A few somber weeks passed by before Pa managed to shove off the shadows and return to full-on sunshine. We couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Dave Foster and his moods were exhausting. We began tiptoeing around the house as we had become shadows ourselves, scared to death that if we stepped on a creaky board, it would set him off. We were like a bunch of paranoid delinquents, constantly looking over our shoulders or peeping into a room before entering it. Sometimes I think we forgot how to even breathe in our father’s presence. Anticipating, watching, and waiting. It was an unpredictable quest for survival.

We were gathered on the porch after school, doing homework and debating on whether Pa had just gone to town or gone off a deep end somewhere, when a horn started blaring way down the road. Listening for a few seconds, I could have sworn someone was blowing the horn to the beat of a song.

In a mighty dust storm, a limo shot down our driveway like a silver bullet. As it neared, the long car fishtailed, performing a couple donut spins before coming to a stop near the porch. Once the dust settled, the driver’s door opened and Pa climbed out. His hair was past due a haircut and was dancing about in the wind. If he didn’t get it cut soon, it was going to take a Bush Hog to get the job done.

“Ah, shoot. Pa done an’ stole the funeral home’s limo,” Peg said out the side of his mouth, and I was pretty nervous about my brother being right in his assumption.

“Whew-ee! What y’all think?” Pa asked, waving an arm toward the dusty car. The engine ticked loudly, sounding spent from being driven hard and performing stunts it wasn’t designed to do.

“About what?” Peg asked, drawing the two-word question into a thick line of skepticism.

“About our new car. It’s a Fleetwood!” Pa grinned and continued waving at the car.

“No way,” Peg grumbled.

“We going to a funeral, Pa?” Boss mumbled without receiving an answer.

“But that’s the Lawsons’ funeral limo.” I stated the obvious. “For dead folks’ families to ride in.”

“It ain’t no more. Morty just got a new one, so I bought this one off him for a steal. Come check it out.” Pa beckoned us to move but we remained glued to the porch.

I swatted a fly away and crossed my arms. “That’s just one step away from riding around in a hearse.”

Pa pushed the wild locks of dark hair off his forehead and glanced at the car, looking proud. “Nonsense. Morty called it a family car. That’s what we are . . . a family.”