Two

Luke returned to the house in time to acknowledge the guests as they were leaving, but it was a purely obligatory gesture, and he was aware of Jesse's watchful eye on him throughout the whole event. Clearly, he had said enough to cause his uncle worry.

Most of the departing guests were a blur of faces as they made their way through the door, offering condolences and shaking hands. Luke dutifully thanked each one for their sympathy.

Cooter approached the door with eyes averted, and when he stopped before his newly-widowed friend, he shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. For a moment, Luke thought he was going to throw his arms around him, but he just shrugged his shoulders and said, "Well, I'll be seeing 'round, Luke. Take care, ya hear?"

"Sure thing, Cooter," Luke replied. "Thanks for comin'."

When Boss Hogg reached the door, Luke was grateful to see that the pudgy little man had filled three plastic plates to capacity and was balancing them in both hands, and was therefore able to avoid shaking his hand. "Too bad about your little lady," Boss was saying, the closest thing to outright sympathy that he could muster for someone other than himself. "I hear she was a nice gal."

Luke's lips tightened for a moment, then he felt a nudge from Jesse's elbow, and managed a slight nod of acknowledgement. "She was," he agreed.

Rosco was carrying Flash, a long, solid dog that required both arms, so instead of shaking his hand, Luke petted the dog's silky head. "Thank you for coming," he said to the hound.

Lulu was next, and with tears shimmering in her eyes, she took him into her arms for a hug that nearly crushed his ribs. "Oh, Luke. I will truly miss that sweet girl."

"Thank you, Miss Lulu," Luke replied, stoically.

"You take comfort in that precious baby boy. He's a part of her, you know." Patting his cheek affectionately, she offered a trembling smile and then followed her husband to the waiting convertible with its ridiculous looking steer horns on the hood. Boss's chauffer jumped out of the driver's seat to open the vehicle door for his employers.

Enos was the last person out the door. Like Cooter, he approached with his eyes averted, and his expression of sorrow was so great that Luke could barely look at him. "I'm awful sorry, Luke."

There's those words again, Luke thought.

The deputy looked up, briefly meeting Luke's gaze, then he averted his eyes again and fumbled uncomfortably with his hat. "I'm goin' back on duty now, but if ya need anything, anything at all, you give me a holler, okay?"

"I appreciate that, Enos," Luke replied, dutifully.

Enos lingered a moment longer, as if trying to think of something else to say, then pushed open the screen door and walked to his waiting patrol car.

Turning, Luke caught a furtive glance from Bo, who looked away quickly when their eyes met. Great, Luke thought, resentfully. He's been talkin' to Jesse.

Jesse stood silently watching through the screen as the vehicles slowly filed out of the yard, lifting his hand to those who waved through their car windows. When Martha had died, he had hoped he would never have to attend another Duke family wake. He was the last of the Duke elders, and these events were getting harder and harder to attend, especially when the one they had laid to rest was so young.

When the last car was gone, he slowly pushed the door closed, and turned to look at his family. Lisa Mae was sitting quietly in the easy chair, looking slightly pale as her hand stroked her rounded abdomen as if to sooth the infant that slept inside.

"Are you all right, Lisa Mae?" he asked with concern.

She managed a slight smile. "I'm fine, Uncle Jesse. He's just a little restless."

Luke went to the sofa and collapsed on it with a grateful sigh. He hated being on display like that, especially at such a vulnerable time. "I'm glad that's over," he gruffly said to no one in particular.

Bo emerged from the kitchen with a glass of water for Lisa Mae, and sat down on the arm of the chair as he offered the glass to his wife. She accepted it with a quietly murmured "Thanks, honey". He continued to sit on the arm of the chair, his left arm draped over the backrest.

For a long time, no one spoke, and the only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock as its hands slowly worked their way along the face of the instrument on the mantle.

Daisy went into her bedroom to check on the baby, who had been transferred to his crib, and returned moments later. After Cindy's death, Bo had fetched the crib from the baby's room in Luke's house and temporarily moved it into Daisy's bedroom, so that she could look after him until Luke was able to take over the care of him. Satisfied that the infant was still sleeping soundly, she sank down on the other end of the sofa.

Restlessly, Luke picked up a magazine that was lying on the lamp table and glanced at the cover. It was one of Daisy's women's magazines, so he tossed it back on the table, then leaned back and laid his head against the backrest, rubbing his eyes wearily with his fingers. He was exhausted. His body was begging for sleep, but he dared not close his eyes to rest; the images he did not want to see kept replaying like a bad horror movie.

