Bent Road - Lori Roy [114]
Ignoring for a moment that it seems someone is lurking outside the kitchen window, Celia realizes that she missed something very important. She reaches for Arthur’s arm, but he pulls away.
“Arthur,” she whispers. “Let’s not lose our tempers.”
Again, Arthur ignores Celia. “Tell me, Mary,” he says.
Keeping one hand on Arthur’s forearm, Celia shifts in her seat to face Ruth. “I don’t understand, Ruth,” she says. “What’s going on?”
Ruth doesn’t answer. Instead, with her hands covering Mary’s, she stares over Celia’s shoulder. Celia slowly turns. There, in the dark window with the maple’s bare branches bouncing in the north wind, a large shadow slips by. Celia jumps up, the back of her chair bouncing off the kitchen cabinets and catching her left ankle. She stumbles and cries out, but before she can steady herself, Arthur grabs her arm and yanks her backward.
“Go,” he says, stepping in front of her and waving them all toward the front bedroom. “Get all the girls. Shut the door. Lock it.”
Celia limps around the table, keeping her eyes on the window even though the shadow is gone now and hurries Ruth and Mary toward the farthest bedroom—Ruth’s room now that she stays with Elaine.
“What is it, Mama?” Evie calls out from her room.
“Here, Evie. Come here.” Celia grabs Evie’s arm like Arthur grabbed hers, hustles Ruth and Mary into the room, and pulling Evie in after them, she slams the door behind her.
“Mama,” Evie says, jumping into the middle of Ruth’s bed and tucking her knees up under her. “What is it?”
Celia presses her ear to the closed door as she waves at Ruth to back away. “Sit down,” she says. “It’s nothing. Nothing.”
“Celia, did you see?” Ruth says, helping Mary to sit on the bed.
Celia glances around the room, which is brightly lit with two lamps and the overhead light. At the end of Ruth’s bed sit two suitcases. “The lights,” she says, though she doesn’t know why. “Put out the lights.”
“Why?” Evie says. “What is it?”
“Please, shut them off.”
Ruth turns off the two lamps near the bed as Celia flips the switch on the wall. The room falls dark. The house is quiet. Celia stands at the door, listening but hearing nothing.
“I know what it is, Mama,” Evie says, her voice floating up out of the darkness.
Three silhouettes sit on the bed, smallest to tallest. The smallest sits up and lifts her head.
“It’s Uncle Ray.”
Chapter 34
Daniel stops in the shadow of the barn, his shotgun propped over one shoulder. His crooked toes are numb and his fingers have gone stiff. The cold, dry air burns his mouth and throat each time he inhales. The day was only warm enough to melt the very top layer of snow. Now, with nightfall, the slippery coating has frozen to an icy shell. With every movement, every step, the snow crackles underfoot. Trying to stand still, he breathes into a cupped fist to warm the air before taking it in again. He leans forward, out of the shadow. Straight ahead, between the house and the barn, the porch light glows in a perfect circle, and in its center, stands Uncle Ray.
Evie says Uncle Ray has shrunk since they moved to Kansas, that little by little, he has started to dry up. She showed Daniel the picture of Aunt Eve and Uncle Ray when they were young, not so long before Aunt Eve died. Back then, Uncle Ray was tall and straight and strong. Like Dad. Looking at Uncle Ray now, his legs spread wide, a rifle braced against his chest and pointed straight at Dad, who is walking out of the house, his hands calming Uncle Ray the same way he calmed Olivia when she slit open her neck, Daniel thinks Uncle Ray looks plenty big.
Pressing back against the barn, Daniel feels suddenly hot. His jacket is heavy, so heavy that it’s suffocating him. He rips off his stocking cap, takes a deep breath in through his nose and blows it out slowly through his mouth. He lets the cold burn his insides so it will wake him up, help him to think. Calm now. Calm. Breathe. In and out. Slowly. In and out. Watching the ground at his feet so that he steps