Not that he wanted her, and that has nothing to do with Jules.
It was his way to stick it to Mom, posthumously, and stick it to Gramps, at that time, because, I figure the only other person outside Gram who knew that story about Gramps telling Mom he’d take her to Florida rather than her marrying my dad was Dad.
But we were sitting around the kitchen table, me and Preacher partners, getting beat by Gramps and Sonia, who were partners, and it was hard to beat Gramps at euchre, doing this while Gram mixed cocktails, poured bourbon and generally flitted about, as was her wont.
[Nostalgic half-smile]
The phone rings, Gram gets it, it’s Julia.
We’re thrilled, maybe me especially because I can’t wait to introduce her over the phone to Preacher.
Gram chats to her.
She sits in on the game for Sonia when she chats with her.
And then Sonia says Julia wants to talk to me and she takes my place as partners with Preacher so I can chat with my baby sister.
The thing is, when I get on the phone, it isn’t Julia.
It’s my father.
And I barely say hello before he’s shouting at me to call off my boyfriend’s attorneys.
I’ve no doubt it showed on my face, so within seconds, I’m not holding the phone anymore, Preacher is.
He listens for another second before he says, “You’re not talking to Lyla anymore, you’re talking to Preacher McCade. Put her sister on, please.”
He said that three times.
I remember.
Three times.
“Put her sister on, please.”
That was very like and unlike Preacher.
He could be polite, to people who deserved it.
But not to people like my father.
After the third time, I knew by his face he was done.
He then says, “My manager will be in touch with a number. From this point on, if you want Lyla, or Sonia, you call that number and you request to speak to them. If this is what they want, our people will set up a time for that conversation to happen. Julia is free to call this number at any time, until she’s home and doesn’t need to do that. But you just lost access to your girls unless it comes through me. Do you get me?”
He stood there a moment listening to the phone.
Then he hung up, looked at me and said, “I don’t think he got me.”
Dad didn’t get him, but my grandfather did.
And that was it.
Preacher had Gramps too.
[Off tape]
Your father was a turtle.
[Nods]
You understand, and in the way of that metaphor, you’re right.
But actually, my father was a snake.
Gramps knew it before my mother married him.
And Preacher knew it and I don’t think he ever one-on-one met the man.
The rest of that Christmas break…
[Trails off]
[Turns head to look out the window]
I lived a lot of life since then, but even not having Mom there, that two weeks on our little piece of property in Indiana were two of the happiest weeks of my life.
[Turns head back]
And Preacher’s.
Jesse:
Her grandmother threw a New Years’ Eve party that year. Asked me, Mom and my sisters there. Tim and the girl he was seein’. Dave and his folks.
Lyla and her sister and Jen and Amber and a few more of Lyla’s friends.
[Smiles]
Lynie Campbell smoked one cigarette a year, on New Years’, and I remember her making a big deal of making Preacher light it for her, swanning about with that thing in a long, thin cigarette holder like the old movie stars used to use.
[Hoots]
That woman was a stitch.
She could not cook to save her life, and the macaroni and cheese she made a production of laying out that night proved it.
Audie could mix a mean dip, though. From scratch. No dumping some packet into sour cream for him. Damn, that shit was tasty. I ate so many potato chips that night, swear to Christ, I didn’t eat another one for years seein’ as I nearly got sick on ’em.
My mom. Lyla’s grandparents. Dave’s folks sneakin’ outside to grab some tokes every now and then. And the rest of us. Chips and dip. Shrimp cocktail. Cheap champagne. Sonia and Lyla fighting over whether to put on “Cold-Hearted Snake” or “When I Think of You.” Tim tryin’ to push “I Hate Myself for Loving You.” Lynie making us listen to “Don’t Worry, Be Happy” four times in a row until, thank fuck, Audie took control of the turntable.
Then all of us standing around and watching Audie cut a rug with Lynie to “In the Mood.”
And serious as shit, those two could dance.
Lost art, the swing dance.
Mom smiling at them, clapping and stepping foot to foot, wanting so bad to dive right in, and Preach seeing that, goin’ up to her, and he had no clue what he was doin’, but he gave Mom a whirl.
Penny laughin’ at just about everything, especially that.
That was the best party I’d ever been to in my life until that point, man.
[Smiles]
Bar none.
[Off tape]
Are you all right?
[Focuses]
Light and dark, sister.
Sorry?
Those were the good days.
Within months, Audie would no longer be able to cover up the early signs of dementia he was experiencing. In no time, he had full-blown Alzheimer’s. That next year, Lynie had a bad stroke and she was never the same.
[Shakes head]
Girls eventually had to sell that property.
Audie got so bad, no one could take care of him and he died in a nursing home. That right there gutted all three of those women. He died three times for them. When his mind went, when they had to let someone else look after him and when they finally lost him.
Coupla months after we lost him, Lynie had her third stroke and died in assisted living.
Losing them, Lyla never really recovered.
The foundation of her life, the whole of it, was swept away.
By then, they were his family too. From day one, Lynie treated him like a son, but more, Audie had started doing that before he got sick, and after he did, he forgot Preacher wasn’t his son.
Preacher had never really let anyone be a father to him.
Save Audie.
So, Preacher didn’t recover either.
Jesse:
When Preacher and Tommy fired Josh from the band, the label scrambled to get someone to fill in for him on keys while we were on the road.
No one really worked, and down the eastern seaboard and across the south, we had four of ’em.
It’s an overused joke, but it is because that’s the way bands go and straight up, we thought our keyboard player was gonna be like the drummer of Spinal Tap.
[Laughs]
Bobby tried to get rid of us nearly the entirety of that tour, but only gig we didn’t play was New Orleans because Preacher refused to do it.
He didn’t even let the bus driver drive through that state.
We had to drive around Louisiana to get to Texas.
Kid you not.
Next gig after that was Dallas, and maybe something about being close to home jogs his brain…
But Preach comes down to the band breakfast the morning after the gig and says, “I have an idea.”