Queen Sugar: A Novel Read Online Free Page A

In the accompanying photo, a man and a boy paddled a canoe. Their backs were turned, but you understood from the way they leaned forward in their matching life vests, the way they raised their oars in unison, with water like chips of crystal spilling back into the lake, that they were father and son. White, of course, rugged and sturdy, but still. Staring at the picture, Ralph Angel had been overcome. He could be that father. Blue could be that boy. They just needed to get to Billings.
    But something felt wrong, which was why he was procrastinating; why it had been three days since they left Phoenix and he’d driven only as far as Flagstaff. If he turned around now, they would be back in Phoenix by midnight, no later than two. He could put Blue to bed, get Mrs. Abernathy across the hall to babysit while he returned the car. Only there was no home to go home to. Six months ago, the sheriff nailed an eviction notice on the door, set their clothes on the street. For the last four months, they had lived at the Wagon Wheel, a motel at the end of East Van Buren, where he paid for their room by the week. There was no job to wake up for, because he got fired.
    “I’m hungry,” Blue said. “What do we have to eat?”
    Ralph Angel looked at the empty passenger seat. If Gwenna were here, she’d have thought ahead, packed sandwiches, drinks, and something sweet as a surprise. That was one of the things he loved about her; she always thought ahead, always scanned the horizon for problems, like a ship’s captain stationed at the bow. “We’ll stop soon,” Ralph Angel said. “Just hold on.” He glanced at the passenger seat again and braced himself against the twist of longing. There was no Gwenna to pack sandwiches or encourage him to look for another job; no Gwenna to reassure him everything would be okay because Gwenna was dead.
    “Are we there yet?”
    “Those four words,” Ralph Angel said, “I don’t want to hear them. Now sit back.” He let his eye wander across the landscape, the sloping golden foothills dotted with ponderosa, and tried again to picture them in Montana. He’d rent a small house with a yard that opened onto a meadow. Blue and his friends would build a fort in the woods or by a lake if there was one close by, and when the boys got older, they’d stay out all weekend, camping and fishing the way boys liked to. He’d go to all of Blue’s games—baseball and basketball—and sit in the bleachers with the other parents. “That’s my kid,” he’d say when Blue scored the winning basket. “That’s my kid.”
    Ralph Angel glanced at the sudden movement in the rearview mirror. Zach wagged back and forth while Blue chanted, “Are-we-there-yet-Are-we-there-yet,” like a drumbeat. He tried to ignore it, tried to focus on the road and their life in Billings, until finally he reached back, grabbed Zach, and held him out the window. He felt the sun warm his hand, smelled the clean scent of pine. “You done?” Except for the wind, the car was silent. After five long seconds he said, “Thought so,” and passed the action figure back.
    •   •   •
    At Tuba City, Ralph Angel took a break. He pulled off the road and into the rest stop parking lot, wedging the Impala between two semis.
    “Pop?”
    Tourists on their way to or from the Grand Canyon filed through the double doors, headed toward the restaurant. Ralph Angel imagined them bent over burgers and fries.
    “Stay in the car. I’ll be back.”
    “But I’m hungry and Zach has to pee,” Blue said.
    “Tell him to hold it. Let me see what they’ve got in there. I’ll be back in a second.” Ralph Angel tucked in his shirt and zipped his jacket halfway. He scanned for Highway Patrol, then fell in line with people entering the building.
    Inside, the air was heavy and smelled like doughnuts. There was a restaurant, a minimart, and beyond, a row of fast-food counters. His stomach seized at the thought of day-old grease, of plates smeared