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Vic is alive. I know it.
Uncle Red seems to misinterpret my hesitation. But after some contemplation, I realize that the shame masking his face stems from how he’d paid for my father’s assassination. He clears his throat and says, “I didn’t take a good hunk of my savings to put a hit on Jonah because of the fire, Luxxie. I did it because of Gina. I-I knew your father . . . did it. And so, I spent months wrestling with allowing God to vindicate her. When my heart couldn’t fathom forgiveness, I initiated the next step.”
Yeah, my father’s assassination.Suddenly, I’m tugged in a million directions like putty. But something in me can’t hate on Uncle Red. Hell, he could’ve sought justice years ago, for himself. The loss of Momma was the last step.I can’t imagine what Uncle Red is going through, and I never want to.
Again, my thoughts send me spiraling because of Victor.I will not endure what Uncle Red has. Vic will return.I glance at both the important pillars in my life and square my shoulders.Get back to friggen reality, Lux.I tell myself that Uncle Red’s actions might hurt at a later time, but for now, being strong is imperative. I clear my throat. “So, can we all start over?”
“I’d like that,” Burt nods.
“I agree.” Uncle Red runs a hand over the scarring on his face saying, “I thought that’s what Victor wanted a while back.”
“How so?” I ask.
“We spoke the other day.”
“When?” Blood pumps my heart in overtime.
Uncle Red’s brows pinch. “Maybe it was a couple of weeks ago. Nah, almost two months ago—after my monthly stock meeting. Mr. Tudor said the two of you would come by.”
Suddenly, I’m endeavoring desperately to level out my breathing.Vic expected to be here with me.
As I soundlessly pull in air, Uncle Red says, “I was speechless, but I told him I appreciated the forewarning he’d forgotten to provide thefirsttime he arrived unannounced.”
“That’s why I’m here, I guess . . .” I hold up the well-creased letter that Burt offered me a few days shy of a month ago.
“Inside of this,” I gesture to the envelope, “is the identity of Momma’s murderer.”
Blood rushes from Charles’s light-skinned flesh, leaving him an ashen gray. “Open it.”
I let out a panted exhale. I needed Uncle Red to know before my own father, as he loved Momma more than anything.
I glance over the mostly blank paper. “There’s only a name. Eugene Or—”
“Eugene Orson!” Uncle Red’s eyes instantly water.
“What?Who? You know him?” I pounce from my chair, too restless to sit. “Whois he?”
Uncle Red offers a scarce nod as if weighted down by a wrought iron horse bridle.
“Eugene served our country in the war. Army, I believe. He always wears one of those caps. He went to the same church as your mother. Always thankful for someone’s help when he was down on hard times. He was homeless off and on. I, uh, would wander by the soup kitchen over the years. Get a glimpse of Gina. I’d see him there.”
“So, he knew Momma well?”
“Maybe, I suppose. I-I knew him in pass-passing.” Uncle Red’s words come out in short, desperate pants as if his lungs are deprived of all oxygen. He folds over for a moment, tugging in air that no longer seems to be there. Once seated, he says, “Luxury, I could’ve stopped Eugene from murdering your mother. I walked right past—”
“Wh-what?”
Kneading the side of his neck, he mutters, “My mind’s reeling, Luxxie. Let me collect my breath and start from when your mother and I got back together.”
“Yes, please.” I can hardly hear my reply.
This is finally happening.Gleaning the truth behind Momma’s death was a dream I had long ago lost faith in. I thought Momma was consigned to a statistic.
A cold case.
That only she and God knew what happened.
And now, I will.
