Thursday nights.” She left the porch, and Dan sipped his tea and listened to the cicadas droning in the green woods around the reverend’s white clapboard house. The sun was sinking lower, the shadows growing between the trees. Reverend Gwinn occupied a wicker rocking chair, his fingers laced around his tea glass and his face set with the expression of a man who is calm and comfortable with life.
“You have a nice house,” Dan said.
“We like it. Had a place in the city once, but it was like livin’ in an alarm clock. Lavinia and me don’t need much to get by on.”
“I used to have a house. In Alexandria. My ex-wife and son still live there.”
“Is that where you’re headed, then?”
Dan took a moment to think about his answer. It seemed to him now that all along he’d known the house on Jackson Avenue was his destination. The police would be waiting for him there, of course. But he had to see Chad, had to tell his son that it had been an accident, a terrible collision of time and circumstance, and that he wasn’t the cold-blooded killer the newspapers were going to make him out to be. “Yes,” he said. “I believe I am.”
“Good for a man to know where he’s goin’. Helps you figure out where you’ve been.”
“That’s for damn sure.” Dan caught himself. “Uh … sorry.”
“Oh, I don’t think the Lord minds a little rough language now and again, long as you keep His commandments.”
Dan said nothing. Thou shalt not kill, he was thinking.
“Tell me about your son,” Gwinn said. “How old is he?”
“Seventeen. His name’s Chad. He’s … a mighty good boy.”
“You see a lot of him?”
“No, I don’t. His mother thought it was for the best.”
Gwinn grunted thoughtfully. “Boy needs a father, I’d think.”
“Maybe so. But I’m not the father Chad needs.”
“How’s that, Mr. Farrow?”
“I messed up some things,” Dan said, but he didn’t care to elaborate.
A moment passed during which the smell of frying chicken drifted out onto the porch and made the hunger pangs sharpen in Dan’s belly. Then Reverend Gwinn said, “Mr. Farrow, excuse me for sayin’ so, but you look like a man who’s seen some trouble.”
“Yes sir.” Dan nodded. “That’s about right.”
“You care to unburden it?”
Dan looked into the reverend’s face. “I wish I could. I wish I could tell you everythin’ I’ve been through, in Vietnam and after I left that damned place, but that’s no excuse for what I did today.” He looked away again, shamed by Gwinn’s compassion.
“Whatever you did, it can be forgiven.”
“Not by me. Not by the law, either.” He lifted the cool glass and pressed it against his forehead for a few seconds, his eyes closed. “I wish I could go back and make everythin’ right. I wish I could wake up and it’d be mornin’ again, and I could have another chance.” He opened his eyes. “That’s not how life works though, is it?”
“No,” Gwinn said. “Not this life, at least.”
“I’m not much of a religious man. Maybe I saw too many young boys get blasted to pieces you couldn’t have recognized as part of anythin’ human. Maybe I heard too many cries for God that went unanswered.” Dan swigged down the rest of his tea and set the glass aside. “That might sound cynical to you, Reverend, but to me it’s a fact.”
“Seems to me no one’s life is easy,” Gwinn said, a frown settling over his features. “Not the richest nor the poorest.” He rocked gently back and forth, the runners creaking. “You say you’ve broken the law, Mr. Farrow?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me what you’ve done?”
Dan took a long breath and let it go slowly. The cicadas trilled in the woods, two of them in close harmony. “I killed a man today,” he answered, and he noted that Gwinn ceased his rocking. “A man at a bank in Shreveport. I didn’t mean to. It just happened in a second. It was … like a bad dream, and I wanted to get out of
“You have a nice house,” Dan said.
“We like it. Had a place in the city once, but it was like livin’ in an alarm clock. Lavinia and me don’t need much to get by on.”
“I used to have a house. In Alexandria. My ex-wife and son still live there.”
“Is that where you’re headed, then?”
Dan took a moment to think about his answer. It seemed to him now that all along he’d known the house on Jackson Avenue was his destination. The police would be waiting for him there, of course. But he had to see Chad, had to tell his son that it had been an accident, a terrible collision of time and circumstance, and that he wasn’t the cold-blooded killer the newspapers were going to make him out to be. “Yes,” he said. “I believe I am.”
“Good for a man to know where he’s goin’. Helps you figure out where you’ve been.”
“That’s for damn sure.” Dan caught himself. “Uh … sorry.”
“Oh, I don’t think the Lord minds a little rough language now and again, long as you keep His commandments.”
Dan said nothing. Thou shalt not kill, he was thinking.
“Tell me about your son,” Gwinn said. “How old is he?”
“Seventeen. His name’s Chad. He’s … a mighty good boy.”
“You see a lot of him?”
“No, I don’t. His mother thought it was for the best.”
Gwinn grunted thoughtfully. “Boy needs a father, I’d think.”
“Maybe so. But I’m not the father Chad needs.”
“How’s that, Mr. Farrow?”
“I messed up some things,” Dan said, but he didn’t care to elaborate.
A moment passed during which the smell of frying chicken drifted out onto the porch and made the hunger pangs sharpen in Dan’s belly. Then Reverend Gwinn said, “Mr. Farrow, excuse me for sayin’ so, but you look like a man who’s seen some trouble.”
“Yes sir.” Dan nodded. “That’s about right.”
“You care to unburden it?”
Dan looked into the reverend’s face. “I wish I could. I wish I could tell you everythin’ I’ve been through, in Vietnam and after I left that damned place, but that’s no excuse for what I did today.” He looked away again, shamed by Gwinn’s compassion.
“Whatever you did, it can be forgiven.”
“Not by me. Not by the law, either.” He lifted the cool glass and pressed it against his forehead for a few seconds, his eyes closed. “I wish I could go back and make everythin’ right. I wish I could wake up and it’d be mornin’ again, and I could have another chance.” He opened his eyes. “That’s not how life works though, is it?”
“No,” Gwinn said. “Not this life, at least.”
“I’m not much of a religious man. Maybe I saw too many young boys get blasted to pieces you couldn’t have recognized as part of anythin’ human. Maybe I heard too many cries for God that went unanswered.” Dan swigged down the rest of his tea and set the glass aside. “That might sound cynical to you, Reverend, but to me it’s a fact.”
“Seems to me no one’s life is easy,” Gwinn said, a frown settling over his features. “Not the richest nor the poorest.” He rocked gently back and forth, the runners creaking. “You say you’ve broken the law, Mr. Farrow?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me what you’ve done?”
Dan took a long breath and let it go slowly. The cicadas trilled in the woods, two of them in close harmony. “I killed a man today,” he answered, and he noted that Gwinn ceased his rocking. “A man at a bank in Shreveport. I didn’t mean to. It just happened in a second. It was … like a bad dream, and I wanted to get out of
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