His beefy hands settled on my knees and he got closer.
“Halfway down my road, a six year old girl wrote me a letter.”
Oh shit. Oh shit.
“No,” I whispered but the word wasn’t audible, I think only my mouth made the form of the word but without sound. My breath caught with something fierce and I knew, pretty soon, I was going to lose al control.
With effort, I sucked air in my nose, keeping the tears at bay.
“She didn’t stop me from losin’ my way, but she stopped me from losin’ myself.”
“Quit talking,” I whispered and I heard the words come out this time but Uncle Tex ignored them.
“Now, I got a chance to return the favor.”
“Please, Uncle Tex, don’t.”
I felt my nostrils quiver.
He stil ignored me.
“This life is made of good turns and bad turns. Few months ago, I did a good turn. I took a bul et for Indy. The last three days, Lee paid me back.”
I closed my eyes.
“Look at me, darlin’ girl.”
I opened my eyes.
“Lee’d put himself in front of a bul et for his brother, make no mistake. Hank was f**kin’ beside himself when he came home to find you gone. I thought he’d tear Denver apart lookin’ for you. Lee nearly had to lock him in his safe room to keep him from comin’ after you.”
“Please, stop.”
“You had your bad turn, Roxie. Open your f**kin’ heart and let Hank be the good.”
We stared at each other awhile. Somehow, I didn’t cry.
Then, I nodded and opened my phone.
With shaking hands, I went to my received cal s, my heart beating, hoping it was Hank.
It wasn’t, it was my friend Annette, from Chicago.
“Annette,” I told Uncle Tex.
His hands left my knees.
“Not Hank?” he asked, openly surprised.
I shook my head.
He got up and sat down beside me.
“He’l cal ,” he said.
* * * * *
I lay on the bed in Uncle Tex’s extra bedroom and listened to Joni Mitchel on my MP3 player while I stared at the ceiling. Independence Day was over, Eddie had cal ed again and so had Stevie. I didn’t talk to either of them.