Bo watched him discretely, wishing there was something he could do to ease his grief. His fatigue was apparent in his drawn face, and there were dark circles around his eyes that had not been there before.

As Luke had suspected, Jesse had told him in private about their conversation when he had returned to the house, and it worried him. Although they had grown up together and he knew Luke better than anyone else, there were some things about the dark haired man that remained a mystery to him, and personal grief was one of the areas in which Luke had always kept him at arm's length.

Glancing at Luke again, Bo found that his cousin was looking at him, pointedly, as if aware that his was being watched. That penetrating gaze made him uncomfortable, and he managed a slight smile, then looked away. Noticing that his wife had emptied the glass of water, he asked, "Are you through with that?"

"Yes," she replied.

He took it from her, and carried it back to the kitchen, but he could still feel Luke's eyes on his back.

Luke watched with mounting resentment as Bo walked into the kitchen. His discomfort and the fact that he was sticking around left no doubt in his mind that Jesse had sought his help in consoling him, consoling that Luke neither wanted nor would encourage. "Go home, Bo," he said abruptly, drawing a shocked look from Daisy on the other end of the sofa. "I know yer just stickin' around on my account."

Bo returned to the living room, startled by the brusque command. "Well, I just . . . " He glanced at Lisa Mae, then at Uncle Jesse, before looking back at Luke. "I thought maybe you and I could talk for a spell."

"I don't want to talk," Luke retorted. "To you or anyone else. Yer wife is tired. You'd best get her on home, so she can rest."

Bo tried not to feel offended. It was, after all, Luke's grief and obvious exhaustion that was behind his rather rude words. His eyes came to rest on Lisa Mae again, and observed that she was indeed worn out. The stress of the funeral and wake had sapped her strength. "Luke, Lisa Mae and I was wonderin' if maybe you'd come stay with us for a few days."

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm goin' home to my own house tonight." Mine and Cindy's house, he thought, as his eyes slid to the floor again. He was more acquainted with that tattered rug now than when he had played on it as a child.

"We have plenty of room, Luke," Lisa Mae encouraged.

"I know what ya'll are tryin' to do, and I appreciate it, but in your condition, Lisa Mae, the last thing you need is to be lookin' after me. I'll be all right by myself."

"Wouldn't be no trouble," Bo urged. "C'mon. I thought maybe you and me could work on the engine of that old station wagon Lisa Mae's daddy bought for her. It'd be like old times. What'd ya say?"

"I'm not really in the mood, Bo. I think I'll just go on home."

"No yer not," Jesse intervened. He had listened quietly while Bo attempted to convince Luke to stay with him and to interest him in working on Lisa Mae's vehicle, and he had hoped that he would agree. Becoming involved in fixing up that old station wagon would help take his mind off Cindy, and hopefully set him on the road to recovery, but it seemed that Luke was not going to respond favorably, and the last thing he wanted was for him to be alone right then. "If yer not gonna accept Bo's invitation, then you 'n that youngin' o' yers are stayin' right here with me 'n Daisy."

"Uncle Jesse," Luke protested. "I've already been here for two days. It's time to go home. I got things that need doin'."

"All o' them things can wait a few more days. Yer stayin', 'n that's final!"

"Better not argue, Luke," Daisy warned. "We'll tie you down if we have to."

Luke raised his hands in surrender, but his expression indicated that he was not thrilled with the arrangement. All he wanted was to get home to grieve in private for a spell, something that his family seemed determined not to allow him to do.

"Well, all right, then," Bo said, reluctantly, clearly torn between his devotion to his cousin and his responsibility to his pregnant wife. "If it's settled, I'll take Lisa Mae on home so she can rest a spell. Be sure an' call me if you need me for anything. Anything at all," he repeated for emphasis.

"We will, Bo," Jesse assured him. He turned to Lisa Mae, who was being assisted to her feet by her husband. "We're glad you could come."

She managed a weak smile, wiping away a tear that fell from her eye. "Cindy and I were good friends. I wouldn't have missed being here." Her gaze rested on Luke a moment longer, understanding, as Jesse did, that he was not holding up as well as the outward appearance he presented. Needing to offer comfort, she moved toward him, and he stood up to accept her embrace. Her arms wrapped around his neck, and she began to cry softly.

Luke's arms went about her shaking shoulders, but he looked straight ahead and swallowed a couple of times as Lisa Mae wept against his shoulder. Bo shifted uncomfortably. His wife's distress was causing a painful lump to come up in his throat.

