Free Echoes of a Distant Summer by Guy Johnson Page A

often called him, “the black sheep of the family.” Only his father had stood between him and the slurs and ridicule of the rest of the family. His grandfather never said anything; he merely watched to see how Jackson handled himself.
    Jackson eventually fell asleep, pitying himself and wondering whether he would ever be happy like other people were. Hours later he was awakened by his grandmother’s concerned voice: “What’s happened? What’s happened?”
    His grandfather answered, “It was a trap! Jacques was killed!”
    His grandmother’s voice quavered, “Are you sure that Jacques is dead?” Jackson heard her sit down heavily in an overstuffed chair.
    His grandfather dumped out something on the table that sounded like marbles. “If he hadn’t been dead, I wouldn’t have left him at Thompson’s Funeral Home!” The grandfather’s tone was matter-of-fact. His grandmother said nothing. Jackson could hear her breathing. His grandfather continued to move quickly around the room. Jackson heard some heavy metal objects being placed on the table. He knew they were his grandfather’s guns.
    “Are you sure?” his grandmother asked, her voice cracking. “Jacques is dead?”
    His grandfather took a deep breath and said, “He was shot twice in the back with bullets from a high-caliber handgun. He’s dead!”
    “Oh, my God!” His grandmother’s voice broke. Jackson heard the sound of a glass or an ashtray falling and shattering on the floor. Then there was another long silence, broken only by the sound of his grandfather loading his guns.
    Several minutes passed before his grandmother demanded, “That’s your answer, King: kill somebody?” His grandmother’s voice conveyed her incredulity. “Like your killing people didn’t pave the way for Jacques’s death?” Her voice was getting shrill.
    “Keep your voice down and don’t get righteous with me, woman! You think my heart ain’t broke? The only son of mine I got to raise, layin’ cold in a funeral home?”
    Serena hissed, “He died paying for your sins!”
    King shook his head. “We both know this is still part of yo’ stuff! We’re gettin’ to the last part of Sister Bornais’s curse! Don’t pretend that you forgot yo’ part in this!”
    “How can you separate your business from Jacques’s death?” his grandmother demanded. “Your enemies killed him. Our son is dead and your business is the reason. The business that I begged you to quit. And you’re telling me not to get righteous!”
    “Seems to me you forgettin’ that for more than thirty years, you been living pretty good off these here wages of sin, woman. You complain about it, but you use the money. How you think all these rich white families that you admire so much got started? Money don’t grow on trees. Anyway, this ain’t no time for arguin’. I want to find out who set this trap and I think I know just the person to ask.”
    Seeing the evil look on King’s face, Serena asked, “Where’s LaValle? Was he hurt?”
    “I know you care about him, no matter how many others have died,” his grandfather replied, and paused before he continued. “He’ll live, but he’s the reason that Jacques is dead. Once I find out who worked with who to set up this trap, we gon’ have a little talk. LaValle’s gon’ be looking over his shoulder as long as he lives. Don’t worry, I ain’t gon’ kill him. I’m just gon’ break a piece off him every time I see him.”
    There was a long period of silence then his grandfather asked in his dangerously calm voice, “Don’t tell me you want to coddle the weakling who caused Jacques’s death, do you?”
    Even from his hiding place behind the couch, Jackson could feel the tension.
    His grandfather continued in a casual tone, “Has he called you yet?”
    “You’re planning to hurt our remaining son and you expect me to tell you whether he called or not?” His grandmother’s voice seemed to be on the edge of a shriek. “How