The Last Road Home

by Danny Johnson

  “Morning. Wanted to ask Mr. Wilson if he might run me to Apex to talk to Lawyer Stern. I need to get straight about the farm.”

  “Come on in. He’s finishing his breakfast. Have you eat?” She held my arm as we walked.

  She would have fixed for me, but I didn’t want to waste the time. “Had something earlier.”

  Mr. Wilson dropped me off in front of a redbrick building on Main Street in Apex. He pointed to some stairs on the side, and said he’d meet me at the truck when I was finished. At the top of the metal steps was a heavy wood door with a glass insert, lettered J. STERN, ATTORNEY AT LAW. I turned the knob and a cowbell clanked when the door pushed open. A gentleman dressed in a gray sports coat and black tie came out of the back office. He reminded me of Mr. Wilson some, short and heavy in the belly, except he was bald as a peach, wore glasses, and had intense green eyes that seemed to look through me. “Mr. Stern?”

  “Yes. Who might you be?”

  “Raeford Hurley, Mrs. Rosa Belle Hurley’s grandson.”

  He warmed up at once, and came to shake my hand. “Good to meet you, Raeford. I’ve heard a lot about what a fine young man you are.” He had a deep, not unpleasant voice, and when he smiled the wrinkles in his face were plentiful. “I’m glad you came by, been wanting to get in touch and go over some things. Sorry to have missed the funeral, but we were visiting my wife’s folks in Virginia. Your grandmother was a fine person.” While he talked, I knew he was taking the measure of me.

  “Appreciate it. Before she died, Grandma told me to speak to you about the farm.”

  “Come on in and we’ll do some talking.”

  His office had the smell of old leather, and was outfitted with a couple of fat brown cowhide chairs on one side of the desk and a big black chair on his side. The green carpet had been there awhile and wasn’t as expensive-looking as the carpet at the funeral home. I guessed there wasn’t as much call for lawyer work as there was for burying. Pictures of presidents and the state capitol hung behind him, and important-looking leather-bound books filled the sidewall shelves. He poked around in a head-high metal cabinet beside his desk and finally pulled out a stack of papers wrapped in a rubber band. I could see Grandma’s name printed on the outside of a tan folder.

  “What did your grandma tell you, Raeford?”

  “Said you had the deed to the farm and to do whatever you say to make sure things got looked after.”

  “I got a copy of her will right here.” He offered the paper. “You want to read it?”

  “Just as soon you explain it to me.” I sat straight in the chair so he could see I was paying attention, and hoped he wouldn’t say words I didn’t know.

  “What it boils down to, Raeford, is the farm is yours and everything that goes with it, including the animals and machinery. But until you’re eighteen, I’m what’s called a trustee, which simply means I have the responsibility to be sure the taxes are paid and to look out for your well-being. You can run the farm any way you want, but you can’t sell it unless I agree or until you come of age. Afterward you can do as you wish. You understand?”

  I’d heard folks say how some lawyers were worse than a crook. I watched his eyes and tried to get a fix on him. “Sounds like I pay whatever money you need and you take care of things.”

  “That’s the cut of it. Legal stuff can be confusing sometimes, so I want to be sure to answer your questions about any of this. My job is to carry out your grandma’s wishes.”

  Seemed simple enough. “Need me to pay you anything now?”

  “Did Miss Rosa Belle leave any money in banks? If she did, we’ll need to file a motion in court so you have access to it.”

  “Not as I know of.” What was in the jars didn’t concern anybody but me.

  “Then we settle up in the fall the way we’ve always done.” Mr. Stern folded his hands on top of the desk. “You going to try and farm by yourself?” He appeared concerned, like a good friend or a kindly uncle would be.

  “The neighbors offered to help me, so I’m going to try to work through this year the same as always. Mr. Jackson offered to rent the tobacco acreage, and if it gets to be more than I can handle by myself, I’ll come get your ideas. But I’m keeping the farm for sure.”

  “How old are you again?”

  “Be sixteen in a couple of months.”

