to leave. Sam was too humiliated to call Pete -- he just put the car keys in an envelope with a note that said "Sorry" and dropped it in the mail.
And Jack Daniel's -- his best friend, his only friend -- had turned on him. The whiskey no longer worked, no longer eased his pain, no longer calmed his fears. It only left him empty. Empty and sick. His stomach ached, his bones were tired, his head throbbed. He was forty-six years old and could barely stand upright.
Sam wished a train would come. He was tired of walking, tired of waiting. He didn't have the guts to use a gun or a knife, and he didn't have access to pills. But jumping in front of a train would be fast, hopefully painless and harm no one else. It would be for the best.
Sam heard the train approaching. He was afraid his feet would freeze and he'd be unable to step in front of it and he'd be a failure at yet something else. He wished he could stand on the tracks, but he feared the engineer would spot him and be able to stop the train in time.
It was in sight now. All he had to do was concentrate and step on the tracks.
"They sure are noisy, aren't they?"
Sam jumped. He turned and stared at the man next to him.
The man was larger than Sam -- taller and broader, with thick, wavy white hair, blue-gray eyes and a smile that dominated his face. "I'm John. You look like you could use a friend."
Sam heard the loud whistle of the train and felt the earth vibrate. He turned as the train sped by. He ignored John and watched the cars pass.
"What's your name?" John asked as the caboose waddled into the distance.
Sam sighed. The man hadn't gone away. "Sam."
"I'm John," John repeated.
Sam nodded.
"Are you hungry?"
"No." Sam wiped his runny nose on his sleeve. He was dirty -- he hadn't bathed or changed his clothes or brushed his teeth in days. And he probably was hungry -- his stomach ached and rumbled and he didn't remember when he'd eaten.
"Walk with me, Sam?"
Sam shook his head. He was going to wait for the next train.
"C'mon." John smiled, his generous mouth upturned from one cheek to the other.
Although Sam had no intention of going along, he found himself trudging beside this charismatic man.
Sam walked silently as John talked about the weather and the Cincinnati Reds and why Louisville would never have its own baseball team.
John stopped in front of the Salvation Army. "Would you like to come in? You can get a shower and clean clothes and a hot meal."
Before Sam knew what was happening, he was in the shower lathering off days of stench. John handed him a worn but clean towel, then a stack of clean clothes.
"We should be just about on time for dinner," John said as he led Sam down the hall.
John loaded a tray for each of them, then went to an empty table.
Sam's hand shook as he brought a spoonful of steaming beef stew to his lips. Although the food tasted much better than he thought, he ate slowly so as not to upset his fragile stomach.
"I'm an alcoholic," John said.
Sam folded the bread in half, careful to make it even.
"I killed my wife and ten-year-old twins when I drove through a red light eighteen years ago."
Sam dipped the bread into the rich broth.
"Of course, that only made me drink more. It wasn't long until I lost my job, and then, with no money coming in, I lost my home in the suburbs. I woke up one morning in the gutter -- I was homeless, no where to go, nothing to do, no one to love. I decided my life wasn't worth living. So I went for a walk while I tried to decide how to end it."
John's constant smile covered his face. "Then, in one of those unexplainable coincidences that only God can plan, I walked by this building, this Salvation Army. The doors were open and an AA meeting was in progress. I stumbled in and sat in the back row. I listened to the stories of those in the room.
"Burt started drinking at nine. Nine. I was captain of the Little League when I was nine. But Burt had no education, no family, nothing, and never had. And Carlos lost both legs in a DUI accident. Allen had permanent brain damage. And there I was, healthy and whole." John took a deep breath, his gray eyes piercing Sam. "I know what the bottom feels like."
Sam ran his hands through his hair.
"I also know what sober feels like. Know what? It's not bad. Not bad at all." John's smile consumed his face. "But getting there is tough, Sam, I won't mislead you. Staying sober is even tougher. But there's nothing in this world that would cause me to drink again." John's kind eyes penetrated Sam's soul. "And in the process of getting sober, I learned what was important. A high-paying job isn't important. A big house in the suburbs isn't important. Do you know what is? Love. Love is important. I lost my family and I can't replace that, but I can help others keep their families. I can find others who are at the bottom and need a friend to pull them out. And that's what I do now. That's my job. I live here at the Salvation Army and I counsel people who are ready to start living. I even went back to college and got a degree to do it."
Sam rubbed his knuckles. He stared at his hands as he spoke. "How do you do it?"
"Quit drinking?"
Sam shrugged. "Counsel people."
John smiled his generous smile. "The first step to getting well is realizing you're sick and that you want to get better."
Sam took a deep breath. "Then what?"
"Then you need to accept the fact that you can't do it alone. You need other people and you need a power greater than yourself."
"I'd like to know more."
John studied Sam. "It isn't easy, and it won't work unless you're ready."
Sam's body trembled under John's examination.
"You're malnourished, Sam, and you probably have some health problems the alcohol has caused or hidden. You need a de-tox program -- supervised medical care -- which I'm not qualified to give. But I can make the arrangements for you."
"What?"
"Two or three weeks in the hospital. It won't be easy and it won't be fun, but once you're through that, I'll be able to help. I'll bring you here, and you can stay as long as you're clean." John leaned back in his chair. "This is the only opportunity you'll have, Sam. I don't give second chances. I know that sounds harsh, but I have limited time and energy, and I'm going to concentrate it on those people willing to help themselves. So, before you take that next drink, remember this: you can't come back here. I'll do absolutely everything in my power to help you, but if you screw up, you're out of here. Forever."
Sam nodded.
John's steel gray eyes again penetrated Sam's dull eyes. "Why are you sick, Sam?"
"Because I'm an alcoholic."

* * *

Carol stood in front of the mirror and examined her profile. Her tummy was swollen. She felt miserable, bloated and crampy. Her period was overdue, but she had never been regular. So many times she'd been disappointed when her monthly arrived. If only she could wish herself pregnant.
She knew Ray wanted a baby more than anything. And more than anything, she wanted to give him one. When her sister Diane visited with her newborn, Ray spent the week in the rocking chair, never allowing the baby near the crib. He even baby-sat while Carol and Diane met Linda in Columbus for an all-day shopping trip.
Her uterus palpitated. A cramp shot through her stomach, wringing her insides like a wet towel. She crouched, bringing her knees to her chest. She could handle the physical pain. It was the mental anguish of knowing she wasn't pregnant that hurt her.
She waited until the cramps passed, then went downstairs to help Ray with dinner.
Danny sat on the stool, talking as Ray diced onions.
"You okay?" Ray asked.
Carol wondered what it was that made him ask. Probably her expression of frustration. "Need help?"
"Danny's wanting to go to the dance Friday night."
"No," Carol said. She had caught Danny sneaking out of the house Saturday night and grounded him. She usually let Ray handle things, but he was working and she wasn't going to say, "Wait 'til Ray gets home." And although Ray had stayed on top of David and Joey, he was lax with Danny, usually shrugging away Danny's shenanigans or grounding him one day and un-grounding him the next. So she handled it herself.
"But I have a date. Jenny Stewart. You know, the one who won state for floor gymnastics. And man, is she a babe."
"I already told you to cancel it."
"But Ray said it was all right with him if --"
Carol swung in front of Ray. "Why would you say that?"
Ray scraped the onions into the bowl. "He wants to go."
"He's grounded."
"It's the homecoming, Carol," Ray said. "It's important --"
"What's important? That Danny gets his way like he always does? That you refuse to make him responsible for his actions? That you ..." Even as the words tumbled from her mouth, Carol regretted them. She knew she was releasing her anger on Ray because she couldn't attack her own body.
"Take Boomer for a walk," Ray said, washing his hands.
Danny ran out the back door, his limp no longer visible.
"I'm sorry," Carol said. "I shouldn't have said it that way."
Ray dried his hands, then looked at Carol. "What's wrong?"
"PMS."
Ray shook his head. "It's more than that." He put his arm around her.
Tears welled up in Carol's eyes. "I want to give you a baby."
Ray rubbed her back. "We'll be okay." He pulled her tighter against him. "When Mom died, I wanted Dad to come home. More than anything. I thought he'd be able to fix everything. It took me a long time -- even after we were married -- to realize it just wasn't gonna happen. But once I accepted that, I was okay. And we'll be okay without a baby."
"It just isn't fair."
"Ain't nobody got an easy life. Nobody."
Carol wiped her eyes and hugged Ray. "I guess it's all right for Danny to go to the dance. I'll be there as a chaperone."
"Uh-uh. Absolutely not. I'll have Gary come out and sit on him so he don't go nowhere."
Carol burrowed into Ray's chest.

* * *

Joey took a deep breath, then knocked on the imposing door. Dogs barked, then a husky young man opened the door. "Yeah?"
"Could I speak to Mr. Maseroni, please?"
"You selling something?"
"No. I want to see him about Rosie."
"What about her?"
"Is he in, please?" Joey couldn't help but be nervous. It had been over a year since he'd left Rosie. He telephoned Uncle James two months ago and Uncle James refused to give any information about Rosie. Joey had called every Maseroni in the Metro Atlanta White Pages, but the others said they didn't know her. He knew Rosie would never go to a bar, so he called the coffee houses and scheduled work for a month. He mingled with the students at each of the colleges and universities, asking if anyone knew Rosie. He hung notices on the bulletin boards and played for free at the student unions. He extended his stay four more weeks, but there still was no clue of Rosie's whereabouts.
"Come on in," Jeff said reluctantly. He led Joey to the sunken living room.
Joey's eyes flitted over the white carpet and gold chandelier, but landed on the smallest of the portraits hanging above the fireplace. Rosie. Her hair was a little shorter and makeup -- or an artist's brush -- covered her freckles, but it was Rosie.
He caught his breath and took a step closer. Her smile was only half up her face. He remembered how it would start so gradually and work upward until she glowed. He loved her smile.
"May I help you?"
Joey swung around.
Uncle James was tall and dark and looked nothing like Rosie.
Joey forced a smile and stepped toward him, his hand extended. "I'm Joey Gambel."
Uncle James ignored his hand but not his long hair. "What can I do for you?"
Survival had demanded that Joey put aside his bashfulness, but it was still difficult for him to be assertive. "I'm looking for Rosie."
"Can't help you."
Joey took a deep breath. "I'm a friend of hers. I'd like to talk to her."
"She doesn't live here." Uncle James motioned Joey toward the door.
"Please. I'd really like to see her."
"So would a lot of people."
It took Joey a minute to realize what Uncle James meant. Money. He didn't know exactly how much she was to inherit -- Rosie didn't even know. But he'd been next to her when she telephoned her lawyer and discussed selling her parent's house. He'd overheard her mention it had been appraised for two and a half million.
Uncle James herded Joey closer to the door.
"Look, will you call her and ask if she wants to see me?"
"No."
"Would you ask her the next time you see her, and I'll call back?"
"No." Uncle James maneuvered Joey out the door, then shut it in his face.
Joey stood on the stoop until threatening clouds leaked. He was patient and he was persistent, but he didn't know what more to do. It was time to move on.
He took I-285 around the city, not sure which exit to take. He passed I-20 West and remembered when he first met Rosie. He didn't want to repeat their travels, so he continued around the loop to the I-75 South exit. He didn't stop until he arrived in Savannah late in the afternoon. He drove through the beautiful city, allowing the Spanish moss and antebellum attitude soothe him.
When he tired of snaking through the circular streets, he followed his instincts to River Street. He parked and walked along the cobblestone alley. He found a secluded spot on the bank and uncased his guitar. He played without singing until a small crowd formed, then put out his donations box and sang.
He noticed the young woman sitting in front. She looked like one of the flower children he'd seen on occasion. She wore a simple cotton dress, her long, wavy blond hair cascading down her back and her feet bare. She wore no makeup, but sported masses of pewter and turquoise jewelry.
The crowd was generous and he was hungry, so he only played for a short time. He transferred the money to his pocket, then put his guitar in its case.
"I listened to Jim Croce in New York. He was the best I ever heard. But you might be better."
Joey smiled at the blonde hippie he'd noticed earlier. "Thanks."
"We've got a commune not far from here. Why don't you come out?"
"I was going to eat..."
"We've got food."
Joey considered. He could save money and it'd probably be a good place to get weed. He shrugged. "Okay."
"I'm Caroline."
It was dark when they arrived. From what Joey could see, the commune looked like an abandoned plantation. Centered on the estate was a large colonial house in need of paint and repairs. He followed Caroline inside. A large poster proclaiming "Make Love, Not War" decorated the foyer. The musky smell of burning incense, mixed with the strong, sweet aroma of marijuana, drifted from the house. There were people -- all in their teens or early twenties -- everywhere. Most of the men had long hair and beards and wore jeans and tunic-style tie-dyed shirts. The women either mimicked the men's dress or wore cotton dresses or skirts in varying lengths. Both wore love beads or large pewter peace signs and vacant expressions.
One group sat around a long-haired guitar-player, swaying as they sang Blowing in the Wind. Mattresses, stained and bare of linens, littered the house. A few were occupied, including one in the corner where a couple was obeying the poster -- or at least having sex if not making love -- oblivious to the others. Piles of clothing randomly filled the corners.
A dark-haired woman sat at a table, shuffling tarot cards. She watched Joey closely. She seemed different than the others -- older, more conservatively dressed and apparently sober. She motioned for him to come to her, but he followed Caroline to the kitchen. He almost wished he hadn't. Dirty dishes were stacked all over, the counter littered and sticky, and the floor layered with grime. Joey sighed. He could imagine Ray coming in and taking charge of this place. He'd have everyone off their butts, scrubbing and cleaning and making everything shine. He smiled at the thought.
"There's food in the cabinets and refrigerator. Just help yourself."
Joey opened the refrigerator. A horrendous smell seeped out. He scanned the moldy contents and grabbed an apple that didn't look too bad, then closed the door as quickly as he could. He searched the cabinets and found a jar of peanut butter and a loaf of bread that hadn't been left open. He made a couple of sandwiches and ate standing in the middle of the kitchen, afraid to touch anything.
The tarot reader walked in and again studied Joey.
He tried to ignore her, but her penetrating stares seared through him.
"You're the one I'm waiting for," she said, her almond eyes clear and sharp.
Joey looked around.
"You're my reason for being here." She took his hand and turned it palm up.
He pulled away.
"You're a musician," she said. "What's your name?"
"Joey." He stepped toward the door.
"Don't run from me, Joey. I'm Maria. It's in the stars that we meet. We're going to spend time together."
"I don't think so." He turned for the door, but ran into Caroline.
"Hey, Joey. Come in here. I'll introduce you." She took his arm and guided him into the large living room. She waited for the singing group to pause, then shoved Joey in. "Hey, everyone. This is Joey. He's a singer."
Someone handed him a joint. Joey took a deep drag. It'd been a long time since he'd smoked and he welcomed the relaxation.
The group shifted to make room for him. Several joints passed around and after the first few drags, he quit wondering about the possible diseases and giggled with the others. A man with a large Afro led the group, singing, One Tin Soldier. Joey joined in and someone handed him an out-of-tune guitar. He tuned it and took over the lead. The group was suddenly quiet. At the encouragement of the crowd, he sang the songs they requested, pausing to accept tokes from the reefer they held to his lips.
The music flowed from him, a constant string of melody. He hummed the words he forgot, which seemed only to increase their power. He and the music were one, he and this group were one. He was happy. For the first time since David left, he felt content, he felt like he belonged. He knew a smile was plastered on his face. He liked these people.
Slowly, the group thinned. Some went to mattresses, either alone or with a partner. Others lay on the floor and fell asleep. Joey put the guitar in a corner and looked for a place to sleep.
A young woman with uncombed hair and wire-rimmed glasses took his hand. She smiled. "Will you sleep with me?"
Joey stared at her. It was hard to tell when she'd last bathed. He shook his head and walked around her. He looked at the filthy mattresses and dirty people. He was hungry and he wanted to eat and sleep where it was clean. He made his way out the front door and to the van. The night air helped sober him. He started the van and drove around the horseshoe, then pulled onto the county road, trying to remember the way back to Savannah.
"You shouldn't be driving."
Joey slammed on the brakes and swerved to stay on the road.
The woman moved from the back of the van to the passenger's seat.
Joey gripped the steering wheel, brought the van to a stop and turned on the dome light. He recognized the dark-haired tarot reader, the one who said he was her reason. "What are you doing?"
"I told you. We're meant to be together."
He turned the van around and drove back to the commune. "Get out."
"You don't understand, Joey. I don't belong there. I don't do drugs and I'm not a rebellious teenager from an upper-middle-class suburban home out to prove that I can do what the hell I want. I'm like you."
Joey took a deep breath. "Would you get out, please?"
"Don't argue with the stars, Joey. That's dangerous."
Joey rubbed his head. Sometimes he got a headache after smoking and this was one of those times.
"Take a deep breath and hold it. No. Hold it." She shook her head. "Do you want to get rid of that headache or not?"
Joey looked at her. She was psycho. "Are you getting out?"
"No. I am not. Would you just breathe?"
"Get out."
"I can get rid of your headache in sixty seconds."
"Then will you get out?"
"If you still have a headache, I will."
Joey wasn't in the mood for games, but it was probably the easiest way to get rid of her. "Okay."
"Then take a deep breath. Real deep." Maria moved closer to him. "You're not cooperating. It won't work if you don't try. Now do it. Take a deep breath and hold it for the count of five. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Good. Now expel it slowly. Slowly. Good. Now five short breaths. One-two-three-four-five. Good. Now one more long one. Hold it. Come on, hold it. Now as you let it go, visualize your headache going with it. Real slow. Let it go." She stopped and smiled. "Headache gone?"
Joey tried to find the pain, but it was gone. "Yeah."
Maria laughed. "Great. You okay to drive now?"
"Yeah." He'd been had. "I'm only taking you to Savannah, though. You get out there."
She made herself comfortable in the passenger seat, her body turned toward him. "What are you running from?" she asked.
"Nothing."
"Yeah. You're running from something. What is it?"
"Look, I didn't say I'd talk to you. I just said you could ride."
"Yeah, but you're a sweetheart. You talk tough, but you wouldn't really throw me out on the street and the stars say we need each other. You're stuck with me." She adjusted the seat. "I waited for you for three days. I knew you'd show up. You had to. And the second you walked through that door, I knew it was you. Tall, dark, sexy. And quiet. Damn, I don't know why I always get the quiet ones. Once, just once, I'd like a man who'd talk to me."
He'd get a motel. He hated to waste the money, but he wanted a shower and didn't want to putz around looking for a dormitory. "Where do you want me to take you?"
"Wherever you're going is fine."
"No. I travel alone. Where do you want off?"
"You don't understand. I can't leave you. It's fate."
"How about the Town Motel? You can find a phone there." He pulled into the parking lot. "This is where you get out." Joey walked into the motel lobby.
Maria ran after him.
"A single room," he said to the elderly desk clerk.
"You can't leave me," she wailed, falling dramatically on her knees in front of him. "Not with the baby on the way." Tears streamed from her eyes.
Joey's face burned. A nut case. A certifiable nut case.
"I won't complain when you beat me. I promise. Just don't leave me here."
The desk clerk glared at Joey.
Joey bit his lip. "Make it a double," he whispered. He kept his eyes on the counter and quickly signed the papers. He hurried outside.
Maria ran after him.
"Don't you ever do that again."
She laughed. "I'm sorry. You're so cute when you're embarrassed."
"Maria..."
"Stop right there, Joey. We'll get along a lot better if you quit arguing with me and realize I'm gonna get my way no matter what. I have a little hang-up about that. I know you're stubborn, but I know how to break you. So give it up."
"Shut up."
"That desk clerk is watching to see if you'll hit me."
Joey grabbed his suitcase and slammed the van door shut.
"You're cute when you're mad, too. Are you hungry? We could order a pizza."
"Think you could just shut up for awhile?"
"I hope you aren't always this grouchy."
Joey carried his suitcase down the row of rooms and unlocked the door that matched the number on the key.
"I'll take a shower while you order the pizza. Mushrooms, onions and olives. No meat. I'm a vegetarian." She opened her large shoulder bag and sorted through it, then left for the bathroom.
Joey sighed. He could just leave. But he'd already paid for the room and pizza did sound good. He found the phone book and ordered the pizza. He'd get rid of her tomorrow.
He set out his toiletries and waited for her to finish. She came out with one towel wrapped around her hair and another loosely tied around her body.
He looked away. "The money for the pizza's on the dresser."
"You're a sweetheart, Joey."
He stepped around her and entered the bathroom. A skimpy pair of panties hung on the shower rod. Joey wasn't sure what to do. Rosie had been very discreet about things like that. He showered slowly, careful not to splash water. As he finished, he bumped the curtain and the panties fell into the puddle on the shower floor. Joey stared at them. He hesitated, but decided not to touch them. His face burning, he dressed and opened the door. He took a deep breath. "I accidentally knocked your, uh, underwear into the shower."
Maria pulled a brush through her dark hair. "Did you hang them back up?"
"No."
She stopped brushing and looked at him. "Why not?"
"Leave me alone." Joey glanced at the half-eaten pizza, but wasn't hungry. It had been a long, long day. He pulled the covers back on one of the beds and slid in.
Maria laughed. "You're cute, Joey. You don't have much personality, but you sure are cute."
He fluffed the pillow under his head and closed his eyes.
"I guess you don't want to sleep with me, either," she said, prancing across the room in a thin white T-shirt.
Joey pretended to sleep, but within two breaths, no pretension was necessary. When he awoke, Maria was sleeping in the next bed. He knew it was his chance. He quietly gathered his belongings and sneaked out of the room. He turned the key into the office, then walked back to the van.
Maria sat in it. "I can't believe you tried to ditch me," she said.
Joey didn't answer. He started the van and headed for the highway.
Maria jerked the rear view mirror toward her and applied her ruby lipstick.
"Don't," Joey said, readjusting the mirror.
"You are so damned picky."
"Don't start on me today."
"When's the last time you had a piece of ass?"
Joey concentrated on the red Corvette he'd followed since they'd left. His face burned. Maria was staring at him and he knew it.
"You're a virgin, aren't you?"
"Bug off."
Maria laughed. "No wonder my undies embarrassed you and you wouldn't even look at me when I got dressed."
It was time to pass the Corvette. He floored the gas and eased around it.
"You don't have any sisters, do you?"
He checked the mirror and pulled in front of it.
"Just brothers," she added.
He looked at the speedometer. He should slow down a little. He didn't have money for a fine.
"I hope the others are more personable than you."
"They're chain-saw murderers," he said.
They arrived in Daytona Beach in the afternoon.
"Let's go to the ocean," Maria said. "I love the ocean."
"I need to find a job." He stopped at a pay phone and called several clubs. He knew if he could get an audition, he'd have the job. But no one wanted to hear him. He slammed the receiver down and kicked the wall. He loved playing music, but he hated begging for auditions.
"You got a problem?" Maria asked.
"Yeah. I need money."
"Just drive to a club and I'll get you in," she said.
"It's not that easy. Most of the hotel chains and larger clubs use agencies and book months in advance. The best you can do is get in for Happy Hour. The smaller places will usually let you play for tips, but it takes three or four days to get an audience built up."
"You pick a place and I'll get you in."
"I don't think so."
"Trust me."
Joey bit his lip. Maria had a way of getting whatever she wanted. She may as well try her charms on someone else. He drove until he came to a large, expensive hotel that boasted of five clubs.
Maria got out and ran inside. She came back in a few minutes. "You got an audition. Get in there."
He followed her in and played a few numbers for the manager.
"How's Danny doing?" the manager asked.
"Danny?"
"Your brother. How's he doing?"
Joey stared at the man.
"I know you don't like to talk about your family," Maria said, winking exaggeratedly. "But I told him about your brother, Danny."
"Why?"
Maria gave him a dirty look.
"Do you keep in touch?" the manager asked.
Joey shrugged. "Yeah. I haven't talked to him for a couple of months, but he was doing okay."
The manager smiled and left.
Maria giggled.
"How'd you know I had a brother Danny and why does he care?"
"You really do have a brother Danny?"
"Yeah."
"Cool."
"Maria --"
"I told him you were Danny Hutton's brother. You know, the guy with Three Dog Night. I told him you sounded just like him."
"Maria --"
Maria laughed. "Hey. You got the job. And good pay, I might add."
Joey had never liked lying. And although he couldn't remember actually telling a lie, he'd been guilty by silence many times. Like that horrible summer after his father left, before Ray came home, when his mother was unbearably mean. He knew now the cancer was already rotting her brain, but at the time, he only knew he was scared to be around her.
So when she opened the freezer and found the bottle of RC Cola shattered, he panicked.
"Who did this?" she demanded.
Before Joey could say anything, David stood. "Shit!"
Joey stared at David. It wasn't the first time David had taken a beating for him, but he couldn't imagine David antagonizing his mother by saying "shit."
Joey sat on the toilet with diarrhea while his mother beat David. Later, they escaped to the cave and relaxed with a joint.
Joey tried not to look at the inflamed welts on David's thighs that criss-crossed the faded yellow stripes from his last belting. That -- and the fact he hated anyone to see his bony chicken legs -- was why Joey never wore shorts, no matter how hot it was. "Why'd you do that? Say 'shit'?"
David fanned the cigarette. "This is the end of our stash. We'll have to find a way into town."
"What was I supposed to do? Say no, I did it? Get us both beat? Get you in even more trouble for lying?"
David held the joint with a roach clip and gently sucked from the end. He held the smoke in his lungs while Joey took a hit.
Joey slowly exhaled. "I wish you wouldn't do that."
David shrugged. "Don't worry about it."
Joey knew the beatings hurt David more than he admitted, but Joey couldn't handle it at all. So, all summer, he had let David lie and take the blame for anything and everything.
"You gonna thank me or not?" Maria demanded.
Joey blinked. "For what?"
"Getting you the job."
"I don't lie."
"But you sometimes avoid the truth, don't you?"
Joey ignored her.
Although the crowd was sparse, he played well. The hotel manager stopped in several times, listening and smiling his approval. When Joey finished, the manager approached him.
"I think you're better than your brother."
Joey reddened. He should have set the story straight right from the start. But he was stuck now. "Thank you."
"We're very pleased to have you. Could I treat you and your friend to dinner?"
"That's not necessary."
The manager scrawled a note, handing it to Joey. "Just go in the dining room and order whatever you want."
The manager had notified the restaurant staff of the celebrities-by-association and the waiter was thrilled to have Joey in his section. "Could I bring you a sampling of wines?" he asked.
Joey shook his head. "I don't drink."
"We have excellent vintage wines."
Joey looked at Maria.
She shrugged.
The waiter brought several wines to taste. They ceremoniously sipped each, making a face to let the waiter know their opinion.
Maria giggled. "I've never been in such a fancy place before. Do you think we look out of place?"
Joey looked at the formally clad diners, then at the jeans and boots he and Maria wore. "Better pour me more wine. I'm starting to feel self-conscious."
They both laughed. They couldn't eat all the food brought to them, but they tasted and experimented and continued the wine-tasting.
By the time they were done and staggered to their room, Joey's guilt had receded. He laughed as he struggled to unlock the door with one hand, his other arm around Maria to keep his balance.
"You're drunk."
"I know. So are you."
The door came open and they fell into the room.
Maria kicked the door shut behind her and almost fell.
Joey grabbed her to steady her, then pulled her close to him. He kissed her fully on the lips.
"You'd better be careful," she whispered.
"Why?"
"I already have you drunk. I might take advantage of you."
Joey smiled and kissed her hungrily. He didn't worry if he was doing it right.
Maria slid her hands down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt.
Joey didn't resist. He was ready. He would be twenty-one in just a few days and he was tired of being a virgin. He would have liked Rosie to have been his first lover, but that wasn't an option. He stepped out of his jeans. It was time.

