A Good Man (51 page)

“It might take you a few months.” He waved at the kids. “Well, go on. Take the court. Play. Show’s over.”

The kids streamed off the bleachers and resumed play.

John led Sonya to the bleachers and a case of bottled water, handing her one.

Several little girls moved to sit near Sonya. “Sorry to let y’all down.”

“But you didn’t,” Keisha said. “You actually got two shots. Most people only get the first one.”

Only the first one? Man, I have really been scammed. “See, John,” Sonya said. “You’re already slacking.”

“Yeah. Next time you might get three shots. Next year, you might get four.” John smiled at the girls. “Y’all go play. I need to talk to Jazz.”

The little girls scampered off.

“You aren’t mad at me, are you?” John asked.

Yes. “No.”

“Really?”

“Okay, a little. I was very good once.”

John put his arm around her. “You were the best in the league, and you’re still outstanding. And anyway, I had the home-court advantage. I’m sure if we were on your court in Charlotte, you’d kick my tail.”

“I hardly even play in the driveway anymore. I shoot around when I’m really bored.”

“I’d play with you every night.”

I like the sound of that. “On or off the court?”

“Anywhere you want me to play with you,” John said.

“There are a lot of places.” That you haven’t kissed yet.

“I’m game.”

Sonya punched him in the arm. “But, boy, you played me.”

John grinned. “Yeah, I did.”

“I don’t like getting played. Like when I asked if you were in love with someone and you said ‘nope,’ you were playing me, right?”

“Nope.” John looked at the clock. “Wow. I got to get these kids back to the church. I don’t wanna hear their mamas’ mouths tonight.”

Sonya grabbed his arm. “You’re not in love with me?”

“No.”

At least he didn’t say “nope” this time. “But I don’t understand!”

“Pray about it, Sonya. It’ll come to you.” He took her hand and pulled her to him.

“What?” she pouted.

“How tired are you?” John asked.

“Pretty tired. Why?” Pray about it? Explain it to me! And then I can pray about your explanation!

“We have a big day tomorrow,” John said. “Well, it’s a big day for Burnt Corn anyway. There’s going to be a pancake breakfast at the Masonic Lodge, the oldest building in Monroe County. Then there’s going to be a parade on County Road Five right past the general store, a softball game and picnic over in Monroeville, and another potluck at New Hope. We like our potlucks. They’re even going to set off fireworks as soon as it gets dark.”

“It’s not July.”

“You’re the biggest thing to hit Burnt Corn and Monroe County since Hurricane Katrina,” John said. “It’s not every day that a princess comes to Alabama.”

“I was hoping for some quiet time alone with you.”

“I need the same thing,” John said. “But there will be plenty of time for that, right?”

I am so confused. He wants me, but he’s not in love with me! He wants to spend some quiet time with me, but he’s not in love with me! What gives? “I guess.”

“Lean not on your own understanding, Sonya,” John said.

“I’d rather lean on you for a while.” And have you get frisky all over my lean body.

“In the dark?”

“You know a better place?”

“The van has a big ol’ bench seat,” John said. “Ride back with us. I’ll make sure you get to the hotel in one piece.”

“Will it be a quiet ride?”

“Nope. All that banana pudding they ate earlier ought to be kicking in soon.”

“I meant …”

“Yes, Sonya,” John said. “We will have a quiet ride.”

After the loudest ride in church-van history, John dropped the kids off to their doting mothers at New Hope, who just had to take photographs of their children standing with Sonya.

Eventually they rode to his house. John parked out front but left the engine running.

Sonya started to get out.

“Um, we’re not going in,” John said.

“Not even for a quick tour?” Sonya asked.

He pointed across the street. “My neighbors are watching us from their porch. They attend New Hope. And they’re related to Sheila.”

“Uh-huh. Why aren’t they inside watching TV like normal people?”

“We’re not on TV tonight,” he said. “And it’s a nice evening to sit on the porch and spy on me.”

“If it isn’t the cameras, it’s the neighbors.” Sonya sighed. “Well, I guess you should take me to the hotel, then. I like your house, though. It’s big. Looks roomy.”

“It is.”

John drove away, flying down the road until he came to the curve and slowed considerably. He tried not to look at the tree, but he couldn’t help himself. “Um, that’s where … There’s a cross there.” There are actually two, one just behind that one, but I don’t want to think about the other one right now.

