Page 52 of August Lane

August sat across from her. “Why?”

“He wants kids. I don’t.”

“Does he know about…”

Mavis nodded. “I told him. He claims it’s okay, but I don’t think it is. He was fine with it just being us before he knew, now he acts like having a baby will cleanse me of sin or something.”

“Oh God,” August whispered. “You know that’s not true.”

“Yes. But it means I’d rather clean a grease catcher than face him.

” She stared at her hands. Her wedding ring was missing.

“I don’t want a divorce. But I’m tired of arguing.

And I think if I hadn’t given up my career that I wouldn’t feel guilty about not wanting to be a mother.

It’d be easier for him to love me if I loved myself. ”

August grabbed her hand. “I love you. I always have.”

Mavis squeezed her fingers. “You don’t count.

It’s in your nature.” August tried to pull back, but Mavis held on.

“Which is a good thing. But you never made us work for it. You give and you give, and we all take without acknowledging it.” August tried to interrupt, but Mavis spoke over her.

“I should have helped with Birdie. I should have defended you to Phillip when he banned you from the choir. Telling Jessica Ryder that you had an abortion instead of me was the worst thing I’ve ever done. I have to do better by you.”

August immediately wanted to reassure Mavis that none of it was necessary.

But then she thought about what the last decade of her life might have been like with someone to share such a heavy load.

She might have started writing again. Maybe she would have been brave enough to call Luke and they could have reconnected sooner.

Maybe there’d be an album out there with her name on it because someone offered help instead of pretending not to notice she needed it.

“You’re right,” August said. “I needed you.”

The tears in Mavis’s eyes spilled down her cheeks. She looked relieved, like being held accountable had set her free. “You have me,” she said. “Starting with me taking over this place, so you don’t have an excuse to avoid launching your career.”

“You’re not seriously working here.”

“I’m buying it. Silas agreed to sell it to me last week. I want something of my own.”

August looked her cousin up and down. “So, what you’re telling me is that you’re secretly rich.”

“I’m a smart investor with good credit. Oh, and you’re fired.” She wiggled her fingers toward the door. “Go be famous.”

Mavis was just like Luke, convinced that the concert was the key to her future.

Everyone was acting like her fate had been sealed when they placed her name on Jojo’s billboard.

But just last week, it had been Luke’s name.

His fate. Which meant it wasn’t destiny at all, just a publicity stunt that people were paying thousands to witness in person.

That duet had become a glorified audition to be crowned the new Black voice of country.

Mavis started to stand, but August stopped her with a question. “What you said before about people taking and never giving? Do you think my mother does that?”

Mavis sat back down. “I think she survived terrible things and did the best she could.” She paused. “I also think people can only give what they have. Some of us don’t have much.”

Over the next week, Luke settled into a comfortable routine.

Mornings were for taking care of August, ensuring she had plenty of coffee and a good breakfast before she went to rehearsals.

Once she was gone, he’d get a workout in and tackle one of his projects around the house.

Late afternoon, he’d go to Delta Blue and pitch in wherever Silas needed him.

At night, when August returned, they’d have dinner, make music, and then tangle up in each other until their bodies gave out from exhaustion.

Then he’d wake up the next morning and do it all again.

He was surprised at how easy it was. In Memphis, he’d had to drag himself out of bed to face the day.

Now he was up at sunrise, devouring every minute like crumbs of the best meal he’d ever tasted.

He had love. Sobriety. Work that made him feel like he’d accomplished something.

If someone told him this was it, this was his peak and the rest was a downhill slide, he’d be okay with that.

How steep could it be? Ava Randall had raised him. He’d cut his teeth on ravines.

Right now, it was Silas’s downhill slide that had him worried. Although selling King’s Kitchen to Mavis Reed provided some needed cash flow, most of it would go to unpaid bills. If things kept going the way they were, Delta Blue would be gone by the end of the year.

“How’s it looking?” Silas joined him in his office and deposited a ream of printer paper on the floor.

Luke gestured at the Excel sheet he’d created against Silas’s will. “About as you’d expect. Sales would normally be up this close to the festival. The protests are killing us.”

Silas rubbed his neck. “Maybe I should call it. Sell this place to them boys in Shreveport looking to expand.”