* * *

Sam swallowed hard. Being called into John's office was akin to being called to the principal's office -- and he felt about sixteen years old right now. Although John was kind and compassionate, he tolerated no bending of the rules. Twice, Sam had witnessed John's anger when he expelled back-sliders and banished them from returning.
"Come in, Sam. Shut the door."
Sam sunk into the wooden straight-back chair. He hadn't broken any of the rules. He'd stayed sober, he'd been friendly with the women, but made no overtures, he'd attended every meeting.
John opened a file folder on his desk. "How do you feel, Sam?"
"Good. Very good." And he did. Better than he had for years. John's insistence on good nutrition and daily exercise had worked magic on Sam's neglected health.
"You've been here over a year."
Sam nodded.
"I've enjoyed having you, Sam. You've been one of our success stories." John's steel gray eyes drilled through Sam. "But it's time for you to leave."
Sam's face betrayed his disappointment.
"I'm sorry, Sam. I'd love to keep you around, but I can't justify it. You're healthy, you're intelligent and you're perfectly capable of holding a job and living in society."
Sam combed his shaking fingers through his hair.
John's eyes softened. "Why don't you go home, Sam? Go home to your boys, where you belong?"
Sam looked at his knees.
"I'll get you a bus ticket. Give you a little cash to get you started."
Sam shook his head. "I can't."
"Why not?"
Sam's foot tapped quickly on the floor. He wasn't supposed to have secrets. He knew that. The twelve-step program required absolute honesty and disclosure.
"Better tell me, Sam."
Sam kept his eyes on his shaking hands. "I killed a girl."
John's eyebrow raised slightly. Nothing much surprised him. He'd heard it all. Every crime, every social deviation, every excuse. But he'd done a background check on Sam while he was in the de-tox program and it was clear. Unless he had an alias or had simply never been caught. But John was an excellent judge of character and he'd trust Sam with his life. "Tell me your story."
Sam tried to control his nervous tapping. "That last night I was home, I played at the American Legion. All the guys were there -- Junior Mason, Bubba Patterson, Big Al. They bought me drinks all night and I was pretty much lit by the time I left. It was foggy. Foggy and rainy and hard to see. I was driving slow, but there was a girl in the road and I didn't see her until it was too late. I swerved, but I hit her straight on." Sam rubbed his knuckles. "I stopped. I got out and checked her pulse, but she was dead. So I covered her with my jacket and left her. I went to Smitty's Penzoil and called the sheriff, then went home and woke Deloris. I didn't know what to do. Deloris said we could get sued and lose the farm, and for the sake of the boys, I had to leave and never come back. So that's what I did."
John made notes on his legal pad. "When was this?"
"1968. April. The twelfth."
"Where?"
"Waynesboro, West Virginia. Right outside the city limits, on county highway 321."
"What time?"
"Maybe 1:30 or 2:00."
"A.M.?"
"Yeah. I guess the day was really the thirteenth, since it was after midnight."
John looked up from his notes, his steel eyes penetrating Sam. "Okay, Sam. I'm going to call the sheriff and get the accident report. If your story checks out -- if you really did kill that girl -- I'll have to turn you in."
Sam paled.
"So you have a decision to make. Do you want to stay sober and reclaim your life or do you want to return to the gutter? Because I will give you the chance to walk out of here. But I want you to know that if you do, you're going straight back to the hell you were in. You can't stay sober and live a lie, Sam. You just can't do it. So you decide. Do you have the guts to face your crime? If you do, I'll help you. I'll vouch for your counseling and your character. I'll see you through the trial, if it comes to that, and I'll witness for you. But if you decide to run, you're on your own. And I'll guarantee you won't make it."
Sam took a deep, shaky breath.
John's eyes remained on him. "We are accountable for our actions and until we accept that accountability, we have not succeeded. Take the night off, Sam. Give it some thought. It usually takes about a week for me to get a report, so you have plenty of time to think it over. To decide if you will be honest or not. Sober or not. Free or not." John stood. "Good-luck, Sam. I'll be praying for you."
The next eight days were unbearable. Sam paced the floor, debating his predicament. Twice, he packed his toothbrush and change of clothes, and twice, he reconsidered. Finally, John called for him.
"Come in, Sam. Shut the door. Sit down." He handed the accident report to Sam and gave him a few minutes to read it. "She didn't die. You knocked her unconscious and probably saved her life. It says the driver of the car frightened off a man pursuing her, who was later arrested."
Relief washed over Sam in waves, each one stronger than the previous. He wasn't going to jail. He hadn't committed murder. The girl was alive. Her parents hadn't grieved.
John allowed him time to absorb the news.
Did Deloris know? She must have. She surely saw it in the paper, but kept quiet so Sam wouldn't return. And Madge? No, Madge didn't know why he stayed away after Deloris died. Sam blew his breath through his teeth. Deloris must have wanted him gone badly enough to make sure he didn't find out. "So what do I do now?" he finally asked.
"Legally, the case is closed. We'll leave well enough alone there. But you still have some responsibility. Some guilt. If you had been sober, you may have been of more help to Mary Beth. It's possible, even probable, that you would have hit her, but you probably would have realized she was alive. So you need to clear your conscience. You need to write a letter and explain to her how sorry you are that you weren't of more help."
Sam nodded slowly. He could do that.
"When you get that done, Sam, bring it back to me and we'll talk some more."
Sam nodded. For the first time in a long, long time, a smile forced its way between his teeth. Mary Beth Connors was alive.

* * *

The next day, Sam took the letter to John. John examined it and smiled. "Wonderful. I'll mail it for you."
Sam turned to leave.
"Sit down, Sam. We still need to talk."
Sam sat in the hard-back chair.
"I think you're ready to go home."
Sam shook his head.
John raised his eyebrow. "It's time, Sam. You can't stay here forever. Your boys need you."
Sam had another secret so shameful he hadn't told John. More shameful than the accident. More shameful than a crime.
"Sam..."
It was a secret that Deloris and Madge knew. Sam felt John's penetrating eyes on him. He lowered his head. "My boys don't need me," he whispered.
"What?"
"I don't know how to be a father," he said softly.
"What do you mean?"
Sam forced his eyes to meet John's. "If I went home, the boys would expect me to take over. They'd expect me to make the decisions and be the parent. And I can't. I don't know how."
"You could learn."
"I've played it out in my mind so many times. Deloris ran the house. I was only seventeen when we married and she was two years older. She took over and I was like one of the boys -- I just did as I was told."
"You said your son was taking care of things now. Maybe you could ask him to help you adjust."
"And then he'd know how incompetent I am. He'd lose any respect he has left for me. I can't cook. I can't write checks. I can't handle money. I can't run a house. I don't even know what needs to be done."
"I think you'll find you're a lot more competent than you think. And that your boys love you for who you are, not what you know."
Sam ran shaking fingers through his hair.
John watched him. He sighed. "I'm not going to push you. It looks like we have some work to do on your self-esteem." He made some notes on his pad. "You have a high school diploma?"
"Yes."
"Good. College?"
"No."
"I'd like to send you to some seminars on alcoholism counseling. You wouldn't do any direct counseling yourself, but you'd help me."
"Okay."
"Then we could keep you around here." John set down his pen and folded his hands. His gray eyes looked through Sam. "And we will be giving you more responsibility. We'll put you in the kitchen a couple of days a week so you can learn to cook and you'll take over the music program. You'll have a budget to work with. It will be up to you to replace and repair the instruments, train and rehearse the band, and maintain the scheduling. And I'll also expect you to continue to play for the worship services."
Sam nodded.
"Can you handle it?"
"Will you help me?"
"Yes. Every Friday, we'll have a meeting. You'll tell me what is going on and what you plan to do about it." John smiled. "And then maybe going home to those boys won't seem so scary."

* * *

Ray opened the envelope and smiled. Danny had been accepted for the Jay Ashley Percussion Seminar in Aspen. He was one of only twenty youth nationwide to be selected. And it was just in time for Danny's seventeenth birthday.
To celebrate, he and Carol took Danny out for pizza. "Remember that tape you sent to Colorado?" Ray asked.
"The one to Jay Ashley?" Danny bounced in his seat.
"Yeah."
Danny nodded, his black eyes shining expectantly. "And?"
"You got accepted."
"All right!" Danny jumped up, knocking over his cola.
Ray grabbed it. "Settle down. I ain't said you could go."
"Ray, he only accepts twenty students a year! I gotta go!"
"It's not until August. That's four months away. If you can behave yourself between now and then, I'll find the money to send you."
"Oh, I can, Ray! I can!"
Ray looked at Carol and sighed. "I hope so."

* * *

Danny spent the month of August at Aspen. It was an intense study -- the grueling practices left even his boundless energy sapped. By the time he arrived home, he was exhausted -- and overdue for some fun. He slept the entire day, but was wide awake by night fall. He lay on his bed for a long time, debating whether he should chance sneaking out or not. The light in Ray and Carol's room was out and the house was quiet. He hesitated only momentarily, then tiptoed downstairs and grabbed Ray's car keys.
He went to Long John's, where they never carded him, and drank several beers. He drove through town, concentrating on his driving. The dark, winding road home seemed never to end. He shouldn't be driving. He knew he shouldn't be driving. There were no painted lines to focus on, so he drove ever so slow, on and on and on...
The bumpiness woke him. The headlights flashed over a tree, some brush, and then with a thunderous crash, the car smashed into the wide oak. Danny's chest crashed into the steering wheel and his head cracked the windshield. He fell back in the seat, dazed.
He rubbed his head. Ray was going to kill him. That's all there was to it. Ray was going to kill him.
He knew it couldn't be more than a mile home. He shoved the car keys in his pocket and stumbled up the hill. Damn, was Ray going to kill him.

* * *

"Danny! Danny!"
Danny tried to ignore the noise. He moaned and rolled over.
"Danny!" Large hands shook him.
"Wh--what?"
"Where's my car?"
Panic surged through Danny. He sat up and blinked. "What?"
"Where the hell is my car?"
"How do I know?"
"Cut the crap. You smell like a brewery and the keys were in your jeans."
Danny tried to think. "I don't know." He rubbed his sore head.
Ray took a deep breath. "Get dressed and get your ass downstairs. Fast." He walked out the door.
Danny's stomach churned. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't think of a story that sounded believable. This might be one time his best option was the truth. He pulled on his jeans and a shirt, then went to the bathroom and swallowed two aspirins. He washed his face and brushed the fuzzy stuff off his teeth. When there was nothing else he could think of to do, he went downstairs.
Ray set down his coffee. "It might be best if you tell us what you did."
Danny took a deep breath. "I couldn't sleep last night, so I borrowed your car and went to town." A cramp shot across his stomach. He winced and leaned forward. "I, uh, had a little accident."
Ray looked at him, his eyebrow raised.
"I couldn't see very good. I ran off the road and hit a tree." His stomach growled and he knew he would be sick. He ran for the bathroom.
Danny hoped Ray would have left before he went back to the kitchen, but Ray and Carol were seated as before, sipping their coffee.
Danny slunk into the chair by Carol and studied his hands.
"So where the hell is my car?"
"About a mile down the road."
"Will it run?"
"I don't know."
Ray nodded. "Okay. First, me and you's gonna check out the damage. Then I'll call the insurance company. There's a one hundred dollar deductible, which you can work off by spending fifty hours doing extra chores -- like cleaning the bat shit out of the attic. I'll make a list. You also done lost your driving privileges for three months and you're grounded for two weeks. Maybe that'll give you some time to think."
Danny looked at Carol. There was no sympathy on her face. "The State Police have a two-hour class on Monday nights about drinking and driving," she said. "I'm going to take you to it."
Danny sighed. He hated it when they ganged up on him.
"Come on," Ray said. "Let's go see about my car."

* * *

Tonya Taylor stood in the Kroger parking lot. There was no turning back now. She had escaped from her father's brothel early that morning and hitched a ride to Waynesboro. Her seventh-grade education and thirty-one cents wouldn't get her far, but she had other assets, not the least of which was her determination.
Tonya watched each car as it entered the lot. The Buick caught her attention. It was a nice car, practical and dependable. The driver was in his late twenties or maybe even thirty, dressed like a businessman. He looked like someone who would treat a girl right.
She twirled her bleached hair around her finger and followed him into the store. He walked to the frozen food aisle and studied the TV dinners. A bachelor. Definitely a bachelor. She waited a few minutes while he looked at one and then another.
Tonya took a deep breath, then squeezed between the man and the Pet Ritz Pie display. She leaned over the freezer the way her daddy taught her, just enough to give him a good view of her large breasts. She didn't have to look to know it was working. His fingers stopped moving, but his hands remained in the freezer, frozen.
That was enough -- he only needed a peep, a tease. She grabbed a turkey dinner and straightened. His eyes followed her.
"I've never had this kind before," she said, making her eyes wide and innocent. "Do you know if it's good?"
His face reddened as he struggled to raise his eyes from her chest to her eyes. "I, uh, I don't really like any of them." He was decent enough to try to hide it, but his eyes went from her nylon-covered legs to her mini-skirt to her low-cut blouse. "But it's better than cooking."
She lightly touched his arm. "I don't mind. Not if I have someone to eat with."
The man caught his breath and stood a little straighter.
Tonya dropped her change purse and hesitated just long enough for him to react, then knelt with him, giving him another full view of her unbridled breasts. She allowed him to help her back to her feet, then batted her three dollar eye-lashes. "Thank you."
His eyes were glassy. "I... uh... I..." He cleared his throat. "I have an idea," he said. "Why don't we pick up some steaks and take them to my place and grill out?"
She pretended to consider.
"I'm Gary Gambel," the man said. "I'm an accountant at Richardson's and Sons."
She smiled and offered her hand. "Pleased to meet you. I'm Tonya Taylor."
"Would you like to join me for dinner?"
"I'd love to."

* * *

Beth Martino tossed her chestnut hair behind her shoulder and looked at Danny.
Danny winked. He'd been trying to get her to go out since the first week of school. He liked girls. All kinds of girls. Fat ones, skinny ones, tall ones, short ones. He liked the way they laughed and the way they tossed their hair and the way they smiled when he talked to them. He liked sex, too. Certainly, he liked sex. But more than sex, he craved love. He never pushed a girl to be more intimate than she wanted. He never quit seeing a girl because she didn't put out -- or because she did.
He liked them regardless of what they looked like or what they did. And it was probably this -- along with his movie star looks and gregarious charm and easy-going grin -- that made all the girls love him.
All except for Beth Martino. All except for the one he really wanted.
Danny sighed and winked at her again.
She smiled.
Danny's foot tapped nervously. He watched the clock, wondering why the second hand paused so long between jerky movements. But finally the bell rang.
Before Danny could get out of his seat, Beth stood next to him. "I saw you made the honor roll."
Danny nodded. The last time he asked her out, she said she only dated respectable, responsible guys who made good grades. So he had worked his butt off.
"I'm free Friday night."
"Bonnie and Clyde is showing at Layne's Open Air." Except he still had a week before he was allowed to drive.
"Pick me up at six and we'll go to Big Boy first," she said and then was gone, merged with the students streaming from class.
Danny dropped his books twice before successfully stacking them. He wasn't sure what it was about that girl, but he was doing things he never thought he'd do.
Danny's first thought was to figure out a way to sneak out with the car, but if he got caught and Beth found out, she'd never go out with him again. So instead, he worked harder. He cleaned his room and cut wood and scrubbed the tub. On Thursday night, he set the table and helped Ray finish dinner. He waited until they were almost done eating, then asked, "Can I drive tomorrow night?"
"No," Carol answered. "It's marked on the calendar. Next Friday."
Danny looked at Ray. "It's really important to me. I made the honor roll, I've busted my butt around the house and I really, really need the car."
"One more week," Carol said.
Danny ignored her. "I asked out Beth Martino. She's the Senior Class President and makes straight A's. You know how hard I've been trying. Please, let me have the car."
"One more week," Carol repeated and stacked the plates.
Danny bit his thumbnail. He'd go. One way or the other, he'd go.
Ray tossed a set of car keys to him. "Yeah. Go ahead. But take my car. It's safer than the Plymouth."
"Ray Gambel," Carol said.
Ray smiled and grabbed her as she reached for the vegetable bowl. "Trust me," he said. "Danny's gonna be extra good for a long time 'cause of this, ain't you, Danny?"
Danny nodded. He had to be good if he was going to keep Beth Martino. And she was worth the effort.

* * *

It'd been almost two months since Tonya had moved into Gary's life and apartment. She didn't like the way he expected her to be available to him whenever he wanted her -- which was all the time -- and the way he treated her more as a possession than a person, but her life was certainly better than before.
"Does Ray know we're coming?" she asked, playing with the radio dial.
"We always go to Ray's on Sundays." He started up the steep grade that led to the house.
"Isn't that pretty?" Tonya said.
Large plastic candy canes lined the gravel road. "Seems an awful waste of money to me," Gary said. He never could understand throwing away money on seasonal decorations.
"It's the week before Christmas, Gary." She turned to face him. "Can we get a tree? Just a little one?"
Gary shook his head. She was like a child, asking for things and pouting when refused. "There's no reason for it."
"It's Christmas, Gary. Please."
"No."
"Gary..."
"Drop it."
The grade leveled off as the road approached the house. A white T-bird -- Linda's car -- was parked in the driveway. Gary took a deep breath. He hadn't seen her for a year, since he'd asked her to marry him for real and she laughed at him. He was glad Tonya was younger and prettier than Linda.
Ray turned from the oven and wiped his hands on a towel. "I thought you were gonna be late for dinner." He looked at Tonya. "Carol and Linda are in the living room."
"Stay in here," Gary said and took her coat. As he turned to hang it, he felt something between his thighs. A hand grabbed his crotch. He swung around, his face burning.
Linda laughed.
Gary scowled, then motioned Tonya to come near him. "Tonya, this is Linda, Carol's sister."
Linda eyed her. "K-Mart have a blue light special on size small sweaters?"
Tonya moved closer to Gary.
"Did Lazarus have a sale on size large mouths?" Gary asked.
"The better to please you with, my dear." Linda grinned wickedly, then cocked her eyebrow. "My car's making a funny noise. Maybe after dinner you can take a look under the hood."
"Maybe Ray can."
"I've never been able to get Ray under anything," Linda answered. "Besides, you're a lot more experienced and know just what to do." She dodged through the door before he could respond.
Ray set a tray of chicken on the table. "What's wrong with her car?" he asked.
"Nothing," Gary said. Ray still believed their relationship was platonic.
Ray went to the doorway. "Dinner's ready," he yelled.
"What's for dessert?" Linda asked.
Gary ignored her and sat next to Tonya. Linda sat on the other side of Gary.
Gary moved his chair closer to Tonya. "Where's Danny?"
"He's eating over at his girlfriend's house," Ray said.
"It's making this noise," Linda said, piling mashed potatoes on her plate.
Gary took the broccoli from Tonya. He'd let Linda hang herself. He feigned concern. "What kind of noise?"
"A, uh, grinding noise. It only makes it when you're accelerating, and then, the faster you go, the louder it gets. And then it starts getting hot. And it just keeps getting hotter and louder and hotter and louder and hotter until you're sure it's going to explode if it doesn't get some relief." She cocked her eyebrow. "If you know what I mean."
Carol gave Linda a warning glance, then looked at Tonya. "Gary used to be a mechanic."
"He's good at greasing things." Linda ran her tongue over her lips.
"Linda's engaged," Carol said.
Linda shoved her fingers under Gary's nose, flashing the large diamond. "To a corporate vice president." She put her hand under the table and rubbed Gary's thigh. "But I need Gary today." She tried to reach his crotch.
Gary shoved her hand away. "When's the date?"
"What date?"
"The wedding date."
"Oh. June. You'll come, won't you?"
"We'll see."
"I want you to come."
Despite his irritation, he felt his body respond to her.
"Tonya, will you join us for Christmas?" Carol interrupted again.
Tonya looked at Gary.
Gary shrugged. "If we don't go to Vegas."
"Vegas?" Ray asked.
Gary nodded. "Tonya's never been on a vacation before. We thought we might go to Vegas over Christmas." He gave Linda a warning glance, then looked back to Ray. "Uh, how's Danny doing?"
"He wants to buy that girl a ring for Christmas," Ray said. "I think Carol got him talked into a necklace instead. She already wears his high school ring and they don't need to get no more serious than that."
"Beth has been good for him," Carol added. "He's still making good grades and comes home on time and is almost too good to be true."
"That won't last," Gary said, jumping as Linda's hand grazed his groin.
"I hope she don't break his heart," Ray said.
Linda shoved the peas around her plate and waited until dinner was over. She lit her cigarette, then leaned over and lit Gary's. "I'd really like you to look at my car," she said.
"Go on," Ray encouraged. "You know a lot more than me about cars. And she's driving back to Cincinnati in the morning."
Gary avoided looking at Carol or Tonya. He pulled on his jacket and held the door for Linda.
Linda drove to the school bus turnaround and parked.
"I didn't hear the noise," Gary said flatly.
"You want me and you know it."
"You're engaged."
"Yeah. Engaged. Not married." She threw her coat in the back seat and unbuttoned her blouse.
"I'm living with Tonya."
"I'm sorry," she said, wiggling out of her blouse.
"I think we'd better go back."
"You knew when you got in the damned car with me what would happen." She unbuckled his belt. "Your little bimbo's pretty, but I'll bet she doesn't drive you to the brink of insanity."
Gary sighed and took off his shirt. "I hope your poor old corporate executive knows what he's in for."
"He's a missionary man the whole way. I'm still trying to convert him." She reclined the seat and wiggled out of her pants. "But he's got money, and that turns me on." She eyed his chest and biceps. "Almost as much as your bod."
Tonya never appreciated his body. Tonya never liked sex. But now wasn't the time to think about Tonya. He concentrated on Linda, on the magic that still sparked between them. No matter how many women he had or how voluptuous they were, it was never the same as it was with Linda. They played one another's bodies like a pianist played a fine Concert Grand, pressing the keys with the right timing and tempo, orchestrating a score with trills and vibratos, crescendoing with a masterful climax.
Gary closed his eyes and waited for his toes to uncurl.
Linda dressed, her face flush. "Now I'll have to drive back to Cincinnati tonight."
"Why?"
"If I don't, my straight-laced sister will make my life a living hell."
Gary smiled. Someday he was going to tell Ray, just to watch his expression. He buttoned his shirt and pulled on his jacket as Linda lurched the car onto the road.
He tried to keep a straight face as they entered the house where Carol and Ray chatted with Tonya in the living room.
Carol's eyes seared through Linda, then latched onto Gary. He avoided her gaze and cleared his throat.
"Did you get it fixed?" Ray asked.
"Yeah. We just needed an oil exchange." Linda raised her eyebrow mockingly.
Gary looked at Tonya. "You ready?"
Tonya's eyes reflected her hurt, but she nodded and gathered her purse and thanked Ray for dinner. She was quiet in the car.
"What's the matter?" Gary asked, the edge in his voice making it clear that he would tolerate no complaints.
Tonya was silent for a very long time. "I'd really like a Christmas tree," she finally said in her little girl voice.
Gary nodded and squeezed her hand. "We'll stop on the way home and you can pick one out." He smiled. He might even let her get some lights for the outside.

* * *

"Ray?"
"Hi, Gar. How's Vegas?"
"We did it."
"Done what?"
"Got hitched."
"You what?"
"We got married."
"Who got married?"
Gary laughed. "Me and Tonya."
"Oh, shit, Gary." Ray reached for his drink.
"Whatever happened to 'congratulations'?"
"Yeah. Congratulations." She was going to take him to the cleaners. Gary made good money as a CPA and had quite a bit tucked away with his frugal savings and investments. And Tonya was eyeing that alimony check. He couldn't believe Gary didn't see it.
"Hey, I don't want to spend my honeymoon talking to you, so tell Carol and Danny the news and I'll see you on Sunday."
Ray hung up the phone and sunk into his chair. Gary was screwing up his life and Joey hadn't called in months and something was wrong with Danny. Danny hadn't sneaked out of the house or skipped school or gotten drunk since he started seeing that girl. He was polite and considerate and even cleaned his room. Ray rubbed his forehead. Something was seriously wrong.

* * *

Danny had a bad feeling. Beth wanted to "talk" before they went out. He checked his hair in the rearview mirror, then walked to her door.
She pulled it open before he rang the bell. "Let's talk in the car," she said.
Danny slid behind the wheel. He knew what was coming. He knew it last weekend when she didn't want to go parking. He sighed and looked out the window. "We don't have to talk."
Beth pushed his Senior ring into his hand. "There's no future unless you go to college."
Danny didn't look at her. He could lie and tell her he'd changed his mind. But her good-night kiss last time told him it wouldn't make any difference.
"You'll always be special to me."
"See ya around."
Beth opened the door and returned to her house.
Danny sat where he was for a few minutes, then started the car and jammed the gas, his trail marked by smoking rubber.

* * *

"Whose car is that?" Gary held the door for Tonya.
"Which one?" Ray asked.
"You know which one. The goddam Mustang."
Ray smiled. He'd been waiting for this moment. "I bought it for Danny."
Gary stood in front of Ray and stared at him. "Say that again. I didn't hear you right."
"Yeah, you did."
"I hope to hell you're joking."
"No. Me and Carol got it for him. Clyde and Betty went halves with us."
Gary shook his head disgustedly. "This is the stupidest thing you've ever done."
"I don't recall asking for your opinion."
"Dammit, Ray. That kid doesn't need a new car."
"I don't recall asking for money, neither."
"You've never had a new car. Never. You've always driven an old jalopy."
Ray shrugged. "I ain't never wanted one."
"What about insurance? Do you know how much insurance is going to cost?"
Ray smiled. "You mad because I got Danny the car or because I didn't consult with you first?"
Gary shook his head. "You screwed up, Ray. Big time."
Ray shrugged. He probably had. But that girl had broken Danny's heart, and seeing the kid mope around broke Ray's heart. Ray was thinking about getting him a used car for graduation anyway. But when he saw Danny's eyes light up at the sight of the shiny red Mustang, Ray called Carol from the car lot and asked how they could afford it.
Danny bounced down the stairs. "Hi, Gary. Want a ride in my new car?"
"No."
Ray punched Gary. "Come upstairs. See the bathroom. I finally got it done. Working shower and all."
Gary sighed and followed Ray.