Sonya reached over and squeezed his hand. “Is there another way to Monroeville?”

“This is the quickest way.”

“You okay?”

“I’m good. You’re here. That’s all that matters.” John put his arm around her.

Sonya snuggled against his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re good.”

After a few more minutes, John pulled off onto a bumpy dirt road and bounced the van around until the road ended near a large oak tree. He turned off the engine. “Is this a quiet enough place for you?”

“You want to make out with me in a church van?” Sonya asked.

He unbuckled his seat belt and her seat belt. “I just want to feel your body on mine.” He pulled her toward him and slid to the right, turning her to face him.

“I’m kind of sweaty,” Sonya said.

“So am I.” He took off his shirt and tossed it onto the dashboard, then pulled her shirt tail from her sweats, sliding his hands up her back. “I’m burning up. You burning up, too?”

Sonya nodded.

John took off her shirt. “I need some close contact, Sonya.”

“So do I.”

Skin to skin, their hands explored, felt, slid, and caressed. John moved to rest his head on the passenger armrest, Sonya following, her bra long gone, her chest brushing his as they kissed, his hands pulling her closer and closer—

“Sonya?”

“I want you, John.”

He sat up and scooted his back against the passenger door. “I don’t want our first time to be in the front seat of the New Hope AME church bus on some deserted road in Conecuh County, Alabama. At least I think we’re in Conecuh.”

Sonya laughed. “I don’t either.”

“I shouldn’t have let it go this far.”

Sonya straddled him. “It wasn’t all you.” She looked down at her breasts. “Did you take off my bra or did I?”

“I think we both did.” He kissed each nipple. “I just can’t get enough of your body.”

“Now that you’ve seen half of it.”

“It’s a very nice half.”

Sonya put on her shirt and stuffed her bra in her pocket. “I want to spend the night with you.”

“You will.”

“When?” Sonya asked.

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

“Sooner than you think.”

The next day John saw Burnt Corn through Sonya’s eyes, and her eyes sparkled with life.

She fits in here, he thought. She belongs here.

They ate too many pancakes at the Masonic Lodge just after sunrise.

“I got up for this?” Shani said. “Man, I could have stayed in bed and ordered room service.”

They listened to several heartfelt speeches touting the history of Monroe County and the commercial viability of Monroeville.

“Are they kidding?” Shani said. “This place is completely off the grid. No wonder GPS doesn’t work down here. I’m surprised my phone even gets a signal.”

Sonya and John served as grand marshals for the miniparade of pickup trucks, tractors, and horse-drawn trailers in front of the general store.

“That isn’t a parade,” Shani said. “That’s a mini–traffic jam with a clown and some horseshit thrown in.”

Sonya and John played opposing pitchers in a softball game at Alabama Southern Community College in Monroeville, a game easily won by Sonya’s team because John was a “nice” pitcher while Sonya added spins and curves.

“Dag, John,” Shani said, “you can’t even win a pickup softball game in Alabama.”

Sonya and John both decided that Shani had to go. They convinced her to return to the hotel to get some sleep.

Shani agreed.

John rejoiced.

At the evening potluck at New Hope, church members were at first hesitant to approach either John or Sonya, but once Sonya put a little dab of every pot, dish, and pan on her plate, they warmed up to her in a hurry.

“Are you going to eat all that?” John asked. She has at least three levels of food on her plate, and that corn on the cob nearly broke the Styrofoam.

“I will eat everything on my plate,” Sonya said.

“No one, um, eats a little bit of everything at a potluck,” John whispered.

“I don’t want to offend anyone.” Sonya cut her eyes around her. “They’re watching me.”

“You better clean your plate, then,” John whispered.

Sonya took a deep breath … and inhaled what was on her plate, and then ate at least a spoonful of every dessert on the dessert table.

“I need to walk this off,” Sonya said afterward. “For several years.”

“We’ll go walking after the fireworks,” John said.

They sat in metal folding chairs arranged on New Hope’s lawn and watched fireworks shoot off and scream into the sky. Sonya and John sneaked a kiss during the finale, when they thought those around them would be looking heavenward.

As people collapsed chairs, folded blankets, and said their good-byes, Sheila’s mother beckoned to John.

“Is that …”

“Sheila’s mom, Regina,” John said. And she’s looking especially evil tonight. I knew she wouldn’t be happy about all this. I’ve been doing my best to avoid her.

