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“Hide it where?”
“It doesn’t matter, because that part already happened. That part’s the past.” I put my hands over
my face because the light in the room was suddenly too bright.
“Stop thinking about it now,” she said, and snatched the newspaper story away. “Relax, or you’ll
get one of your headaches and need one of those pills. They make you all sloppy.”
“Yes,” I said. “I know.”
“You need coffee. Strong coffee.”
She went into the kitchen to make it. When she came back, I was snoring. I slept for almost three
hours, and might have remained in the Land of Nod even longer, but she shook me awake. “What’s
the last thing you remember about coming to Dallas?”
“I don’t remember it.”
“Where did you stay? A hotel? A motor court? A rented room?”
For a moment I had a hazy memory of a courtyard and many windows. A doorman? Maybe. Then it
was gone. The headache was cranking up again.
“I don’t know. All I remember is crossing the state line on Highway 20 and seeing a sign for
barbecue. And that was miles from Dallas.”
“I know, but we don’t have to go that far, because if you were on 20, you stayed on 20.” She glanced
at her watch. “It’s too late today, but tomorrow we’re going for a Sunday drive.”
“It probably won’t work.” But I felt a flicker of hope, just the same.
She stayed the night, and the next morning we left Dallas on what residents called the Honeybee
Highway, headed east toward Louisiana. Sadie was at the wheel of my Chevy, which was fine once the
jimmied ignition switch had been replaced. Deke had taken care of that. She drove as far as Terrell,
then pulled off 20 and turned around in the potholed dirt parking lot of a side-o’-the-road church.
Blood of the Redeemer, according to the message board on the fading lawn. Below the name, there was
message in white stick-on letters. It was supposed to say HAVE YOU READ THE WORD OF
ALMIGHTY GOD TODAY, but some of the letters had fallen off, leaving AVE YOU REA THE
WORD OF AL IGHTY GOD TOD Y.
She looked at me with some trepidation. “Can you drive back, honey?”
I was pretty sure I could. It was a straight shot, and the Chevy was an automatic. I wouldn’t need to
use my stiff left leg at all. The only thing was . . .
“Sadie?” I asked her as I settled behind the wheel for the first time since August and ran the seat as
far back as it would go.
“Yes?”
“If I fall asleep, grab the wheel and turn off the key.”
She smiled nervously. “Oh, believe me.”
I checked for traffic and pulled out. At first I didn’t dare go much above forty-five, but it was a
Sunday noon, and we had the road pretty much to ourselves. I began to relax.
“Clear your mind, Jake. Don’t try to remember anything, just let it happen.”
“I wish I had my Sunliner,” I said.
“Make believe it is your Sunliner, then, and just let it go where it wants to go.”
“Okay, but . . .”
“No buts. It’s a beautiful day. You’re coming into a new place, and you don’t have to worry about
Kennedy being assassinated, because that’s a long time from now. Years.”
Yes, it was a nice day. And no, I didn’t fall asleep, although I was plenty tired—I hadn’t been out
for this long since the beating. My mind kept returning to the little side-o’-the-road church. Very
likely a black church. They probably swung the hymns in a way the white folks never would, and read
THE WORD OF AL IGHTY GOD with lots of hallelujah and praise Jesus.