* * *

"What are you running from?" Maria asked.
Joey took his eyes off the road long enough to look at her. "Don't start bugging me, okay?"
"You need to resolve it, Joey."
"Resolve what?"
"Whatever it is you're running from."
Joey concentrated on the passing scenery. They were driving through Arizona after two weeks in Las Vegas. Maria had been with him for over a year.
"Was it a girl? Did a girl break your heart?"
Arizona had its own beauty -- the sand, the cacti, the sagebrush. It had an openness not found in the hills of West Virginia.
"I don't really think so," Maria continued. "I think it has something to do with your brothers. When I caught you off guard, you said you had four brothers. But when I asked their names, you said you only had three."
"Just shut up, okay? I'm not in the mood to be psycho-analyzed." There were times when Maria got on his nerves. She'd read a couple of psychology books and thought that made her an expert.
"See? You become defensive whenever I mention it."
Joey turned up the radio.
Maria turned it off. "He hurt you, didn't he?"
"Leave me alone."
"He hurt you bad."
"Would you shut up?"
"You're never going to get over it until you talk about it, Joey."
"Shut up. Shut up or I'll dump you on the road."
"Asshole." Maria turned the radio back on. "Better hope you don't get horny tonight."
Joey blushed. He concentrated on the music until his stomach told him it was time for lunch. He pulled into a road-side park. "Hungry?"
Maria shrugged and headed for the toilets.
Joey took apples, bananas, cheese and bread from the bag in the van and made sandwiches.
They ate silently.
"You know, Joey, you gotta talk about it."
"What?"
"Your brother."
"Would you just leave me alone?"
"No. We've been together for a year and a half and you've never told me what haunts you."
Joey sighed heavily. "If I tell you will you leave me the hell alone?"
"Yeah."
"David was killed in Vietnam." He had never spoken those words, not to Rosie, not to anyone, not even in his own mind.
"Oh, God, Joey. I'm so sorry." Her eyes filled with tears.
Joey turned and gathered trash.
"You've never cried for him, have you?"
Joey felt panic rising in his throat. "Don't."
"You've got to, Joey. You've got to let it out."
Joey wrapped the cheese and bread and put it in the van.
Maria chased after him. "It's like a blood-blister, Joey. It hurts to touch. It's sore all the time. But it won't get better until you poke it and feel the pain and let the blood drain out. Then it can start to heal."
Joey jumped in the van and started it.
Maria hurried into the passenger side. "You can't run --"
"Shut up." He guided the van back onto the highway.
"Joey --"
"I mean it. Shut up."
"It's okay to cry."
Joey slammed his foot on the brake, throwing Maria forward. "If you can't shut your goddam mouth, get out."
Maria glared at him. "Yeah. I'll shut up. I don't know why I waste my breath on you, anyway. You like staying in that shell of yours and feeling sorry for yourself. So fine."
They drove in silence for almost an hour.
"And I'm not sleeping with you tonight, either," Maria said.
Joey smiled. "Good. Maybe I'll get some rest."
Maria grabbed his ribs, digging her fingernails into his ticklish spot.
"Don't. Stop it." Joey swerved and almost ran into the sign saying, "Phoenix, twelve miles."
"Phoenix?" Maria asked.
Joey nodded.
"My cousin lives there."
"Want to visit?"
They found her cousin's apartment in the low rent district. Sissy stood behind the broken screen door, a cup of coffee in one bony hand and a cigarette in the other. She was the skinniest woman Joey had ever seen.
She set down the coffee and hugged Maria for what seemed an eternity, her eyes squeezed closed.
Four small, dark-haired children with cow eyes stumbled in. Their worn clothes hung on their thin little bodies, but what caught Joey's attention was a spider, a tarantula, on the opposite wall.
Maria followed Sissy through the tiny living room, but Joey stood where he was, his eyes on the spider. He didn't like spiders. Not since the time he awoke to find a thick, hairy wolf spider walking across his bare chest. And David standing over him, laughing. He came close to punching David that day. Real close.
"That's Harvey," the biggest boy said.
Joey looked at him. "What?"
"That spider. That's Harvey."
"He's a pet?"
"No. He's our friend. He's Harry's little brother. He keeps the other spiders and bugs away. He helps us."
"Okay." Joey stepped across the bare floor to the small kitchen. The chairs around the table were each of a different style and the curtains were faded and thread-bare. The dishtowel by the sink had more holes than fabric. But he didn't see Harry anywhere.
"Tea or water?" Maria asked, cracking open a tray of ice.
"Water."
Sissy handed him a butter sandwich.
"Thanks," Joey said.
Maria opened the refrigerator. It was empty except for a gallon of milk, a crumbled stick of margarine and a foil-covered pan. "Where's Hank?" she asked.
"Left. Been gone most of two years." Sissy lit another cigarette. "All he did was drink beer and get me pregnant anyway."
"You working?"
"I wait tables at the cafe. Night shift, so I'm gone while the kids sleep."
"Who watches them?"
"Katrina next door sticks her head in a couple times each night." Sissy refilled her coffee cup. "You staying the night?"
"Maybe longer than that," Maria said.
Joey couldn't imagine sleeping while Harvey and Harry crawled over him.
"Come on, Joey. Let's get our things out of the van."
Joey followed her outside and took her oversized shoulder bag from the van. "I don't want to stay here."
Maria was quiet for a few minutes. "Sissy needs me."
Joey leaned against the van.
"When I was a kid, Sissy worked as a bar maid and gave money to my mama for us kids. She bought me dresses and makeup and hairbrushes."
Joey nodded slowly.
"And she needs me now." Maria took both his hands in hers. "I love you, Joey."
Joey swallowed the knot in his throat. "So this is the end?"
Maria kissed his cheek. "You've got to figure out the rest of it on your own."
Joey had grown to like the crazy woman. He took the fifty dollar bill he saved for emergencies and gave to her. "Buy Sissy some food." He jumped in the van before she could answer.
Joey drove for over an hour. The sun was setting low behind him when his throat became annoyingly dry.
He coughed and something from deep inside him, a bark, a seal's bark, came out. He coughed again and more noise was expelled. It frightened him. He pulled the van to the side of the road and got out. He continued to cough, harder and harder, and he continued to bark, louder and louder, until he realized it was sobs. Dry sobs. Like dry heaves, only worse.
Joey hadn't cried for so long, he didn't know how. Like a blood blister, Maria had said. It won't get better until you poke it and feel the pain and let the blood drain out.
And he felt the pain. For David. For Rosie. Yes, even for Maria.
When he was able, he drove to a cheap motel. He slept well, despite the air conditioner that sounded like a flock of B-52's and smelled like a compost of wet gym socks. And despite the absence of Maria, who for seventeen months had kicked him, hogged the blankets, and talked non-stop, even in her sleep.
He awoke early and drove to Santa Fe, where he found a quiet coffee house. After three days, he knew what he had to do. The worn letter was faded, but he could still read Kevin Walsh's phone number. He left early in the morning and arrived in Denver mid-afternoon.
He found the small brick A-frame and pushed the door bell.
A middle-aged woman in a flowered cotton house dress opened the door. Her worried eyes scanned Joey's long hair and torn blue jeans, but she smiled warmly. "You must be Joey. Come in. Kevin is waiting for you."
Joey followed her to the small living room. He noticed the ribbons and awards above the mantle, but it took him a minute to realize they were Kevin's. David probably had a bunch like that, too. He hoped they weren't on display.
Joey followed her down carpeted stairs to the finished basement. The walls were covered with hundreds of shellacked jigsaw puzzles -- landscapes, seascapes, jungle animals -- floor-to-ceiling cardboard photographs.
Puzzle boxes were stacked in each corner, beside chairs and under tables. In the center of the room, beneath a bare light bulb, a completed puzzle under glass covered a card table. On top of the table was the current work-in-process, and behind it, a burly red-haired man wearing a ball cap, an army jacket with the sleeves ripped off, and a crooked smile. He offered his hand. "Joey? Damn, you don't look like Moe."
"Moe?"
Kevin motioned Joey to sit. "David. We called him Moe. Short for Mozart."
"Could I get you something?" Mrs. Walsh asked. "Coffee? Tea? Soda?"
"Water. Ice water would be fine, thank you." Joey lowered his long body to the couch.
Kevin turned the puzzle piece in his hand. He set it to the side and shuffled through the pile of small pieces. He selected another piece and compared it to the various sections of the completed puzzle. "So what do you do, Joey?"
"Music. I play music."
Kevin nodded. He placed the puzzle piece in another pile of similarly colored pieces. "Moe was a damned good singer. He could make that harmonica talk, too."
Joey squirmed on the sofa, searching for a more comfortable fit.
Kevin again hunted through the stack of odd-shaped squares and selected one. "That ambush when Moe and Wild Willy got it -- I should've died with them. I would've, if Moe hadn't got the gook. He saved my life. Did you know that?"

"No."
"Yeah. The fuckers had us surrounded. Wild Willy got hit first, then Moe. I hit the ground. They must have thought I was dead, because they all left but one bastard who stayed to take our shit. He stood over me with a captured US M-16 and when he saw I was alive, his eyes got big and he shoved the gun in my face. Then he just fell on me. I heard Moe laugh. He had holes all through him and was bleeding to death, but he shot the bastard. And then he laughed." Kevin successfully placed the piece. "He laughed."
Joey blinked, trying to clear the image from his mind.
Mrs. Walsh returned with Joey's water and a plate of cookies. "I hope you'll stay for dinner," she said. She left before Joey found his voice.
"I only got a Band-Aid and two days off and then they sent me right back with three newbies. The military was real sensitive like that. All your best buddies get blown to pieces and they send you right back to the same spot with replacements. New boots, new cammies, new buddies, it's all the same to them."
Joey's hand shook as he sipped the water. He shouldn't have come. He could have lived his whole life without knowing David had laughed.
Kevin drew open his jacket to show the dirty tee shirt beneath. It featured a large hawk swooping down on a tiny mouse, with the mouse defiantly shoving its middle finger at the hawk. "The final act of defiance" was written beneath the print.
"Always reminded me of Moe," Kevin said. "He was the gutsiest son-of-a-bitch I ever met."
Joey fingered the glass of water.
"What do you think David would have done had he lived?" Kevin continued.
"Gone to college."
Kevin abandoned the piece he held and again pawed the pile of squares. He compared three or four pieces before deciding on one. "Me and Moe got into a helluva fight because of you."
"Me?"
"Yeah. You wrote Moe a letter about being upset that your brother took you to school. It was the only mail any of us got the day the Virgin got hit. Our nerves were raw and we were bummed, so Moe read your letter aloud, thinking it would cheer us. But it pissed me off. Here we were being killed and you were whining about school. I started whimpering, 'It hurt my feelings. I was embarrassed. Going to school is so horrible'," Kevin said in a whiny voice. "And bam! Moe decked me. Socked me right in the mouth. Of course, I jumped up and tore into him and we fought like hell until we were too tired to move. And then Moe said, 'Don't make fun of my psychotic brother' and that struck me as funny and we both laughed until we were bawling our eyes out, and then we cried until we passed out from exhaustion."
Joey couldn't remember David ever crying. Not ever.
"David respected you. He said you had integrity. He said you were the best person he knew." Kevin looked at the puzzle, then back to Joey. "And he said you were the best musician he'd ever heard anywhere. He'd say that by the time he got home, you'd be too good for him. Then he'd laugh and say, 'Shit. He's always been too good for me.'"
Joey cleared his throat.
"You really think he'd go to college, huh?"
"Yeah." Joey choked out the word. He coughed.
Kevin took two pieces from the heap and fit them in the upper right of the puzzle. "That's probably what I should do."
Joey spotted a piece of the puzzle beneath Kevin's chair. He retrieved it and put it on the table. Visiting Kevin was the last piece of his own puzzle, and although he knew it was the right thing to do, he still didn't feel whole and complete. He still didn't feel put together. He could run from it, he could hide from it, but a part of him died in Vietnam and that part would never be replaced.
Joey stood and cleared his throat. It was time to quit searching for a wholeness he'd never find and start making the most of the pieces he had left. "Tell you mom thanks for the invitation, but I want to get back on the road."
Kevin nodded. "See ya around."
"Yeah. Sure thing." Joey hurried up the stairs and helped himself back to his van.

* * *

Ray sat at the piano, shuffling through sheet music. He found the score for Saturday's wedding and arranged it on the rack. His eyes caught the portrait his Aunt Madge had painted of his father smiling at Baby Ray. Twice he'd taken the damned thing down. The first time Carol asked him to put it back and the second, Danny had. He should burn it. He was tired of his father smiling at him every time he played the piano.
Ray forced his thoughts to his work. He strolled through the first number slowly, correcting his mistakes as he went and replaying the difficult passages several times. Satisfied, he looked for the score of the second.
He thought he heard the side door open, but Carol and Danny were at school and Boomer didn't bark. Then a man cleared his throat. Ray turned.
A tall, thin man in worn jeans and waist-length brown hair smiled at him.
"Joey!" Ray jumped to his feet and grabbed Joey in a bear hug.
Joey stepped back to keep his balance.
Ray laughed. He held Joey at arm's length and examined him. "How you been there, kid?"
"Okay."
"Where's your girl friend?"
"Maria? I left her in Phoenix."
"You okay with that?"
"Yeah."
"Well, come in. Sit down. Want a beer?"
"No."
Ray scanned Joey's lanky body again. "We're gonna have to fatten you up some."
"I'm fine."
Ray led Joey to the kitchen. "So tell me about your travels. You're home to stay now, ain't you?"
"For awhile." Joey looked around the kitchen. It had been remodeled -- new oak cabinets, new wallpaper, new linoleum. Everything was new except the big oval table. "You've been busy."
"I just re-done the bathroom. We got a shower now and one of them exhaust fans and I even fixed up a little electric heater in there. You know how cold it is up there in the winter time, and Carol likes to shower in the morning."
Joey searched the shelves for a cup.
"So tell me where you been." Ray opened the cabinet for Joey, then handed him a banana. "Hungry?"
Joey smiled. "No."
"I'll make you a bacon and egg sandwich. You need some meat on them bones."
"I'm not hungry."
Ray took bacon from the refrigerator. "You're too skinny. You gotta start eating."
Joey stepped between Ray and the range. He stood his full height, his brown eyes above Ray's. "Let's get something straight right now: I can take care of myself and I don't need to be told what to do."
Ray rubbed his beard. "You grew up, didn't you?"
"A bunch."
Ray sighed and put the bacon back in the refrigerator.
"But I'll let you get me a glass of juice."
Ray laughed again. "I'm glad you're home, Joey. I really, really am."

* * *

Gary walked into the small apartment. The floor was littered, the sink was overflowing with dishes and there was no evidence of dinner being prepared. He took a deep breath. He expected Tonya to keep the apartment tidy and have a hot meal waiting, and it irritated him when she didn't. "Tonya?"
Tonya walked out of the bedroom, her bleached hair newly permed. She wore a black knit dress that snuggled her body, emphasizing her large breasts. She turned in Marilyn Monroe style and smiled at Gary. "Like it?"
Liking it was not the question. She would look good in a gunny sack and just the sight of her turned him on. "How'd you get it?"
"I went shopping." She spoke in her little girl voice, the voice she used when she wanted something.
He followed her into the bedroom. Several shopping bags filled the corners. "Where'd you get the money?"
She stepped in front of him and again twirled around. "Do you like it?"
Gary tried not to think about how she looked. That could come later. Right now, it was more important to know how much money was spent and where it had come from. "How did you get it?"
"Don't be mad, okay?"
"Tonya," he said, "how did you pay for it?"
She looked at him with her big brown eyes. "I found your charge card on the dresser."
Gary felt the vein in his forehead erupt. "You charged all this shit?"
"C'mon, Gary. Don't be mad. I just want to be beautiful for you." She smoothed her dress to show the perfection of her figure.
"Give me the card." She had no concept of money, no concept of interest rates, no concept of responsibility. She had no idea how hard he'd worked and how frugally he'd saved to develop a healthy bank account. "Now. Give it to me."
"It's... it's on the dresser."
"And this all goes back tomorrow." He waved at the shopping bags.
"Gary..."
"All of it."
She circled again in front of him.
He wished she wouldn't do that. His body was already at odds with his brain and it angered him more that she would use his lust to get what she wanted.
"But it fits me so good."
"Take it off. Everything is going back to the stores and you are not to charge again."
Tonya wiggled out of the dress, her perfectly shaped body perfectly naked. She strutted in front of him, something she only did when she wanted something. "Please, Gary." She held up a baby blue negligee. "Don't you want to see how I look in this?"
"Don't be a whore."
She dropped the gown and stared at him. "What did you say?"
"I'm not your john. I don't buy you."
Her dark eyes flashed.
He shouldn't have said that. She had confided that her father owned a brothel and would sell her and her sisters. "Sorry." He touched her smooth skin and the urgency of his desire eroded the urgency of his anger. He drew her close to him.
"Don't." Tonya pushed him away.
Gary kicked off his shoes and slid out of his pants. They could finish the argument later. He stepped toward her. "C'mon," he said huskily, cupping her jiggling breast in his hands.
She slapped him.
Gary checked his reaction to strike back. He brought his hand to his face and fingered his cheek. The last person to slap him was his mother, and he'd sworn no woman would hit him again. His rage grew in waves as the burning numbness turned to stinging heat. Blood pulsated through his body. He started to walk past her, give his fury time to diminish, but she smirked. Or grimaced. Or made some kind of motion with her mouth that Gary interpreted as a look of victory. Again, he fought the urge to hit her. Instead, he grabbed her arms and threw her on the bed. He jumped on her and held her.
"Don't!" Tonya screamed, squirming under him.
Gary covered her mouth with his, swallowing her screams. He forced his knees between her thighs until they were spread, then rammed her repeatedly until she quit fighting and allowed him to enter her. He made no attempt to be gentle. As he ground into her, his anger dissolved and the final bits of it flowed from him with his semen. Panting, he rolled off her.
Tonya curled into a fetal position, hiding her face.
Gary searched for his cigarettes and lit one. He sucked smoke deep into his lungs and expelled it slowly. He was glad they had that settled. "Want to go out for dinner?" he asked.
Tonya didn't answer.
Gary shrugged. She could pout if she wanted to. He went to the kitchenette and made a bowl of soup, then watched the news on TV. He expected Tonya to come in -- she never stayed mad long -- but she didn't. He finally went to see why, and she was either sleeping or pretending. He considered waking her, the outline of her voluptuous body again arousing him, but decided to let her be.
But maybe he'd reconsider the black dress and the blue nightie. A body like hers deserved special dressing.

* * *

Ray whistled as he sorted the laundry. Joey was home and Stan, his drummer, quit. Ray was on the verge of firing him anyway -- he smoked dope and Ray didn't like that shit. The timing couldn't have been better. There was only a week of school left and Danny was eighteen and the best drummer in town -- probably in the state -- and was absolutely thrilled to join the band. The kid had a good voice and his stage personality tantalized the teenage girls.
Everything was working out. Even Joey played with the band as a "special guest."
The phone rang.
He dropped the undershirt and answered it. "Hello?"
"Ray."
Ray tried to place the voice. It was distant, distressed. "Gary?"
The response was incoherent.
Ray's mind raced. Something was wrong. Something was seriously wrong. "You at work? No? At home? I'll be right there."
Ray made it to Gary's apartment in less than fifteen minutes. The door hung open, off its hinges. Ray entered without knocking, not sure what he would find.
The apartment was stripped of life. The furniture was gone, the walls bare, the personality vanished. The only thing left was assorted trash.
Gary sat in the center of the barren living room, unshaved, his clothes soiled and wrinkled, his eyes swollen and bloodshot.
Ray squatted next to him. "What happened?"
Gary didn't answer.
"Tonya leave you?"
Gary nodded.
"Where's your car?"
"Gone. She dropped me off at work yesterday and never picked me up."
Ray stood and offered his hand to Gary.
"She took everything. The credit cards, the bank account, my investments. Everything."
"Oh, Gary. I'm sorry."
Gary let Ray pull him to his feet. "Even my guitar."
"Oh, man."
"She raped me."
"I'll say."
"I don't know what to do."
"You need to come home with me."
Gary rubbed his hands over his face. "I, I -- shit. I'm screwed up."
"It's okay, Gar."
Gary punched the wall.
"Let's go home."
"I need help."
"I'll help you, Gar." Ray searched the apartment for something to take, but there was nothing, not even a razor. "C'mon. Let's go out to the house and get you squared away."
"I don't know what to do."
"We'll figure it all out later. Let's just go home for now, okay?"
Gary nodded. There was nothing else to do.

* * *

Ray held Carol's hand during Danny's graduation ceremonies. His chest felt like he was thirty feet underwater and an annoying lump irritated his throat. Danny's graduation belonged as much to Ray as it did to Danny. He had made it. The boys were no longer his responsibility.
Life hadn't turned out the way Ray expected. The one thing that would keep him home -- babies -- wasn't going to happen. They had done everything possible to conceive and their only remaining option was adoption. It didn't make a bit of difference how badly they wanted a houseful of running feet and sticky fingers and giggling voices, it wasn't going to happen. Life just didn't cooperate with plans.
But Ray's ambition of eleven years ago, his dream of eight years ago, still lived. It had changed some -- instead of Stan, Bob and Gary, he wanted to travel with his brothers. He knew Carol wouldn't give up teaching, and he wouldn't ask her to, but she was independent and it might not bother her if he was gone a lot.
Ray shifted in his seat and stole another glance at his beautiful wife. He wasn't the only one at a crossroads. All of them were. Gary's divorce had plunged him into depression and left him with no interest in his job. Joey liked spending time with Ray and mentioned more than once that he admired Ray's leadership abilities and wanted to learn from them, but he was bored. And Danny would want more than part time work now that school was over.
A traveling band with his brothers would be good for them all.
Ray patted Carol's hand.
She smiled. "Do what you have to do."
Ray squeezed his arm behind her and pulled her closer to him. It was, after all, graduation. A time of new beginnings.

* * *

PART THREE

"Don't flirt with your father's demon.
She is a jealous mistress and will consume all else you love."
--- Deloris Gambel, 1968

February 22, 1980. LOUISVILLE, KENTUCKY.
"What could I getcha tonight, hon?" The red-haired waitress popped her gum as she placed a cocktail napkin in front of Sam.
"Just coffee, please. Decaf, if you have it."
"Sure thang. Cream or sugar?"
"Black. Thank you." Sam could not prevent his fingers from tapping a rhythm on the table, his foot providing the off-beat. He looked around the posh night club. It had been six years since he had entertained in similar surroundings and now the crystal chandeliers and linen-covered tables seemed pompous -- especially in contrast to the humble furnishings of the Salvation Army.
He studied the faces in the audience: the over-stressed salesmen trying to relax, the young professionals discussing computer strategies, the local high-society divorcees looking for love or a suitable substitute. Sam knew he must look out of place, wearing last year's sport jacket selected from the dollar rack and the too-narrow tie which had faded and puckered. He smoothed his thin hair, attempting to avoid the pretentious covering of his bald spot, although the remaining strands seemed to naturally gravitate that way.
The waitress set the steaming coffee in front of him. "Here you go, hon. You did say rag'lar -- not decaf -- right?"
Sam smiled. "It will be fine, thank you."
"We got a great band tonight." The waitress chomped her gum as she spoke.
Sam nodded, trying not to appear overly interested. He could see some activity on the stage, but it was dark and all he could make out were shadows. He waited for her to go on to the next table, then leaned forward in anticipation. It was time.
The stage lights brightened, the drum beat began and the lounge was suddenly alive with Rock 'N Roll Music. The salesmen paused, the yuppies quieted, and the ladies smiled. But Sam noticed nothing except his boys. It had been eleven years since he'd peeked through the window, but he knew them.
Ray, large and dark and bearded, had gained weight. He looked old for his age, his hair already thinning and graying, his crow's feet deep. He stood in the center of the stage, playing lead guitar. Sam remembered sitting in Ray's audience when Ray was still in high school, amazed at his confidence and ease with the audience. He was a natural entertainer, a natural leader.
Sam looked at his other sons. Gary played bass guitar. His brown hair was still full and his stocky build trim. Tall and lanky Joey stood behind the keyboards, his waist-length hair tied back in a pony tail. He carried the lead vocal with his amazing voice. Danny, young and dark and unbelievably handsome, played drums with enthusiasm, his constant grin adding to his charm.
And David was missing.
Sam loosened his tie and swallowed hard. He knew David was dead. That had been the topic of his first sessions with John. John forced him to confront his grief, accept it, mourn it. But seeing his boys happy and healthy and handsome and perfect reminded him that one was missing.
He wondered how Joey had coped. Joey had been so dependent on David. And Ray, emotional Ray, who had seen David through his teen years.
Guilt drenched Sam. He should have been there when his boys needed him. He'd been so obsessed with his own problems -- thinking he was worthless, thinking he was a murderer, drinking to keep from thinking -- he had let his boys down. And there was no way they'd want anything to do with him now. He'd been wrong to come.
He dropped a wadded dollar on the table and left. A light drizzle slapped him as he walked across the parking lot. For years he had dreamed of reuniting with his sons. Years. But in his dreams they were all there, even David. And they were thrilled to see him.
He pumped the gas pedal and urged John's twelve year old Volkswagen to start. "Call me," John had said, "If you need a shot of courage."
Sam combed his fingers through his hair. John knew him. John knew he'd chicken out. And John would be disappointed. Sam took the keys out of the ignition and walked back to the hotel club. His coffee was still on the table, undisturbed. He slid into his seat and sipped it.
The waitress returned, refilling his coffee. "Ain't they great?" she asked, blowing a bubble and allowing it to pop. She used her tongue to loosen the gum around her lips and push it back into her mouth.
Sam nodded.
"I'm Mona. Holler if you need anything, okay, hon?"
"Thanks." Sam sipped the potent coffee as his sons took a break. He was unaccustomed to caffeine rushing through his veins. And tonight was the last night his nerves needed stimulated. He'd need to politely remind Miss Mona Red Hair he preferred decaf.
Ray and Gary made their way back to the stage. Gary went to the keyboards and spoke to Joey. Joey moved to the drums.
Ray stroked his beard as he reviewed the accumulated requests. He emptied one amber cocktail and took a long drink from a second, then leaned into the microphone. "Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen," he announced. "Get ready for another hour of the Gambel Brothers..." He stopped, looking at Joey. "Where's Danny?"
Joey shrugged.
Gary smiled and began the opening chords of Pretty Woman.
As Joey sang the lyrics -- "Pretty woman, walking down the street...," Danny sashayed across the stage, swinging his padded hips in a body-fitting red sequined dress with an overly stuffed bosom. A Dolly Parton wig bounced with each step.
Ray's mouth fell open.
Danny fluttered his false eyelashes and pursed his scarlet lips as he danced toward Ray, winking and blowing kisses.
Ray shook his head. He allowed Gary and Joey to carry the music, unable to join in.
Sam caught himself laughing, as much at Ray's disbelief as at Danny's performance.
Danny slithered to Ray. He tossed the black feather boa around Ray's broad neck and slowly pulled it back. He waved to the roaring crowd and continued his dance across the stage, taking detouring turns until the song concluded. He took a quick bow, then ran off stage.
Ray emptied his cocktail and motioned for a refill. He looked at the still-laughing audience, then at Joey and Gary. "That kid ain't got no shame," he complained.
Joey smiled and leaned into the mike. "Gary and I will do a Simon and Garfunkel number to hold us over until Danny returns and Ray recovers."
Ray mopped his brow, accepting the cocktail from the waitress. He took a long drink, resting on the stool.
Sam sipped his coffee. Ray drank too much. John had sent him to several seminars where he'd learned alcoholism was hereditary. And no wonder. Until Ray was drafted, Sam took Ray with him to the bars. They drank whiskey and shot pool and laughed together. Deloris always threw a fit, but Sam hadn't seen anything wrong with it. Not then.
Sam waited until the end of the last set, then moved to a front table. He wasn't sure how much of his heart pounding and hand shaking was from caffeine and how much from nerves. But he forced himself to make eye contact with his sons.
Gary saw him first. His mouth fell open in surprise. He looked at his brothers for verification.
Joey followed Gary's gaze, then looked back to Gary with his eyebrow raised.
Gary nodded.
Joey stared at Sam, his expression of surprise slowly giving way to a shy smile.
Sam returned the smile, feeling a bit more comfortable. Maybe his boys would forgive him. He glanced at Ray and his heart froze.
Ray's copper eyes narrowed with contempt.
Sam tried to swallow whatever it was that was lodged in his throat.
As the song ended, Ray thanked the audience and motioned his brothers to clean up, making it clear there were no encores tonight.
It was too painful to look at Ray, so Sam forced his attention to his youngest son, the one who still hadn't recognized him.
Danny loosened the tension on his drums. He scanned the crowd one more time. The young woman he had bought drinks for at break had gone and all the cute girls were taken.
"Grab us a table and order drinks," Ray said, then joined Gary at the rear of the stage.
Danny shrugged. He didn't have anything to do. He went to the bar and requested a pitcher of beer to share with Gary and two double whiskey and waters for Ray.
"Get me a glass, too," Joey said, meeting him at the bar.
"What for?"
"I want beer tonight."
"You okay?"
Joey smiled and helped carry the drinks to the table.
"Next thing, you'll be picking up women." Danny took a final look around the club, then sat. "There might be hope for you yet."
Joey poured the beer.
Gary sat across from Danny and Ray fell into the chair next to him. Ray looked from Joey to Danny. "I'll do the talking." He spoke slowly, the way he did when he drank too much.
"About what?" Danny asked.
Ray took a long drink from his cocktail. "Keep your mouth shut."
"Why?" Danny bit the foam off his beer.
"Just do."
Danny sighed. "You're all weird tonight."
His brothers were quiet.
Danny looked from one to the other. "Something's going on."
"Dad's here." Gary nodded toward the balding man approaching their table.
Danny stared at the man who looked like a middle-aged version of David.
Sam combed fingers through his hair. "May I join you?"
"It's a little late, ain't it?" Ray said.
Sam took a deep breath. "Yes. Yes, it is..."
Gary pulled a chair from the next table and made room for it between he and Joey.
"Thank you." Sam touched his hair again. None of his daydreams about reuniting with his boys included such awkwardness.
Ray leaned forward. "What do you want?" he said, breaking the silence.
"Could I get you a drink?" Gary asked.
"No. No, thanks." Sam looked at Ray and tried to swallow the knot in his throat. "I want to talk to you."
Ray swished the ice in his drink. "It's last call, so you better talk fast."
"I don't know if your mother told you --"
"Mom's dead."
"I know."
Ray's eyes narrowed. "You knew Mom died?" He still spoke slowly, his words slightly slurred.
Sam hesitated. "Yes."
"And you still stayed away?"
"I wanted to come back, Ray..."
Ray glared at his father but said nothing.
"I'm sorry, Ray." Sam was pale. There wasn't much else he could say. "I'm sorry."
Ray guzzled his remaining cocktail and stood unsteadily.
Sam put his hand on Ray's arm. "Ray..."
Ray jerked away. "I ain't got nothing to say to you." He staggered toward the lobby.
Sam slumped forward.
Gary stood. "Sorry, Dad. I'd better see about Ray." He hurried to catch up with Ray.
Joey chugged his beer. He looked at Danny.
Danny shrugged.
Silence visited the table again.
"So how you been?" Danny finally asked.
Sam filled his lungs with air. "I quit drinking six years ago."
Danny nodded. It was hard to think of something to say. "Did you like the show?"
"I'm very proud of you boys. You have a lot of talent." Sam's voice was flat, lacking the emotion to give credence to his words.
"We have fun."
The conversation lulled again. Danny watched his father. "Did you know Ray was married?"
Sam nodded. "Madge has kept me informed."
Danny released his breath. "Then you know about David?"
"Yes."
Joey shoved his chair back, then stood. "It was nice seeing you, Dad." He hurried across the room.
They sat silently for several minutes until Sam scooted his chair back. "I better get back."
"Back where?" Danny asked.
"The Salvation Army. I live there."
"I'd like to talk to you."
"I need to think about this."
"Can I see you again? Tomorrow?"
Sam stood.
"The China Hutch has a buffet. Can you meet me there? Two o'clock?"
Sam nodded. "I've got to go." He hurried to the door.
The next day, Danny met his father for lunch. The awkwardness from the night before was gone.
Sam stirred sugar into his tea. "Sorry about last night. When Ray, you know --"
"Ray's an ass."
Sam frowned. "I wasn't expecting it. I don't know what I did expect, but it wasn't for him to walk out on me."
"He's an ass."
"Does he always drink that much?"
"When we're on the road."
"I hate to see that."
Danny balanced sesame chicken between chopsticks. "Just like drumsticks," he said.
"I'm sorry I missed David's funeral. I should have been there for you boys."
"I got a picture of him." Danny dropped the chop sticks and removed his wallet. He pulled out a snapshot of David in his fatigues, his weight on one leg and his hands on his hips.
Sam caught his breath. "He was a good-looking boy."
"You can keep that. Carol had a bunch of them made."
"Thanks." Sam traced the outline of David's face with his fingertip.
Danny stood. "Will you come to our show tonight?"
"I'd love to see you again, but I don't want to upset Ray."
"Ray's an ass."
"I wish you wouldn't say that."
Danny grinned. "Ray will run your life if you let him." He threw a wad of cash on the table. "Why don't you come early and we'll have dinner?"
Sam hesitated. "I'm on a tight budget, Danny. Most of my work is volunteer in exchange for room and board. Why don't I meet you after dinner?"
"I got money, Dad. In fact, Gary only gives me half my pay. He invests the other half for me so I don't blow it all."
"But I --"
"Meet me at six-thirty, okay?"
Sam nodded.
Danny hired a taxi to take him back to the hotel. He was glad he'd met with his father. It was nice to get to know him. He had very few memories of his parents. It seemed like it had always been Ray and Carol who looked after him.
Ray was in the lobby, as though waiting for someone. "Where you been?"
"Out."
"You eaten?"
"Yeah."
"Want to talk to me while I eat?"
"Not really."
"Come anyway."
Danny shrugged and followed Ray to the dining room.
Ray placed his order and played with his coffee. "You go see Dad?"
"Yeah."
"I want you to stay away from him."
Danny made a sculpture using the silverware, salt and pepper shakers and linen napkin. He didn't look at Ray.
Ray leaned forward. "He knew Mom died, but he didn't come home. He knew we were struggling to pay the bills, but he didn't send money. He left me and Gary with his responsibility while he went off chasing women and whiskey."
"Dad never chased women and he quit drinking six years ago."
"He didn't come home, did he?"
"He was afraid to."
"He's no good."
Danny chewed his thumbnail, watching Ray.
Ray sighed. The thumbnail chew was a clear give-away that Danny wasn't listening. "I just don't want to see you get hurt."
Danny rolled his eyes. "We got rehearsal today?"
"Joey does at two tomorrow."
"That figures." Danny stood. "Tell him to keep it short, okay?"
"He don't listen to me no better than you do."
"Maybe it's you," Danny said and left.

