“What’s this?” He read the paper and then looked back at me, his mouth dropped open in shock. “Where did this come from?”
I finally gathered myself together. “Someone left this inside my car at work.”
“In your car? Wait . . . What?”
I cradled myself. “It gives me chills to think he was in my car.”
“Who?”
“The only person I can think of is Jonathan. Did you tell Jonathan about this?”
“No! Of course not.”
“This isn’t a coincidence. He knows we’re related, and it looks like he knows about Chillicothe. Sam, why the hell are you working for him?”
Sam slumped into a chair in front of me. “Because I’m tired of begging you for money.” Sam slowly ran the palm of his hand down the front of his face in exasperation before he looked back up at me. “This house, the car I drive, all of it’s yours. I just wanna go somewhere, ask for a job, and not be second-guessed about who I am or the choices I’ve made. I’m tired of living this way. I’m tired of living on handouts and hustles. Can you understand that? Look, Ellie, I don’t want another argument, okay? Let’s leave it alone.”
“We can’t leave it alone. Sam, don’t do this! I think he’s trying to frame you for something you didn’t do. I think he’s involved with some kind of money-laundering scheme. We need to go to the police.”
“No. I told you, I’m still on probation.”
“I can help you find another job. This guy Jonathan is bad news. Trust me.”
“Ellie, I can take care of myself! Let’s drop it. You want something to drink? I was just about to make myself a hot dog. You want one?”
“Sam, listen to me. The last time I was here at your house—”
“Drop it, Ellie!” He released a long deep breath. “I’m tired of arguing with you. I’m not perfect. We already know that. Let’s just hang out and be a family for a change.” He got up from the chair and strolled into the kitchen.
He was right. I was tired of arguing too. And God knows, it had been a long time since we had just hung out like two normal siblings. Whatever that meant. I knew I needed to be more patient, more understanding. I needed to be his sister, not his probation officer. I looked around the room. Everything was neat and tidy. The TV was back on the stand. I took off my coat and tossed it on the sofa along with my purse. I followed him into the kitchen.
“Mustard and onions. No ketchup,” I said as I slipped into a chair at the kitchen table.
Sam stood at the stove and glanced a smile at me. “What did ketchup ever do to you? How’s Vee?”
“Same.”
We both went quiet for a minute.
“I love that old chick. Remember that time she caught me smoking cigarettes out behind her house?”
“Oh my God. She chased you straight across the field.”
“What was I . . . nine, ten? I thought I could outrun her.” Sam leaned against the stove. “She was built like a tank, but damn she was light on her feet. She caught up to me and snatched me up by the back of my pants. My undershorts were wedged so far up my ass I had a hard time sitting down the next day.”
“After that whipping she gave you, that wasn’t the only reason you had a hard time sitting down.” We both cracked up. His laugh filled the entire room and the space seemed lighter because of it.
“To this day, I can’t stand the smell of cigarette smoke.” Sam served up two hot dogs, a beer for himself, and sweet tea for me. We quietly started in on the hot dogs.
“I did like you said,” Sam said.
“You did what?”
“I went by to see Vee. She said she wants to go home.” Sam slathered his hot dog in more ketchup before he bit into it.
“I know. I feel awful about that, too. But you see how she is. She can’t be out there on that farm by herself.”
We both went quiet. Vera had stepped into the gap and loved us when Martha couldn’t. And leaving her in a nursing home, when all she wanted was to wake up in her own bed, on her own farm, was tugging at all three of us.
“I’ve been thinking,” Sam said. “I might move back to Chillicothe. I could move into the farmhouse and be with her.”
I set my hot dog back on the plate and stared at Sam. “Are you serious?”
“I’m tired of Atlanta. The streets. All of it. I just want a simple, uncomplicated life. I wanna wake up, move through my life like everybody else. Not have to spend the day looking over my shoulder.” He stared down into his plate for a moment. He looked back at me with a weak smile. “And, hey, with the sales market, you could make a small fortune if we sold this place. I know you don’t like to hear it, but Vera won’t be around forever. She ought to be in her own house.”