Bent Road - Lori Roy [117]
“Go. Go now,” she screams.
Evie falls against the stairs and crawls on hand and foot toward the porch. Arthur is yelling, too, telling Celia to stay put, stay God damned well put.
“Don’t you move, Celia,” he tries to shout over Ray. “Don’t you take one God damned step.”
Behind Ray, Ruth stands in her robe and slippers. The hem of her robe slaps her legs. She shakes her head and presses both hands in the air as if she doesn’t want Celia to come any closer.
With his rifle pointed at Arthur now, Ray walks forward, steps around Mary Robison’s lifeless body, grabs Celia’s arm and flings her toward Ruth. Stumbling backward and falling on her hind end, pieces of ice and gravel bite into her palms. Ray roots himself and points the gun at Arthur’s head. Celia shuffles backward like a crab on her hands and feet until Ruth grabs her from behind and helps her to stand.
“Please, Ray,” Celia says, wiping Mary Robison’s blood from her cheek and drying her hand on her blue-checkered apron. “Enough. Please stop.”
“Don’t know who the hell you think you are,” Ray shouts, aiming at Arthur. “Coming around after twenty years. God damned coward. How you like me taking your wife?”
Arthur lifts both hands, surrendering himself. Blood shines on his cheek and neck and stains one side of his shirt.
“Take it easy now, Ray,” he says. “I should have told you. Should have told you about Eve. Christ, Ray, I was a kid.”
Ray backs away, stumbling as he tries to step around Mary Robison’s feet, and takes aim at Arthur again.
Celia grabs Ruth and guides her down the driveway. “We’re going, Ray,” she calls out. “Do you see? We’re going. Wherever you want.” She pulls Ruth backward, leaving the two suitcases. “Come on now,” she calls out again. “Like you said.” Ruth is stiff, but Celia knows they have to get clear. She needs Ray to back away a little more. “Come on, now.”
They need to get clear. She sees Daniel there behind the fence post. He has a shotgun. They need to get clear.
Daniel drops his chin to his chest and rests his forehead against the wooden fence post. Without looking up, because he isn’t ready for the sight of Mrs. Robison again, he sticks the index finger of his right glove between his teeth, bites down and pulls his hand away. Letting that glove drop into the snow, he does the same with his left. Maybe he only thought he saw blood splatter across Dad’s chest and into Mama’s face. Maybe blood didn’t spray onto the snowdrift that runs along the back of the house. With the shotgun balanced on his lap, Daniel presses his bare hands between his knees and raises his chin.
“Don’t do anything foolish now, Ray,” Dad says. His hands are still in the air and Mrs. Robison’s blood is a black stain across his shirt.
“I ain’t no damn fool,” Uncle Ray says, beginning to back down the driveway toward Aunt Ruth and Mama. “You’re the fool. All of you.” He staggers a few steps and his head wobbles. “You killed her,” he says to Dad. “Same as if you put a gun to her head.”
“Please, Ray. We’re leaving,” Mama says.
For an instant, she seems to look right at Daniel.
“Come on now.” Yes, Mama sees him. “Ruth and I, we’re leaving.”
Uncle Ray backs away until he can see Mama and Aunt Ruth and Dad all at once. He seems to settle on Aunt Ruth. He points the gun at her and waves it like he wants her to come closer. “You tell me. You tell me that you knew what he did.”
“Please, Ray. Don’t do this,” Mama says, pulling Aunt Ruth away, farther down the driveway.
“Tell me now,” he shouts.
Aunt Ruth lowers her head. She must be crying because her shoulders are shaking but she isn’t making any noise. Uncle Ray swings around, presses the stock to his cheek and aims at Dad.
“You God damned well better tell me.”
Uncle Ray pulls back the bolt action, presses his cheek to the barrel. He is steady now, lined up, ready for a solid shot.
Daniel slowly stands, his leg unfolding beneath him. Feet shoulder width, Ian had said with a sawed-off broomstick in hand.