* * *

Sam didn't want to antagonize Ray or distract the others, so he sat in the dark back corner again. Danny had spent breaks with him, making sure Ray noticed. Sam scolded Danny, telling him not to irritate Ray, but Danny only laughed and flipped the bird in Ray's direction.
Sam was pretty sure Joey and Gary knew he was there as well, but they kept busy on stage. In some ways it pleased him that they respected Ray enough not to cross him. But it still hurt.
Sam tried to enjoy the show. The previous night he'd been too nervous to appreciate his sons' talent, and he could be proud of them even if they didn't speak to him. He leaned back in his seat.
As Joey ended House of the Rising Son, Danny stepped to center stage. He juggled his drumsticks, tossing them high in the air, catching them behind his back and rolling them up and down his arms. He grinned into the audience and winked at a table of girls.
Sam smiled. With his handsome looks and gregarious charm, Sam was sure Danny broke more than his share of young hearts.
Sam noticed Ray swallow half a tumbler of whiskey, barely missing a beat. He shook his head. He hated to see Ray ruin his life with alcohol. He wished he could talk to him, but he knew Ray would never listen. He remembered only too well how stubborn Ray could be. When Ray was seventeen, his band was hired by a nightclub in Waynesboro. Deloris, of course, said there was no way Ray and Gary were going to play in a beer joint. The war of wills that ensued terrified Sam. Every morning, Ray argued with his mother until she slapped him. Every night, he insisted he was taking the gig until she beat him.
Sam was sick. He understood Ray's desire, yet he also understood Deloris' concern. He tried talking to Deloris, he tried talking to Ray. But the fight continued.
Finally, Sam interrupted as they started their evening quarrel. "This is enough," he said.
"She ain't stopping me," Ray said.
Deloris back-handed him.
"Stop it," Sam said. "Deloris, sit down. Ray, be quiet."
Deloris sat within arm's reach of Ray.
Ray wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and glared at her.
Sam took a deep breath. He was no match for either of them, but he had to do something. "Deloris, why don't you go with them?"
Deloris' eyes flitted around the room as she considered Sam's suggestion.
"You could make sure they didn't drink or get into trouble. I'd be home with the younger boys. And Ray wouldn't be cheated of the experience."
Sam held his breath while Deloris silently contemplated. Finally, she nodded. "Yes. I will do that."
Sam looked at Ray.
Ray made a face.
"It's the only way you're going."
"Okay," Ray said.
And until the day Ray left for the Army, Deloris sat behind the stage whenever her sons played at a bar.
Sam ran his fingers through his hair. That had been sixteen years ago. And Ray was certainly no less stubborn now. He looked at his oldest son. He couldn't be sure if Ray could see him with the stage lights in his eyes, but Ray gave a defiant glance toward Sam, then guzzled a cocktail.
There was a time when Sam thought Ray had inherited the best of his parents: his mother's strength and his father's compassion. But now Sam feared he'd received the worst: his mother's harshness and his father's weakness for whiskey.
Sam sipped his coffee. If only he could take back the last twelve years and re-live them. Maybe then he could have prevented Ray from succumbing to the family weakness.
He combed his fingers through his hair. Ray's first words to him were sadly true. Sam was much too late.

* * *

Danny didn't appear for rehearsal the next day.
Joey looked at the clock two or three times, then at Ray. Ray and Gary huddled in the corner, deep in conversation.
Joey sighed. He walked a delicate line with Ray. The first year they were on the road was hard. Ray was accustomed to being in charge and Joey hadn't answered to anyone for four years. Joey kept his mouth shut during rehearsals, but twice Ray tried to tell him what to eat. Both times, Joey spared no words in asserting himself. Then he screwed up and let Danny talk him into sharing a joint during last break. It didn't take Ray long to figure out what was going on. And he was pissed.
Joey shuddered at the memory. He was no match for Ray's temper. He felt like he had in high school -- squashed. He stewed about it for two or three weeks, then talked to Ray.
"I'm quitting the band," he said.
"No, you ain't."
"And that's why. You're trying to control me and I won't be controlled."
Ray's mouth fell open in disbelief. "But --"
"I'm not going to let you run me over. It's none of your business what I eat. It's none of your business if I smoke pot --"
"You do it on my time, it is."
Joey couldn't argue that point. He was surprised at the words that came from his mouth next. "And I'm fed up with the sixties. I'm tired of Elvis and the Door's and the Rolling Stones and all of them. We bill ourselves as a 'versatile' band, but we never get beyond 1969. There's a world of music out there we're ignoring."
Ray rubbed his forehead, then scratched his beard. "Okay. You're right."
Joey wasn't sure what to say.
Ray motioned him to come in and sit. "I guess I play the music I like, and you're right, that ain't the way it should be. But I don't understand some of the stuff out there now. Do you?"
"Well, yeah."
"Then why don't you lead it? We usually play four sets a night. We'll alternate -- one sixties, one top-forties, and so on. I'll lead the sixties and you can take the rest."
"What about rehearsals?"
"We don't need none for the sixties stuff. We got all that down. So you can have the rehearsal."
"We only have one a week. I'd need more than that."
"How many?"
"Five."
"No. Gary's too busy with scheduling and paperwork. Two."
"Four."
Ray laughed. "Tell you what. You can have four a week for the first month and anytime we play three or less nights in a week, then three."
"When I have rehearsals and lead my sets, who's in charge? You or me?"
"You."
So instead of quitting, Joey had stayed. After that, he and Ray got along fine, except for one incidence soon after Joey started his rehearsals. Danny was goofing off, juggling his drum sticks. Joey was out of patience. Danny dropped one and it rolled by Joey's feet. Joey threw it at Danny -- harder than he intended -- and it skimmed Danny's head.
Ray stopped the rehearsal. He waited for Gary and Danny to leave, then jumped Joey. "You might be the talent of the group," Ray said, "but Danny is the personality. His tricks and pranks get us just as many bookings as your voice does and he's got to practice them."
"He disrupts the rehearsal."
"I ain't gonna have no Prima Donna --"
"Prima Donna? This isn't my problem. This is Danny's problem."
"I don't think you understand what I'm trying to tell you. Maybe you better take a week off and think about it."
"I don't want a week off."
"I didn't say it was optional."
Joey was furious -- as much at Danny as at Ray. Right before the show that night, Danny stopped by his room. "Ray said I had to apologize to you."
"What?"
"Ray. He jumped my ass. Big time."
"He did?"
"Chewed me a new butt hole."
Somehow, Joey felt vindicated. He had accepted the blame for the pot-smoking, even though it was Danny's pot and Danny's idea, but he wasn't going to be Danny's whipping boy. And he did think about what Ray said and he knew it was the truth.
From then on, he'd learned to respect Ray's opinion and learn from him.
Joey watched Ray and Gary in the corner, still in an animated conversation. He sighed. He knew he couldn't expect his brothers to devote the amount of time to music that he did. He liked to perfect each part, liked to create the best sound possible. He cleared his throat. "Let's postpone until four."
Ray and Gary drifted away without breaking their discussion.
Joey sat at the piano and played the melody he'd written earlier. If he could come up with words, he'd have a song. He tapped the keys. David could write lyrics off the top of his head. He still missed David everyday. David and Rosie. He smiled. That's what he'd write. Rosie Maseroni. A tribute to the sweet girl with the auburn curls, the one he'd never been able to forget, the one he still dreamed of. The words formed faster than he could write them.
At four o'clock, Ray and Gary returned, but Danny was still missing. Joey was glad. He wanted to finish his song while the words were flowing. "We'll add a rehearsal tomorrow."
"He's out with Dad," Ray said.
Joey nodded.
"You want to handle it or you want me to?"
"Handle what?"
"Jumping his ass."
Joey smiled. "I'll handle it." He played the first few notes of his song. "Got a few minutes?"
Ray slid a chair over and straddled it. "Sure."
"I'm gonna go work out at the gym," Gary said, waving as he exited.
Joey performed an extended introduction, then sang the words he'd just written.
"Great!" Ray laughed, shaking Joey's shoulder. "That's great, Joey."
Joey blushed. He hoped Ray didn't realize the longing of his words and the object of his desire were real.
"That ain't that girl you traveled with, is it?"
Joey's face burned. "What's it need?"
"A stronger beat on the bass." Ray grabbed his guitar and tuned it. "Do it again and let me play along."
They worked until Gary returned. "You gonna eat?" he asked.
Ray looked at his watch. "Yeah. You want to eat with us, Joey?"
"I want to finish this."
Ray stood. "Don't forget to eat."
Joey smiled.
Ray squeezed his shoulder. "You're still too skinny."
"Don't start it."
Ray laughed.
Joey watched them go. He knew what he had to do. He'd been debating since he'd seen his father in the audience. And it was time to explain that although he held no grudges, he owed his loyalty to Ray and couldn't disrespect Ray by befriending his father.
The next time he looked at his watch it was 7:30 and he only had an hour to eat and shower. Instead of waiting for the elevator, he ran up the three flights of stairs. As he exited the fire door, breathless, the elevator opened and Danny stepped out.
"Danny," Joey said, already regaining his breath. "Can I talk to you?"
Danny made a face. "Shit. I missed rehearsal. It was an accident, okay? I forgot."
Joey shrugged. "As long as it doesn't happen again, I'm not going to worry about it." He walked slowly toward his room, waiting for Danny to walk evenly with him.
"Then what are you jumping my ass for?"
"I'm not. I want to talk to you."
"I won't do it again."
Joey smiled. "I'd like to see Dad."
Danny was quiet for a minute. "He's coming to the show."
Joey chewed his lip. "I'd rather Ray not know I was seeing him."
Danny grinned. "I knew you had it in you."
"Look. I don't get into being defiant like you do. I just want to quietly meet with him and not have it broadcast everywhere. Got it?"
Danny's eyes revealed his delight. "I finally got something to hold over your head."
"Want to talk about that rehearsal?"
"No, no, no. What about lunch? Want to meet him for lunch tomorrow?"
They were in front of Joey's door. Joey nodded, searching his pocket for his key. "Make the arrangements for me, okay? And make it early, maybe brunch, around ten or eleven, 'cause we've got a rehearsal at two."
Danny made another face. "If I do that for you, you should let me off."
"I am letting you off. But we have a make-up rehearsal tomorrow and you need to be there." He opened his door. "On time."
"Yeah. Yeah." Danny turned to his room across the hall.
But he did make the arrangements and he did keep it quiet. Joey hoped by leaving early he'd avoid any confrontations with Ray, but of course Ray strolled through the lobby as Joey waited for a taxi.
"What's you doing?" Ray asked.
"Don't you ever sleep?"
"Not much. Where are you going?"
The taxi honked. "Gotta go," Joey said, but not until he saw the look of hurt cross Ray's face. He sighed as he seated himself in the taxi. He hoped he was doing the right thing and he hoped Ray would understand.
The Shoney's his father had selected was on the other side of Louisville. Joey paced outside until he saw his father in the distance, walking toward the restaurant. He hurried to meet him.
"Am I late?" Sam asked.
"No. I'm early." Joey noticed the laundry hanging from a third floor apartment and the pair of drunks huddled in a warehouse door. It didn't seem to be the type of neighborhood his father should be walking through. "You live far from here?"
"'Bout a mile. I could have borrowed John's car, but it's a beautiful morning."
"A little cool."
"I hope Shoney's is okay. Danny likes to go to extravagant places, but I thought this might be nice. They have a breakfast bar."
Joey blinked hard and forced a smile. He wanted to say how Ray liked buffets and embarrassed all of them with the amount of food he could consume, but "It's fine," was all he could squeeze out.
They entered the restaurant and were seated, then selected their brunch from the buffet.
Joey peeled an orange. He was sure his father was more accustomed to Danny's non-stop chatter, because Sam was as quiet as Joey.
Sam used a biscuit to corral the grits on his fork. "I'm sorry I wasn't there. I know it had to be hard for you boys when your mother died. And I know it had to be especially hard for you when David died."
"Ray was good to us." Joey pulled the orange into sections.
"Danny said you hitch-hiked around the country for four years."
Joey nodded. "I learned a lot."
Sam sipped his coffee. He was pleased to talk to Joey. Of all his sons, Joey had changed the most. He was still soft-spoken, but that nervous self-consciousness was replaced by quiet confidence. "David would be proud of you. You've come a long way from that shy boy I remember."
Joey smiled. "When you get hungry and need a job, you get over being shy real quick."
"I know what you mean."
Joey met his father's eyes, the sapphire eyes like David's, and realized his father had experienced the same frustrations and disappointments as Joey. He put the orange on his plate. Despite the strong aroma, he was no longer hungry. He wanted to tell his father he'd missed him, he was glad to see him, he'd love to make room in his life for him. He took a gulp of water. "I wanted to see you so I could explain why I can't visit with you again."
The biscuit went dry in Sam's mouth. He had warned himself repeatedly not to hope, but he still felt the sting of disappointment.
Joey took another swallow of water. Smoke from a neighboring table drifted his direction and stung his eyes. "It's, uh, the band. I have to respect Ray's feelings and not cause problems in the band."
Sam nodded, his head bobbing over and over, his face aging with each movement.
"I'm sorry. I'd like to. I wish I didn't have to make a choice. But..."
Sam continued to nod. "I understand." And he did. Intellectually, at least.
Joey picked up his fork and surveyed his plate, but nothing looked appetizing. He blinked the smoke from his eyes. "I'm sorry."
"I understand."
"Some things you can talk to Ray about and some you can't."
"He always did have a stubborn streak."
Joey moved his toast around, then gave up and tossed his napkin on his plate.
Sam did the same.
They sat quietly until the waitress brought the check.
"I'll take it," Joey said.
"We'll split it," Sam said.
"You can leave the tip."
Sam nodded and counted out a generous tip.
Joey stopped in the foyer. "I need to call a taxi. Can we drop you off?"
"No. I'll walk." Sam waited until Joey placed the call. They stepped outside, the bright sunshine warming the cold day. But the beauty of the day seemed diminished. Sam shivered and turned to say good-bye to his son.
Their eyes met. Sam threw his arms around Joey, hugging his tall son tightly.
Joey stooped so he didn't tower over Sam. His father's embrace warmed him and he clung to him.
"You're doing the right thing," Sam said, his face buried in Joey's shoulder.
Joey wasn't so sure. He felt like crying. He'd forgotten how kind and gentle his father was and how much he still loved him. He scanned his brain for a way he could continue to see him without hurting Ray, but there was no way. It didn't seem fair. His father -- along with David, of course -- had protected him. His father had been his nurturing parent, the one to hold him when he was hurt or frightened and the one to tuck him in at night and the one who so patiently taught him to love music.
Sam pulled back and forced a smile, but his face was damp, too. "You take care of yourself, okay?"
Joey nodded. "You, too."
Sam turned abruptly and walked back the way he'd come.
Joey watched him until the taxi arrived. He tried not to think. The only thing he wanted was to hit the keyboard and let the music soothe him. The taxi finally deposited him in front of the hotel. He went straight to the empty club, closed to the public and set-up for their rehearsal. The lights were on, but he was almost to the piano before he realized Ray and Gary sat at the front table, bent over paperwork. He stopped.
Ray took a drink of whiskey. "You go see Dad?"
The frustration of the visit threatened to choke Joey. He turned to walk away.
Ray stood. "Did you?"
Joey knew he should keep on walking, but he couldn't help but blame Ray for putting him in this situation. He swung around and strode to Ray. "I don't want to hear one word from you. Not one. You have no right to monitor who I see or what I do in my free time and I will not be questioned about it. You got it?"
Ray's jaw slackened.
Joey pointed at Ray's drink. "Get rid of that. We have a rehearsal and I expect you sober."
Ray looked at Gary.
Gary made a big deal of lighting a cigarette, his hand hiding his smile.
Joey went to his room and listened to Scott Joplin until two o'clock, then left for rehearsal. As he pulled his door shut, Danny exited his room.
"Great," Danny said, grinning. "I'm not late."
Joey didn't smile. He walked down the hall.
"How was your breakfast with Dad?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"Isn't Dad neat? He's so laid back and easy to talk to. I'd forgotten how nice he was."
Joey pushed the elevator button.
"I wish Ray would let him come home with us. Wouldn't that be cool? Can you imagine Dad living with us?"
Joey pounded the button with his fist, then turned and ran down the stairs. He opened the fire door just as the elevator opened and Danny stepped off, displaying his Donny Osmond smile.
"He could play with us, too," Danny said. "He can play anything on piano. Anything. He let me listen to him at the Salvation Army yesterday."
"Just shut up, okay?"
"Ray listens to you. Maybe you can --"
"I said shut up."
Danny made a face and followed Joey into the club.
Joey looked at Ray's coffee cup, then picked up his electric guitar. "We're going to work on Crazy Little Thing Called Love. Queen went number one with it yesterday, so we're already late. Would you put the tape in, Gary?"
Gary started the tape player.
"I'm going to take lead on this. Ray, listen to the bass and see if you can handle it. Gary, I want you on keyboards. I put the sheet for it back there. Danny, you harmonize with me."
The tape played through.
"One more time," Joey said.
Gary re-wound it, then restarted the tape.
When it ended, Joey looked at Danny. "Any questions?"
"We done yet?" Danny asked.
Joey ignored him, his eyes resting briefly on Gary before landing on Ray.
Ray shook his head.
Joey was surprised how old Ray looked, how his eyes sagged and his face drooped. He took a deep breath. "Gary, why don't you run through the keyboard a few times? Danny, you can put on the earphones and try to play along with the tape."
Gary nodded and arranged the sheet music.
Danny stared at Joey for a minute, then scratched his head and went to the tape player.
Joey walked close to Ray and spoke quietly. "I'm sorry I was short with you earlier. I had seen Dad --"
"You ain't gotta tell me nothing."
"I want to. I saw Dad so I could explain to him that even though I didn't hold a grudge, I couldn't see him."
"Why'd you do that?"
Joey took a deep breath. "I owe you that much."
"You don't owe me nothing."
"Yeah, I do." Joey forced a smile. "Let's get this worked out. It's got some tricky parts."
"So does life," Ray said and picked up his electric guitar.

* * *

Sam slid into a chair and ran his fingers through his thinning hair. This was the fourth night he'd sat in his son's audience.
"Hey, Sam." Mona, the gum-chomping waitress, slipped a napkin in front of him. "Coffee?"
"Yes, please."
Mona swung her hips as she went on to the next table, her tight mini-skirt barely covering her bottom.
"Mona!"
Mona turned, looking at Sam.
"Decaf, please."
"Sure thang, Sam."
Before Mona returned with his coffee, his boys took to the stage. Sam leaned back in his chair.
"Sorry it took so long," Mona apologized, popping her gum as she placed his coffee on the table.
"Decaf?"
"Oh, Lordy!" She grabbed the coffee back.
"It's fine, it's fine," Sam insisted.
"It'll just take a minute, hon. I'll get you a fresh cup."
"Next time, okay? I'll keep this one."
"You're a sweetheart, Sam."
Sam focused his attention on his boys. He'd spent a lot of time this week with Danny. Danny was a sweet kid, kind and generous, but unbelievably immature. They finished a song and Danny was bursting for attention.
"Hey, Ray!" Danny bounced on his toes.
"Danny?"
"I'll bet you a week's pay I can do a drum roll."
Ray raised his eyebrow. "I hope so, Danny. That's what I pay you for."
"I'll bet I can do it without drums."
Ray shook his head. "I already lost that bet."
"Okay. I'll bet I can give a drum roll without drums or drumsticks."
"No. You did that in Charlotte."
"Okay, okay. I'll bet I can do a drum roll, without drums, without drumsticks, and without using my hands."
Ray studied him, pulling his beard. "No hands?"
Danny nodded. He looked into the audience, his grin escaping.
"None at all?"
"None. I'll keep them behind my back."
"No drumsticks, right?"
"Nope. Nothing."
Ray looked at the audience.
"Go for it!" someone shouted.
"Okay, Danny. No money, though. Just a drink."
Danny winked at an admirer, then bounded to the front of the stage and began tap dancing, his feet moving swiftly and rhythmically on the hardwood floor, the taps on his shoes mimicking the sounds of a snare drum. He finished the fancy foot work, then took a deep bow.
The crowd cheered.
Ray shook his head. "Okay, Danny, okay," he said. "You win." He guzzled his whiskey and looked at the audience, then back to Danny. "Tell us what it's like to be a Teenager in Love." Danny was twenty-one, almost twenty-two, but he could still pass for a teenager.
Joey moved to the percussion area.
Danny remained at the front of the stage. Sweat beaded on his brow as he gripped the microphone, his smooth voice full of emotion as he lamented the pains of being a teenager in love. As he sang, several girls gathered. Danny flirted with them, winking and blowing kisses.
Sam smiled. The kid had personality. There was no doubt about that. And he and Ray played off one other so well. Danny said they didn't rehearse his pranks and Ray never knew what he'd do, but they had the timing and the repartee.
Sam hated seeing Ray drink so much. He sipped his caffeinated coffee. Gary probably didn't realize it, but he was Ray's enabler. He protected Ray from the consequences of his drinking. Danny told him how Gary kept an eye on Ray and stopped him if he drank too much and lied to Carol so she didn't know the extent of his drinking.
Sam debated on whether he should approach Gary or not. Gary wasn't hard-headed like Ray, and even though he might not want to listen, he probably would. Sam just needed to get his courage up and not take "no" for an answer.
He waited until the next day, then went to Gary's room after he'd had breakfast with Danny. The "do not disturb" sign was on the doorknob, but Sam could hear someone moving around and figured Gary just hadn't removed it yet. He knocked.
Gary swung the door open, naked except for a towel around his waist. His bare chest was broad and hairy, his arms thick and muscular. He was only an inch taller than Sam, but much stockier.
"Can I talk to you, Gary?"
"This isn't a good time."
"Please. Just for a few minutes."
"Maybe later, Dad."
Sam took a deep breath. He didn't like being pushy, but Ray's life was at risk. He walked in and paced the floor. "I'm worried about Ray's drinking."
"He's all right."
"He's an alcoholic."
"He drinks more when we're on the road. He's okay."
"You're not doing Ray any favors by protecting him. You're what is called an enabler."
Gary lit a cigarette. "Maybe you'd better leave now."
"Will you come with me to an AA meeting? Or an Al-Anon?"
"No."
"Ray needs help."
"I think you're overreacting." He motioned Sam toward the door.
"Will you think about what I've said?" He pulled a pamphlet from his pocket. "Will you read this?"
Gary made no move to accept it.
Sam dropped the brochure in the pocket of Gary's open suitcase. He went to the door, then paused. "Ray needs your help."
"Is he gone yet?" Mona asked, coming out of the bathroom, wearing only pasties and a garter with black fish-net stockings. She blew a large gum bubble and used her tongue to push the remnants back in her mouth. "Oh, hi ya, Sam," she smiled, making no attempt to cover herself.
Sam backed out the door. Gary was right. This wasn't a good time.

