Page 104 of Reno

“Obviously not,” I responded.

“Let me talk to him,” Reno said. “When he realizes I’m going, it might make a difference.”

“He’s stubborn,” my mother said. “Like his father.”

Reno secured the top of my box with a few straps of packing tape and carried it to the growing stack. When he turned around, my mother stood and stretched her arms.

“I hear something,” she said.

I jumped up. “Like what?”

She grinned. “One of Reno’s friends.”

“You’ve got the ears of an elephant,” I said.

She raised her brows. “And the eyes of an owl.”

Eventually, the sound of a distant motorcycle could be heard. It seemed my mother had the ability to hear things long before the rest of us. I’d always told myself it was protective nature that allowed her to have such hypersensitive hearing.

Reno stood, pulled the drapes to the side, and peered through the crack. “I’ll be darned.”

“What?” I asked.

“Just a few of the fellas,” he responded.

“Your phone’s still on the kitchen counter,” I said. “I’m sure they tried to call. Who is it?”

“Tito, Cash, and it looks like Bama.”

The sound grew louder until the hair on my neck stood on end. I wonder if a day would come when motorcycles no longer had that effect on me. I hoped not.

Reno opened the door before they knocked. “What’s going on, fellas?”

“Someone’s not answering his phone,” I heard Cash say. “The midget needs to talk to you.”

“Out here,” Tito said. “Away from everyone, if you don’t mind.”

Reno glanced over his shoulder. “I’m going to step outside.”

I wondered what the secret was, but smiled nonetheless. “Okay.”

“You’re going out, I’m coming in,” Bama said, nudging Reno out of the way. He hugged me and then looked at my mother. “Good morning, Miss Gina.”

“Good morning, Bama,” my mother replied. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

He removed his sunglasses and fitted them onto the top of his head. “Yes, ma’am. It’s a dandy, for sure.”

“Would you like some coffee?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Fresh bread?” she asked. “Baked it this morning.”

“Still have that butter you made?”

She grinned and waved toward the kitchen. “I never go without it.”

Instead of going to the kitchen, Bama crossed the living room and gave her a quick hug. Together, they walked into the kitchen. Of the seven days that my father had been in jail, Bama had stopped by each of them.