Chapter VIII. Rivers Meet

She didn’t tell Lamar what she’d actually seen in the woods till later in the evening at his studio. Taurus—Hilo now—was sniffing the stack of finished canvases in the corner, happily wagging his tail.

“I suppose you want to keep him at your place,” Lamar said.

“Yeah,” Devin replied. “But you can come over any time you want. I can… I’ll give you a key.”

He smiled. “Okay. Yeah, I’d like that.”

She looked away, staring out the window at rows of pampas grass growing between apartment buildings. He fell silent but she kept her head turned, unwilling to meet his questioning gaze.

“I saw something,” she said at last, still gazing outside. “Through those two trees.”

“Something like what?” he asked.

Devin sighed. She wasn’t sure how to say it aloud. Instead she turned, stepping toward the portrait he had made of her, the seafoam painting, and studied it. She shook her head and glared.

“Devin?”

She choked back a sob. Her throat quivered. Then some tension within her snapped and she whipped her arm across the canvas, knocked the easel over. The painting flew. It hit a can of paint, knocked it over, busted open the barely-secured lid. Drops of cotton candy pink spattered over her portrait.

Lamar shot to his feet but said nothing. He watched as she breathed, and took a step closer. “Devin,” he murmured, eyes intent.

This time she did leave.

Later, when she’d grown still, he came and sat with her out on his living room sofa. She hugged one of the cushy brown pillows to her chest. “Sorry I ruined your painting,” she said.

“You didn’t.” His head tilted toward her. “You couldn’t. That’s what I wish you could see.”

She swallowed, nodded, not fully convinced. But the nod was something.

“I’ll try to clean it off for you.”

He smiled. “Naw, leave it. It looks good this way, too.”

Before she left for the night he signed the painting for her in the bottom corner, L. Rivers. “I want you to have it,” he said. “So that you know.”

* * *

The next week, come Sunday morning, Drew Leefair finally texted Devin. She called the number right away. It had nearly been a month since Lamar had given him her name, and she’d almost given up hope he would ever reach out to her.

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t call earlier,” Leefair said when he answered. “This is short notice, but could you do the wedding? I looked at your website, your gallery. We both like your work. Listen, it’d really make my day if you could make this happen.”

“Yes, sir,” she laughed drily. “July 12. I’ve had the date blocked off for you.”

“You have?”

“Well, yeah. Lamar gave me the invitation a while ago.”

“Oh…yes. Right. Well, looking at our budget…” She heard the sound of papers shuffling before he named a figure. “That sound fair?”

It did, but she felt bold. “Add another hundred and you got a deal.”

“Well, I think we can swing that. Listen, thanks a million, Ms. Smoak.”

“Call me Devin.” She smiled as she hung up and whooped. Hilo raised his head, expectant, and she ruffled his ears.

She called Lamar to invite him for dinner, her treat, to celebrate the news.

“Aww, I can’t,” he groaned. “I’ve got plans with my mom and dad. They’re having barbeque tonight. I’m sorry. But—you know what, you should come!”

“No, no. I don’t want to intrude.”

“No intrusion. They love people! They’ll love you.”

“Lamar…” She really did not want to go. But being firm with him, excited as he sounded, was hard to do.

“Okay,” he said after a moment’s silence. “I just texted them. Told them I’m bringing you. So that’s settled—you’re coming.”

She sighed. Her excitement was gone now; she felt drained already, imagining the ordeal. She could still say no but it would cost her even more energy she didn’t have.

“Lamar,” she said again.

“Hey, you know, you don’t have to. How about I leave early and we’ll get dessert somewhere after?”

Now she felt guilty. “No, look, it’s fine. I’ll come. It’ll…be fun. I’m sure your parents are great.”

He texted her the address. She paced, then sunk into the sofa, gripping her phone. She thought of napping, but instead stood quickly, grabbing Hilo’s leash and taking him out for a drive. Shovels & Rope streamed loud in her earbuds as they coasted up Morgan Road toward the coffee shop. Then, cold brew in hand, she drove to the dog park and sat on a bench, alone, watching Hilo play with black labs and a little silver schnoodle.