“August would kill you.”

Silas raised an eyebrow. “She may not be around to have a say.”

Luke grabbed another bill and ripped it open with more force than necessary. Silas watched him and said, “You okay over there?”

“You should call the electric company and ask for an extension.”

“You could go with her.”

“As her groupie?”

“As whatever she wants you to be.”

Luke had already thought about what Silas was proposing. Even if they could make it work for a while, being useless would get to him. And he knew exactly where that road ended. On the floor of some bar.

“I’d rather stay here,” Luke said. “She’ll come home when she’s not on the road.”

Silas sucked his teeth. “Cause you two being apart worked so well before?”

He had a brief silent standoff with Silas that ended when Bill Parnell walked through the door.

It was the first time Luke had seen him since the night he left town.

Bill’s eyes still sparkled like he’d just heard a funny story and was dying to share it with you.

He still stood bowlegged, with his hands on his hips, like an old-school cowboy.

Like all of them, Bill was older and grayer, but he wore it like a costume. Underneath, he was the same.

“Mornin’,” Bill said, smiling at Luke. “Little Jason. Always forget how much you look like him until I set eyes on you. Been a while.”

Luke approached him and extended a hand. Bill held on longer than necessary, staring into his eyes, like he was greeting the friend he had lost as well.

“I should have reached out,” Luke said.

Bill laughed. “Nobody round here reaches out to me unless there’s trouble.”

“No, I mean, I never thanked you for what you did.” A memory of Don’s face as he called the cops rose in Luke’s mind. Ava’s boyfriend had thrived on spite and vengeance. “You probably saved my life.”

“Jason did the same for me,” Bill said. “Always meant to tell you that story, but it’s kind of long and embarrassing, so I try to keep the details to myself.

Never streak for a political cause, son.

Won’t change a single vote. Everyone’ll just point and laugh at your little ding-a-ling. Ain’t worth it.”

Silas snorted. “Not gonna rest until we’re all traumatized by that image, are you?”

“The moral of the story is that most mistakes, not all mind you, but most, are like footprints. That’s what your daddy told me when he brought me my pants. We all make them. But they’re not permanent. They don’t have to define who we are.” Bill smiled. “That man was a damn good poet.”

“He was,” Luke said, thinking of the book Ava threw out. He could never find another copy in print.

“That’s how he convinced Ava to—” Bill snapped his fingers.

“That’s why I came looking for you. Something’s going on at your mama’s house.

Got a call about a big truck parked out front and some strange man taking all her things.

I would have gone out there, but she still hates me.

Don’t wanna make it worse. Figured I’d tell you and tag along if you want. ”

Luke pictured the late mortgage bills he’d spotted a few days ago. He knew Ava was struggling to pay them but didn’t realize it had gotten so bad. “No, I’ll handle it. Thanks for letting me know.”

Thirty minutes later, Luke pulled into Ava’s driveway and parked behind a white moving truck.

A silver SUV was parked in the driveway.

Luke climbed out of his truck just as the front door opened, and a tall Black man dressed in ripped jeans and a B.B.

King T-shirt walked outside. The stranger moved closer, and the sun illuminated his face.

Luke’s breath caught when he recognized him. “Ethan?”

His brother took a few more steps, then stopped, looking uncertain. His arms dangled at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “Hey, Luke.”

The ground dissolved beneath Luke’s feet. He felt suspended, waiting for someone to tell him that this wasn’t happening, that his daydreams were getting crueler. Elation and fear warred inside him and rendered him mute.

“She’s selling it.” Ethan pointed to a Realtor’s sign lying in the grass. “Got her checked into a recovery center in Little Rock yesterday.” He cleared his throat. “Probably should have called you.”

“Recovery,” Luke repeated. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. All he could think about was getting his face slapped when he was twelve after she caught him sipping her cheap wine. She’d looked terrified, like she’d caught him loading a gun. “Was that her idea?”

Ethan nodded. “Yeah. I think seeing you like this.” He motioned at Luke.

“Healthy. Sober. That had something to do with it. Made her realize it was possible.” He searched Luke’s face with cautious eyes, looking for something he didn’t want to find.

“You’ve really been helping her out all this time? ”