"It's gonna be okay, Luke," she told him when she had regained control of herself and drew back. Reaching up, she gently caressed his cheek with her hand, marveling that there were no tears there. "She loved you so much."

He looked down again. "Thank you, Lisa Mae."

Bo went to Luke and placed his arms around him, never knowing how close this gesture of affection came to bringing his cousin to tears. "I hate leavin' ya like this, Luke," Bo said. "I wish you'd reconsider."

The two men parted, and both took a step back. Luke averted his eyes, hiding from Bo the fact that he had almost teared up. "I'll be fine, Bo. Jus' go on home."

"I'll come back by later this evening," Bo suggested. "See how yer doin', an' maybe we can sit for a spell and talk over a cold one."

"No need for that," Luke objected as he sank down on the sofa again. "Just go home and take care o' yer wife." After a brief pause, he added, "Don't ever take her for granted, Bo."

Bo looked helplessly at Jesse. He wanted desperately to help Luke, but was powerless to do so.

"It'll be okay," Jesse assured him. "You go on ahead, an' I'll call you later."

Grudgingly, Bo opened the door and he and his wife left. Luke turned his head slightly, as if drawn to the sound of Bo's car as it faded away.

Jesse gazed at his nephew for several moments, debating whether or not to have that talk he had spoken of earlier. Luke deliberately avoided looking at him, clearly trying to evade such a discussion. Finally, Jesse relented. He would talk to him when the time was right, and now was not the time. Unwilling to sit and listen to the silence any longer, he turned to the overloaded table. "Well, I guess I'd better clear out some space in that refrigerator, so's we can start getting' them leftovers put away."

Daisy got up off the sofa. "I'll help you." Turning to Luke, she said, "Why don't I fix you a plate before we put them away?"

"No, thanks."

"Luke, you ain't eaten nothin' in days," she protested. "You need –"

"I said I ain't hungry!" he snapped. He saw the resentful expression that flashed across her face which concealed the hurt in her eyes, and he instantly regretted his temper. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bite yer head off. I just don't want anything right now."

Her expression softened somewhat, but he could see that she was still offended. She started toward the kitchen, but was stopped by the sound of the baby crying. She turned toward Luke to see if he would react, but he did not even move.

She exchanged a worried look with Jesse, then went into the bedroom to see to the baby's needs. Jesse opened the refrigerator door and rummaged around noisily. "How long has this been in here?" he asked himself. Opening the Styrofoam container, he took a sniff. "Too long," he answered. "Luke, would you fetch me one o' them plastic trash bags from the cupboard?"

Covering his annoyance at being disturbed, Luke stood up and went into the kitchen. He had left the old house years earlier, but remembered that Jesse kept the garbage bags in the cupboard under the sink, so he bent over and pushed the kitchen cleaners out of the way, and pulled a bag from its box. Rising up again, he took it to the refrigerator and held it out to Jesse. "Here."

Jesse looked at it, his hands full of items that he wanted to discard, and asked, "Well, would you open it please?"

He opened it up and held it while Jesse tossed several Styrofoam containers of leftovers into it. Then he set it on the floor. Looking down at his black suit, he said, "I hate bein' dressed like this. I'm going to get changed."

"Okay."

He moved toward the room he had shared with Bo during their youth, but as he passed Daisy's door, he heard a soft whimpering sound. Pausing in the doorway, he watched Daisy positioned the diaper around the infant's waist and fastened the tabs.

"There ya go," she said, cheerfully. "Now you're nice and dry and comfy."

Had the circumstances been different, Luke would have been compelled to smile, knowing that his cousin would make a wonderful mother some day, but all he could feel now was his own inadequacy. What kind of father would I make? he wondered. I don't even know how to change a diaper! He would be better off with Daisy than with me.

Daisy picked up the baby and turned around, spying him by the door. "Luke?" she said, surprised and encouraged by what she perceived to be the first indication of interest that he had shown toward the baby. "Do you want to hold him?"

"Um, no." He hooked his thumb over his shoulder. "I need to get out of these duds and into something more comfortable."

He saw the disapproval in her eyes, but he did not linger to debate the issue. He was in no mood for an argument. Turning away, he hurried into his old bedroom, and pushed the door closed a little more forcefully than necessary, wincing as it slammed behind him.

He paused to draw a deep breath. For a few moments, at least, he was alone. He knew it would not last, though. If he remained longer than a few minutes, someone would be banging on the door asking if he was all right. How could he tell them that they were smoothing him with their concern and their sympathy?