Later, after taking Hilo home, Devin pulled up to a brick house just east of town, a mile or so from the peninsula. She sat in the car alone, steeling herself. She breathed. Let her mind drift in its own current. A refuge from the world. A long moment passed, then she shook her head and sighed, but didn’t feel as drained now that she was here. Part of her was excited. She smiled and climbed out of the car, strode the few stairs up to the cramped porch. Above its eaves lights were strung: large, garish colored bulbs.

She knocked and Lamar let her in. “Christmas lights?”

“Long story,” he laughed. “I’ll tell you later.”

They went inside and she handed the pie she’d brought to a woman cooking in the kitchen, who offered her a hug. “Well, you must be Devin,” she welcomed her. “Oh, key lime. Good choice! Thank you, baby!”

“It’s just Publix brand, Mrs. Rivers,” she laughed. “Nothing special.”

“Hey, we don’t turn our noses up at any kind of pie around here. Call me Anney or Anette, just don’t call me Netty—only one I let do that is this boy’s daddy.”

Devin laughed. “All right…Anney. Good to meet you.”

“The others are outside if y’all want to go out, meet everyone. I’m just waiting on the mac and cheese, then we’ll be about ready to eat.”

Davin smiled, waved goodbye, and followed Lamar to the backyard where a small group had gathered already. Apart from a young girl, maybe nine years old, the two of them were the youngest there. Near the back, in the shade of a broad oak, a lone man tended the grill, not seeming to mind that he stood apart from the others. For some reason Devin’s eye was drawn to him.

“What’s up, y’all, this is Devin. Devin, this here’s my Uncle Oscar, and this is Miss June, the next-door neighbor, and that little firecracker running around is Jadine, her granddaughter.”

Devin smiled at the two older people. “Nice to meet you both.”

“That’s my nephew, always with the pretty girls,” Oscar tilted his head, eyes glinting. Lamar coughed. “Hey, that hair’s looking good, boy. Real good. You just start locking it?”

“Yeah, I did.” Lamar grinned with pride. “Thanks, unc.”

Devin glanced at his hair. She’d noted the short, tight locs earlier, but now she looked him over, took in the way they complemented his tight fade, how smart he looked overall in his rose-patterned black button-up, the sleek black jeans.

“I’d have grown my own when I was your age, but my daddy would have skinned me,” Oscar chuckled.

“Well, things were different then, Oscar,” Miss June’s brow arched. “Jadine! Stop climbing that fence! You’ll bring it down on your head!”

Oscar suppressed a smile, running a hand through his short-cropped grey goatee, the only part of his hair not a solid black. He seemed much older than Lamar’s father somehow, though she couldn’t tell from this distance. She wondered why Lamar didn’t take her to the grill to meet the man, or why the man gave not so much as a glance their way or a yell hello. He seemed to regard the grill in something like Zen meditation.

* * *

Finally the food was ready and set out on a long folding table on the patio. Devin made a plate of pork spareribs, mac and cheese, collards, sweet potatoes, deviled eggs, and cornbread, making sure not to load up so much she’d have no room for pie or Miss June’s banana pudding. She settled in at a larger table between Miss June and Lamar, his parents seated at each end.

“Dad, this is Devin,” Lamar introduced her when his father slumped into his seat, sighing in deep contentment. “Devin, my dad—Erlon Rivers.”

Erlon gave a tired smile, then lowered his gaze to the steaming ribs. She’d barely heard him speak a word so far—to herself or anyone else. Yet somehow his slow, quiet energy reassured her. Like Lamar, the man had dark skin with nearly bluish undertones, but Anette’s features were warm, almost like clay, or the heat of magma welling up under dense basalt. The two of them intrigued her. Through them she felt she could see a new side of Lamar, too.

“So, um…Devin,” Anette’s buttery voice spoke. “I’m sure we all want to know: how did the two of you meet?”

She froze a moment, met Lamar’s eyes, then put down her fork. “Uh, well, kind of a long story. We, uh…”

“We met at Red House Creek,” Lamar offered. “On the water.”

“My son, the waterman,” Anette said drily.

