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own.   She cared more about him than she did about her own dad too.  Terri realized just then how much she loved the old man.  So she walked up behind him and gave him a hug.
    Jesse turned off the burner under the skillet full of eggs and gently patted the small hand wrapped around his mid-section.  He felt Terri bury the side of her face into his back, and he smiled.  God had given him a daughter after all, he thought, and he couldn’t have asked for a better one.  Jesse moved his hand from hers and wiped away a tear that was trying to form in the corner of his eye.  He sniffed once and cleared his throat as if to speak, but only stood there silently basking in God’s glory.  Jesse was happy. After an awkward moment, he pulled Terri’s hands from around him.
    “We’d better get to this breakfast before it gets cold,” he said.  “I wish you had been able to make it down for the services yesterday,” he continued, “I ain’t never heard the choir sing the gospel like they did yesterday.”
    Terri smiled and said, “I’ll be here all summer Jesse.  You know I will be at the rest of your services, right?”  She thought for a moment and then added, “I just had to take care of stuff before I could come down.”
    Jesse smiled and nodded.  “I know,” he said, “They just had the spirit in them yesterday, that’s all.  Now let’s eat.”
     
    ***
    Donald Dixon was a grubby little man in a grubby little house at the end of a grubby lane.  The years had not been kind to Donald, but then Donald hadn’t been that kind either.   He had always been an ill-tempered cuss, and the one time he had tried to be an upright citizen, well the world up and spit on him again.  It had taken the only love Donald had ever known and replaced her with a bitter seed.  The only things left in life that Donald gave a crap about were his smokes and his beer.  So while Terri and Jesse dug into their scrambled eggs and bacon, he was on his way to yet another liquid breakfast. 
    Donald opened the door of his grubby, half empty refrigerator and peered into it.  There wasn’t much there, but he didn’t need much.  He had a sixer, and that should get him through lunch, he decided, and there was half of an old roasted chicken that should get him through dinner.  So he yanked a can from the six-pack rings, popped the top, and let the cold liquid bath his tongue.  Donald finished the beer in five or six big gulps then grabbed another one before he finally closed refrigerator door.  He casually tossed the empty can into the sink and turned toward the kitchen table.
    “Damn,” he muttered as he kicked out a chair to sit in, “where is that boy?”  Then Donald let his scrawny ass slip down onto the chair, and he opened the second beer.  His stomach somewhat full from the first one, he sipped a little more gingerly from this can.  He rubbed the back of a gnarled old hand across his cracked thin lips then let out a gut busting belch. 
    “Damn,” he muttered again as he lit up a half-smoked Pall Mall.  Donald took a couple of deep breaths of the cigarette then followed it with another swig of his beer.  He always knew that Ricky was a useless turd, but he had always brought him his weekly supplies.  The dumb-ass might have missed bringing them on Friday, even show up with them late on Saturday or even Sunday.  But here it was Monday morning, and old shit-for-brains still wasn’t here.  Donald wondered then if that whore he was shacked up with might not have something to do with it. 
    Donald had tried to call his trailer several times but had never gotten an answer.  He finally called those idiot Unger boys and even Yancy, but the last time they had seen Ricky was Friday night.  Maybe that Sheila had finally caught him putting his dick in someone else, he thought.  Donald had heard that Ricky was a tail chaser, so surely the little bitch knew.  Then he thought better of it.  That little skank didn’t