* * *

It was their final night in Louisville and Ray accepted encores for an hour. The club lights came on before Ray said his good-nights and excused the band.
Danny sighed and loosened the tension on his drums. He didn't want to leave his father. It was like the romances he'd had in various cities -- he'd fall in love the first night and spend every second of his free time with the girl, only to move on at the end of the week. In the next city, he'd find another true love, with just a twinge of regret for his last soul mate whose face rapidly faded and whose name he could no longer recall.
Except he didn't want his father to become a memory. He wanted him to stay in his life. He packed his drums and looked at the audience to make sure his father was waiting for him.
"We're leaving at eight a.m. Sharp. You ain't in the bus, you ain't going."
"Eight?" Danny swung around and faced Ray. Louisville was only five hours from home. They never left until ten or twelve when it was that close.
"Eight. Be there. I ain't looking for you."
"Why so early?"
"I ain't seen Carol all week."
"You just don't want me to have time with Dad tonight."
"I ain't arguing with you. The bus leaves at eight."
Danny scratched his nose with his middle finger and jumped off the stage. He plopped down in the chair opposite Sam. "Ray says we got to leave at eight."
"You better get some sleep, then."
"I'll sleep on the bus."
Sam yawned. The week of late nights had exhausted him. And Mona finally had a night off so he drank decaffeinated coffee, which wasn't helping him stay awake.
"Why don't you come home with us?"
"I can't, Danny."
"Me and you could get a place together --"
Sam shook his head. He'd already considered all the possibilities. As much as he wanted to be with his boys, it wasn't feasible. "No, Danny. It's time for you to go home."
"I want you to come, too."
"I can't. My work is here."
"Then I'll quit the band and stay here with you."
"No. Now listen to me. It's been wonderful to spend this week with you, but I need to stay here and you need to stay with Ray. You belong with him, not me."
"But, Dad --"
"You belong on the road, Danny, in the spotlight, charming all those young girls."
"But I want to be with you, Dad."
"You can call or visit anytime you want."
"Tomorrow?"
Sam smiled. "Sure."
"As soon as we get home, I'll drive back down, okay?"
"Okay. Just don't aggravate Ray."
"You know I'd never do that, Dad."

* * *

Gary dropped the schedule on the table.
"Thanks." Ray picked up the paper. He had told Gary to steer clear of Louisville. Danny was arrogant and disrespectful after spending a two-day break with their father, and Ray was doing everything he could to discourage future visits.
"There's nothing in Kentucky," Gary said and started to walk away.
"Stay here," Ray said. He reviewed the schedule and frowned. "Why're we scheduled for four weeks straight, with no break?"
"I had five days open between Pittsburgh and McMichael's in Philadelphia, then McMichael's requested we extend five days."
"You heard of the word 'NO' ?"
"It's more complicated --"
"Call them and tell them we ain't available."
"If we can't work the solid two weeks, they don't want us at all."
"Fine. Get a cancellation fee and tell them to blow off."
Gary took a deep drag from his cigarette. Ray never considered the financial implications. "That would put us out for three straight weeks. We can't afford that."
Ray threw the schedule on the table. "I thought I made it clear last time. We get home for at least three days, at least every two weeks."
"Why doesn't Carol fly out?"
"Why the hell can't you just do your job the way you're supposed to?"
"I'm not in the mood to fight with you. This is the schedule. If you don't like it, you do it."
"I ain't knocked the shit outta you in a long time."
Gary smiled and ground out his cigarette. "Why don't we fly Carol in midway for a long weekend?"
Ray rubbed his forehead. "Fine. But don't do this again."
Gary shook his head. "I don't know why I put up with you. I really don't."

* * *

Ray waited as the passengers unboarded. He watched Carol come down the walk. He bounced on his toes and stretched his arms to reach her.
Carol laughed and dropped her bag.
He threw his arms around her and hugged her as tight as he could without breaking her ribs.
Carol buried her head in his chest, the way she had since they first dated, the way she did whenever she hadn't seen him for awhile.
Ray loved the smell of her hair, the softness of her skin, the sound of her voice. He picked her up and swung her around.
"Put me down, Ray. People are watching."
"I don't care. I missed you." He pulled back from her. "You got a cold?"
"No."
"Your face looks puffy or something."
"Thanks."
Ray smiled and hugged her again. He held her hand as they strolled through the airport, catching one another up on what was going on. He led her to a long black limousine and smiled as the driver opened the door.
Carol looked at him.
"Gary said he was charging your trip to the band, so I'm making him pay."
"Is there a tax deduction for conjugal visits?"
"I'm sure Gary'll find one." Ray pulled her close to him. "I already gave Gary orders that he'd better never schedule us so full again." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it softly.
Carol snuggled into his chest, wrapping her arms around his broad body. "I swear, Ray, you are the sexiest man alive."
He held her tight, savoring her softness against him. It didn't take long to get to the hotel. Ray led the way through the corridors, pulling her by the hand. He peeked out the elevator before getting off. "Hopefully," he whispered, "we can sneak into my room before anyone knows we're back."
She played along.
Ray put his key in the door.
"Hey, Ray!" Gary yelled. "Wait up! I need to see you."
Ray looked at Carol, rolling his eyes.
She smiled.
"Hi, Carol," Gary panted. "How was your flight?"
"Just fine."
"Ray, the manager called. He wanted to know if we could pull off a fifties night tomorrow."
"That ain't much notice."
"Well, no, but I told him we'd do it."
Ray shrugged. "Then get busy working it out."
"You usually do the layouts."
"Hey. You promised. You do it. I'm busy."
"We need a rehearsal tomorrow and we don't have one scheduled."
"Call him back and tell him we'll do it next Saturday."
"They already advertised it."
"Then go get Joey and Danny and work it out. You can do it without me. Put Joey in charge. He knows how to put a show together."
"Joey has a headache."
"Then give him some goddam aspirin."
Gary shrugged. "All right. I'll give you an update in a half hour or so."
"That ain't necessary." Ray shook his head and opened his door.
Danny lay on the bed, watching television.
Ray dropped Carol's bag. "What the hell are you doing?"
Danny sat up. "Oh, hi, Ray. Hi, Carol. Come on in."
"This is my room."
"Yeah. The air conditioner went out in mine. They don't got no other rooms, so I said I'd room with you. You don't mind, do you?"
"Out!" Ray held the door open.
Danny stared at him.
"Move it! Get out! Out! Out!"
Danny shrugged, looking at Carol as Ray grabbed the ringing phone.
"Ray?" Joey croaked.
"What?"
"I have a sore throat."
Ray paused. "How sore?"
"I'm losing my voice. I won't be able to sing tonight."
Ray noticed Danny watching him, grinning. He slammed the phone down.
He pushed Danny out the door and twisted the dead bolt. He looked at Carol and smiled, shaking his head. "They're trying to drive me crazy, Carol. That was Joey on the phone. He said he had a sore throat."
Carol chuckled. "I thought Gary was serious."
"I did, too. I was trying to figure out how we could do it without spending tomorrow in a rehearsal --"
"They're terrible, Ray."
"I know."
Ray poured them each a glass of wine, handing one to Carol.
"I want to do something first."
"What's that?"
She rummaged through her overnight bag and pulled out a pregnancy test kit. "I'm over a month late."
"You've skipped before."
"I know. That's why I didn't think about it last month."
"But you can't..."
Carol shrugged. "If I don't eat, I feel nauseated. If I eat certain foods, I get a tummy ache. And I'm tired. By the time school's out, I go home, fall on the couch and don't move until bedtime." She disappeared into the bathroom, then returned. "Ten minutes." She lay on the bed.
Ray put his arm around her and brushed her hair from her face. He worried about her.
"Savannah," she said.
"Savannah?"
"Yeah. Remember when we were in Savannah, early last month?"
"Yeah."
"I told you my belly button tickled. From the inside. You laughed at me."
Ray kissed her ear, then nibbled down her neck. She was thirty-six. She'd be thirty-seven in September. That seemed old to be having a baby.
She squirmed, giggling.
He unbuttoned her shirt, kissing the skin bared with each button. He'd love to have a child, but more than anything, he wanted Carol to be happy and healthy.
Ray looked at the clock. "Is it time?"
"Yeah."
He took Carol's hands and pulled her up.
"It's blue," she whispered.
Ray laughed out loud and picked her up, swinging her in circles. He carried her to the bed and placed her on it. They made love, sweet, gentle, spiritual love, the way they did when he was worried or when he was reminded of how much he appreciated having Carol for his wife.
Carol relaxed next to him, her head on his hairy chest.
"When's this little one due?"
"If I figured right, around Thanksgiving."
"You gotta see a doctor right away."
She nodded. "I've been taking vitamins, just in case."
He kissed her forehead. "You'll be a great mommy."
"You'll be a great daddy," she returned. "That's what made me fall in love with you to start with. The way you took care of David when he had appendicitis. And Danny, when he was sick. You were good to those boys."
"Probably too good."
Carol smiled. "Let's get dressed. I'll give Mom and Dad a quick call and then we can eat."
Ray couldn't stop grinning during the show. He had waited so long. He kept his eye on Carol, as he always did when she was in his audience. By the last set, she closed her eyes frequently and he knew she was exhausted. He asked Gary to clean up for him and took her to the room.
He straightened the bed for her, holding the blankets while she crawled in, then covered her.
She smiled. "I'm sorry. I'm not used to these late nights."
He kissed her forehead. "Get some sleep, honey."
Ray took a long shower, then scanned the television channels. He found a black and white war movie he'd already seen at least six times and never did like. He tried to fluff the flat hotel pillows, but gave up. He lay on the bed and watched Carol sleep, the way her chest rose and fell with her breaths, the way her eyes moved beneath their lids, the way little smiles crossed her lips.
That was the one thing he hated about his job -- missing Carol. He put his hand on her tummy. A baby. After so many years. It was tough enough leaving Carol. How would he leave his baby?
Ray contemplated the problem all weekend, even as he hugged her goodbye, even as he watched her board the plane, even as he endured the lonely taxi ride back.
He walked straight to the bar. "Double whiskey and water," he said and straddled the bar stool. To make matters worse, they had tonight off. He had nothing to do except miss Carol and feel lonely. "Better start me a tab."
Ray downed the first few drinks rapidly, then slowed. What would happen after the baby was born? Carol wouldn't be able to hop a plane and come visit for a weekend. Probably even before then. He stretched his beard. Gary had to quit booking them so tight, like it or not. He couldn't stay away from his wife and baby for weeks at a time. He just couldn't do it.
It was late when Gary found Ray passed out on the bar stool, his broad body hanging over on all sides.
"He belong to you?" the bartender asked.
Gary sighed. "I suppose."
"Fifty-four dollars," the bartender said, handing Gary the tab.
Gary frowned. He paid it, then shook Ray. "Come on, Ray."
Ray moaned.
Gary went to the phone. He tried Joey first, but there was no answer, so he called Danny. Danny picked up after several rings and Gary told him to come to the lounge.
Gary looked at the bartender. "Don't you know when someone's had enough?"
"I tried to cut him off. He got belligerent."
"So? Let him rant. He'll get over it."
The bartender shrugged. "I ain't his mother."
Gary scowled and tried again to rouse Ray.
Ray swore incoherently.
Danny grinned as he bounced into the bar. "Good thing we got tonight off, huh?"
"Let's see if we can lug him upstairs." Gary shook Ray. "Come on, Ray," he yelled in Ray's face. "We're going for a walk." He swung Ray's arm around his shoulder and waited for Danny to grab the other side. "You got to help us," he continued. "You're too heavy for us to carry. Come on. You have to walk. That's the way. Lift your foot. You can do it."
It took several minutes to drag him to his room. Gary searched Ray's pockets for his room key, but Ray fought him, mumbling and rambling, and Danny couldn't hold Ray upright alone. "Ray, I need your key," Gary shouted in Ray's ear.
Joey stepped off the elevator and walked toward them.
Gary waved him over. "Give Danny a hand."
"What's going on?"
"He drank himself into a stupor. We're trying to get him in his room."
Danny and Joey held Ray while Gary fished the key from Ray's pocket. The three of them lugged him to his bed. Gary looked at Joey. "We drug him up here. You can undress him."
Joey smiled. He untied Ray's shoes and pulled them off. He unbuckled Ray's belt, then tried to unsnap his jeans.
Ray yelled angrily, incoherently, swinging both arms.
Joey jumped, but Ray's right fist caught his cheek bone.
Joey rubbed his cheek.
"You okay?" Gary asked.
"Yeah."
Gary sighed. "What do we do with him?"
"Let him sleep it off," Joey suggested, still massaging his face. "In his clothes."
"You'd better get some ice on that." Gary lit a cigarette. "I guess I'll stay with him and make sure he doesn't choke on his vomit. Why don't you get some juice, Danny? Better find some aspirin and Alka Seltzer, too. He'll need that."
Danny nodded.
The phone rang. Gary hesitated, then answered it. "Hello?"
"Gary?"
"Hi, Carol. How was your trip?"
"Not bad. Is Ray around?"
"He's, uh, he's in the shower." Gary took a deep breath. "We, uh, we got a show tonight. They added one on us, and we're rushing around trying to get ready. He'll call you tomorrow, okay?"
"All right. Tell him I'm home."
"I will." Gary hung up the phone and sighed. It was going to be a long night.

* * *

Ray felt the room circling before he woke. He rolled to his stomach and swung one leg off the bed, using the floor as an anchor. He was going to be sick. That he was sure of. What he wasn't sure of was how he got there. He couldn't remember anything, except arguing with the bartender about how much he could drink. He guessed he showed him.
He opened his eyes and tried to focus, tried to force the spinning to stop.
"Good morning," Gary said.
Ray looked at him, but the motion was too much. He darted for the bathroom and vomited. As his heaves subsided, he felt better. He brushed his teeth and washed his face, but he was still shaky and his mouth was dry and stale. He caught Gary's eye through the mirror. "Would you order me some toast? Dry? And coffee?"
Gary nodded and picked up the phone.
Ray sat on the bed. "How'd I get here?"
"Danny and I carried you. You hit Joey."
"I did not."
"Yes, you did."
Ray frowned, trying to think, but there was a hole in his memory. "What happened?"
"I found you passed out at the bar. Danny and I lugged you up here. We thought you might be more comfortable undressed, so Joey tried to unbuckle your belt and you slugged him."
"Is he okay?"
"Yeah. You were too drunk to hurt him."
"Shit."
"I lied to Carol."
"Why?"
"She called to tell you she made it back. I told her you were in the shower and they'd booked us to play and you wouldn't have time to call her back."
Ray slowly let his breath out, rubbing his temples.
"You owe me fifty-four dollars for your bar tab and Danny twelve dollars for juice and aspirin and Alka Seltzer."
"Got any good news?"
"You have two hours before rehearsal. Want to cancel?"
"No. Joey gets testy if I mess with his schedule."
"I'm going for breakfast. See you at two."
"Thanks for taking care of me."
Gary met his eye. He hesitated, started to speak, then shrugged. "See you later."

* * *

Ray's head throbbed during rehearsal.
"We got ten days off when we get home, right?" Danny asked.
"Yeah," Ray answered.
"No rehearsals or nothing, right?"
"Why?" Ray asked.
"I thought me and Dad could go on a vacation. To Myrtle Beach or camping or something."
"We'll have rehearsals," Ray said.
"When?"
Ray rubbed his head. "I don't know yet."
"I want six or seven days off in a row."
"Uh-uh."
"Why not? We haven't had a break for a long time."
"I ain't gonna argue with you. Me and Joey --"
"Why don't you feel like arguing?" Danny bit his thumbnail. He leaned his head back and looked down his nose at Ray.
"We're having rehearsals every goddam day. Okay? You got it now?"
Joey cleared his throat. "Let's get started."
Danny saluted Ray with his middle finger.
After rehearsal, Danny sided up to Ray. "I want a week off."
"I said no."
"Hey, Gary!" Danny motioned Gary over. "Don't I got vacation time coming?"
"Yeah."
"I want it when we get back."
"Ray has to approve it."
Danny's black eyes drilled through Ray. "I want my vacation when we get back."
"No."
"You can't stop me."
"The hell I can't."
"My contract says --"
"When the band has time off. And it ain't time off. We're having rehearsals."
"You son-of-a-bitch."
Ray rubbed his blood shot eyes and looked at Gary. "Get him away from me."
Gary gave Danny a look, then took Ray by the elbow and led him toward the lobby.
"Asshole!" Danny shouted after them. He avoided Ray the remainder of the afternoon and the first two sets that night.
During break, Ray sat at the bar next to Gary and sipped coffee. "Danny ain't had no jokes or pranks."
Gary tried not to smile. Danny usually did his entertaining in the second set, but he purposely planned it for the third tonight, just to make Ray sweat.
"And he ain't talked to me. I know I pissed him off, but Danny never stays mad."
Gary shrugged. "Can't really say I blame him. You do seem to be overstepping the bounds of reason."
Ray sighed. "I gotta talk to him." He looked at his watch. "Ain't got time now. Breaks over."
Joey led the opening number, then Danny leaned into his microphone. "How many of you got an older brother or sister?" He scanned the audience. "Do they still boss you around? Tell you what to do?" Danny waved his hand high in the air. "Come on. Hands. Let me see hands."
"Danny, we're in front of a live audience," Ray reminded.
"Ray is twelve years older than me. He thinks that gives him a license to run my life." Danny put on his magician's hat and cape, then strode to the front of the stage, carrying his magic wand. "The only way to get him off my ass is to make him disappear."
"Don't do anything stupid," Ray said, his eyebrow raised.
Danny stood close to Ray. He held his hands high, closed his eyes and snapped his fingers. There was a cloud of smoke in front of Ray and another, larger one, at the rear of the stage, near Joey.
As the smoke cleared, Gary pointed exaggeratedly to where Joey once stood, but was now gone.
The audience cheered.
Danny stared at Ray in mock horror, his hands covering his mouth. He took a deep breath, then spoke into the microphone. "I think I screwed up."
Ray didn't know Joey had disappeared. He patted his hair, face and beard, trying to figure out what Danny had done to make the crowd applaud. He looked at his clothes, raising and inspecting each arm and leg.
The crowd laughed louder as Ray became more certain Danny had done something to him. Ray looked at Gary. "What'd he do?" he asked.
Gary laughed, shrugging his shoulders.
"What's wrong?" Ray said, again touching his face and hair.
The audience roared.
"What is it?"
"Look behind you, dumb ass!" someone yelled.
Ray turned. He stared at the keyboard area as though expecting something to happen. "Where's Joey?" he finally asked.
"He disappeared," Gary answered.
Danny shook his head. "I'm afraid I made the wrong brother disappear," he said. "I knew I should've practiced more."
Ray checked himself one more time. "You mean, there's nothing wrong with me?"
"Nothing we want to discuss here." Danny went to Joey's area. He held both hands high in the air and snapped his fingers.
Joey appeared through the cloud of smoke, smiling.
The crowd cheered.
Danny hurried back to his drums.
Even though his stomach was still queasy, Ray took a long drink from a cocktail a fan had sent. He wiped the sweat from his brow and looked at Danny. "You're gonna pay for that one."
Danny grinned, juggling his drum sticks. "Either I get my vacation or it's gonna be worse tomorrow night."
"We'll talk about it after the show."
"Uh-uh. Gary said I had it coming, Joey said I could take it, and you're the only one being a butt."
Ray looked into the audience. "Okay. Fine. You got it."
The crowd cheered.
Joey played a strong beat on the keyboard. He moved close to the microphone. "Do you know what you do to me, Rosie?" he sang, drawing the attention away from his brothers. "Rosie. Rosie Maseroni..."
Gary smiled. Sometimes Ray deserved a little grief.

* * *

Joey was uneasy. As soon as they arrived in Atlanta, he searched the white pages. Not only did he not find Rosie, but Uncle James was no longer listed.
Joey couldn't help but hope, though. Before the show he sat in the lobby, watching the faces entering. During the first number, he squinted against the stage lights. And while Ray did the introductions, he searched methodically from table to table.
And then he saw her. Sitting alone at the front table, her auburn hair hanging in ringlets, her fair skin dotted with freckles, her wide-set green eyes locked on his. As he watched, that slow smile formed on her lips, and although he couldn't see from that distance, he knew it was working its way up her face until her eyes were sparkling and her face radiant.
Ray sang the lead for Against the Wind and Joey realized he'd missed his cue. He smiled his apology to Ray.
Ray winked and motioned Joey to take over the next stanza.
Joey was afraid to take his eyes off Rosie, afraid she'd disappear, afraid he'd never see her again.
The set finally ended. Joey ignored Ray's bid for attention and ran to the front table.
Rosie stood, opening her arms.
Joey wrapped his long arms around her and pulled her close to him.
"Joey," she whispered.
Joey took a deep breath and released her, holding her at arm's length. Her face was wet. He wanted to tell her he loved her, but his mouth wouldn't cooperate.
She didn't speak either, although her moist eyes examined his for confirmation that the years had not broken their bond.
He pulled her against him again and held her, inhaling the fragrant scent of her auburn hair.
"I love you, Joey," she whispered.
He still couldn't speak. There were so many things he wanted to say, so many words that fought for priority. And when his mouth did open, the words that came out weren't the ones he intended. "Will you sleep with me tonight?"
Rosie laughed, that tinkling laugh of hers that crinkled her face and lit her eyes. "Oh, Joey. I never realized how much I loved you until you were gone. It was terrible, Joey, terrible. Jeff, my cousin, leaked a story to the press about the 'poor little rich girl,' complete with my picture and name, so all these people were hounding me for money and pretending to be my friend --"
"So that's why Uncle James kicked me out."
"Kicked you out?"
"I tried to find you."
"He never told me." Rosie hugged Joey. "Oh, Joey. I didn't appreciate you. You were my friend when I had nothing, absolutely nothing. When I told my friend Anne about you, she said you weren't for real. When I told her how sweet and kind and considerate you were, and how gifted, and how good -- she thought I made you up." Rosie ran her hand down Joey's spine, electrifying him.
"And the more I talked about you and the more I thought about you, the more I realized we were meant to be together," she continued. "Our paths were too coincidental. Just last week I was debating on what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, and I was praying and asking God to help me decide, because I'm not happy right now, and I need a change. I was thinking about becoming a nun, but after I'd prayed, I opened the newspaper and there was the ad for the Gambel Brothers." She paused, moving back to see his eyes. "For the second time in my life, you were the answer to my prayer."
Joey tightened his grip on her.
Gary and Danny began a Simon and Garfunkle duet.
Joey glanced at the stage. "Break's over. I've got to go to work."
"I know."
"You'll wait, won't you?"
"I've waited seven years."
Joey kissed her forehead and forced himself away from her. He entered the dark side of the stage and approached Ray. "Sorry."
Ray smiled. "Who is she?"
"Rosie."
Ray's smile broadened. "Rosie Maseroni?"
"Yeah." Joey's face was on fire.
"Take this set off and visit with her."
"That's okay. She'll wait for me."
"I put Gary and Danny on duet to give me a few minutes to rearrange. I think I got everything covered. Take this set. Then I'll use you heavy the next one, okay?"
"Thanks." Joey walked two steps then swung around. "And if you've got Rosie Maseroni on the sheet, get it off."
Ray laughed.
Joey jumped off stage. He moved his chair as close to Rosie's as he could. "Ray gave me this set off." He slipped his arm around Rosie and pulled her toward him.
She smiled. "How long have you been doing this?"
"Working for Ray? Four years."
"Great band."
"What about you? What are you doing?"
"I'm the music director at Saint Francis." She squeezed his hand. "After we split, I missed the music so much I got my Masters in music from Georgia State. I wouldn't have done that if I hadn't met you. You were my inspiration."
"You never got married or anything?"
"No. No one was like you."
Joey smiled and squeezed her hand.
Too soon, it was time to return to work.
During the last break, Danny followed Joey to the restroom. He pushed plastic squares into Joey's palm. "I'll bet you didn't think of that."
Joey glanced at the condoms and scowled. "Mind your own business." He threw them on the floor.
Danny grinned. "'Will you sleep with me tonight?'" he mimicked.
Joey's face flushed.
"I always thought you were a virgin --"
"Shut up."
"But no. You work fast. Maybe I should try that. 'Hey, sweet thing, will you sleep with --'"
Joey slammed out the door.
Danny laughed.
The last set went faster than Joey expected. Joey normally led the last set, but Ray took over so he didn't have to think, then insisted the rest of them would clean up for him. Although Joey knew his brothers were watching and laughing, he took Rosie to his room.
Once alone with Rosie, Joey was uncomfortable. He'd waited too long for her. Kissing could come later. Tonight he'd be content to hold her and talk to her. He wrapped his arms around her. "Do you still love strawberry ice cream with real strawberries, topped with whipped cream and crushed pecans?"
"You remember that?"
"I remember lots of things."
"It never tasted better. Ice cream was such a treat." Rosie's eyes crinkled and her smile worked its way up her face. "Everything was special that year."
"I love you, Rosie."
"You'd have to convert to Catholicism."
Joey's mind raced. He'd never considered marriage before. Music was his life. But he'd lost Rosie once and he wasn't going to lose her again. "Would I have to do anything weird?"
Rosie smiled, that wonderful slow smile. "No. Just go to mass with me."
"Okay." And then Joey remembered what he had hidden from Rosie. "There's something else I have to tell you."
Rosie pulled away from him. "You have a girlfriend?"
"No." He took both her hands in his and sat on the bed. "That year we were together was a real tough year for me, too. I couldn't tell you then. But the reason I understood how you felt about losing your parents wasn't because I'd lost my mother. I'd never been close to her. But my brother, David, my best friend, was killed in Vietnam that May."
"Oh, Joey." Rosie's eyes filled with tears. "Why didn't you --"
"I couldn't. I guess I was trying to run from it or something."
"And I was so wrapped up in my own grief, I never realized. I'm sorry."
Joey smiled. "You helped me more than you'll ever know." He pulled Rosie onto his lap, her face close to his. He debated less than a second, then eliminated the distance between their lips.
Rosie met him halfway.
Joey had never been aware of his nervous system before, of the electrical impulses that sparked, one after another, starting at the nape of his neck and extending down each arm, down his spine, and through each leg.
The only experience he'd had with women was Maria. And Maria had been fun, a lover, a teacher, a teaser. But this was something natural, something untaught.
Joey breathed through his nose and remembered all those frustrating nights of sleeping next to Rosie, wanting to hug her, wanting to kiss her, wanting to make love.
His breath came harder. He moved his hand inside her blouse and worked up until he found the hooks of her bra. He snapped one, then the other.
Rosie jerked away from him. "Stop it!"
Joey's face stung as though he'd been slapped. "I'm sorry."
"When I said I'd sleep with you, I didn't mean I'd have sex. I'm still a Catholic, you know."
"I'm sorry," Joey said again. He didn't know what to do. He didn't think he should try to refasten her bra and he was petrified she would leave him. "I'm really sorry, Rosie. It won't happen again. Please."
Rosie strode to the bathroom. She stayed for a long time.
Joey sat on the bed, not moving, and waited, wishing he could take back a few seconds' passion.
It was almost an hour before Rosie came out. She was bathed and dressed in her flannel gown, her auburn curls brushed and shiny. She sat next to Joey.
Joey kept his head low.
She took his hand in hers. "I prayed about it, Joey. Now, I know you probably think God is some kind of old fogey, but He's not. He knows what life is about. And God assured me that you do love me and you do respect me and that I need to forgive you. And I probably did lead you on. I'm sorry."
Without waiting for a response, she continued. "I want you, too, Joey, but it isn't right yet. We need to wait. God has chosen you for me and me for you, and I feel strongly about that, but we have to abide by His plan. Does that make sense to you?"
The only part Joey understood was that Rosie wasn't leaving. And that was the only part that made any difference. He nodded, his head still hung in shame.
"Will you still sleep with me?"
Joey smiled. "I better take a shower first."
Rosie turned down the sheets. "I'll wait."
They spent the next three days together, separating only during Joey's performances. He canceled rehearsal -- much to Danny's delight -- and gave up writing music, which usually consumed his day.
"Joey?" Rosie said, her arms wrapped around his waist. She wasn't quite as tall as his shoulder, and her soft roundness contrasted with his angular lankiness.
"Yeah?"
"It seems like we were never apart."
Joey turned her face to his and kissed her, his tongue exploring her perfect teeth and his hands rubbing her arms. That was about as much rubbing as she permitted. It hadn't taken him long to discover the exact limits, and he had a tendency to push them despite the scolding he'd get. "I love you, Rosie," he whispered.
"Will you go to mass with me tomorrow?" she asked.
"Yeah." Joey petted her hair. "I want to make love with you, Rosie." There were several times during the past few days when Joey thought his brain separated from his body. And this was one of them, because there was no way those words would consciously come from his mouth.
"After we're married, Joey."
"Let's get married today."
"Be patient, Joey. Marriage is forever and I don't believe in divorce. We need to be sure we're ready for it."
"I'm ready. Believe me, I'm ready."
"You'll be okay. Come on. Let's go get breakfast."

