He dipped a nod. “Sure am. He came to the Lower Ninth after Hurricane Betsy to see what he could do for folks there. My mama wasn’t even born yet, but our family didn’t forget that. She wanted a great son, so she named him after a ‘great man.’” His face twisted like he’d stepped on a nail.

“LJ? What’s wrong?”

He dropped his head, closing his eyes. “I think she’s sick, Andie-girl. I think she doesn’t want me to have to come home, so she’s not saying, but I got a bad feeling.”

She caught his hands again, bringing them up to cradle them against her chest the way he had hers earlier. “Do you—could you be wrong? Have you asked her?”

He shook his head. “Can’t make things right,” he said in a gruff voice. “Not even for myself, and I know that’s all she wants.”

Her forehead furrowed. “Is that what you really think? Is that why you left?”

“I left because everybody there thinks that way.” His eyes came back open. “They think things are against them, that they’re never going to change. Ain’t saying they’re wrong, but I don’t want to live like that. I want to think I have a chance at something new.” He glanced away. “But I miss it. I don’t have any kin here. Y’all still have porches up here, but nobody sits on them. Hardly even play since I moved.”

“Play?” She squeezed his fingers, eager like every detail he shared brought them a little closer. Made him more hers, somehow. “You mean an instrument? Are you in a band?”

He focused on her, a smile tugging at his mouth. “See, back home, that’s not even a question. Everybody plays something. And a band . . . I play with three or four, depending on who has a gig. Jump in on a second line or a funeral when somebody I knew died or they could use a sax player.” He shrugged. “Whenever I needed an extra buck, I’d take the hike down to Royal Street and play a sidewalk set. Everybody did. Here, I think if I started playing music on the street, I’d get arrested or something.”

She winced. “Wild Falls isn’t known for its culture, I guess.” She wanted to know what a second line was, but she didn’t want to let him distract her from what was important. She took a step back. “Do you want to call your mom? We can make dinner later. I don’t want you to be worried about her.”

He hooked a finger into her belt loop and tugged her back over to him. “You don’t know my mama.” He wrapped his arms over her shoulders and rested his chin on top of her head. “Do you want to know what she’d say if I called?”