With a brusque gesture, he tucked his finger behind the knot of his tie and yanked it free and dropped it onto the nearest of the two twin beds. Then, he slipped out of the blazer and tossed it down beside the tie. The rest of his suit clothes soon followed, and he changed into his more comfortable jeans, a soft work shirt, and his favorite pair of well-worn cowboy boots. This was how he preferred to dress, and how Cindy had enjoyed seeing him.

Hopelessness rose inside him, burning behind his eyes, but he tamped it back down, refusing to succumb. As eager as he had been to escape Jesse's watchful eye, he was grateful to his uncle for talking him into staying another night. He wasn't sure he was ready to face that empty house yet.

He sank down on the bed, allowing his mind to briefly return to happier times. This was his old bed, the one in which he had slept since the first day he had arrived in Jesse's home so many years earlier. The other bed belonged to Bo. Here, they had played checkers by flashlight under the covers, and talked about their first experiences with girls, and laughed about their pranks until Jesse had ordered them to hush. Here, they had spent the usual childhood illnesses under the watchful eye of Aunt Martha, and where they had recovered after the time they had found Uncle Jesse's stash of moonshine.

A soft rap on the door broke into his thoughts, and he jerked his head toward it, startled by its abruptness. "Luke, honey, are you okay?" It was Daisy, checking up on him.

A twinge of irritation went through him. What would it take to get more than a few minutes of alone-time? "I'm just changing clothes, Daisy," he replied. "Be right out."

"Okay."

He rubbed his fingers in his weary eyes again. He should lie down and take a nap, but felt too restless and keyed up for that, so he stood up and returned to the front room.

Jesse was still hunched over the shelves in the open refrigerator. Daisy was walking slowly around the kitchen table, gently rocking the infant in her arms to sooth him. Luke experienced a twinge of guilt that he was neglecting his responsibility of caring for his child. He also knew that, at the very least, he should be helping Jesse put away the leftover food that was still scattered about the kitchen table. But instead of doing either, his eyes focused on the door and viewed it as an avenue of escape for a few minutes. Without a word, he opened the door and went outside.

Daisy turned around and watched him leave, and with the baby in her arms, she moved to the window and watched as Luke walked slowly toward the barn. "What are you up to, Luke?" she murmured to herself.

"Where's he goin'?" Jesse asked, rising up from the refrigerator shelves.

"He's walkin' out t'wards the barn."

"Well, there's nothin' out there he can hurt hisself with. I done hid the moonshine in the coop, so's he wouldn't get his hands on it. Sometimes, whiskey and grief don't mix," he added, knowingly. "And this is one o' them times." He stuck his head back in the refrigerator. "We'll jes' leave 'im be fer a spell. I'll talk to him later, when he's a bit more receptive of it."

"I'll try to get the baby back to sleep, an' then I'll come help you in there," Daisy offered. "I sure wish he'd give this baby a name, so we'd know what t' call 'im," she added as she returned to the bedroom with the infant.

-()-

Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance as Luke slowly walked toward the barn. The clouds on the horizon were advancing closer to Hazzard, and already he could smell the clean scent of rain on the breeze. They would see rain showers before nightfall.

The door to the large barn was open wide, revealing Jesse's rusty old tractor, which was parked in the center of it. A few hens strutted on the ground beneath it and around it, scratching and pecking at the dirt floor in search of grain.

His eyes came to rest on the grain bin where Jesse stored his moonshine. He wasn't much of a drinking man anymore, for Cindy had not approved, but he sure could do with a stiff belt right about then. Moving toward the bin, he nudged one of the hens on the rump with the side of his boot to move her out of the way, and she squawked in protest as she scrambled away from him. He grasped the handle on the grain bin and lifted the lid to look inside. It was filled with chicken feed, but he knew that Jesse sometimes covered his jugs with grain to conceal it from the law and from thieves. Pushing his hand down through the feed, he groped around for the jugs that were not there.

His sigh of disappointment was loud in the quiet of the barn. Jesse must have moved it, probably to keep him out of it. Sometimes, that old man knew him better than he knew himself. He dropped the lid back into place with a loud bang that sent the chickens scattering in all directions. With his hands on his hips, he looked around the barn, wondering where his uncle would have hidden his jugs, but there weren't many likely places inside that rickety old structure, other than the loft, and with Jesse's arthritis, he knew the older man was unlikely to climb up there.

Another distant rumble of thunder reverberated across the landscape, and Luke wandered out of the barn and observed the dark cloud that continued to move toward them. Then his eye caught sight of the other structure, the one behind the barn. The one he and Bo had constructed several years earlier. Protected beneath it, was a tarp covered vehicle. For the first time since Cindy's death, he felt a flicker of interest, and without hesitation, he moved toward it.