* * *

The end of July -- the end of their contract in Atlanta -- came faster than Joey thought possible. He would never have thought his life could change so drastically in two weeks. But he had smiled more in those two weeks than he had in his entire life.
He and Rosie spent the night in her small apartment, packing her belongings. Despite her wealth, she had very few possessions, and donated most of the ones she had to the church. That was one more thing Joey loved about her -- no one would ever guess she had money. She lived as simply and as humbly as the nuns she adored.
Joey checked his watch. His brothers would be there in half an hour to load Rosie's stuff on the bus. She had decided to quit her job and travel with them. Joey had been hesitant to talk to Ray about it, knowing how Ray was about having women in the house, but Ray laughed and said of course Rosie was welcome.
Danny threw a fit, wanting to know why Joey could and he couldn't, and Ray just said it was "different." Of course, Joey wasn't about to let his brothers know exactly how different it was -- let them think what they wanted. He was just pleased that Ray granted him a privilege that he didn't give Danny or even Gary.
Joey wrapped his arms around Rosie and kissed under her ear. He'd discovered she loosened up just a little when he did that, and he still hadn't quit hoping that maybe she'd become so overcome by passion she'd make love with him. "Let's get married next week," he whispered.
Rosie grinned, squirming away from him. "Be patient, Joey. Be patient."

* * *

Ray sipped his Jack Daniel's and glanced around at his brothers. Gary was on back-up guitar, but Joey was in the percussion area and Rosie was on keyboards. Ray rubbed his forehead. Rosie practiced with them and Joey sometimes worked her into the show, but he didn't have anything on the schedule with Rosie that night.
"Where's Danny?" he asked.
Danny sprung from behind the make-shift curtain. "It's 60's night!" he announced, sliding across the stage in black leather pants and a white T-shirt with cigarettes rolled in the sleeve. His raven hair shimmered with oil and a cigarette dangled from his lips. He stopped at center stage and waved to the cheering crowd.
Joey sang All Shook Up in his husky voice.
Danny danced Elvis-style, swinging his hips and lip-synching the words into a dead mike. He flirted with the girls who gathered, winking and blowing kisses. His dance became more seductive as he raised his shirt.
The girls cheered.
As he pulled it over his chest, he looked at Ray.
Ray shook his head, his eyebrow raised.
"More! More! More!" the group chanted.
"The boss says I can't," Danny apologized.
The crowd screamed in protest.
Danny held up his hands. "Sorry. The boss says 'no'. But I'll tell you what. After the show, meet me in my room and we'll finish it."
The girls cheered.
"Room 741. 7-4-1. Take the elevator to the seventh floor and hang a right. You can't miss it. 7-4-1." Danny blew another round of kisses and strutted to his area.
Ray took over the lead, his smooth voice crooning Unchained Melody. Partway through, he stopped singing. He waved the others quiet, then took a key from his pocket and looked at it. He turned to Danny. "741 is my room."
Danny laughed, holding his stomach and doubling over. "You're so easy, Ray!"
Ray shook his head. He emptied his cocktail and motioned the waitress for a refill. There was never a dull moment with Danny around.

* * *

Sam paced the floor of his small room at the Salvation Army. He looked at his youngest son and shook his head.
"Ray's an ass."
A lawn mower blared near the window, covering their conversation. Sam closed it. "I don't like to hear you say that."
"He is. He --"
"No. I don't want to hear you say that again."
"But --"
"Ray raised you. Ray sacrificed for you. And you will not disrespect him."
Danny made a face. "He lets Joey's girlfriend stay at the house. In Joey's room with him. I picked up a girl the night we got home and he made her leave. Can you believe that? It's not fair. He's an ass."
"You can leave now."
"What?"
"Go home." Sam's voice was still soft, although there was a sternness to it.
Danny stared at his father in disbelief. "What?"
"You seem to have a hard time hearing what I'm telling you. So let me tell you one more time. I will not allow you to disrespect Ray. I will not allow you to call him names and tell spiteful stories about him and insinuate he's stupid or lazy or mean. I won't have it. You will show him the same respect you show me or you'll leave."
Danny chewed his thumbnail.
"I realize Ray's not perfect. But you need to realize that Ray gave you a home and meals and a lot more than the bare necessities. From the time you were born, Ray adored you. He spent most every penny he earned buying you presents. He down right spoiled you. And even though you're old enough to take care of yourself -- you're the same age now as Ray was when he assumed responsibility for the house and you boys -- he still gives you a home and food and a job. And I won't tolerate you putting him down."
Danny sighed. "Okay." His eyes darted around the tiny room. "Want to go get a pizza?"
Sam shook his head. Danny had a lot of growing up to do. A whole lot.

* * *

"Hey, Joey. I got some good shit. Want to smoke?"
Joey hesitated. "You in your room?"
"Yeah," Danny answered.
"I'll stop over." Joey hung up the phone. He hadn't smoked since he'd reunited with Rosie -- and it was September now.
"Who was that?" Rosie turned off the iron and hung the shirt.
"Danny. Were you going shopping?"
"I wanted to check out that mall across the highway."
"Would you be upset if I didn't go with you?"
"I'd rather you didn't go. You rush me."
Joey smiled. He hated standing around dress shops while Rosie tried on everything, complaining it made her look too short and too fat. "There's a skywalk on the second floor. Want me to walk you over?"
"No. Go do whatever it is you want with Danny."
Joey wrapped his arms around Rosie. "I'll be back in time for dinner, okay?"
"Sure. That will give me plenty of time."
Joey kissed her, then went to Danny's room.
"You escaped, huh?" Danny latched the safety lock.
Joey sat at the small round table and examined the bag of marijuana. "Looks good. Got papers?"
Danny tossed a pack of rolling papers on the table. "I thought we'd get high and then go visit Ray."
"Uh-uh."
Danny laughed. "Remember how pissed he got when we smoked during last break?"
"Yeah. I also remember who got the blame for it." Joey tightly rolled a cigarette and handed it to Danny to light.
Danny sucked on the cigarette until it stayed lit. He held the smoke in his lungs and passed it to Joey. They took turns until it was too small to handle.
"Good shit." Joey smiled and leaned back in the chair.
"Rosie doesn't smoke, huh?"
Joey laughed. He debated on lighting the second joint. He was mellow, but not as high as Danny. Of course, Danny laughed more when he was sober than Joey did when he was high.
"Know what we should do?" Danny opened a bag of Fritos.
"What?"
"Plant a couple of joints in Ray's suitcase."
"Why?"
"Maybe Carol would find them. Can't you just imagine Ray trying to explain that?" Danny shoved a handful of corn chips into his mouth. "Or some rubbers. Wouldn't that be a riot? Can't you just imagine Ray stuttering?"
Joey shook his head, helping himself to the Fritos.
"Let's do it. Let's get a sexy bra and two or three rubbers and put them in Ray's suitcase. He always sits in the front of the bus with Gary. I can sneak back and --"
"I don't think so."
"Then all we got to do is make sure Carol finds them."
"Why make trouble for Ray?"
"Because he thinks he owns me."
Joey made a face and took a handful of chips.
"You know how he is. He doesn't want me to be around Dad so he's always coming up with reasons why I can't go to Louisville." Danny searched the room for food. "He treats me like I'm ten."
"Maybe because that's how old you act."
"He's getting on my nerves. I'm gonna do something pretty soon."
"Like what?"
"I don't know. Something to let him know he don't own me. To let him know he can't boss me around."
Joey shook his head. "Just don't smoke a joint in front of him."
Danny smiled. "That's an idea."
"Make sure I'm not around. I don't like blood."
"Let's go check out that sandwich shop next door. I saw a cute girl there yesterday."
"I mean it, Danny. Don't you even think about doing that."
"I'm not stupid." Danny put on his shoes. "Come on. I'm hungry."

* * *

Ray watched Danny toss his suitcase in the trunk of the Mustang. The kid had been pressing his luck lately. He had over two hundred dollars in telephone bills to Louisville that he hadn't paid yet and he was getting worse -- if that was possible -- about leaving his dirty laundry on the bathroom floor and his shoes in the middle of anywhere, even the stairs, where Carol could trip over them.
"Don't be mean," Carol said, rubbing her growing tummy.
"I ain't never been mean to him."
"If you promise to be nice, I'll go get my bath."
Ray nodded.
Carol kissed his forehead on her way from the room.
"Hey, Lard-ass." Danny grinned, bouncing in. He grabbed Boomer and scratched her ears while she searched his pockets for a treat.
"I want your room cleaned before you go to Louisville."
"It's my room."
"It stinks and I want it cleaned."
"I'll do it when I get back."
"You ain't leaving this house until it's clean."
"Wanna bet?" Danny darted for the door.
Ray lunged for Danny, but Danny was already out of reach. The door slammed in his face. "Get back here!"
"Shove it up your fat ass," Danny shouted from the safety of the Mustang. The Mustang spun gravel as he roared out the drive. Danny made it to Louisville in just over four hours. He thought the cop had him on radar once, but he darted down an exit and pulled into a gas station and waited a few minutes. He'd gotten a ticket two weeks ago and hadn't paid it yet, so they'd probably sock it to him this time.
But he made it. He found Sam in the thrift shop, hanging shirts. "Come on, Dad. Let's get out of here."
Sam checked his watch. "I've got another half hour. You can help me."
Danny shrugged and leaned against the rack. He didn't know how his father could stand doing such stupid work. "Ray's an ..."
Sam looked at him sharply.
"He tried to stop me from coming again. It's a good thing he's so fat he can't run. I think --"
"If you can't speak of Ray with respect --"
"He is fat."
Sam hung the shirt. "I won't have it, Danny."
Danny shrugged. "You want pizza? I really like that pizza place down the road."
Sam sighed. He wondered how Ray had tolerated Danny for twelve years.

* * *

Ray paced the floor of the hotel room. His baby was due in two months. Carol was big and uncomfortable and he was in Detroit while she was all alone in the middle of nowhere. He took another swig straight from the whiskey bottle.
There was a tap at the door. He jerked it open.
"Ready for dinner?" Gary asked.
"Yeah."
They went to the hotel restaurant. Ray waved the waitress. "Bring me a double Jack Daniel's and water," he said.
"We have a show tonight."
Ray shrugged. He ordered several more drinks during dinner. "How do you think it'd work if we cut our schedule in half?" he asked.
"Half?"
"Yeah. Only work, say, two weeks a month?"
"We'd go bankrupt."
"I could live on half the pay I'm making now. And the rest of you could, too --"
"But we wouldn't. And half work doesn't equal half pay. We've got overhead. As an average, it takes twelve shows a month to break even --"
Ray scowled. "Okay. What if we booked closer to home? Like, locally?"
"Money, Ray. Money. The big bucks are at the big hotels, and Waynesboro doesn't have --"
"Everything's money to you, ain't it?" Ray spoke slowly, the way he did before he began slurring and stumbling. He swallowed his drink.
"You really need to back off," Gary said.
"I'm fine," Ray said.
But he wasn't. Gary kept a close eye on him the rest of the night. Two or three times he tried to talk Ray into switching to coffee, but Ray was in one of his moods.
During the last break, Ray guzzled three shots in a row.
"That's enough, Ray." Gary was out of patience. There were times when Ray was hard-headed and arrogant and this was one of them.
"You paying for it?" Ray demanded, slurring his words.
"We have a show to finish."
"Money. That's all you think about." He chugged his last drink and motioned the bartender for another.
Gary yelled at the bartender. "Cut him off and give him coffee."
"Did I ask you for money? Huh? Did I?" Ray weaved.
Gary scowled. "You are one ugly drunk."
Ray pushed him, almost falling from the effort. "You want money?" he said, his words covered with spittle, "I'll give you some goddam money." He took a wad of bills from his wallet and rubbed them in Gary's face.
Gary slammed him hard against the bar. "I'm not carrying you to your goddam room and I'm not baby-sitting you," he growled, holding Ray with his back bent uncomfortably. "So I'd suggest you sober the hell up."
Joey stepped next to them. "Come on, guys. We have a show to finish."
Gary shoved away from Ray. He looked at Joey. "Shut his goddam mike off and hope to hell he doesn't fall off the goddam stool."
"Money," Ray said, shaking his head sadly. "It's all about money."
Joey took Ray by the arm and led him to the stage. "Sit there," he said, pushing him into a folding metal chair. "And don't move."
"He moves and I'll bust his goddam mouth," Gary said. He turned his back to Ray and as soon as the set ended, went to his room.

* * *

Ray woke early. His head throbbed and his stomach was queasy. He rolled out of bed and cleaned up. He always felt better after he ate. He wondered if Gary was up yet. Ray smiled. The vein in Gary's forehead had bulged all night.
Ray tapped lightly on Gary's door.
Gary swung it open.
"I didn't think you'd be up yet."
"What do you want?"
"Breakfast?"
"I already ate."
Ray rubbed his forehead. "C'mon, Gar. Come down and have breakfast with me."
"I don't want to be around you today."
Ray's eyebrows tightened.
"I'm tired of baby-sitting you. I'm tired of covering for you. I'm just damned tired of you. So leave me the hell alone."
Ray's stomach churned. If he didn't eat, he'd get sick. "I'll meet you for lunch then. Call me when you're ready."
Gary closed the door in his face. He had to do something about Ray, but he didn't know what. He remembered his father's visit when they were in Louisville. An icy chill crawled over Gary. Maybe his father wasn't crazy.
Gary jumped from the bed and opened his suitcase. The pamphlet was still there. He read the brochure twice, startled by how close Ray fit the description of an alcoholic.
He noticed the paper on the floor that must have fallen from the pamphlet. He picked it up. It was a note, written in his father's neat penmanship.

Gary,
I know you're probably fed up with Ray by now, but the wonderful man we both love is still there, hiding beneath his inheritance. Please help him. I'll gladly come wherever you need me and help you through this.
Love, Dad

Gary read the note a second time. Sam's phone number was on the note. Gary dialed it.
It was several minutes before Sam was located and came to the phone.
"I think you're right, Dad," Gary said. "Ray has a problem."
"Do you want me to come there?"
"No. He would never listen to you."
"He may not listen to you, either. But the most important thing you can do is let him know that you believe he has a problem and that you'll no longer support his drinking."
"I left him last night."
"Good. But you also need to let him know you'll help him through it."
Gary sighed. "He's not going to change."
"Don't give up on him, Gary. We all have demons, every one of us. And there's no shame in having a demon. The only shame is not controlling it."
Gary considered his father's words before going to Ray's room. "We need to talk," he said.
"Want to get a beer?" Ray asked.
"No. Sit down." Gary sat opposite him at the Formica desk that doubled as a conference table. "I'm fed up with your drinking. I'm tired of carrying you to your room, of lying to Carol, of seeing that you stay sober enough to do your job. And I'm not going to do it any more."
Ray examined his fingernails. He was still queasy from last night's indulgence.
"If you want me to go to an AA meeting with you, I will."
Ray shook his head.
"If you want to get counseling, I'll help you arrange it. The band will pay for it."
"No." Ray knew he didn't need anything like that. He just had to watch how much he drank.
Gary stood. "Okay. But the next time you go on a drunk, I'm quitting the band. I'm tired of baby-sitting you and I won't do it again." He started for the door.
Ray sighed. He hated these long road trips. "Gary?"
"Yeah?"
"Will you go to lunch with me?"
Gary eyed him. If he refused, Ray would probably drink his lunch. "Yeah. I suppose."
Later, after lunch, there was another tap at Ray's door.
"We need to talk," Joey said.
Ray rubbed his forehead. "Yeah. Come in."
Joey stepped into the room, but remained standing.
Ray sat on the bed. Those were the same words Joey had used over three years ago, when he said he thought the band was stagnant and he wanted to liven it up with more modern material. In those days, Ray and Joey talked frequently, except it was Joey seeking advice from Ray. But Ray had a feeling it wasn't advice Joey wanted now.
Joey leaned against the wall. "I'm concerned about the band."
"How's that?"
"We need you sober."
Ray scratched his beard. "You talk to Gary?"
"No."
Ray nodded. He remembered having a chat with Joey and Danny once when they'd smoked pot during last break. He'd told them they needed to be sober, but he hadn't been very nice about it.
"It's hurting us."
"Okay."
Joey straightened. "Thanks. That's all I wanted."
Ray stood and walked him to the door. As soon as Joey was on the other side, Ray flipped the bolt and leaned against the door. It looked like he'd need to watch how much time he spent with Jack.

* * *

Gary pulled the bus into the driveway behind the white Lincoln Continental with Ohio plates. Carol's parents must be visiting.
Ray jumped from his seat. "I hope nothing's wrong." He bolted for the house.
Gary looked toward the back of the bus. Joey and Rosie were folding the blanket they hid under and Danny was still asleep. Gary walked back and kicked Danny's foot. "Come on." He grabbed his luggage and went to the house.
Ray's arms were wrapped around Carol. With Carol's tummy almost as big as Ray's now, they couldn't get too close.
Two small children sat on the floor, playing with toddler-sized Legos. Gary tried to think who they belonged to. A hand shoved between his legs from behind and grabbed his crotch. He jumped.
Linda laughed.
Gary swung around.
"Just checking for shrinkage," she said.
"Those your kids?"
"Yeah."
"Where's John or George or whatever his name is?"
Linda shrugged. Her mascara had smudged into the crevices around her eyes, giving the appearance of deep wrinkles, and the purple puffiness under her eyes clashed with her aqua eye shadow. She looked older than her age.
"That's mine!" Kip, the three-year-old boy, yelled.
His little sister screamed.
Kip kicked her.
"Hey!" Linda said, going for them. She grabbed Kip.
"Here, I'll take him," Ray said, scooping the boy into his arms. "C'mon, Kip. Let's see if there's ice cream in the freezer."
Amanda continued to scream.
Linda rolled her eyes heavenward, her lips pinched.
Carol picked up Amanda and rocked her.
"You okay?" Gary asked Linda.
The door opened and Danny, Joey, and Rosie poured in.
Linda cocked her eyebrow. "George caught me screwing his brother, Kip wrapped the cat in duct tape, Amanda painted the new living room carpet with Ruby Red nail polish, and I'm PMS'ing. How's your life?"
Rosie stared at Linda.
Gary smiled. "Want to get out of here for awhile?"
Linda looked at Carol, her eyes pleading. "I'm going to lose my mind."
"I know," Carol said. "I'll keep the kids."
"Ray?" Gary said, knowing Ray would disapprove.
"I'll handle Ray."
"Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!" Amanda jumped from Carol's arms and wrapped herself around Linda's legs.
"My suitcase is on your bed," Linda said to Gary. "Get my cosmetic bag out of the bathroom and meet me in your car. And make sure you've got your toothbrush 'cause we won't be home tonight." She turned to Amanda and forced a smile, her voice high-pitched and sugary. "Sweetheart, Mommy is going away for a day or two so she doesn't lose what's left of her sanity and you and Kip are going to stay with Aunt Carol and Uncle Ray. Won't that be fun?"
"Me go, too."
Danny fell on the floor and kicked his legs and arms in the air.
Boomer stood over him, sniffing, her tail wagging uncertainly.
"Help me, Mandy," Danny called. "Help me. This ferocious dog is eating me up. Help me!"
Amanda stared at him.
Boomer licked Danny's face.
"Ow, ow, ow!" Danny screamed. "Help me! Save me!"
Amanda released her mother and went to Danny.
"She'll be fine," Carol said.
Linda nodded. "Don't forget the Amoxicillin." She ran to the kitchen and blew a kiss to Kip. "Love you. Be good for Uncle Ray." She turned toward the living room. "You're a saint, Carol. I'll call later."
Gary met her in his car. "What's up?"
"Just drive."
"Where?"
"A hotel. A fancy hotel with room service and overly-attentive bellhops."
"I thought you were married."
"Not for long. Shit, Gar. I never knew he had a temper. He went off the deep end. Got a gun and said he'd blow us both away. Just because I screwed his brother."
Gary lit a cigarette. "I'd be rather pissed if you screwed my brother."
"Which one?"
"Any of them."
"Yeah. Ray is so damn loyal to Carol I can't even get him to scratch my back, Joey wouldn't know what to do with it if he had it, and Danny is as mature as Kip." She grabbed his crotch and squeezed.
"Ow. Don't."
"See how damn controlling you are? What right do you have to be upset if I screwed your brother? You don't own me."
Gary moved her hand to his thigh and patted it. "Let's stop and get you a big box of Godiva."
"Don't patronize me."
Gary smiled. "It's not you I'm patronizing. It's your PMS. We give that a nice, big chocolate fix and then you and I can have some fun."
Linda sighed. "You're the only person in the world who understands me."

* * *

Ray stood in the doorway of Danny's room. The floor was littered with laundry, trash and garbage A shrunken apple was on the night stand, next to a half-full glass with gray spots floating in it. "This room stinks."
Danny shrugged. "Probably the wet towels in the corner. Or the moldy socks." He threw a shirt in the open suitcase.
"You ain't going nowhere 'til this room is clean."
Danny searched through the open dresser drawers. "Guess I'll have to buy some new underwear." He locked the suitcase and stood in front of Ray. "Want to move out of my way?"
"I said you ain't going nowhere 'til this room is clean."
"Carol!" Danny screamed.
Ray's eyebrow raised. "Want your ass kicked?"
Although Ray had made no movement, Danny took a step back. Anger was a new emotion for him, one he'd always shook off and didn't dwell on. But now it consumed him. Now it ate at him. Before he fell asleep at night, he'd remember Ray's fat, ugly face and stale whiskey breath and his body would tense and his lip curl. When he awoke in the morning, he'd hear Ray's deep, booming voice, "You ain't going nowhere," and his stomach would turn.
Things he'd thought he'd long forgotten -- Ray screaming at Joey, his face red and his fist tight, when they'd gotten high that night. The sick feeling he'd had when he faced Ray after wrecking his car. The time Ray caught him sneaking out of the house when he was grounded and threatened to "beat the living shit" out of him if he did it again.
Ray had always intimidated him. Ray was so big, so physical, so emotional. Ray had never hit him, but he always felt the threat was there, that it could happen.
And he was tired of it. He much preferred his father's low-key attitude, his father's soft-spoken voice, his father's gentleness and understanding.
Danny's eyes narrowed. "I want your fat ass out of my way."
"Give me your car keys."
"Carol!" Danny yelled again.
"Give me the keys."
"What's the matter?" Carol said from behind Ray. She held Kip's hand and balanced Amanda on her hip.
"I want him to clean his room."
"He's blocking the door so I can't get out and said he's gonna kick my ass," Danny said.
"Let him out," Carol said. She pushed Amanda into Ray's arms.
"His room is a health hazard," Ray said, but turned and followed Carol downstairs.
"It's his room."
Danny bounced through the living room. "See ya Thursday, Lard-Ass."
"Lard-ass, lard-ass, lard-ass," Amanda sang, spinning in circles.
Danny laughed and slammed out the door.

* * *

"So why did you leave Tonya?" Linda asked.
"Who said I left her?"
"She's a parasite."
Gary shrugged.
"I never could figure out what you saw in her." She poked Gary in the groin. "You were thinking with that when you married her."
"She had a tough life. It wasn't her fault."
Linda cocked her eyebrow. "Oh? Then why did you leave her?"
"She left me."
Linda laughed. "Tell me another one."
"She did."
"Why would she leave you?"
Gary lit a cigarette. "She had her reasons."
"What?"
"It was a long time ago."
"I want to know."
"You don't need to."
"I told you everything."
Gary took a deep drag on his cigarette. "I raped her."
"I'm serious. I want to know."
"I raped her."
Linda reached for her pack of True Menthol 100's and lit one. "You mean it?"
"Yeah. It took me a long time to figure out that's what happened. We were fighting and she slapped me. It set me off -- I guess because that's the way Mom abused us -- so I struck back with what would hurt her."
"You're sick."
Gary shrugged. "You wanted to know."
"And I thought I was evil."
"You are." He took another long drag from his Marlboro. "Dad said everyone has a demon. He said there's no shame in having one, the only shame is not controlling it."
"You told your dad?"
"No. He was talking about Ray."
"Ray has a sex problem, too?"
Gary laughed.
"All this talk about sex is making me horny."
"Everything makes you horny."
"That's why you like me."
Gary ground out his cigarette and took Linda's from her. He kissed her hard. "You should've married me and saved us both a bunch of trouble."
"Yeah." She wrapped her long legs around his waist. "I should have."

* * *

Gary tossed on the hotel bed. He and his brothers had arrived in Cleveland yesterday afternoon and played last night, and now it was seven a.m. and he still hadn't been to sleep. But he knew what he had to do. He had to call Linda. He had to tell her that as soon as her divorce was final, they would get married. They would do what they should have done eight years ago.
He sprung from the bed and dialed the number.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Carol. Gary. Linda up yet?"
"She's not here, Gary."
"When do you expect her back?"
Carol hesitated. "I don't." She was silent for a few more seconds. "She went back to George."
Gary balanced the receiver on his shoulder while he lit a cigarette. "She did what?"
"She talked to him last night and he said he'd fight for the kids. I think she was afraid she might lose them. So she went back."
Gary watched the smoke float toward the ceiling.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Oh, yeah. Of course. We're just friends."
"You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Wonderful. See you Sunday." Gary hung up. It was for the best, anyway. He didn't need his life complicated with someone else's kids and Linda could be a bitch when she wanted to be. He stamped out his cigarette. It was definitely for the best.