  Mr. Stern leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands over his ample stomach. “I swear I hear your granddaddy’s voice in you. Takes a lot of courage to do what you’re fixing to try, Raeford, but I imagine you inherited a big dose of that from him.”

  I started to feel a good comfort level with Mr. Stern. “Got no option to do anything else if I want to eat and live.”

  “What did you say they call you?”

  “Junebug, because I was born in June.”

  He got up and reached across the desk. “Well, I’m going to shake your hand and tell you to come to see me anytime you might need help. I’ll file whatever paperwork needs doing, so don’t worry about any of that.”

  “Good to have somebody on my side.”

  He pumped my hand a little extra, and gripped my elbow with his other hand. “Don’t you worry, son. I’ll talk to you in the fall if not before.”

  At the drugstore, I spent some time checking all the shelves and corners before going to the counter with ten comics. Behind the saleslady, I spotted what I’d been looking for. They were in a glass case against the wall. “Sir. Sir?” I reached out my hand for the change. There was no way I could bring myself to ask for a pack of Trojans.

  Mr. Wilson was sitting on a stack of fertilizer bags outside Salem’s, talking to some men. They were all chewing tobacco and spitting across the curb. “You done, Junebug?”

  “Yessir.”

  He turned to the others. “This here is Miss Rosa Belle’s grandson.”

  There were five of them. A great big man stood up. A wad of bright red hair stuck from under the sweat-stained John Deere hat on his head. “I’m Luther; knowed your grandma and granddaddy about all my life.” I shook hands with him. He had crazy eyes; one went to the right and one to the left. It was hard to tell which one he was looking at me with. I also noticed he had a tattoo of a cross in a circle with a blood drop in the middle, the symbol of the KKK.

  On the ride home, we neared the gas station on Highway 64. “Mr. Wilson, can we stop for a minute? I need to pee something awful.”

  “All right. I’ll get some gas while you go.”

  I hurried around to the bathroom. It stunk like an outhouse in July. Sure enough, just to the left of the sink, on the peeling painted concrete wall, hung a couple of machines. One said “French Tickler” and the other said “Extra Lubricated.” Since I didn’t know what French Tickler meant, I dropped a quarter in the other one. I pulled the handle and out it plopped at the bottom. It appeared to be the same as the one Fancy had. I stuck in two more quarters and got some extra. I was so happy I forgot to pee, and by the time we pulled up at Mr. Wilson’s I was about to bust.

  As soon as I reached the woods on the way home, I leaned against a tree and watered the ground. I thought about the men with Mr. Wilson in Apex. It was no secret in the community that most of the menfolk either were members or supporters of the Klan. The men sitting with Mr. Wilson looked like they might fit under a white sheet. Lightning better damn sure not pop his head up if he did kill that man. Those old boys didn’t play.

  CHAPTER 24

  Lightning sat at the kitchen table counting the pile of seeds in front of him. “We got well over a hundred and fifty, Junebug.”

  I rubbed a few of them in my hand. “Every one going to make a plant?” They didn’t look like much.

  “From what I understand, you lose a lot of them from bugs or bad weather, and some just won’t grow. The migrant man said you need plenty of extra.”

  I didn’t believe everything Lightning said, but just enough that I was curious. The place in the woods lay fallow, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt to see what happen
ed. “Toward dark we’ll slip over there.” I dropped the seeds back in the bag.

  Lightning smiled like he knew I’d come around. “Your meeting go all right?” He had a new gold front tooth.

  “It went fine. Is that tooth real or just covering the outside of an old one?”

  He reached his finger to touch it. “The African did it, said it would make me look like a warrior.”

  “That’s one man’s opinion.”

  “So, what did the lawyer say?”

  “Said the place is mine, except I couldn’t sell it until I turned eighteen.”

  We sat around the rest of the afternoon, Lightning telling me how the migrant workers weren’t much more than slaves, that the boss would end up stealing most of their money by saying he “provided” for them. Lightning bragged he got familiar with most of the women on the bus, so there was some fun to go with the work.

  “How come you didn’t light out once you figured what was going on?”

