“What’s going to happen?” I said. “When you get out, what will you do?”
“When first I came to this place, I thought to give myself over to quiet things. To prayer. To art.”
“Are you an artist?”
He smiled and shook his head.
“Nay. Master Marcus hath more skill than I. Nor am I restful in such labors, for I miss the grip of a sword. And I am ill-suited to be a priest, for I long to spend another night in my pavilion with thee.” For the first time ever, his hand felt sweaty between mine.
“But what can I do for you now?” I said.
I knew in another minute, Gentry would have to let go of my hand. Too much. Until then, I curled my fingers around his.
“Wilt thou come again?” he said. “Come again and lay thine hands upon the table, that thy champion may look upon thee and be content.”
CHAPTER 62
Charlene
I swore I wasn’t going to be ashamed. Not of what Gentry had done, and not that he’d been in prison. I invited everyone I could think of to his welcome-home party. Everyone at church, all the neighbors, everyone I knew through the foster system.
Well, I didn’t invite everyone. I didn’t invite Gentry’s biological family, and I didn’t invite Zhorzha. I assumed Gentry would invite her, but I hoped she would have the decency to stay away.
Because it had been so long since we managed to have family photos, I hired a photographer my sister, Bernice, had recommended. After the photographer arrived, I sent Trang to round everyone up for pictures. When I went into the family room, there was Zhorzha, coming in from the backyard with Gentry.
I must have stopped in my tracks a little too quickly, because Bernice said, “Oh, she did come,” like it was a good thing. “And she dressed up for him.”
“In a dress that’s six inches too short,” I said.
“It’s hard for us tall girls to find things that fit,” Janae said.
“I’d like to douse her hair with a gallon of coconut oil.” Why had no one taught that girl about leave-in conditioner?
“Aw, but look,” Bernice said.
I looked. Zhorzha and Gentry had gone to stand at the kitchen bar, not any closer than casual acquaintances would have, but Zhorzha had her hand on the counter with Gentry’s on top of it. While I watched, Zhorzha laid her other hand on his, and he added his other to the pile. Then she pulled her hand out from the bottom and put it on the top. They laughed, the first time I’d heard Gentry laugh in a long while.
“He sounds happy,” Bernice said.
“Why can’t you two let me be aggrieved in peace?” I said.
“Because it’s not who you are,” Janae said.
“Oh, it’s who I am, make no mistake.”
“Nothing good’s going to come from holding on to that anger,” Bernice said.
“Do you blame me?”
“Don’t play yourself. After all the things you’ve done for me, how can you—”
“Now wait. The Lord knows I love you, but I have never done anything like that, and I never would. Not even for you,” I said.
“Okay, everybody,” the photographer said and clapped his hands. “Let’s put the sisters on the love seat here. Then spouses behind and kids around.”
Bernice tugged on my hand to lead me to the love seat. We did what we always did, smiled at each other to check for food in our teeth. Then she leaned in close and said, “What about the time you drove down to Tulsa to put the fear of God into Prester?”
“That was different,” I said. “He’d hit you. And I didn’t get anyone else hurt.”
“Seems to me you got lucky. If I remember right, your roommate was driving the getaway car that night.”
“That isn’t the same,” I said.
“Cheryl and David, on that side, next to Bernice. And Elana, on this end with your mom,” the photographer said.
Once Elana got her chair situated, it was just a matter of fitting everyone else in. Bill and Carlees in back, because they were the tallest. Janae and her girlfriend filling in between Bill and my niece and her husband.
“Trang, let’s put you—”
“Will you get Gentry?” I said to Trang, because I didn’t want to end up shouting to get his attention. I’d wanted everyone dressed up for the pictures, but none of Gentry’s dress shirts fit him anymore. Too tight in the arms and shoulders. He was wearing what he liked best: a black T-shirt.
Trang went to talk to Gentry, and then the two of them took up their places behind Elana. The rest of the party quieted down like civilized folks to let the pictures be taken.
Zhorzha stayed at the kitchen counter, sitting on a bar stool with her hands on her knees, keeping her skirt pressed down. Obviously she was also uncomfortable with how short her dress was.
“All right, everyone look at me,” the photographer said. Then, like he was playing the crowd for laughs: “I’m talking to you, Charlene.”
Bernice squeezed my hand, so I looked, and the photographer snapped pictures.
I was still annoyed that Zhorzha had come to the party, but I felt a little bad. It couldn’t be any fun for her, surrounded by strangers, and worse than strangers: people who knew all about her. It wasn’t as though I’d held my tongue when it came to my opinion of Zhorzha. Redhead was the nicest thing I’d called her.
It would have been so much easier for her to walk away. Nobody had made her pay the mortgage on Bryn Carreg. Nobody had made her visit Gentry. Nobody had made her come to the party, but she showed up. Not because she wanted to be there, but for Gentry. Her loyalty to her sister had brought her nothing but grief, and yet there she was, taking another chance on loyalty, on trusting another person. She could have stayed home, but she came for Gentry, who also didn’t want to be there. He would be looking down like he did for every family picture.
“Zhorzha,” I said, and then louder: “Zee, come be in the picture.”
“No, it’s for family. I don’t—”
“Yes, and I want you to be in it.”
“Okay, let’s put you next to Carlees,” the photographer said. After all, she was taller than Gentry.
Zee didn’t look happy, but she got down off the bar stool, still pressing her skirt to her thighs, and came to stand with us.
“My lady,” Gentry said. When I looked over my shoulder at them, he’d put his hand into hers. I predicted they would both look awkward in the photos, but they would look awkward together.