* * *

Ray stopped to get Gary for lunch, but Gary didn't answer his door. He went across the hall and knocked on Danny's door. It was a few minutes before the door cracked open and Danny peered through the slot. "Yeah?"
"Want to have lunch with me?"
"I don't even like you. Why would I want to eat with you?"
What Ray could see of Danny was naked. He sighed and moved on to Joey's door, but Joey didn't answer, either. He and Rosie were probably sight-seeing or something.
Ray hated to sit alone in the restaurant, so he went to the lounge. It was empty except for the bartender and a small, frizzy-haired man.
Ray took a stool in the center of the bar. The whiskey looked good, all lined up and sparkling on the mirrored shelves, but he had tried very hard to limit his drinking since Gary and Joey had talked to him.
"What could I get you?" the bartender asked.
"Got a menu?"
"I'll get you one."
Frizzy Hair looked at Ray. He stared for a long time, then walked closer to him. "Don't I know you?"
"I don't think so."
"I've seen you before. I know you."
"I'm not from around here."
Frizzy Hair pointed at the promo-poster on the wall. "Ain't you one of them Gambel Brothers?"
Ray smiled. "Yeah. The skinny one."
Frizzy Hair eyed Ray's obese body. "You're even fatter in real life than you are on paper."
Ray laughed. "I got less hair, too. At least on my head. That picture was taken four years ago."
"You're Ray, ain't you?"
"Yeah."
"Ray Gambel." Frizzy Hair offered his hand. "Roger Pulitz. I was in the army with you."
Ray shook his hand.
"Warehouse supply -- '68."
"You the one that howled?"
"Yeah. They called me 'Coyote'."
Ray smiled.
"Let me buy you a drink."
"Sure."
"Double Jack Daniel's and water," Ray said to the bartender. "And open me a tab."
Coyote moved his drink and sat next to Ray. "I ran into Rick Szimons a few months back. Remember him? He's the one that shaved his legs..."
A couple of hours later, Gary walked in. "Hi," he said to Ray. "Want to get something to eat?"
"Nah," Ray said, laughing with Coyote.
Gary looked at Coyote, then back to Ray. "We got a show tonight. Don't drink too much."
"Who's that, your mother?" Coyote asked.
Ray laughed harder.
"No, I'm not his mother," Gary said. "But he'd damn well better be sober enough to play in a few more hours."
"He reminds me of Sergeant Scrubb. Remember him?"
Tears rolled down Ray's cheek and he almost fell off his bar stool.
Gary wanted to beat the hell out of Frizzy Hair. He wanted to beat the hell out of Ray. Instead, he walked out of the hotel and down the busy highway. He passed the Exxon Convenience Mart, Bob Evans, and the construction site for a new strip mall. Of all days that he needed Ray sober, needed Ray attentive, it was today. He should have answered Ray's knock earlier.
Gary kicked a Budweiser can. He should have kept his mouth shut about why Tonya left. Then maybe Linda wouldn't have gone back to that son-of-a-bitch. Gary kicked the can again, harder, so that it rolled into the highway and was flattened by a semi. He'd lost his two best friends, his two only friends, on the same day. Linda to George Davies, Ray to Jack Daniel's.
He needed a new life.
Gary waited until eight o'clock to return. As he feared, Ray was passed out at the bar. At least his frizzy-haired buddy was gone. He grabbed Ray by the shoulders and shook him.
Ray's head bobbed side-to-side like a rag doll.
"Goddammit, Ray. We have a show in less than an hour."
Ray grunted.
Gary took a deep breath and held it. He'd told Ray he wouldn't carry him to his room, but he couldn't leave him there. They didn't need that kind of publicity. He checked his watch. Joey would be there soon to set up. Gary lit a cigarette and waited.

* * *

Ray awoke, covered in vomit. He gagged and rolled over, but ran out of bed. He landed hard on the floor. His esophagus burned and he was afraid to stand, afraid he'd pass out. He crawled to the bathroom. He undressed and sat in the tub, allowing the shower to wash him. His eyes begged to close. He relented just for a minute, just until his head crashed into the tile wall.
Spasms of sharp cramps shot through his intestines and he knew he'd be sick again. Ray pulled his obese body from the tub and sat on the toilet. He buried his head in the wastebasket and retched until the cramps subsided. Keeping low, he moved to the sink and washed his face and mouth again.
He ran a towel over his body, then staggered back to the bed. The smell gagged him. He went to the second bed, thankful his room was a double, and pulled back the covers. His eye caught the clock. Twelve-fifteen. He looked out the window. It was dark, so it must be nighttime. Which meant he should have been working. Which meant Gary must have brought him there.
His stomach gurgled. He knew he couldn't make it to the bathroom, so he grabbed the trash can and retched until nothing was left and his body shook with dry heaves.
Ray slept. It seemed he was up several times during the night vomiting, but he wasn't sure. When daylight hit, he took another shower. The tremble in his hands made it difficult to hold the soap, but he finally got the job done.
He looked at the mess on the bed. He couldn't expect anyone to clean that up for him. He folded the pillow inside the bedding and rolled it into a tight ball. He wrote a note to the maid, asking that she throw it out and bill him for the damage, then left a twenty-dollar tip.
Ray still felt horrible, but he needed fresh air and something light on his stomach. He went to the dining room and ordered dry toast and coffee. He was in no hurry to leave -- he didn't want to return to his room until the maid had been there -- so he sipped coffee and nibbled toast, wishing the day would pass quickly.
Ray had been there a good while when Gary walked in.
Gary looked almost as bad as Ray felt. He dropped a letter in front of Ray.
Ray pushed at it. "What's this?"
"My resignation."
Ray's stomach lurched and he feared he'd be sick again. He concentrated on swallowing fresh air. "I don't want it."
"I'll finish out the month of October and that will give you November to find a replacement."
Ray rubbed his forehead.
"I'll move out of the house, too. Just as soon as I can find a place."
"Gary, I don't want you --"
Gary turned and walked away.
Ray closed his eyes, but the change in brightness was too much for him. He bolted for the men's room.

* * *

"Ray, can I talk to you?"
Ray rubbed his forehead and looked at Joey. It'd been three days since he'd over-indulged, but Gary was still mad. He wouldn't associate with Ray except when he had to, and then he was stiff and polite. And now it was Joey's turn.
Ray stepped back and allowed Joey to enter his hotel room.
"Rosie and I are getting married."
"What?"
"Rosie and I are getting married."
Ray forced a smile. "That's great, Joey. When?"
"We thought the first of November would be good. Since the band has the month off, we could go to Cancun for our honeymoon."
Ray nodded.
"Anyway, I was wondering if Rosie could replace Gary."
"What do you mean?"
"Gary's resigning the end of this month, and instead of running ads and auditions, I thought Rosie could replace him."
Ray was surprised Gary had made his resignation public. "I ain't convinced Gary won't stay."
"He applied for his old job at Richardson's and Sons."
Ray looked sharply at Joey. Gary hadn't told him that.
"You've heard Rosie sing. She can play guitar, keyboard and drums. And she'll be traveling with us anyway."
Ray tried to listen, but he couldn't help but wonder why Gary was discussing things with Joey. Gary never talked to anyone but Ray.
"What do you think?"
Ray shrugged. "Yeah. Work out the details."
"Of course, she can't do the business end of it, but I thought Gary might continue that part. He could do the scheduling and paperwork in his spare time anywhere."
Ray worked his hand down his face. He hadn't thought of that.
"I'll talk to him about it, if you'd like me to."
Joey was taking over his band. It was obvious now. Joey controlled the rehearsals and Joey arranged the shows. Joey even did the introductions and requests when Ray wasn't up to it. And now he was taking over the personnel and business decisions.
"Ray?"
"Yeah. Go ahead."
"I'm going to need a few extra rehearsals to work Rosie in. Especially since we'll be gone the first ten days of November and you'll be tied up a few days the end of the month when Carol has the baby."
Ray sighed. "Work up a schedule."
"Thanks." Joey went to the door.
"Joey?"
"Yeah?"
"Congratulations."
"Thanks."

* * *

Ray watched Carol pull out of the driveway, then opened the top cabinet and retrieved the fifth of Jack Daniel's he kept hidden behind the food processor. That must have been the reason he kept the food processor -- it hadn't been used since the Christmas day Carol gave it to him. It just set there, taking up space.
Ray filled a water tumbler half full with whiskey and took a long drink. Joey and Rosie had left for their honeymoon and Gary had moved out. He helped Gary carry his bed frame and mattress to the truck and arrange the furniture in the small apartment. It wasn't the moving part that bothered Ray. It was Gary's politeness that wrenched his guts.
Gary thanked him for his help. He asked for advice on making casseroles. He even said excuse me when he accidentally bumped into Ray.
And then Carol had upset him this morning. She hadn't said anything, but he saw the look of disapproval cross her face when he ate the whole pound of bacon. Later, he caught her searching the cabinets. He was pretty sure Gary had said something to her, but when he asked, she only said, "I worry about you."
Ray took another tumbler and filled it half full with water, then dropped in two Alka Seltzer. He alternated between the whiskey and the antacid.
Danny and Boomer bounced in. "Nice cocktail," Danny said. "Why don't you save a glass and just put the Alka Seltzer in the whiskey?"
Ray swung around. He was out of patience with Danny. Since the day his father appeared, Danny had been uncooperative and rude. And he wasn't taking much more of it. "You told me you took care of the dirty towels in your room."
Danny shrugged. "I lied."
"I want them down here."
"Later."
"Now."
"Get off my ass." Danny turned and was halfway out the side door when Ray's hand clamped down on his shoulder and pulled him back.
"Let go!" Danny squirmed, but Ray had a solid hold.
"Get your ass upstairs and get those towels down here."
"Fuck you."
Ray tightened his grip. "I'm tired of you lying --"
"You're hurting me!" Danny struggled to free himself.
Ray's fingers dug deeper into Danny's shoulder. "I'm gonna hurt you. Now get your ass upstairs and get those goddam towels down here."
Danny's black eyes narrowed but he said nothing.
Ray released him with a shove. "Now."
Danny hesitated, rubbing his shoulder, then headed for his room.
A sharp pain jagged across Ray's chest. He winced and rubbed it. He shouldn't get so damned mad at the kid, but they were down to five towels and he'd been after Danny for weeks to get the dirty ones from his room. And Danny always lied and said he'd taken care of it and then went on his merry way.
Ray took a long drink from his whiskey. He didn't even expect Danny to wash them. All he had to do was get them out of his maggot-infested room.
A few minutes later, Danny returned. He threw an armful of musty towels on the floor, then took a step back. With his narrowed eyes locked on Ray, he took a hand-rolled cigarette from his shirt pocket.
Ray stared.
Danny watched him, then put the joint in his mouth.
"You damn well better --"
Danny lit a match and brought the flame toward him.
Ray took two long strides. He slapped the match from Danny's hand.
"Ow!" Danny jumped back, the joint falling to the floor. He shook the sting from his hand.
Ray breathed heavily. He opened his mouth and shut it, then opened his fist and shut it. He moved his face inches from Danny's and spoke slowly and carefully. "Get the hell out of my house and don't ever come back."
Another sharp pain stabbed through Ray's heart as he turned and marched from the room.

* * *

John was unusually long-winded and his five-minute devotional had turned into a sermon. Sam tried not to fidget. If he'd known John was going to preach, he would have moved to a chair with a back instead of staying at the piano bench.
The back door eased open and a young, dark-haired man entered who looked like Danny.
Sam leaned, struggling for a better look. He tilted the front legs of the bench and teetered unsteadily. His fingers gripped the edge of the piano, then slipped. His arm fell heavily against the piano keys. The clashing echoed in the quiet sanctuary.
Sprinkles of nervous laughter broke the silence.
Sam forced his eyes to meet John's.
"Thanks, Sam, for waking everyone up," John said, his gray eyes twinkling and his smile dominating his face. "I guess there's nothing left for me to say. Let's close with Amazing Grace."
Sam's fingers shook. He bungled the first few notes, then caught his rhythm. His face was still red when Danny joined him.
Danny laughed. "That was great, Dad!"
"What are you doing here?"
"I thought I'd move in with you."
Sam covered the piano keys. "Why?"
Danny's face fell. "Aren't you glad?"
"What's going on?"
"I thought you'd be happy."
Sam led the way down the long hallway. "So what'd you and Ray fight about this time?"
"We didn't fight."
"Danny --"
"We didn't. He just told me to get the hell out of his house and never come back."
Sam paused before opening his door. "Why?"
"No reason." Danny followed Sam into his room.
"Surely Ray had a reason," Sam said.
"He don't want me seeing you and he's always riding my butt."
Sam emptied his pockets and counted the coins.
"What are you doing?" Danny asked.
"Making sure I have enough to call Ray."
"Call Ray? Why?"
"To find out what's going on."
"He's an ..." Danny bit his lip. "Okay. We had a fight over my room being dirty. But it's my room, right? Why's it any of his business?"
"He told you never to come back because your room was dirty?"
Danny made a face. "I told him I'd do it later and he got real mean. He grabbed me and shook me and hurt me. Look at my shoulder." He unbuttoned his shirt and displayed the red marks that had almost disappeared.
Sam frowned.
Danny went to the window, buttoning his shirt. "So I brought the towels down from my room and said something you wouldn't like and he told me to leave and not come back." He peeked through the Venetian blinds, intent on studying something on the other side of the window. "Who's that?"
Sam went to him. "Who?"
"The brunette in the white shorts." It was November -- a little cool for shorts -- but she looked great in them.
"Katrina. She lives here."
"I think I'll get to know her."
"No, you won't."
"She's got nice knockers."
"Keep your hands off Katrina."
Danny faced his father and smiled. "Why? You got something going with her?"
Sam frowned. "She has problems. Mental problems. John has worked with her for four years."
"It'd only take me one night. I could make her forget her problems."
Sam shook his head. "Stay away from her."
"You sound like Ray."
Sam tried to remember if the boys had gotten on his nerves when they were young. He didn't think so.
"Let's go out for pizza," Danny said.
Sam sighed. "When we get back, you're calling Ray and apologizing."
"Why? He even hit me. Slapped my hand."
"Why would he do that?"
"He gets mean when he drinks."
Sam wasn't sure if he should believe Danny or not. He decided to give it another day, and if necessary, he would call Ray.
They didn't get back until it was time for the late AA meeting. Danny didn't want to go, so Sam went alone. When he returned, Danny said he had a headache. Sam suggested an early bedtime -- more to test Danny than anything, but Danny didn't argue. He put a washcloth over his eyes and reclined on the cot.
Sam had fallen into an easy slumber when a sound awakened him. He blinked in the darkness. Again, he heard the pounding at the door. He jumpeanyway."
Ray tried to listen, but he couldn't help but wonder why Gary was discussing things with Joey. Gary never talked to anyone but Ray.
"What do you think?"
Ray shrugged. "Yeah. Work out the details."
"Of course, she can't do the business end of it, but I thought Gary might continue that part. He could do the scheduling and paperwork in his spare time anywhere."
Ray worked his hand down his face. He hadn't thought of that.
"I'll talk to him about it, if you'd like me to."
Joey was taking over his band. It was obvious now. Joey controlled the rehearsals and Joey arranged the shows. Joey even did the introductions and requests when Ray wasn't up to it. And now he was taking over the personnel and business decisions.
"Ray?"
"Yeah. Go ahead."
"I'm going to need a few extra rehearsals to work Rosie in. Especially since we'll be gone the first ten days of November and you'll be tied up a few days the end of the month when Carol has the baby."
Ray sighed. "Work up a schedule."
"Thanks." Joey went to the door.
"Joey?"
"Yeah?"
"Congratulations."
"Thanks."

* * *

Ray watched Carol pull out of the driveway, then opened the top cabinet and retrieved the fifth of Jack Daniel's he kept hidden behind the food processor. That must have been the reason he kept the food processor -- it hadn't been used since the Christmas day Carol gave it to him. It just set there, taking up space.
Ray filled a water tumbler half full with whiskey and took a long drink. Joey and Rosie had left for their honeymoon and Gary had moved out. He helped Gary carry his bed frame and mattress to the truck and arrange the furniture in the small apartment. It wasn't the moving part that bothered Ray. It was Gary's politeness that wrenched his guts.
Gary thanked him for his help. He asked for advice on making casseroles. He even said excuse me when he accidentally bumped into Ray.
And then Carol had upset him this morning. She hadn't said anything, but he saw the look of disapproval cross her face when he ate the whole pound of bacon. Later, he caught her searching the cabinets. He was pretty sure Gary had said something to her, but when he asked, she only said, "I worry about you."
Ray took another tumbler and filled it half full with water, then dropped in two Alka Seltzer. He alternated between the whiskey and the antacid.
Danny and Boomer bounced in. "Nice cocktail," Danny said. "Why don't you save a glass and just put the Alka Seltzer in the whiskey?"
Ray swung around. He was out of patience with Danny. Since the day his father appeared, Danny had been uncooperative and rude. And he wasn't taking much more of it. "You told me you took care of the dirty towels in your room."
Danny shrugged. "I lied."
"I want them down here."
"Later."
"Now."
"Get off my ass." Danny turned and was halfway out the side door when Ray's hand clamped down on his shoulder and pulled him back.
"Let go!" Danny squirmed, but Ray had a solid hold.
"Get your ass upstairs and get those towels down here."
"Fuck you."
Ray tightened his grip. "I'm tired of you lying --"
"You're hurting me!" Danny struggled to free himself.
Ray's fingers dug deeper into Danny's shoulder. "I'm gonna hurt you. Now get your ass upstairs and get those goddam towels down here."
Danny's black eyes narrowed but he said nothing.
Ray released him with a shove. "Now."
Danny hesitated, rubbing his shoulder, then headed for his room.
A sharp pain jagged across Ray's chest. He winced and rubbed it. He shouldn't get so damned mad at the kid, but they were down to five towels and he'd been after Danny for weeks to get the dirty ones from his room. And Danny always lied and said he'd taken care of it and then went on his merry way.
Ray took a long drink from his whiskey. He didn't even expect Danny to wash them. All he had to do was get them out of his maggot-infested room.
A few minutes later, Danny returned. He threw an armful of musty towels on the floor, then took a step back. With his narrowed eyes locked on Ray, he took a hand-rolled cigarette from his shirt pocket.
Ray stared.
Danny watched him, then put the joint in his mouth.
"You damn well better --"
Danny lit a match and brought the flame toward him.
Ray took two long strides. He slapped the match from Danny's hand.
"Ow!" Danny jumped back, the joint falling to the floor. He shook the sting from his hand.
Ray breathed heavily. He opened his mouth and shut it, then opened his fist and shut it. He moved his face inches from Danny's and spoke slowly and carefully. "Get the hell out of my house and don't ever come back."
Another sharp pain stabbed through Ray's heart as he turned and marched from the room.

* * *

John was unusually long-winded and his five-minute devotional had turned into a sermon. Sam tried not to fidget. If he'd known John was going to preach, he would have moved to a chair with a back instead of staying at the piano bench.
The back door eased open and a young, dark-haired man entered who looked like Danny.
Sam leaned, struggling for a better look. He tilted the front legs of the bench and teetered unsteadily. His fingers gripped the edge of the piano, then slipped. His arm fell heavily against the piano keys. The clashing echoed in the quiet sanctuary.
Sprinkles of nervous laughter broke the silence.
Sam forced his eyes to meet John's.
"Thanks, Sam, for waking everyone up," John said, his gray eyes twinkling and his smile dominating his face. "I guess there's nothing left for me to say. Let's close with Amazing Grace."
Sam's fingers shook. He bungled the first few notes, then caught his rhythm. His face was still red when Danny joined him.
Danny laughed. "That was great, Dad!"
"What are you doing here?"
"I thought I'd move in with you."
Sam covered the piano keys. "Why?"
Danny's face fell. "Aren't you glad?"
"What's going on?"
"I thought you'd be happy."
Sam led the way down the long hallway. "So what'd you and Ray fight about this time?"
"We didn't fight."
"Danny --"
"We didn't. He just told me to get the hell out of his house and never come back."
Sam paused before opening his door. "Why?"
"No reason." Danny followed Sam into his room.
"Surely Ray had a reason," Sam said.
"He don't want me seeing you and he's always riding my butt."
Sam emptied his pockets and counted the coins.
"What are you doing?" Danny asked.
"Making sure I have enough to call Ray."
"Call Ray? Why?"
"To find out what's going on."
"He's an ..." Danny bit his lip. "Okay. We had a fight over my room being dirty. But it's my room, right? Why's it any of his business?"
"He told you never to come back because your room was dirty?"
Danny made a face. "I told him I'd do it later and he got real mean. He grabbed me and shook me and hurt me. Look at my shoulder." He unbuttoned his shirt and displayed the red marks that had almost disappeared.
Sam frowned.
Danny went to the window, buttoning his shirt. "So I brought the towels down from my room and said something you wouldn't like and he told me to leave and not come back." He peeked through the Venetian blinds, intent on studying something on the other side of the window. "Who's that?"
Sam went to him. "Who?"
"The brunette in the white shorts." It was November -- a little cool for shorts -- but she looked great in them.
"Katrina. She lives here."
"I think I'll get to know her."
"No, you won't."
"She's got nice knockers."
"Keep your hands off Katrina."
Danny faced his father and smiled. "Why? You got something going with her?"
Sam frowned. "She has problems. Mental problems. John has worked with her for four years."
"It'd only take me one night. I could make her forget her problems."
Sam shook his head. "Stay away from her."
"You sound like Ray."
Sam tried to remember if the boys had gotten on his nerves when they were young. He didn't think so.
"Let's go out for pizza," Danny said.
Sam sighed. "When we get back, you're calling Ray and apologizing."
"Why? He even hit me. Slapped my hand."
"Why would he do that?"
"He gets mean when he drinks."
Sam wasn't sure if he should believe Danny or not. He decided to give it another day, and if necessary, he would call Ray.
They didn't get back until it was time for the late AA meeting. Danny didn't want to go, so Sam went alone. When he returned, Danny said he had a headache. Sam suggested an early bedtime -- more to test Danny than anything, but Danny didn't argue. He put a washcloth over his eyes and reclined on the cot.
Sam had fallen into an easy slumber when a sound awakened him. He blinked in the darkness. Again, he heard the pounding at the door. He jumped from bed and turned on the lamp. Pulling on his pants, he hobbled to the door.
"Sorry, Sam," Old Ernie, the night guard, said. "John wants you in his office."
"Okay. I'll be there in a minute." He grabbed his shirt. His eye rested on the cot where Danny slept. It was empty. Sam walked closer, examining the floor. Danny wasn't anywhere. His heart beat a little faster. The sick feeling in his gut told him Danny was the reason for his summons.
He almost ran down the long corridor to John's office. The moment he stepped in, he knew what had happened.
John sat behind his desk, his steel gray eyes cold with rage. Danny slouched in a guest chair. And Katrina stood next to the door, sobbing into Helen's shoulder, the air around her polluted with the odor of stale beer.
"I'll take her to her room and stay with her until Mrs. Luenski gets here," Helen said.
John nodded.
Helen steadied Katrina, then led her from the room.
"Close the door," John said.
Sam shut it and looked at Danny.
Danny smiled apologetically.
"I want your son out of here."
Danny rolled his eyes. "All we did was have a couple of beers."
John looked at Sam. "I want him off this property immediately. If he comes around here again, I'll press charges."
"I didn't touch her. I swear."
"Can he get his things from my room?"
"Fifteen minutes."
Sam stood. "Come on."
Danny followed him into the hallway. "He's making a big deal out of nothing. Katrina was fine until he started drilling her --"
Sam swung around, his sapphire eyes flashing. "I told you to leave her alone."
"But I didn't --" Danny tripped over a throw rug.
"Get your things and get to your car."
"Come on, Dad. Don't be mad --"
"Be quiet." Sam opened the door to his room and waited for Danny to enter. He shut it firmly behind him, then swung to face his son. "Do you know what you have done? Do you have any idea? Katrina --"
"I didn't touch her. I didn't even kiss her."
"She has been sober for four years. Four years. And in one night, you've blown it."
Danny stared at his father, the beer clouding his brain beginning to dissipate.
"I have never been so angry in my life as I am right now. I don't blame Ray for kicking you out. I don't blame him one bit. You are an immature, irresponsible brat."
Danny's jaw slackened.
"I told you to stay away from her. So you went straight to her. And you lied to me. You lied to me so you could sneak out."
"I'm sorry."
"And that's what you do to Ray, too, isn't it? That's why you see me. Because he doesn't want you to."
"No, I --"
"I can only imagine the torture you have put him through. You take advantage of his generosity and then you stab him in the back. And then you lie about it."
Danny chewed his thumbnail, his shiny black eyes on the floor.
"Now, I have to take you home and try to get Ray to take you back. And I need to know what I'm dealing with. I want the truth. Why did he kick you out?"
Danny swallowed hard. He took a deep breath and studied his fingers. "I lit a joint in the house," he said quietly.
Blood pounded through Sam's veins. He glared at his son.
"I -- I just did it to make him mad." Tears swelled in Danny's eyes. "I'm sorry, Dad."
Sam turned his back to Danny and strode across the room. He sat on his bed, facing the wall.
Danny watched him. When Sam didn't break his silence, Danny moved toward him. "Please, Dad. Come on, now."
Sam shut his eyes and forced his lungs full of air.
Danny sat next to him. "I'm sorry, Dad," he said, putting his hand on his father's shoulder.
Sam didn't move.
"I'm sorry," Danny said again, his voice breaking.
"I don't want to hear it," Sam said, his voice filled with disgust.
Danny fell on his knees in front of his father, the smell of stale beer filling the area. "Please don't shut me out."
Sam stood, stepping away from Danny. "I won't be your doormat. And I won't tolerate you destroying people like Katrina."
Danny rubbed his eyes. "I didn't know. I didn't realize. I'm sorry."
"And I won't tolerate you treating Ray like crap."
Danny hiccuped.
"Do you understand that?"
Danny nodded, his shoulders shaking with another hiccup.
Sam scowled. "You're not in any shape to drive. I'll take you home."
"I can drive."
"No. I'm taking you."
Danny hiccuped again. "What if Ray won't let me in?"
"I don't know, Danny. I guess you're going to have to figure out that one." Sam watched his youngest son jerk with hiccups. He sighed. "Get your bag packed. We have to get out of here."

