“Do what?” he said.

Rev Joseph finished off the act by offering a prayer for Arch’s candidacy and informing the congregation that the church bus would be making the rounds on Election Day to make sure anyone who wished to cast a vote would be able to get to the polls.

Arch spent the better part of an hour on the sidewalk outside the church, flanked by Terrence and Rev Joseph. Two local television news crews were on hand. Arch, Terrence, and the reverend gave interviews both together and individually. I stood off to the side with Nick Averett.

“Your idea, I presume?” I said.

“That’s why I get paid the big bucks, Charlie-boy,” he said.

I could only shake my head.

“If you don’t like the way the sausage gets made,” he said, “stay out of the fucking kitchen.”

Arch hosted a viewing party for the five o’clock news in his campaign office. The act looked even better on television than in person. Terrence played his part perfectly. Arch came off looking like a white savior, sent down from heaven to save black Nashville.

“Fucking brilliant,” Averett crowed. “Just perfect.”

Arch opened a bottle of good bourbon, splashed a healthy shot into a half dozen Styrofoam coffee cups, and passed them out. We emptied the cups, and Arch poured another round. I tried to act happier than I felt. The only answer at the moment seemed to be another shot of bourbon—and another, and another. I wanted to drink the whole bottle, and might well have done so if not for the news that came when there was a knock at the door. When I opened it, I found Lonnie standing there, her face ashen.

“What’s wrong, Lonnie?” Arch asked.

“Your wife,” she said.

twelve

Arch reached the hospital in time to see the baby born. They had planned to name her Hope, after Arch’s grandmother. Vanessa held her and kissed her tiny head and touched her little fingers and toes before the life went out of her. Afterward, they took Vanessa into surgery.

I sat with Arch outside the room where his child had been born and died. There were loud voices on the other side of the door at the end of the hall—Jamie, trying to talk his way in. Arch lifted his head and rubbed his eyes.

“Stay here,” I said. “I’ll take care of it.”

Through the windows in the door, I could see Jamie upbraiding a stone-faced nurse. I pushed through and grasped him by the shoulders and led him away.

“Hey,” I said.

“Come here, brother,” he said.

He pulled me into a tight embrace, burying his face in my shoulder and weeping.

“Have you seen her yet?” he asked.

“She’s in surgery.”

“Holy shit,” he said. “What for?”

“I don’t really know. Something’s wrong. She was bleeding a lot.”

“Is she gonna die?”