A car grumbled down Bounty from Circle Stump followed by another. When it got to Granny and Granpaw’s, it pulled up in the yard and backed out again, turning so its nose pointed back the way it had come, back toward Circle Stump. It was Reverend Pennycall’s white police car, the gold ‘SHERIFF’ star on the side speckled with orange mud.
The other car was a flashy blue Cadillac, shiny new with long smooth tail fins, double chrome headlights and whitewall tires. It waited for Reverend Pennycall’s police car to turn around, then pulled in the yard along side Momma’s Ford. The driver turned the motor off and got out. He walked around the front of the car, put his hands in his pockets and smiled at the yard.
He wore sunglasses and a red sport coat over a pink shirt, a skinny white tie down the middle. He looked like a movie star, like Dean Martin maybe or Matt Dillon on Gun Smoke but without the hat. The way his hair was combed was more like Dean Martin’s, long and black and waved up over the top of his head.
He walked closer and smiled a movie star smile at Willis and me. Then he looked the well up and down and smiled at it, like he was thinking it might look good someplace else, that he might could buy it with his movie star money and take it off to be wherever that was. He ran the palm of one of his hands, his left hand, along the side of his head like to smooth the hair flatter there. On the back of the hand I saw the heart shaped tattoo.
“Victor!” I whispered to Willis but Willis had already stopped drawing on his picture and was staring at the man. I could feel my own heart doing somersaults inside my chest. I wanted to get up, but my legs wouldn’t go. “That’s him,” I said. “Victor.”
Victor stepped toward the Jesus Tree. He looked the picture of Jesus up and down. I could see Granny, watching him from the porch. If he saw her, he never let on. He reached inside his coat to bring out a gold cigarette case. I could see a bunch of cigarettes with gold filters, all in a line. He tapped the case to get one out, shut it with a little click and slipped it back inside his coat. He put the cigarette between his teeth, looking at the Jesus Tree while he did. The way he cocked his head, the way he smiled at the Jesus Tree was like with the well, like he was figuring where a better place for the Jesus Tree might be and how much money it would cost to move it there.
I found my legs and got up. “That tree ain’t for sale!”
The unlit cigarette was planted in the middle of Victor’s movie star smile. He scissored it between his fingers and took it away. “Isn’t. Isn’t for sale, is what you mean, son.” He smiled at Willis then and nodded. Willis pulled himself up on his walking stick. Victor came a step or two closer and stopped. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it? You look good boy! Kentucky’s toughened you.” He nodded toward my feet. “You’ve got calluses.” I looked down at the hard half-moon slices that’d grown around my big toes. Victor gestured toward Willis. “Who’s your little friend?”
“Willis,” I said. “His name’s Willis.”
Willis tried to smile but it wouldn’t go.
Victor had always dressed nice, but today he flashed out like a page in a magazine. You wouldn’t think he was from Detroit at all, but some other place fine and rich and pink. Someplace with palm trees maybe, with blue skies and sandy beaches. The buttons on his red coat matched the gold of his watch. Sharp creases sliced down the front of his creamy white slacks. A pair of shiny brown alligator shoes waited like real alligators, all smiley-mouthed and staring against the dirt. He gave the bill of my ball cap a friendly tap. “Never thought I’d see that thing again,” he said, his voice all-smooth-sounding like a radio announcer’s. “Pegasus. The winged horse.”
He took off his sunglasses, nothing nasty in his eyes now, no worms cutting themselves and getting mean. He dropped the sunglasses in the slit of his pocket, his voice smooth as cream. “I’ve behaved badly son. Not just about the hat but about a lot of things. I hope you’ll forgive me. I hope you can.”
I thought of the little boy in the cave; how confused I’d been, seeing his name written at the top of that page.
“Ah. But that was then, wasn’t it?” Victor said. “Back then all I could think of was Florida and The Pink Flamingo. Got so caught up I forgot the reason for my going down in the first place.” He looked at me as though I could fill in the blank for his reason.
So you could steel my Momma away, you sneaky-ass son of a bitch!
“To be with you and Missy and your Momma,” Victor said. “As a family, Orbie. That’s all that matters.” He stood to the side so I could see the shape of his big new Cadillac. It looked like a boat or maybe a whale or a blue shiny rocket ship on white rubber wheels. Beside it Momma’s Ford looked pitiful as some old tractor engine rusting in a field.
“It’s a wonderful place, Florida,” Victor smiled.
“I’m not going to Florida,” I said.
Victor shook his head to say ‘no’ but in slow motion. “I understand how you feel. Really I do. We all need time. We all need to take time. To consider things, I mean.” He put the cigarette back in his mouth, more like Dean Martin now than Clark Kent. He had that glow still — the thing that flashed out at you like a friend. “We’ve got plenty of time. We can take it slow. Can’t we son?”
Only thing I wanted to take was a swipe at his head. Out the corner of my eye I could see Willis wall-eyeing him with a stone face. It was the first time I’d seen anybody meet Victor and not smile. Victor turned and walked back down to Reverend Pennycall and his police car.
“Orbie!” Granny called from her place on the porch. “You boys! Come away from there!”
Right then, Momma came out on the porch with Missy. “Mind what Granny says.”
“We got all our stuff out here,” I said.
“Leave it!” Momma said.
Willis and me went up and sat on the edge of the porch.
“It’s Victor, Momma. He’s back.”
“I know. Be still.”
“I want you just to look,” Granny said.
Victor stood out by the police car, talking to Reverend Pennycall. Reverend Pennycall pushed up his straw hat and smiled at Victor, a pink smile in the middle of a pink face. He passed a fruit jar out the window to Victor. Victor held it to his mouth a second and passed it back.
“I never seen the like,” Granny said. “In broad daylight now.”
Momma said nothing. Missy sucked her thumb.
Victor said something to Reverend Pennycall and they both laughed. Then Reverend Pennycall put the police car in gear and drove away. Victor stood, looking back at the house, figuring what it would take to buy and move someplace else.
Granpaw and Miss Alma came around the corner. Miss Alma had a hold of Granpaw’s arm. “I’m all right. Shit,” Granpaw said but then he caught sight of Victor. “Sumbitch.”
Miss Alma smiled. “Dat the purdiest white man I ever see.”
“He’s purdy all right,” Granpaw said.
Victor came up in the yard and stopped next to the Jesus Tree. The ground was still wet from the rain. The toes of his alligator shoes were splattered with mud. “I got turned around,” he said in a loud voice. “Sheriff was good enough to show me the way.”
He smiled his movie star smile and spread his arms out wide. He stood like that a second, like he was waiting for us all to come down and give him a big hug, welcome him back. “Here I am! Your one and only!”
Momma sat still.
Granny reached down and picked out another sock from her sock basket.