Lamar shook his head and grinned. “Hey, don’t front like you ain’t the one who gave me that gene.” His eyes flashed at Devin. “None of my other family swim or go out on the creeks, but my mom always loved the water. Seems like she thinks there’s something spiritual about it, way she talks.”

“Maybe there is,” said Anette. “Maybe there isn’t. I just know how it makes me feel is all. So—you two sweethearts now?”

Lamar choked. “Mom.”

“Leave the boy be, Netty,” said Erlon.

“Nothing wrong with asking,” Miss June smirked as Devin sunk her teeth into a lemony, peppery, smoky rib.

“Nothing wrong, nothing wrong!” Jadine sung, stabbing her cornbread with a knife.

* * *

When they had all finished Lamar went off with his father to clean the grill. Devin followed the women in to help with the dishes, against their protest.

“That man sure can smoke some ribs,” Miss June crooned as she dried the plates.

“It’s the only time he ever cooks anything,” Anette chuckled. “It’s the slow pace of it, the deep smell of all that smoke. Makes him feel at home, I think.”

“Well, good for him. I couldn’t stand in one place like that for long—not anymore.”

“Why don’t you go out and chat with Oscar, Miss June. Devin will help me with all this. We’ll be done in no time.”

“I thank you, honey.”

Devin watched her pass through the sliding door and beside Lamar’s uncle on the patio. Anette turned on the hot water and she felt steam rise, flushing her cheeks. The dishes clanked lightly as they worked together, speaking little.

“I can tell the two of you share something from the way y’all look at each other, you and Lamar.” Anette shut off the tap. She sank into a padded wooden seat at the kitchen table. Devin followed suit. “I don’t know what it is, and I don’t need to. I don’t know if y’all even know yet.”

Devin’s head tilted, unsure quite how to respond.

“So I want to tell you something, honey. I know you probably mean well, but…don’t use my son. Don’t take advantage.”

She blinked, swallowed. Her shriveled fingers were suddenly dry. “Why—why would you think that?”

“Come on. I’ll show you something.”

Anette rose and sauntered out of the kitchen down the narrow hall. She vanished into a side room, but Devin halted out in the shadows, unsure if she should follow. The woman emerged, holding a small painting. “Let’s go out,” she murmured. “Out into the light.”

They went not into the kitchen again, but to a cozy-looking den where the woman drew aside sheer green curtains, letting in the last rays of golden hour. It fell on the glossy canvas: Lamar’s work, of course, though the style was rougher, looser, less well-developed. More hesitant. A bright yellow starfruit on a light teal backdrop.

“One of the first of those portraits he did,” his mother said. “When he moved out, got his own place, this was one of the few he left behind. Threw it out, actually, but I saved it. Don’t tell him I still have it.”

“Okay…why, though?” Devin asked.

Anette sighed. “This is Lakendra. His first girlfriend. That boy was crazy for her, did everything she asked and twice as much. Went to the stars and back for her.”

A shiver ran over the back of Devin’s shoulders. “What happened?” she asked after a while.

“She broke his heart.”

Anette’s eye met hers. Their look was sad, but not accusatory as she’d feared it would be.

“She used him,” Devin ventured.

“No. Well, yes, in her way. But that ain’t the thing. He’s easy to use. Selfless, thinks of others more than himself.”

The house seemed to sigh. A long empty space opened between them. No sound came from out on the street, nor the backyard where the others still talked and shuffled a deck of cards. A worn rocking chair in the corner seemed to creek.

“I bet he’s already stuck his neck out for you, put himself on the line a couple times. No?”

“Well, yes, but…he hasn’t done anything he didn’t want to do,” Devin said. She crossed her arms, then thought better and uncrossed them. “We’re both in this together.” She didn’t say what this was—as Anette had said, she wasn’t even sure if she knew.

“Mmm. Well, I hope that’s true. Just be careful with him, okay? Don’t take advantage.”

“I won’t—I wouldn’t. Ever.”

Anette nodded, smiled, then turned away. She slipped back through the kitchen and out the sliding door, leaving her alone. Devin stood in the waning light, wondering.