  “Had no idea where in hell we were most of the time, all through the backcountry of South Carolina and Georgia. Plus I didn’t have any money, so how was I supposed to get home?”

  I decided to test him one more time. “You sure you killed that white man because he tried to kill you, that you weren’t trying to rob him?”

  He took an attitude. “Junebug, you’ve known me near ’bout all my life. You know I wouldn’t hurt somebody on purpose.” I noticed he didn’t correct me on the “killing” part.

  I was dozing in a porch chair when the noise of Fancy leaning her bike against the side of the house woke me. Lightning was on the couch reading one of my comic books. “Go in the bedroom. Your sister’s here.”

  He scrambled, grabbing his shoes.

  Fancy came up the steps. “Hey, Junebug.” She wore cutoff jeans and a white T-shirt that was long enough to cover her behind.

  “How was school?” I patted my legs.

  She sat on my lap and gave me a peck on the lips. “It was good. We’re studying about the Civil War. A bunch of folks were killed in that thing. I learned there were even some colored soldiers in the fight.”

  “Granddaddy told me all the menfolk in our family went, but not many came back.” I tickled her ribs. “Ain’t found a boyfriend at school, have you?”

  She wiggled to move my hands. “Shut up.”

  “Got something to show you.” I lifted her from my lap, reached in my back pocket, and pulled out the Trojans.

  Her eyes flew wide. “Where’d you get these?”

  “Gas station; a quarter apiece. Here, take one in case your momma wants to check.”

  “Thanks, Junebug.” She sat back on my lap and started running her fingernails up and down my chest. “You want to go try one now?”

  “What’s wrong with you, girl? Not even dark yet.”

  She stuck out her bottom lip. “I might not be in the mood when it gets dark.”

  “Then we’ll have to wait ’til you are. Got another surprise for you.” I led her to the living room. “Come on out.”

  Lightning eased from the bedroom. Fancy stood frozen at the sight of him, then let out a yell and ran to grab him around the neck. “Where have you been? I can’t believe you’re home.” Tears ran down both their faces. She pulled Lightning to the couch, and reached up to rub the welt on his face. “How did you get that?”

  The two of them still resembled each other enough to be family, but it would be hard for a person who didn’t know to see them as twins. Lightning choked up as he told her the story. “That son of a bitch ruined my face for life, Fancy.” He spent the next hour telling her pretty much the same story I’d already heard. So near the same it made me wonder.

  “When are you going to let Momma and Daddy know you’re back?” She spread her hands over her face, looking through the fingers. “Do you think you killed that white man? What will happen if you did?” Fancy started to cry. “Damn it, Lightning, why couldn’t you have just stayed home?”

  “Wish to hell I had. I’ll let them know when I’m sure the sheriff ain’t looking for me, when it’s safe for them to know.” He pulled Fancy’s hands from her face. “Everything will work out fine. You quit worrying.”

  While Fancy cooked supper, Lightning and me sat at the table, rehashing old stories and laughing about stuff we did as kids, remembering how we used to scare Fancy with tales of haints in the woods at night. It started to feel like old times, joking and teasing each other. Lightning’s conversation got easy and comfortable. He sounded more like my old friend.

  It was close to dark by the time we finished eating. “Lightning, let’s walk off supper while Fancy is doing the dishes.” I grabbed a flashlight from the cabinet. We found the wide wagon path that led from the cornfield behind the stable to the plant bed deep in the woods.

  “I thought I remembered it this way.” Lightning knelt down and picked up a handful of dirt. “This would do fine, Junebug. If I recollect, a little creek runs below that tree line.”

  “You remember right. Don’t have a lot of water, but it’s still there.”

  “I bet if we dug it out, we’d have all the water we need.” Lightning studied the cleared field. “Take a harrow and run over the ground, and we could plant.” He waved his hand. “Got plenty of room for what we need.”

  “I ain’t coming out here in the dark to work.” I hadn’t decided if I was coming at all.

  “Don’t have to. Hook up the mule and come during the day. Nobody would question you.”

  “So you want to leave me all the work?”

