“You can live aboard and I’ll pay you the going marina rate for the work,” I said, hoping to help make up his mind.

“What make is the engine?” he asked.

“She’s a Gardner. A model Six LS, if that means anything to you,” I explained.

Parker sat upright in his chair. “A Gardner!” he almost shouted. “Those are probably the most exquisitely engineered diesel engines in the world. In this case the English manufacturer excelled even the Germans. As the saying goes about Gardners: Designed and built by geniuses, for use by idiots. I would almost pay you for the opportunity to work on a Gardner.”

“Then you’ll do it?”

“Sir,” he said, extending his hand. “It is an honor and a privilege to accept your kind offer.”

“Great. I have something that’s occupying me right now, so I won’t be able to help much. But I have a trusted friend—Danny Ray Pledger—who is a skilled worker and is familiar with the boat. If you could start tomorrow—look everything over and come up with a parts list and a schedule of work—then I would appreciate it no end. I’ll give you an advance so that you can pick up odds and ends as you get started.”

“I will, Kennesaw,” Parker replied. He hesitated a second and then added, “You don’t know how timely this is. I was almost down to scavenging for a living. In fact Miss Darcey had been seeing that I had something to eat on a regular basis. This means a lot to me. And I know who Danny Ray is. From what I’ve heard of him, I couldn’t ask for a better companion.”

“I’m glad,” was all I could say. “But I’m gonna turn in now, and you might want to do the same. We’ll talk about it more tomorrow.”

Parker went to his cabin, but I went out on deck to check the dock lines and give everything topside one last look before locking up for the night. Walking the deck, I thought of all that had happened during the day.

In the trip to Panther Creek I had stepped back in time, back to the era of Tobacco Road and God’s Little Acre. My truck was beaten into a state of poor health, and I’d nearly had my head torn off by a bat-wielding giant who thought he was an Old Testament prophet. There is no such thing as coincidence, I reflected. Nothing happens to any of us for no reason at all, though that reason is sometimes impossible to comprehend.