Disclaimer: I don't own the Dukes, or the song "It is Well" by Horatio G. Spafford. I only claim the plot.
Author's Note: Do I get the impression that some of you don't like Brenda? Hmmm. 'Cuz I never meant to portray her as a bad girl. But some people I guess just rub ya the wrong way. Anyway, the ACTION is coming at the end of this chapter, if you'll bear with me. As for the beginning, I gotta put up another TISSUE WARNING.
Chapter 6: Whatever My Lot
Luke woke up to rays of sunlight streaming through the window blinds of the Wheeler's guestroom windows. It was ten a.m.
Luke stretched, feeling refreshed after his 8-hour rest. Looking over to his left, he was surprised to see Bo's empty futon, looking the same as it had last night. He hadn't slept in it.
Padding downstairs in his pajama bottoms and white T-shirt, he was even more surprised to find Bo sprawled out on the couch downstairs, fully clothed and dead to the world.
He heard light footsteps approaching and turned to see Cindy walk in from the kitchen, flipping through an old magazine.
"Where'd you go last night?" he asked curiously.
"Home. I don't live here, remember? Came in this morning about eight to check on mom, and they were still talking. Looked about ready to fall over. I made them both go to bed." She glanced over where Bo lay. "Guess he didn't quite make it."
"Guess not." Quietly Luke bent down and slid Bo's boots off of his feet, then grabbed a blanket off of the nearby armchair and gently laid it over the boy's sleeping form. Bo didn't stir.
"What time's the funeral?" He asked grimly, thinking of how hard it was going to be to get Bo up after such a long night.
"One. Don't worry, mom's got her alarm set for eleven. An' if all else fails, I'm here." Luke nodded. Then flushed with her next comment.
"Ya know...you're cuter in the daylight." Their eyes met for a quick moment, as Cindy looked a bit embarrassed by what she'd just blurted. But she recovered quickly. "Well, I gotta go run some errands so...I'll see ya." Then she hurried out of the room.
Luke turned to go back upstairs and get dressed, a small smile on his face. It wasn't the comment that had made him flush, but the immediate thought of Nancy Jane, his "steady" girlfriend, that came with it. "Bo's usually the one doin' most of the lady chasin'," he said to himself, then shook his head. 'What an odd trip they'd had'!
Balladeer: Was it me, or was there somethin' special in that little look they just shared? Friends, somethin' tells me some romance is creepin' into this story.
At eleven o' clock Brenda awoke to her alarm, and was dressed and ready to go within half an hour. Luke and Cindy were sitting in the kitchen drinking coffee when she came in.
"Hi mom. How ya feeling?" Cindy greeted.
"Good as can be expected on three hours of sleep. Any coffee left?"
"Tons," Cindy answered, standing to pour her a cup. After taking a sip, Brenda noticed Luke.
"Well, Luke that tux sure makes you look sharp!" She exclaimed. Luke flushed again. Aside from his military uniform and Sunday church clothes, he was never this dressed up.
Balladeer: Ya think Luke should just paint his face red for the rest of this trip? It's funny how women make ya feel uncomfortable like that, without meanin' to. Course, don't tell my gal I said that...I'd be under the doghouse.
"Thank you, ma'am," he managed, trying to hide behind his coffee mug. "You look nice to."
"Well," she laughed dryly. "We all match, that's for sure. Funeral black." Cindy gave her a reassuring hug as Luke glanced at the clock. He was never good when it came to feelings.
"I better go wake up Bo," he said finally, escaping into the living room. He went over to the couch and gently shook his cousin awake.
"...mmmwha...?"
"Come on, Bo. Ya gotta get up. We got places to go today, remember?" Luke, understanding his cousin's sleeping habits, patiently waited for Bo to slowly sit up and get his wits.
"What time's it?" he asked in a thick, groggy voice.
"It's goin' on noon."
"Oh man..." Bo groaned and ran his hand through his tangled blonde curls. He shouldn't have stayed up so late—or early. He wasn't thinking about the funeral today. Standing unsteadily, he made his way for the stairs, hardly noticing Luke's firm hand against his back to help keep him moving up the steps.
