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“Miss Jessup?” said Jack in a prompting manner. “What else did she tell you?”
“Jerome has nightmares. About Vietnam. He wakes up fightin’ and screamin’.”
“But only when he’s sleeping?” said Jack.
“Yeah, but...” Frank glanced nervously at DuBose.
“But the commonwealth could argue there’s something wrong with Jerome’s mind because of his war service,” she said.
“You had nightmares, too, Daddy,” said Jack.
Frank put down his wrench and pulled a cigarette and lighter from his shirt pocket. “You mind?” he asked DuBose.
“It’s your garage, so you set the rules.”
Frank glanced at the house. “You’d think so, right?” he said, his eyes lit with mild amusement. He took a puff on his smoke. “Yes, I had nightmares when I came back. To tell the truth, I still have them sometimes.” He eyed DuBose. “It gets in you. Things you saw. And then it can’t get outta you.”
“I understand that your other son is a Green Beret?”
Frank shot Jack a look, who said, “Someone who knew us both told Desiree that.”
“Why?” she said. “Is he okay? Is he in Vietnam?”
“He was,” said Frank. “And now he’s not. But he’s okay. At least I think he is. Just got the one letter from him and that’s been it.”
“You never told me you got a letter, Daddy,” Jack said. “You just said he called and told you what he was planning to do.” He looked at DuBose. “My brother fought over there. They sent him home on leave. And then he wouldn’t go back.”
“He’s a deserter,” interjected Frank. “He’s in Canada.”
“It is a complex situation,” said DuBose diplomatically.
“And not one we need to debate,” added Jack.
“Did you tell her about your brother and the Randolphs’ daughter, Christine?” Frank asked.
Jack said to her, “They used to date, way back in high school, so we all knew her. I ran into her at her parents’ home when I was over there investigating things.”
“Does she know you’re representing Jerome Washington?” asked DuBose.
“I suspect she does now. Anything else, Daddy?”
“Just the fact that I’m not goin’ back over to Miss Jessup’s house anymore.”
“Why?”
“Because I was told not to by someone who seemed like he meant it.” He rubbed his stiff back. “And unlike you, my pain is where it don’t show.”
“Are you okay?” asked DuBose, looking concerned.
Frank wiped his hands on a rag. “I’m fine. Now I don’t mind helpin’ you out, Jack, but I ain’t gettin’ myself killed over it.”
“Of course, Mr. Lee,” said DuBose. “You needn’t do anything else.”
“Call me Frank. Even my daddy wouldn’t go by Mr. Lee, and the man had airs about him.”
“And I’m Desiree.”
Frank said, “Can I ask you somethin’, Desiree? A favor?”
