I was shocked and moved by Sam’s plan. “Well . . .”
“And you could save all that money you’re dropping on that nursing home, too.”
“All right, let me think about it.” I hesitated for a moment, picking at my hot dog bun. “I really don’t mind helping you out until you get back on your feet.”
“Let it go, Ellie. I’m good.” Sam took a long sip of his beer, then nudged my arm. “Oh, by the way, I ran into Juice.”
“Oh God.”
Sam let out another huge laugh. “My man is crushing on you big-time.”
“Very funny. I’m not interested in your little buddies.” I took another bite of my hot dog. “Y’all met at Dodge State, right?”
“He’s decent people, though. He might not wear a suit and tie like the brothers you work with but he’s genuine. I’ve never seen him hurt a soul.”
I bit into my hot dog and reached for a napkin from the counter. “Nope. I make enough bad decisions on my own. Remember, I’m Martha Littlejohn’s daughter. Us Littlejohn women specialize in bad decisions when it comes to men.”
Sam scrutinized me for a moment. “You know, maybe it was a matter of options.”
“What?”
“Maybe she made bad decisions because she had bad options. And the alcohol didn’t help. Remember how she used to tell us about how she had to live in all those different places when she was growing up?”
“Yeah.”
“I just think she wanted some place, a real home.”
“Sam, there’s some stuff about Martha you don’t know. And it’s not worth going into now.”
“Who knows everything about anybody? All I know is most folks are trying to do the best they can with what they got. Martha didn’t have much, so she couldn’t do much.”
“Hmm . . .”
“It’s not like some curse or something. You have better options. You can make better choices.”
I stared back at Sam and his wisdom shook me. His insight made sense. A small town like Chillicothe had not been kind to Black women back when we were growing up. “Humph. You might be right. Anyway, I’ve decided to put my dating life on hold for right now. Pickings are slim for the over-forty crowd like me.”
“That’s not true. Good brothers are always looking for a good woman.”
I noticed a bit of ketchup on the side of Sam’s face. I passed him a napkin. “But what about you? Who are you keeping company with these days, as Vee would say?”
Sam snickered. “Hey, Juice ain’t the only one looking for a good woman.”
I smiled and shook my head. I glanced down at my watch. “I’d better get going. I have an early meeting tomorrow.”
I picked up my plate and glass and sat them in the sink. “Sam, I’ll just say this and then I’ll leave it alone. I think Jonathan is involved in some dangerous stuff. My boss is dead, and the man you’ve been trailing for him is missing. I think he’s involved in both, which makes you involved. I don’t know what he’s up to. I can’t go to the police with that news article floating around. And I know you can’t go, either, because of your probation. I think the best thing for both of us is for you to stay away from him.”
I headed to the sofa and retrieved my coat and purse. Sam followed. I reached inside my wallet and pulled out two hundred dollars. “Here, take this. It’s all I have on me.”
Sam pushed my hand away. “No, Ellie. Seriously, I’m good. Let me stand on my own.”
We stood there, face-to-face like some kind of sibling standoff. Silent. The little boy I adored had become the brother I was proud of. A good man with a kind heart who’d made some mistakes. I’d made my share of mistakes too. But Vera used to say mistakes didn’t make you a bad person. They made you human.
I finally broke the impasse and reached over and hugged him. “I love you, Sammy Littlejohn.”
“I love you, too, Ellie.”
Part 2
The Grass
Chapter 24
Sam Littlejohn was out in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night.
The navy-blue Camry jerked and sputtered along Anders Creek Road. He managed to maneuver the car to the shoulder of the desolate road. The slow crackle of rock and gravel pinged the undercarriage of the car before it gave a final spasm, a long, slow hiss, and then stopped completely.
“Aww . . . Shit.” Sam looked through the rearview mirror into an ink-black hole, having passed the last vestiges of life over a mile back. Streetlights didn’t exist out here in this part of Georgia. He turned the ignition key a couple of times, desperate to restart the car.