Lucky’s empty stomach groaned, even at the unappetizing thought of gutting fish. She didn’t have any tackle to catch anything with, anyway. But frankly, she wished she did. She opened the fridge out of habit. It was empty. She stood in front of it, letting the cool air hit her face and body for a moment before closing it again.
A door in the living room led out to a wood-planked deck. It overlooked the river and was flanked by pine trees. She stepped outside and her toes landed in a wodge of pine sap that had dripped down from the trees. She looked at the slow-moving river for a while, trying to distract herself from her hunger.
After, she went inside and slid her shoes on. She walked back out of the cabin and along the dusty drive. Just before she veered off toward the road, she paused to say hello to the horses, all gathered at the fence. She petted one’s soft muzzle, made a mental note to ask Gloria their names tomorrow. Then she followed the main road that led to the nearest town. It didn’t take long. The sign said it was called Duvoyage, and had a population of 534. Downtown consisted of a gas station, a shuttered gift shop, a grimy-windowed pizza parlor, and a grocery store.
Inside the grocery store, Lucky took a basket and meandered through the cramped aisles, picking up coffee, peanut butter, some battered and bruised apples that were on sale. She kept the tab under twenty dollars in her mental calculations: a loaf of bread, some boxes of macaroni and cheese, a bagged salad, granola bars, and milk.
“That’ll be $19.11,” the cashier said, and Lucky handed her a twenty. Then, when the woman opened the register, Lucky pulled her final twenty out of her wallet. “Can you make change for this? In fives?” she said.
“Sure.” The cashier counted out four fives, handed them to Lucky, and turned back to the register. Lightning fast, the way her father had taught her, Lucky folded one of the fives up her sleeve. “Oops, sorry. You only gave me fifteen,” she said, fanning out the three fives.
“My apologies. I could have sworn I counted out four fives,” the cashier said. “But I can’t open the register now, so you’ll have to wait.”
“S’alright, Carla,” said another voice. “Here, you take my five, and Carla can square up with me after.”
Lucky turned. It was Gloria, and her eyebrows were raised. “Take it,” she said, and Lucky did, feeling her cheeks start to burn with shame. Gloria had seen her shortchange the cashier, she knew it.
“Thanks,” Lucky said. “See you back at the camp.” She picked up her paper bag of groceries in one arm and walked out. But Gloria paid for her own groceries quickly and followed.
“Hey,” she said, coming up behind Lucky. “I’ll give you a ride.” She pointed to a dull red pickup. “There’s me.”
Lucky climbed in. Gloria turned the truck on and pulled out of the parking lot. “Where’d ya learn to do that?” she asked as she signaled to turn left. “?’Cause there’s only one person I know who could shortchange a person so fast you almost didn’t know if you saw it. And his name was Armstrong, too, just like you. John Armstrong. You related? We were married. God help me, we still are, though I haven’t seen him in more than a few decades.” Gloria pulled a flask out from under the seat, took a sip as she drove, then pointed it at Lucky. “Want some?”
Lucky’s heart was beating fast. She took the flask. Whatever it was burned its way down her throat and she tried not to sputter and cough. She had hoped it would give her courage, but she had to take one more gulp before she could say, “Yes, I’m related to John Armstrong.”
“I didn’t think he had any people still alive. Lost his family in a car crash when he was little. God, haven’t thought about him in years. How is he?”
“In prison.”
“Can’t say as I’m surprised by that.” Gloria tipped the flask her way again, but Lucky shook her head. “You see much of him, ever visit?”
“I’m his daughter.”
Gloria hit the brakes and the truck skidded on gravel. She turned down the lane toward the camp. “His kid?” She parked the truck in front of her trailer.
Now was the time. She had to do this. Lucky lifted the crucifix out from under her T-shirt, turned to Gloria, and held it up. “I’m your kid, too. The one you left behind, in Queens.”
Gloria looked down at the crucifix on the chain around Lucky’s neck. “What the hell are you talking about, and what the hell is that?”
“I’m your daughter. This necklace is all I have of you. He said you were—” It sounded so ridiculous now that she had met Gloria, but still she pressed forward. “He said you were very religious. This crucifix was yours. And you left it for me, when you had to leave us. Because you had postpartum depression and couldn’t stay. I forgive you, I just want to get to know you.”
Gloria let out a barking laugh. “He told you that, hey?” She reached forward and touched the cross on Lucky’s chain, holding it in her calloused fingers before letting it drop. “Girl, I am not your mother, or anyone’s. Got an infection when I was a teenager and had all my internal lady bits removed. John said he didn’t mind—but then he got to hankering for a kid, and one day, he came home with one. You, I guess.”
“Me… you guess?”
“That’s why I took off on him. It was the craziest thing, just picking you up like that off those church steps. He should have called the police.”
Lucky stared at her. What was she saying? That John had found her somewhere?
Gloria squinted down at the crucifix. “He came home with you in his arms and was rambling something about finding you on some church steps, telling some nun you were his, and the nun giving him that necklace so he could buy you some baby formula and diapers. He came home with a lot of things that weren’t his—but a baby was a goddamn first.”
Lucky didn’t want this to be true. She reached for the door handle, her cheeks hot with a shame she couldn’t trace the source of, tears welling up behind her eyes. Damned if she was going to sit in Gloria’s pickup truck and cry over the truth about where she had really come from.
“Wait,” Gloria said. “Don’t go. You’re shocked. I get that. But you wouldn’t have come to me unless you had no place else to go. Right? Maybe we can team up.”