  “Let’s pretend I’m the boss and you’re the nigger for a change.”

  “You wish.”

  We started toward the house. I put my hand on his arm to stop him. “Lightning, I need to talk to you.”

  “About what?”

  Things quieted, like all the night creatures wanted to listen. “I want you to know Fancy and me has come to being more than friends.”

  The muscle down his jaw twitched. He lowered his voice, making it plain he was serious. “I sort of figured as much watching the two of you. The only thing I say, Junebug, is you remember she’s my sister. Don’t ever mistreat her. If you do, I ain’t going to take it well.”

  “Wouldn’t expect nothing else.”

  “So long as we understand each other.” He stuck out his hand. “You do realize that hell will come to visit if anybody finds out?”

  “I know, and don’t think I’m not careful.”

  Fancy was done cleaning up the kitchen by the time we got back. She picked up the paper bag. “Y’all going to plant flowers?”

  Lightning grinned. “You could call it that. But they’re going to be some we can make a lot of money growing.”

  Fancy looked at me. I nodded at Lightning to let him explain.

  She kept glancing at me until he finished. “You okay with this? You willing to risk what you got?”

  Until that moment I hadn’t decided. I rubbed my forehead. “Fancy, I’ve given this some thought and decided Lightning won’t ever be able to get on his feet unless he gets some money. He can’t live here if that old man died, because sooner or later, somebody will find out. Plus, what if the tobacco crop fails or I break my leg, how would I survive? But I want to listen to what you got to say.” I was making excuses to say yes, trying to maneuver her into the idea. The notion of the money had started working on me. Maybe I had some of my daddy in me after all.

  Lightning stared. “Why’s she have any say?”

  I considered Fancy and me to be on the same footing, she’d watch out for me and I’d watch out for her. “Because she does. We all lose if we decide to do this and something bad happens.” And maybe I wanted to test her.

  Fancy studied our faces. “Okay. I’ll agree so Lightning can get on his feet and you can put some money back.” I could tell she was pleased to be a part of the decision, even if she wasn’t pleased with the decision. “But I tell both of you, I don’t have a good feeling.”

  CHAPTER 2
5

  “Since it looks like you’re going to be here awhile, Lightning, why don’t you take my bed and I’ll sleep in Grandma’s.”

  He smiled big and broad. “That’s real good of you, Junebug. Sure I won’t be putting you out?”

  “Well, sure you are, but go ahead anyway.”

  “Enough said. I’m hitting the hay.” He got up and kissed Fancy on the cheek.

  We waited for him to close the door and get settled before I got up and motioned to Fancy. We lay down on Grandma’s bed, her head resting on my chest. On the bedside table was a picture of Grandma. I turned it facedown. “What do you honestly think about all this, Fancy?”

  “I don’t know, Junebug. One thing I do know is I don’t want to see you go to jail.”

  I ran my fingers up and down the side of her face. “Lightning’s changed, like what he’s saying might not be all he’s thinking. You reckon we can trust him?”

  She snuggled tighter to me. “I see flashes of Lightning’s old self, but he does seem different somehow.”

  “Expect killing a man would change a person.”

  “Why’d he think he had to run off like some crazy person? He’s always thought he was meant for something better, but nothing ever seems to work out for him.”

  “With all I got to deal with already, farming enough to stay alive, you and me having to sneak around like a couple of night crooks, it feels like my life’s sprung a lot of leaks, and I’m running out of fingers.”

  Fancy lifted her hand and spread her fingers wide. “I got ten too, Junebug, you remember that.”

  The wind blew through the trees and rattled the windows, like it had been listening. “Guess you better be getting back.”

  She reached up and kissed me. “Things will work out.” Fancy had a powerful way of making me feel like a man, confident I would protect and take care of her.

  I stood at the edge of the woods until she crossed the clearing to her house. My strong feelings for Fancy made me afraid. I stopped at the stumps and sat down. Lately, my mind felt like it was crazy circling from one thing to another, then going back and starting over. Something was nagging at me and I couldn’t figure out what. It felt like I was walking into a windmill and hoping to dodge the blades.