was practically the same as when he left for college, with the addition of a few “great deals” from yard sales that had accumulated in the corners. That’s where Cain differed from his parents: he didn’t like clutter and didn’t hold on to things “just in case” he might need them someday. He had brought everything that was important to him to Louisiana: his motorcycle, his wedding ring, his wristwatch, his wedding picture, and a photo of his son, Christopher, sleeping on Cain’s chest.
He slowly made his way out of bed and into the kitchen, where Claude was already sitting at the table, working on a crossword puzzle.
“Asian mafia?” Claude asked.
“Um,” Cain said. “Can I at least get some coffee first—to get my brain going?”
Claude put down his crossword puzzle and grabbed coffee beans from a brown paper bag in the fridge, where he stowed them to keep them safe from the humidity. He ground the whole beans and placed them in his French press, then opened the cupboard and grabbed two mugs. He poured each of them a cup.
“Chinese triads,” Cain suggested.
“Not enough letters. Six letters an’ has a z toward da end.”
“Try yakuza,” Cain said.
“Dat’s eet! Hopefully Bonnie ain’t messin’ wit dem folks.”
Cain laughed out loud. “She’s so busy at work, I don’t think she has time for a social life, much less time to hang out with the Japanese mafia.”
“Well, you know your sister. She always liked dem bad-boy types.”
Cain smirked. “How many of her boyfriends did you run off the front yard with a shotgun?”
Claude chuckled. “I quit countin’ a lon’ time ago.”
The rooster crowed again.
“When did you get a rooster?” Cain asked.
“Dat’s Mignon. He’s ma li’l cutie. I rescued heem from an overcrowded chicken house. Da older roosters waz pulling out hees feders. Caused dat little fellow all kinds of stress. He’s happy on da farm. Dem feders will grow back. I guarantee eet. We have a competition each mornin’—to see who wakes up firs’.”
“Well, you’re up before Mignon. That’s impressive. How you sleeping?” Cain asked.
“Bon. Très bon! Happy you’re back home, son.”
“Me, too.”
“How you slept?” Claude asked.
“Like the dead. I didn’t toss once.”
“You needed dat. You waz starting to look older dan las’ time.”
Cain chuckled. “I am older than last time. Plus, I’ve gotten some extra city miles on this body since last time you saw me.”
“I hear dat. Give eet some time. Your feders will grow back, jus’ like Mignon’s.”
“Besides that little competition with Mignon, why are you up and dressed so early? Aren’t you retired by now?”
“Shhhhit. I’ll be retired when dey bury me. Dem floods hit dis region hard. Damaged soybean fields. People’s livelihood, son. I’m flyin’ to Abbeville dis morning. Need to fertilize a few soybean an’ rice fields.”
“Is Seth able to help you with the business?”
“Eet comes an’ goes. Sometimes I feel like I lost heem in Iraq, an’ other times he’s da old Seth we raised here on da farm. But havin’ your bes’ friend take hees last breath in your arms on da battlefield—eet’s a tough ting to experience. It would change anybody.”
“You have him flying any?”
“Nah. I can’t risk eet. Can’t have heem havin’ an episode in da air. As long as he’s on da ground wit Sunny, he’s fine. He helps me wit da maintenance. Da boy can fix anyting. He even painted dat bird a few monts ago.”
“Is that why it’s bright yellow now?”
“Easy to spot in da sky,” Claude replied, and winked.
They chitchatted in the kitchen for about ten more minutes and then Cain followed Claude to the barn. A light wind blew through the barn door, bringing the wind chimes to life.
Claude pointed to the corner of the dusty barn. “Eet’s still dare. Your punchin’ bag. Hittin’ dat old ting ees still da best way to get rid of any stress you got.”
“I can’t believe it hasn’t dry-rotted by now,” Cain said as he walked toward it.
“I can,” Claude said. “Eet’s American made. Eet’s built to take a beatin’. Jus’ like dis Air Tractor 802.” He pointed to his airplane. “Jus’ like dat rooster. An’ jus’ like you an’ me.”
Cain helped his dad pull the airplane out of the barn.
“I’ll be back soon,” Claude said. He hopped into the cockpit. “Clear prop!”
Cain looked around to make sure it was safe. “Clear!” he yelled back so his dad could hear from inside the cockpit.
Claude flipped the switch and the propeller started spinning strong after initially rotating lazily a few times. A cloud of