“We’re saying our prayers too, Sooley, all of your coaches.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ll see you at six.”
* * *
·?·?·
Samuel had spent many nights at the Walkers’。 His spot was on a long sofa in the basement, between a ping-pong table and a sixty-four-inch flat screen where he and Murray watched ESPN on Friday and Saturday nights. Robin was usually there, though Miss Ida would not allow her to sleep over. In Samuel’s quiet and humble opinion, Miss Ida wasn’t too keen on her youngest child getting so serious with a girl at the age of twenty. But it was also evident that Murray was somewhat spoiled and usually did what he wanted.
This visit was different, though, because Jordan was home from law school. Samuel had followed her on social media, and was thoroughly smitten long before she walked through the door and hugged everyone. She was twenty-four, gorgeous, sexy, smart, and unattached. Samuel was scheming of ways to propose marriage, something he would have done without hesitation back home. There, though, the rules were different. Marriage proposals were often made to fathers of young teenage girls. A man could have more than one wife. A father could give his daughter as a gift. And so on. A rather different world.
Late Wednesday night, the family watched a movie in the den, a tradition, and Samuel couldn’t keep his eyes off Jordan. Miss Ida caught him a couple of times but he couldn’t help himself. She missed nothing.
He slept late on Thanksgiving Day, and, following the aromas, went upstairs to the kitchen where the entire family was buzzing around, all talking and laughing. Brady, the wayward son, had arrived after midnight, and was eager to meet Sooley. He’d heard so much about him. Each Walker seemed to be preparing a dish of some sort and everyone had opinions about the others’ technique, knowledge, and ingredients. Samuel found a seat at the table and stayed out of the way. Pecan waffles, another tradition, were served and everyone sat down for a long breakfast. A massive turkey stood ready in a pan on the stove, waiting to be roasted for at least six hours. Five, in Ernie’s opinion. At least seven, in Murray’s.
As they ate, the family went through the menu for the afternoon’s feast. In addition to the turkey, there would be oyster dressing with cranberry sauce. Candied yams. Collard greens in ham hocks. Corn fritters. Giblet gravy. Jalape?o cornbread. Pumpkin and pecan pies. At first, as he stuffed another pecan waffle in his mouth, he thought they were joking about so much food for one meal. Then he realized they were quite serious.
He enjoyed the rowdy bantering and warmhearted fun, but there were flashes when he couldn’t help but think of his mother and brothers, and his neighbors and friends from Lotta. Some dead. Some missing. The lucky ones barely surviving in makeshift huts, shanties, and tents, patiently waiting in line for hours for another bowl of rice.
CHAPTER 30
Late Sunday, the team gathered at The Nest for a much-dreaded practice. Their coach, though, was in a better mood. In the film room, he made them watch the Campbell game and replayed some of the worst of it. Then they took the floor for two nonstop hours of drills, with all four coaches yelling at even the slightest mistake.
Two days later they rode the bus ninety minutes to Greenville to play East Carolina, a 10-point favorite, and lost by three in overtime. It was their fourth straight loss and led to another quiet bus ride back to campus. Other than the loss, the most disturbing event of the night was a bad injury to Evan Tucker, a second-string forward. Midway through the second half he went up for a rebound and landed on his elbow, shattering it. He was still at the hospital in Greenville with Coach Jackie Garver. The X-rays were not promising and he would not be returning anytime soon.
The football season was over and the team won six and lost that many. Samuel had made many friends in the locker room and hated to see it end. Lonnie pulled some strings and kept him on the payroll, a couple of hours a day tidying up the weight room and doing whatever T. Ray wanted. The $7.25 an hour was important and Samuel spent little of it. His goal was to send as much as possible to his mother.
Murray and Mitch Rocker, the captain, had organized a small relief fund for refugees in Uganda. They had a website and were soliciting donations from the student body. Without naming Samuel, the website painted a grim picture of life in the camps and settlements and pleaded with the students for humanitarian relief. By December 1, they had raised almost a thousand dollars, and Sooley was grateful beyond words. The challenge was getting the money into the right hands. Beatrice had warned him that refugees with a little cash were often targets.