Cindy and Brenda watched the scene from the kitchen doorway silently.
"Them two are special," Cindy said quietly.
"They're from good stock," Brenda replied, mostly talking about Bo being Robbie's son. Cindy gave her a look, wondering how her mother could think so highly of such a shady character as Robbie Johnson.
"I guess love is blind like that," she said, answering her own question.
"What?" Brenda didn't hear what she'd said.
"Nothing."
Balladeer: Aren't ya happy the Duke family don't keep stuff inside like that? Eventually it all comes spillin' out on the table an' they got to talk about it. It's a shame more folk don't do that these days.
Luke sat on his futon in the guestroom and waited there while Bo got his shower. He was hesitant to go back downstairs. He knew Brenda had brought up a lot of touchy memories for Bo, and it bothered him that she didn't even try to get him to bed earlier last night. She just seemed to think a little too much about her own hurting, rather than Bo's, and that irked Luke. She'd seemed nice enough last night, but couldn't she see the weight that her words had put on him? He looked terrible! And she didn't seem to care. Didn't even ask about him lying there on the couch this morning. Didn't even bother to make sure he got upstairs to bed last night. The more Luke thought about it, the more protective fury for his cousin welled within him.
Ten minutes later Bo walked back in the room, dressed in his dress pants and shirt, vigorously towel-drying his hair. He looked a little better, save for the dark circles underneath his eyes.
"Hey," he greeted.
"Hey. How'd it go last night?" Luke flinched, not meaning to have the words tumble out of his mouth so interrogation-like.
"Fine. We talked. It went better than I thought, actually."
"Really." Bo turned at the unbelieving tone in Luke's voice.
"Yeah, really. Why?"
"Well, gee. I only found ya on the couch this mornin' dead to the world. Cindy told me ya were still up talkin' at eight this mornin'!" Luke couldn't keep the sarcasm out of his voice. Bo frowned.
"We was catchin' up, Luke. Gosh, will ya lay off? You're the one who wanted me to talk to her." Luke sighed. He had to remind himself that he wasn't mad at Bo, just concerned at him and Brenda's irresponsibility.
"You're right. An' I'm glad ya got stuff sorted out. I just...want to make sure you're okay."
"Well, I'm fine. I feel a lot better, in fact. Feel like I kinda know the guy now, ya know?" Luke nodded. Maybe he'd been wrong.
"In fact," Bo continued, "I think I was wrong about her. I don't hate her no more, anyway. She seems like a nice lady." Luke chuckled at the way Bo seemed to read his mind. "What?"
"Nothin' it's just..." He noticed how Bo was struggling with his tie. "You're doin' that backwards." Frustrated, Bo pulled it off and held it out to his older cousin.
"Here, you do it then. Maybe you can get the dang thing on." This made Luke laugh even more, thinking, 'Eighteen years old an' I still gotta practically dress him...'
It was a short service. Few people showed, mostly old drinking/gambling buddies of Robbie's, and some of Brenda's friends. Bo cringed inwardly every time Brenda introduced him.
"Oh, did you meet Robbie's son? This here's Bo Duke, from down in Hazzard County." The person would always get wide-eyed and say, "Oh! I didn't know Robbie had a son!" Then, the inevitable, "You look just like him!" It unnerved him to be identified in that way with the strange man lying in the coffin at the front of the church. He was afraid to go near it, much less look inside. Afraid that it'd be like looking in a mirror...and that he wouldn't like what he saw.
When the pastor spoke, it was clear that he hadn't known Robbie at all, and just gave the general ta-do. Bo was disappointed and zoned, staring at the opened casket. 'That was my father,' he silently repeated, and kept thinking how strange that was. He wished he could've known him. Longed for just one game of catch with the football, just one toss of the baseball. Just one chance to be able to say, "I love you, dad." But it wasn't meant to be.
Looking up, Bo noticed the colorful stained glass cross on the window, the sunlight shining through. Immediately, the familiar words to one of Uncle Jesse's favorite hymns came to his mind:
When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.