Funny, he had not thought about it since he had been here. Constructed of weathered gray lumber, the carport was solid on the south and west sides to hold the scorching sun at bay, but had been deliberately left open in the north and east side to prevent heat from building up during the hot Georgia summers.

As he entered the structure, he grasped one edge of the tarp and pulled it away from the vehicle, revealing a shiny orange car with a big O1 on the side, the name GENERAL LEE stenciled above the doors, and a huge Confederate flag on the top that gleamed as beautifully as the day Cooter had placed it there.

He allowed the tarp to fall onto the ground behind the car. "General, you are a sight for sore eyes," he said, a smile coming to his lips for the first time in two days.

Lovingly, he stroked his hand along the smooth orange paint. Years earlier, the orange stock car had been his and Bo's pride and joy. They had always kept the engine tuned to perfection, and had spent many hours together tinkering with it and washing and waxing it. It had rewarded them with its service, winning races and streaking across the back roads with speed that was unequaled in the county. There were no nicks or blemishes on the paint job. He and Bo had driven the car hard, acquiring many dings and dents, but somehow they always managed to scrape up the money for repairs.

Because the doors were welded shut, Luke climbed into the vehicle through the window and settled into the driver's seat, placing his hands on the familiar steering wheel, and remembering how it felt to guide the powerful vehicle through the backcountry roads.

On impulse, he leaned back so that he could push his hand into his front pocket, and his fingers closed around his keys, warm with his body heat. Withdrawing them from the pocket, his eyes fell upon the seldom used silver colored key, holding it up to examine it fondly. The key to the General Lee. He had Bo each had one attached to their key rings, souvenirs of their younger days. It was an impractical vehicle for family use, but they had been unable to part with it, so by mutual agreement, they had built the carport and stored it there. The last time they had taken it out for a spin was the day they had celebrated their impending fatherhood, seven months earlier.

He inserted they key into the ignition, and turned it. The powerful engine roared to life without hesitation, inspiring a surge of excitement. "Eager for a spin there, are ya, General?" he asked.

Inside the house, Jesse and Daisy had been placing the leftovers in containers, and they looked at each other when they heard the engine start.

"That sounds like the General Lee," Daisy said.

Dropping the containers she was holding onto the countertop, she went to the door and looked out, but could not see the vehicle for the barn. A moment later, she felt Jesse's warm breath behind her, watching over her shoulder. "What's that boy up to?" he wondered aloud.

Luke tapped the foot feed lightly, revving the engine. The vehicle responded instantly with increased rpms. Then he shifted the car into drive and eased it carefully out of the carport. Once free of the structure, he accelerated up the dirt drive.

Daisy felt her heart leap with dread as the flashy vehicle sped away from the house. The General fishtailed slightly as its driver turned it onto the road, and then gained speed as it disappeared from view.

She turned to look into her uncle's face. "Oh, Uncle Jesse. I had no idea he'd take the General Lee out."

"Neither did I, but I reckon I should've. Them boys loved that old car. Stands to reason he'd seek solace there," he said, sadly.

"He's in no fit state of mind to be drivin'! Especially a car as powerful as the General!"

"I know, but I'm afraid there's nothin' we can do 'cept let him go. If'n we tried to catch him, it'd just make him go faster. I'll see if I can raise him on the CB, urge him to keep it a reasonable speed." Going to the countertop where he kept his CB, Jesse grasped the microphone and spoke the words he had not used in years, "Shepherd to Lost Sheep, Shepherd to Lost Sheep. Come back." He listened to the silence for several moments, then asked, "Luke, ya there?"

In the General Lee, Luke glanced down at the CB radio. He had heard the worry in his uncle's voice, and after a moment, he picked it up. "I'm okay, Jesse. I just need some space, and I'm not gettin' it there. Yer both hoverin' over me like a pair of hens."

Jesse puffed up indignantly. "We ain't hoverin', an' I ain't no hen!"

"Figure of speech," Luke replied. "I just want to be alone for a spell, and this is the only way I know how to get it."

"Alone's the one place you don't need t' be right now," Jesse protested. "Luke, come on back home. I'm too old fer this kind o' worry."

Luke hesitated a moment. He knew his uncle, however tough and resourceful, was getting up in years, and it wasn't his intention to cause him worry. He just needed to be alone for a while. "Sorry, Uncle Jesse." He reached down and turned off the radio.

tbc