* * *

Ray dropped two Alka Seltzer into water. His indigestion was worse today, much worse. He frequently suffered from heartburn, but since the incident with Danny, it had never let up. He rubbed his left arm. The dull ache was still there, maybe sharper. He must have slept on it wrong again.
"Good morning." Carol wrapped her arms around his back. With her huge belly and his even bigger, she could no longer reach around him.
He turned and put his arm around her.
She nodded toward the fizzing antacid. "Another upset tummy?"
"Sympathy pains." He lightly touched her belly, then drank the Alka Seltzer. "Want breakfast?"
"Just coffee." She went to the pot and poured herself a cup. "Heard from Danny?"
A jagged pain ripped across Ray's shoulder and down his arm. He sucked in his breath. "No."
A car pulled into the driveway, spewing gravel.
Boomer's ears perked up and her tail wagged as she lumbered to the door.
"Speaking of the son-of-a-bitch..." Ray said without looking.
Carol set her coffee on the table and pulled out a chair. "Don't fight with him."
"I won't." He turned and sat across from Carol, his back to the door. He didn't feel like fighting. He was shaky, like he was coming down with a virus.
The side door opened. "May I come in?"
It wasn't Danny's voice. Another pain rippled down Ray's left arm.
Carol stood. "You must be Ray's father."
"Sam. You can call me Sam."
Carol smiled and waddled to meet him. "I would have recognized you anywhere. I'm Carol."
Ray shoved away from the table, a cold sweat on his brow. "Get the hell out of my house."
Carol touched his shoulders. "Now, Ray. Don't be like that."
Sam didn't move. "I need to talk to you about Danny."
"Come in. Sit down." Carol went to the counter. "Coffee?"
"Black, thanks." Sam sat in the end chair.
Another pain stabbed through Ray. It occurred to him that Danny's car was there but Danny wasn't. "Where is he?"
"In the car, sleeping."
Carol set the coffee in front of Sam and returned to her seat.
"Thanks." Sam toyed with the cup. "He..." He looked at his son's damp, doughy face. "Are you okay?"
Ray wiped at the sweat on his forehead. It was the flu. It had to be the flu. He was hot, dizzy, nauseated. The pain pierced through his shoulder again, traveled down his arm and extended through his fingers.
"Ray?" Carol's voice echoed like she was in a tunnel, far away.
The table became fluid. Ray stared at it, trying to make sense of it.
"Come lay down," Sam said from a place as distant as Carol.
Ray put his hand through the liquid table. The wooden puddle grabbed his hand, bending and twisting his arm with agonizing pain, squeezing his chest until his breath left him, then sucked him into the black abyss. He tried to jerk back, but the spiraling depths consumed him, drawing him deeper and deeper into the darkness.
Sam jumped to his feet, easing Ray's fall. He rolled Ray to his back and put his ear close to Ray's mouth. "He's not breathing." He shook his son's shoulder. "Ray!"
Ray gave no response.
Sam tilted Ray's head back, pushed his chin up and forced two quick breaths into Ray's lungs. He felt for a pulse but found none. Panic churned in Sam's stomach. He'd been through this twice. He'd given CPR. And both times, it was for naught. "Call an ambulance."
"What is wrong with him?" Carol asked, her voice unusually high.
Sam knelt by Ray's side and positioned his hands two fingertips above Ray's rib triangle, his arms straight. "Get an ambulance. Now. Then get Danny."
Ray hovered in an alternative consciousness, a dream-like state of flowing nothingness. He saw a scene in the distance. As he approached, it became more focused.
A woman squatted on the floor, her down-turned face covered by long black hair. Next to her, a teen-aged boy wrung his hands.
Ray was curious. He moved closer, straining for a better view.
"Please, Dee. Let me call Mrs. Jones."
Dee -- Deloris -- Ray's mother -- gripped the piano leg and grunted. Blood dripped onto the towels under her. She panted, then took a deep breath.
"Dee. Please, Dee." The young man was Ray's father.
"Get ready," she said.
Sam held a towel under her. "God, Dee. The head. I see the head."
"Catch it."
"God. It has hair."
"Don't drop it."
Ray watched, amazed, as his father worked the head, then the shoulders. The baby emerged, gray and mucus-covered.
"He's not breathing." Sam held the baby in both hands.
Deloris rolled back on her hips and straightened her legs.
"He's not breathing," Sam repeated. He wiped the baby's face, then the mouth. "Come on, Ray," he said, "Come on." He set the tiny body on the floor and rubbed the chest, covered the infant's mouth with his own. He blew air until the chest rose. "Please, Ray. Please breathe."
The baby kicked, then turned from gray to blue to red. Sam cradled the infant tight against his chest.
Ray wanted to stay, wanted to continue to watch, but the darkness grabbed him and took him away.
"Come on, Ray," Sam said. "Come on." He jumped to Ray's head and breathed for him.
Danny followed Carol into the house and fell on his knees next to Sam, his face ashen.
Sam felt again for a pulse. There was none. He moved back to the side and started the chest thrusts. "Carol, show Danny how to give breaths."
Danny shook his head. "I can't --"
"You will." He looked at Carol. "Did you give the ambulance instructions?"
"Yes." Carol sat on the floor and squeezed Ray's limp hand. "Mrs. Jones. Maybe Mrs. Jones --"
"No," Sam said. "He needs equipment." His arms ached. It seemed he had been pumping forever. He heard sirens in the distance, growing closer. "Please, Ray," he whispered, "please breathe."
Carol wanted to ride in the ambulance with Ray, but even Sam objected. He'd seen fibrillation before and it wasn't something Carol needed to experience. Instead, they followed in Danny's car. At the hospital, the attendant refused to allow them to see Ray. "The doctor will be out as soon as the patient stabilizes," she said, her body blocking the door.
Sam made the phone calls -- Gary first, then Carol's parents -- then went to the snack bar and bought juice for Carol, coffee for him, and a cola for Danny. He returned to the waiting room and handed out the drinks. It was then his legs grew weak and he fell into the chair.
Gary, unshaved and uncombed, ran into the room. "What's going on?"
No one answered.
"Dad?"
Sam shook his head and closed his eyes.
"Carol?"
Carol had found a set of homework papers in her oversized handbag. Her red pen made squiggly marks on them as she tried to concentrate. She knew she'd probably end up throwing the bunch of them out because her comments didn't make sense, but at least it gave her something to do.
Gary looked at Danny.
Danny stared straight ahead.
Gary sighed and sat down. He shuffled through the magazines on the table next to him and chose the May 1976 issue of People Magazine. That was the month Tonya had left him. Even now, four and a half years later, all those emotions came rushing back. He'd been confused. He didn't know why she'd left or what to do. He couldn't think, couldn't take care of himself. And there was only one person he could trust to get him through it.
Gary tossed the magazine back on the table. Until recently, until Jack Daniel's staked his claim on him, Ray had been there for all of them. Ray was the common denominator that kept them together, that made them a family.
"I'm going to the chapel," Sam announced, springing to his feet.
Gary stood. "I'll go with you." He didn't know if he believed in God or not, but it was a good time to find out.

* * *

Danny stood beside Ray's bed, watching Ray's chest rise and fall with the rhythmic sighing of the respirator. Tubes ran in and out of Ray. His face was pasty and swollen, his hands doughy and bloated.
Danny's throat tightened. Ray was dead. He knew it. And it was all his fault. He remembered when he was four or five and Ray would take him to town and buy him ice cream. When Ray returned on leave before going to Vietnam, and had a suitcase full of toys for him. When Ray took care of him after his mother died, always fussing over him, forever taking up for him. Ray always found a way to get him whatever he wanted -- the magician's kit, his drum set, the trip to Aspen, the Mustang.
"Come on," Sam whispered. "Our time's up."
Danny followed his father through the maze of machinery, past the nurse's station with monitors for each patient in the Coronary Care Unit.
Three groups of families huddled in the waiting room. In the Gambel corner, Jonesy and Mrs. Jones sat with Gary, and Carol's parents had arrived while Danny and Sam had taken their five-minute visitation.
Betty rushed to meet Danny. "He'll be okay," she said, wrapping her arms around Danny and pushing his head onto her shoulder. "Ray's too strong to give up."
Danny remembered someone saying the same thing about his mother. He pulled free from Betty and ran into the corridor, his shoulders heaving.
Sam followed him. He said nothing, but surrounded Danny with his arms.
Danny collapsed on his father's shoulder. "I didn't even get to tell him I was sorry," he said before submitting to the sobs he'd withheld since morning. "I didn't get to tell him."

* * *

Ray's throat burned. In the distance, beeping and sighing sounds echoed in the silence. And his chest. The pressure was unbearable, like an immense weight sat on it. Maybe he was underwater. That would account for the distortion of sound and the struggle to breathe.
"I ain't gonna wear that shirt." He knew arguing with his mother meant a whipping, but he hated that shirt. It itched. He wished his father was home. He would save him.
Ray tried to open his eyes, but they were too thick.
"He's starting to wake up." He knew the voice. It was important to him, belonging to someone he loved. His wife. He scanned his memory for her name.
"I'll wait in the lobby. I don't want to upset him." Another familiar voice. His father's.
"Now, Sam, the doctor said it had nothing to do with you --"
"I need to check on Danny. He's taking it hard."
Danny? Little Danny? Ray tried to think, tried to force the fogginess from his brain. Hadn't Danny died in that car wreck? Ray had never gotten over that. He still had nightmares of that red Mustang crushed like a tin can.
"Tell him to come in. Gary, too. Ray will want to see them."
Danny was alive! Then who was dead? His mother, of course. And someone else. He saw a glimpse of blond hair, blue eyes and that bantam-rooster pose. David. David was dead.
Something touched Ray's hand. "Stay with us, Ray." Again, his father's voice, echoing from a tunnel somewhere. He didn't want him to leave. He wanted his father to hold him and comfort him, like he had when he was a little boy. He wanted his father to tell him it was all right.
But the touch was gone and the voices quieted and he was alone. He returned to the dizzying darkness.
"Here you go, Mr. Gambel." Someone stuck something down his throat. He gagged and opened his eyes.
"Take it easy, there, Mr. Gambel. If you want to wake up, I'll get your wife."
He tried to nod, but some kind of machinery held him down. He closed his eyes. Time passed.
"Ray. Ray."
He blinked. He must have dozed off again.
"You had a heart attack," his wife said.
Ray loved her voice. It was calm, reassuring. He wished he could remember her name.
"You're at the hospital, doing fine. Everyone's here. Your dad, Gary, Danny. My mom and dad are here, too. Joey and Rosie are flying home."
He didn't know who Rosie was, but he was glad they found Joey. He wondered how they located him, since he could have been anywhere, the way that kid hitchhiked across the country.
Carol moved closer so he could see her face. "Your dad saved your life, Ray."
Ray closed his eyes. As he drifted back to sleep, the vision of his father holding the infant Ray, his father's young face radiant with joy and fear and wonder, flashed through his consciousness. He had missed his dad.

* * *

Carol kissed Ray's forehead. "Danny wants to see you."
"Okay." Ray's voice was still raspy from the tubes and it hurt to talk.
"Are you up to it?"
Ray nodded. He was tired, but he kept his eyes open while he waited for Danny.
Danny walked in quietly, hesitantly. He looked around at the monitors and IV's before peering at Ray.
"Hey, kiddo," Ray whispered.
Danny's black eyes shined. "Are you going to be all right?"
Ray nodded.
"Do you hurt?"
Ray pointed to his throat.
"I was really scared. I thought you were going to die."
Ray shook his head.
"I thought you were gonna die before I got to tell you I was sorry." Danny bit his thumbnail.
Ray smiled.
"So I cleaned my room." Danny's eye caught the heart monitor. He watched it for a few seconds, then looked back to Ray. "It took me all night. It was pretty gross."
Ray nodded.
Danny studied the monitor. "Think you can give me another chance?"
Ray nodded again.
"You wouldn't believe the ass-chewing I got from Dad. He always takes up for you."
Ray curled his eyebrows.
"In Louisville. Before your heart attack. He called me an immature, irresponsible brat. And then he made me promise to quit giving you a bad time. And I will. I really will."
Ray tried not to laugh.
Danny scanned the room. "Want anything?"
"Is Dad here?" Ray croaked.
"Yeah. Want to see him?"
Ray nodded.
Danny smiled. "I'll get him. I know he wants to see you."
Sam looked older than Ray remembered. His blond hair had thinned and yellowed and the crow's feet around his eyes had deepened. He ran his fingers through his hair. "How are you feeling?"
Ray's throat itched unbearably. He coughed, but couldn't expel the irritation.
Sam picked up the water glass and held the straw to Ray's lips
Ray took a sip, but still coughed.
Sam remembered the Halls Mentholyptus drops he carried in his pocket. He opened one and put it in his son's mouth. "Hold it with your teeth so you don't choke."
Ray sucked on the cough drop until his throat calmed. He pointed to the water and Sam gave him another drink. He was exhausted. There were so many things he wanted to say to his father, but he was afraid to push his voice any more. He closed his eyes.
Sam watched his son until he dozed off, then moved the chair close to the bed and sat. When Ray was an infant, Sam would sit in his mother's rocking chair and hold him for hours, fascinated by the complexity of this new life and the wonder of what the future would hold. The miracle of life made it seem that all things were possible.
Sam put his hand on Ray's and a smile crept across Ray's lips. He watched his son's chest rise and fall without benefit of machinery. Maybe all things were possible.

* * *

Ray felt much better the next day. The whole family had been in earlier. Joey and Rosie, embarrassed by their inability to keep their hands off each other, giggled and blushed and then disappeared. Gary also visited, but only with others in the room, and was still stiffly polite. Clyde and Betty hugged him and brought flowers and stayed. Danny was big-eyed and quiet and Sam paced the floor.
Ray squeezed Carol's hand. "Why don't you go home and get some rest? You look tired."
"I'm scared to leave you."
"Dad will stay." Ray looked past her. "Clyde? Betty? Would you take Carol home for me? Get her something to eat and make sure she rests?"
Gary nudged Danny to follow them out and only Sam remained. He moved closer to Ray.
Ray's concern for Carol was not the only reason he wanted to clear his room. Lying in bed for two days had given him time to think. He fumbled for the control to raise his head and repositioned his body so he could see Sam. "Was I born in the music room?"
Sam nodded. "You and Gary were both born downstairs. Your grandma was still alive then and she stayed upstairs in her room, so it was more private downstairs."
"Was Mom squatting?"
"Yes. She had all you boys that way. She said she couldn't have a baby lying down."
"Did she hold onto the piano leg?"
Sam thought. "She might have. She was right next to the piano. She could have. Why?"
"And when I was born, did I not breathe right away? Did you have to give me a breath?"
Sam shook his head. "No. You came out squalling."
"Are you sure?"
"Oh, yeah. I remember every second of your birth. You came out red, red and mad and kicking and screaming."
Ray leaned back. Where had his vision or his dream or whatever it was come from?
"Now, Danny had problems. Deloris had a terrible labor with him, and when he came out, he was face up instead of face down. He was gray and didn't move and I thought he was dead. I rubbed his chest and finally had to give him a breath of air, and he came around. Deloris almost bled to death. She didn't want me to, but I called Mrs. Jones and she came over and helped me convince Deloris she had to see a doctor."
Ray tried to reconcile his vision with his father's testimony. "You're sure?"
Sam moved closer to Ray. "Yes. I could never forget the day you were born."
Ray sighed. "They said I have to go to Charleston and have a scope run through my veins to see if I have a blockage."
Sam nodded. He'd heard the doctors earlier. He touched Ray's arm. "It will be okay. They do that a lot."
Ray was quiet.
Sam let his hand rest on Ray's arm. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."
Ray nodded.
"But I'm here for you now."
Ray was quiet again, then said, "I got to quit drinking."
Sam swallowed. "I'll help you."
Ray sat up straighter and took a drink of water. "I can't stay sober on the road. I'm gonna give the band to Joey and stay home with Carol and the baby."
"I think that's very wise, but you should wait until you're well to make those decisions."
"Now, I'll have to talk to Joey about it first, but there'll be an open position in the band. Think you'd be interested?"
Sam had to let the request sink in for a few minutes. Playing music with his boys was more than he'd hoped for. John could replace him. John would be more than happy to replace him. Sam laughed. "Yeah. You know it."
Ray smiled. He was tired. He closed his eyes.
"Get some rest," Sam said, standing. He had things to do. He had people to call and arrangements to make and thoughts to think.

* * *

"I don't want to go to Charleston." Ray sat on the hospital bed with the sheets pulled back and his hairy legs exposed under the thin hospital gown.
"I know, Ray. But the doctor says it's important. If you have a blocked artery, they can do that balloon angioplasty."
"Or open heart surgery and I ain't gonna do that."
Carol touched his arm. "I just want you to be healthy."
Ray sighed. "Okay. I'll go. I'll have the balloon thing if I have to. But I ain't gonna have surgery."
"I'll have them schedule you."
"He must be feeling better," Gary said from the doorway.
Ray looked at his brother. Gary had stopped in to see him a couple of times in the past three days, but he'd been polite and not stayed long.
"He's contrary," Carol said.
"Good." Gary moved into the room. "We need to have a fight and it's no fun if he doesn't fight back."
"Now, Gary, you don't need to upset him right --"
"Yes, I do."
"Gary --"
"It's okay, Carol," Ray said. "Go find out when they're gonna bring me some food."
Carol sighed. "Okay." She waddled from the room.
Gary sat close to Ray. "Okay, Brother, we've got some things to get straight."
Ray raised his eyebrow.
"First of all, I moved back home so I can keep an eye on you. Dad and I searched the house and found all your stashes -- behind the food processor, under the basement stairwell, even the pint in the fuse box. That was cute."
Ray smiled. "I'll bet you missed the one stuffed inside the Shredded Wheat box."
"Dad checked those boxes. He checked everything."
Ray thought. "Maybe I drank all that one and threw it out."
"I'll double-check." Gary took his note pad from his shirt pocket and jotted a note. "Then we cleaned out the freezer. We donated all the red meat and pork to the Salvation Army --"
"Gary --"
"Uh-uh. The doctor said you had to watch your diet. I bought some turkey and chicken breast for you and a low-cholesterol cookbook."
"Stop it. You ain't gonna --"
"Yeah, I am. I didn't get the job at Richardson's so I'm gonna make you my job."
"No, you ain't. You --" Ray's heart monitor began beeping. Ray glanced at it, then ripped the taped cups off his chest. The beeping stopped. He pointed at Gary. "You ain't --"
"Let's get something straight. I want to have you around to fight with for a long time yet. So you're going to do what the doctor says or I'm gonna bust your face. Got it?"
Ray laughed. "Right. Like you --"
Three nurses ran into the room. One ran to the monitor and the other two eyed Ray. "We showed you flat-lined," the taller one scolded. "Now lay down there and put that monitor back on."
Ray pointed at Gary. "That man tried to kill me."
One nurse turned to glare at Gary.
Ray chuckled.
"Mr. Gambel, if you don't behave yourself, we won't allow you to have visitors."
Ray covered his legs and leaned back on the raised bed. "Okay. I'll be good."
The tall nurse replaced the monitor. She nodded toward the younger nurse. "Make a note on Mr. Gambel's chart. He's well enough to go home." They trouped out.
"And one more thing..." Gary made a fist and looked for a place to punch Ray. He hit him lightly on the shoulder.
Ray smiled.

* * *

Ray used a fork to transfer the bacon from the cast iron skillet to his plate. He gave the scrambled eggs one last turn. He'd been home from Charleston for three weeks -- he'd had the balloon angioplasty and was told to take it easy for a couple of months. But he felt good. Better than he had for a long time. Amazingly, except for a few times late in the evening, he hadn't even wanted to drink. He thought about it a lot, but it wasn't difficult to push those thoughts away.
He added the eggs to his plate of bacon and hash browns and turned.
Gary stood behind him. "Uh-uh," he said and snatched the plate from Ray.
Ray lunged for him, but Gary reached the trash can first. He dumped the plate.
"Damn you!" Ray grabbed the empty plate.
"Cereal. You can have fruit and cereal for breakfast."
"Who made you the goddam breakfast police?" Ray threw the plate in the sink and glared at Gary.
Gary fell into a defensive pose.
Ray shoved him anyway. "I wish to hell you'd get a job."
"I have a job."
"Harassing me ain't no job."
"I'm still the business manager for the band."
"Then why the hell don't you travel with them and leave me the hell alone?"
"Good morning," Carol said from the doorway.
"Hi, hon." Ray shoved Gary again on his way to her. "Gary threw your breakfast in the trash."
"I'm not hungry."
"Carol doesn't eat that crap," Gary said. He looked at Carol. "Ray tried to sneak bacon and eggs again."
Ray patted his thinning stomach. "I'm going to be down to bones pretty soon."
"Not hardly," Gary said. "And we're hiking to the cave today. These little walks around the barn are getting old."
Carol sat on the nearest chair.
"You feeling okay?" Ray asked. She was six days overdue and looked like she might blow up like a shaken soft-drink bottle if she didn't have that baby pretty soon.
"My water broke."
Ray stiffened. "What does that mean?"
"It means one way or the other, we're going to have a baby within twenty-four hours."
"Shit. Let's get you to the hospital."
Carol smiled. "I'm not having any contractions or anything. I'll give Mom and Dad a call and then the doctor. You don't have any plans today, do you?"
"I do now," Ray said.

* * *

Ray sat in the big stuffed rocking chair, Savannah Suzanne -- or, Savi Sue, as he called her -- asleep on his belly. He traced the outline of her tiny feet, her tiny bowed legs. Life on the road seemed an eternity ago. He missed the excitement, the camaraderie, the fun of entertaining, but something about holding his daughter made him feel content and complete. He tried to lock this moment in his memory, to store it away so he could savor it for a long time.
Through the open curtain he could see Gary shoveling the driveway. He hoped the roads weren't icy. Sam, Joey, Rosie, and Danny were on their way home from a two-week stint in Indianapolis. His father had called from Columbus over two hours ago, so they should be home soon.
He looked at his wife, dozing on the couch. Her labor had been long and severe. After twenty-six hours, the doctors determined the baby was in distress and whisked Carol away for a Cesarean Section. Ray had never felt so scared or alone. When it was all over, Ray left Carol with her parents and went home to get some sleep. His car automatically pulled into Mabel's and Ray sat in the parking lot for fifteen minutes before gathering the strength to go on home.
That was nine days ago, on December 5 -- one month to the day after Ray's heart attack. And just yesterday, while shopping for today's meal, he put a case of beer and a bottle of Jack Daniel's in the cart. He was at the register before he remembered he no longer drank.
Ray tightened the blanket around Savannah Suzanne and placed her next to Carol.
Carol blinked. "Are they here?"
"No. I gotta check the chicken and start the potatoes."
Carol smiled and tucked Savannah into the space between her arm and chest.
The chicken was done. Ray turned on the burner beneath the potatoes. Everything was ready -- all he needed was to mash the potatoes, make the gravy and warm the bread. He gave the green beans a stir -- they'd been simmering in bacon and onions since morning -- then took Mrs. Jones' homemade applebutter from the refrigerator.
Ray opened the cabinet and peered inside. He was looking for something, but he didn't know what. He closed the cabinet and peered behind the food processor. Jack Daniel's. He was looking for whiskey. He sighed. It was taking longer than he thought to get used to this idea of not drinking. For some reason, it was harder now than earlier, than before Savi's birth, but thinking about his daughter helped him get through the cravings.
Boomer paced the floor, anxious for Ray's attention. She was getting old. A year or two ago, she would have been catching the snow as it was shoveled, but now she was content to lay in front of the fireplace and dream her dog-dreams and wait patiently for her favorite person.
She looked at Ray, then tossed her head toward the door.
"They're here," Ray said to Carol before he heard the bus. He kissed her cheek and went to greet his brothers.
He heard gears shifting, then saw the bus slide around the last bend. It straightened as the tires dug into gravel Gary had just uncovered.
Danny jumped off the bus, his black eyes sparkling. "When you coming back, Ray? He's killing us. He's working us to death. I swear, Ray, if you come back, I won't give you a bad time. I promise."
Ray smiled. "Good."
Boomer jumped on Danny, almost knocking him over. Danny laughed, wrestling with Boomer, teasing her about bringing a present. Danny fell to the ground, rolled in the snow and let Boomer climb over him. He looked up at Ray and grinned. "Joey don't got no sense of humor. I put condoms on my drum sticks one night and he fined me for it. I told him I was gonna protest to you."
"Sorry, kiddo. Joey's the boss."
Boomer pulled a rawhide from Danny's shirt pocket. Danny roughed her head, then jumped to his feet. He raced Boomer to the house.
Sam came off the bus next, looking tired. He hugged Ray. "How're you doing?" he asked, examining Ray.
"Good, Dad. It's a lot easier here."
"You look good." Sam ran his fingers through his hair and smiled. "You'll have to hear us, Ray. Joey's done a super job. He's demanding, but he's getting results."
"Danny been behaving?"
"Oh, yeah. Joey doesn't give him time to get into trouble. And I think he really does miss you." Sam stepped back. "Where's my granddaughter?"
Ray nodded toward the house.
Joey and Rosie finally descended from the bus arm-in-arm.
Ray was pleased to see the sparkle still in Joey's eyes.
"We need to talk," Joey said.
"What's wrong?"
Joey and Rosie looked at one another as though they shared the most important secret of all time. Rosie's cheeks reddened. Joey laughed and squeezed her arm. "We'll talk over dinner."
Gary came from the garage. "How was the trip?"
"Good," Joey said. "Although we need more practice. We have four days off before we go to Baltimore, so I thought we could hole up in the barn and --"
Gary looked at Ray. "I'm damned glad I quit when I did."
Ray nodded and ushered them into the warm house.
Sam held his granddaughter, showing her off to Danny. He looked at Ray. "She's beautiful."
"I know." Ray looked around at his full house. "I hope you guys are hungry. I just gotta mash the potatoes and make the gravy."
"Is that pie I smell?" Danny asked.
"Yeah." Ray had awakened before daybreak with an urge for pie. He'd made five -- two apple, two blueberry, and a peach cobbler -- and then baked Joey's two-day-late birthday cake.
"What can we do to help?" Joey asked.
"You and Rosie and Danny get to cleanup after dinner. Gary can help me put it on the table."
Joey followed Ray and Gary to the kitchen. He leaned his long, lanky body against the wall. "Rosie and I have been talking about building a nightclub in Waynesboro."
"Oh yeah?"
"There's 120 acres for sale just this side of the city limits. We thought we'd build a house on the same lot."
"You're talking money," Gary said.
"Rosie inherited a good bit from her parents."
"What's Rosie think about it?" Ray asked.
"It was her idea. She wants a home, not a new town each week."
"What type of place are you talking about?" Gary took the chicken away from Ray and set it on the table.
"A nice place. Waynesboro has the Holiday Inn for older people and the Lighthouse for the rich, but other than that, the bars are all dumps. We'd like a nice, clean place with plenty of seating, a big dance floor and a recording studio in the back for me."
"How much money does Rosie have?" Gary asked.
"Enough."
Gary nodded thoughtfully.
"And Gary, I'd want you to be the business manager. Like you do for the band now, but on a larger scale, because there would be bartenders and waitresses and cash flow and inventory and permits. And Ray, I thought maybe you'd play in the band and would lead an oldies night once a week."
"We'll see." Ray hadn't considered returning to music. He was busy working on the house and getting the ground ready to farm again. And Carol would be returning to work after Christmas break and Savi was not going to a baby-sitter.
Rosie entered the kitchen and put her arm around Joey's waist. "Did you tell them?"
Joey smiled. "Not yet."
"What?" Ray asked.
"Wait until everyone's here."
Ray went to the doorway. "Dinner's ready."
Sam carried Savi Sue against his shoulder.
"You can lay her in the crib," Ray said.
"I can eat with one hand," Sam answered with a smile. "I did it for years."
The family gathered around the table. "Okay, Joey," Ray said. "Tell us."
"Rosie and I are going to have a baby."
"Man, you guys don't waste no time," Danny said. "What she'd do, get pregnant on your honeymoon?"
Sam laughed. "That's wonderful."
"Congratulations," Ray said. "Carol's got every book they wrote on babies."
Carol nodded. "Any morning sickness yet?"
Rosie shook her head. "Not much. I just get shaky if I don't eat every few hours."
"So that's why you want to settle down all of a sudden," Gary said.
Everyone talked at once until Ray put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. "Dinner's getting cold," he said.
Danny grabbed the mashed potatoes and loaded his plate.
"Mind if we have a blessing?" Sam asked.
Ray leaned back in his chair. "Go right ahead."
"Let us pray," Sam said, bowing his head. "Our Father in heaven, thank you for this food and for this family. And thank you especially for these babies. Help us create a new legacy for them, a legacy of love and forgiveness. And help us remember, Lord, that no matter how difficult a situation seems, if there is love, there is hope. Amen."
Ray looked around the table at his family, at the gathering of all the people he loved most. He squeezed Carol's hand, his eyes still closed. "Amen," he said, clearing his throat. He raised his head and looked at his daughter snuggled deep in her grandfather's arms. "Amen."

- The End -

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