But, Lord, 'tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh trump of the angel! Oh voice of the Lord!
Blessèd hope, blessèd rest of my soul!
And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.
It seemed fitting. Talking about how even though you may be hurting, there are people who care. And even though the world be tearing upside down, you still can have peace. Bo may not have had a father in his life, but he realized that God had given him other people like Uncle Jesse, Luke, and even Cooter, to look up to instead. And he had Daisy, and many friends, and even a few enemies who were still like friends, to make up for not having a father. So it was alright. He was alright. And he would be alright, even though his father lay dead before him.
As for Luke, he kept glancing over at Bo to see how he was doing, but he seemed okay. Silently he once again thanked God that his parents died when he was young—too young to understand the loss.
After the service, the choir stood to sing 'Amazing Grace', and Bo turned to see tears streaming down Brenda's face. Looking around the room, he realized that she was the only one shedding tears for Robbie Johnson, and his heart swelled.
Luke sat next to Cindy, who kept dabbing at her eyes.
"You alright?" he whispered.
"I hate funerals," she blubbered, laying her head against his shoulder. He did his best to comfort her, and being a Duke boy, enjoyed every minute of it.
As the service ended, Bo and Luke were the last to walk up to the casket. Luke stood back, giving Bo some space. He watched as Bo stared down at his father's form; then, with a trembling hand, reached down and brushed it across the man's cold, wrinkled cheek. It was hard, looking down at the still, pallid form, surely a mere shadow of what Robbie must have been. Bo hoped he was resting peacefully. "Bye daddy," he whispered, saying his goodbye. Then he turned away and moved on.
As Bo and Luke headed for the door of the church, as Brenda and Cindy were waiting outside, they were stopped by two businessmen.
"'Scuse us, but which one of you is Robbie Johnson's son?" the dark haired one asked.
"That'd be me, Bo Duke," Bo said, shaking his hand.
"My name's Mr. Fowler. I'm a lawyer. We were wondering if you were in need of legal representation?" Bo looked over at Luke, confused.
"Uh, no sir. If you're askin' do I want a lawyer, I can't think what for."
"Well, for the will of course." Luke stepped forward, then, question in his eyes.
"What will?"
"Well the will Mr. Johnson left you, of course."
"Uh, sir, I'm not sure what ya want...I don't know nothin' 'bout no will," Bo answered with a frown.
Luke caught a quick glint of anger in the man's eyes, masked by a friendly grin, and his guard went up.
"Well, if there does turn out to be a will, you will contact us, right?" He handed Bo a business card and walked off with his partner.
"Uh...yes sir. Much obliged," Bo called after him, surprised when Luke tore the card from his hands.
"Somethin's rotten in Denmark," Luke said after inspecting it thoroughly.
"What?"
Balladeer: Obviously, 'ole Bo ain't familiar with Shakespeare. Those suits gave me a 'quiver in my liver', as Roscoe would say. Them boys better be on their toes.
"Those guys there, somethin' wasn't right about 'em," Luke said as they walked over to Cindy's car. (She'd driven them to the church).
"Whaddaya mean?"
"They just seem like they got somethin' up their sleeves," Luke insisted. Bo chuckled.
"Luke, they're lawyers, of course they got somethin' up their sleeves." Luke wouldn't answer, but couldn't shake the feeling that something was definitely wrong.
"So what do ya think, Jake? I mean, the kid said there wasn't no will," said the light haired businessman once they were outside the church.
"He coulda been lyin'," Jake, the dark haired man and obvious leader, answered. Both were dressed well and were clean cut and shaven so no one would suspect them for anything but what they said they were.
"Well, what if he ain't lyin'?"
"Just trust me Tom," Jake answered in a low voice. "We'll get that fifty grand Johnson owed us one way or another."
Balladeer: Uh-oh. Luke's hunch was right. Somethin' is rotten in Savannah, an' it ain't the paper factory. Y'all stick around, 'cuz this is 'bout to get sticky.
TBC...
Author's Note: Okay I lied. The action isn't in this chapter...but it's in the next, I promise! I had to leave ya with a cliffy so you'll come back for more!