V. Musicians

Not too many places are open in a small town after midnight, but Points Corners lived and died by the business off Route 66; as long as cars kept stopping, Points Corners had a place for them to go. Hathorne stepped into the diner around one in the morning, squinting in the harsh florescent light. A string of bells on the door rang as he entered and trudged over to the bar.

Lisa was working that night, chewing gum behind her fat cheeks.

"Evenin', Father." she said. "What'll you be having?"

"Reverend, ma'am. And just a cup of coffee for now."

"Yes, sir."

Hathorne took out a cigarette and lit up.

"Evenin', preacher." said the man to Hathorne's left. He looked to be in his late thirties with a short goatee. A skinny scarecrow of a man set next to him, full gray beard parked behind a smoldering cigarette.

"Evening, friend." said Hathorne.

"What brings a man of the cloth to a place like this so late at night?"

"Just doing God's work. I might ask the same of you."

The man turned in his seat. "I'm afraid I'm setting the wrong tone. The name's Fallon, Ben Fallon." He extended a hand and Hathorne shook it. "My buddy Jim Murray and I were playing a show in town and this was the only place to get a bite to eat at this hour." The scarecrow nodded; Hathorne assumed him to be Jim Murray.

"Reverend John Hathorne, nice to meet you. You're musicians?"

"That we are." said Fallon. "We've been following 66 from Chicago on westward, playing gigs whenever we can."

"What sort of music?"

"The blues." said Murray. He had a voice like a rusty hinge. "Greatest music ever made."

Hathorne shrugged. "I can't imagine too many people want to hear about your woes in times like these."

"Nah, that's not how we do it, anyhow." said Fallon. "Jim plays his guitar blues style, but that's not what I sing about."

"So what do you sing about?"

"Women, mostly." said Fallon, smiling. "One thing that's always put a smile on my face."

Hathorne nodded. "I had myself quite a wife, back in the day."

"Aye, me too." said Fallon, hanging his head. "She's gone now, though. Bless her."

Hathorne nodded again. "I feel your pain, brother."

Lisa put Hathorne's coffee down in front of him. "Anything else, Reverend?"

"The apple pie ain't bad." croaked Jim.

"Sure, ma'am. I'll have a slice of apple pie." said Hathorne.

"Hey, preacher, I got me an idea." said Fallon. "Jim and I, we were planning on heading out to the Hooverville west of town after lunch tomorrow, see if we can raise some spirits and maybe a dollar or two. I'll bet you those'll be the sort of folks who need to hear about the word o' God, am I right?"

Hathorne sipped his coffee. He'd had better. "Likely so." He shook his head. "People with nothing left but faith in God tend to lose even that before long. Sure, I'll come along with you boys."

"Sounds good, preacher. We've got ourselves a car for touring. We'll meet you right out front around one, how's that sound?"

"Sounds good." said Hathorne.