“Thought so,” Sonya said. “She’s been grittin’ on us all day but especially tonight.”

John nodded. “I should have introduced you sooner, but I was afraid.” He shook his head. “I haven’t seen her look this evil since she found out that I took Lauren Stallworth to see The Sixth Sense over in Thomasville. It was our only date. I didn’t know that Lauren didn’t like scary movies. I’ll, um, I’ll go see what she wants.” He took a step. “No.” Sonya and I are a team. He took Sonya’s hand. “We will go see what she wants.”

They approached Regina, and Regina’s smile faded. “Regina, I’d like you to meet Jazz,” John said.

“Hello,” Regina said.

Whoa, John thought. That was stiff. She usually hugs the skin off visitors. I didn’t expect her to hug Sonya, but only to say hello?

“It’s nice to meet you,” Sonya said.

Regina nodded. “Did John tell you about my daughter, Sheila?”

No “How you like our town?” or “Did you get enough to eat?” tonight.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sonya said. “He told me a great deal.”

Regina looked at John. “He couldn’t have told you everything.”

I didn’t tell it all, but I told most of it. “Regina, I told her how happy Sheila made me, how happy we were for five years, how much I miss her, the things I used to do for her, and how and where she died.”

“Did you mention my grandbaby Khari?” Regina asked.

John lost feeling in his arms. “No, Regina, I didn’t tell her about Khari because technically—”

“Sheila was pregnant with my grandbaby Khari when she died,” Regina interrupted. “Ain’t no technically about it, John.”

“She was only a few weeks pregnant, Sonya,” John said. “She didn’t even—”

“And yet you let her drive herself that day, didn’t you?” Regina hissed. “That rainy, nasty, windy day.”

John sighed deeply. “I didn’t know she was preg—”

“Oh, how you didn’t know?” Regina interrupted. “You were her husband! You were supposed to know things like that!”

“I told you, Regina,” John said, trying to stay calm. “Sheila didn’t tell me because even she must not have known. If she knew, you would have been the first one to know, not me. She told you everything first all the time, didn’t she, Regina?” John turned to Sonya. “I only found out that Sheila was pregnant after the autopsy.” I wish they had never told me that. They could have spared me that second bitter grief.

“I’ve never believed that,” Regina said. “I think you knew, and yet you let her just go on and die.”

“I didn’t know, Regina.” He shook his head. “There’s no use in arguing about this anymore, Regina. They’re both gone, all right? Let it go.”

“How can I let it go when you forget about Sheila and Khari by kissing this woman on the church lawn in front of everybody who knew and loved her?” Regina pointed at the camera crew. “And the cameras captured it all. It’ll be all over the TV. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

My heart should be hurting, John thought, but it isn’t. I should be feeling some kind of guilt, but I don’t. “I buried Sheila and Khari fifteen years ago less than two miles from this spot, Regina. Fifteen years ago. You and I stood at New Hope Cemetery for hours after everyone was gone, and we watched them put the dirt on top of their caskets. We’ve spent countless hours tending their graves and planting flowers. We’ve put in our time of grieving, Regina. Our time of grieving is over.”

“It only took you ten seconds to tarnish Sheila’s memory with this woman, John,” Regina said. “How do you think it makes me feel to see you kissing another woman at my daughter’s and my granddaughter’s church? Huh?”

“Sheila would want me to be happy,” John said. “Jazz makes me happy. I’m happy, Regina. Please be happy for me.”

Regina turned away. “You only lost a wife and a child who you think wasn’t even a child yet. I lost my only child and the only grandbaby I will ever have. You both should be ashamed of yourself.”

“I’m not ashamed, Regina,” John said. He felt Sonya’s hand tighten in his. “I loved Sheila. I still love Sheila.”

Regina turned back quickly. “Oh, no, you—”

“I do,” John interrupted. “Love doesn’t die with the person, Regina. Love can’t die. Love is always alive. I can and I do love Sheila, maybe not as much as you do, but the love is still there. I have mourned her and Khari. I have wept for them. I have almost stopped living because of their memory. It’s time I moved on. It’s time I found love again.” He blinked away a tear. “Jacob labored for fourteen years to win Leah’s heart. I labored for fifteen years to keep Sheila alive for you, and I can’t do it anymore.”