Bent Road - Lori Roy [27]
Daniel presses his face against the hole in the shed wall. Uncle Ray holds up both hands. His nose and mouth are red. Dad keeps hitting Uncle Ray even when his hat falls off, even when Uncle Ray’s head quits bouncing back, even when Mama cries out for him to quit. Finally, Dad stops, holding his right fist over his shoulder, cocked and ready to hit Uncle Ray again.
“You ask Ruth,” Uncle Ray says. “She’ll tell you why I did it.” Blood runs out of Uncle Ray’s nose. “Out there sneaking around on me. All these months, taking food to those God damned Robisons. God damned people say I took their girl.”
Dad lunges and hits Uncle Ray again, splattering blood across the gravel drive. Uncle Ray stumbles backward, tripping over his own feet and lands on his hind end. Dad stands still, watching and waiting while Uncle Ray props himself up on one elbow. Dad’s shoulders lift and lower each time he takes a breath. Uncle Ray starts to stand but stops when Dad reaches into the truck bed and pulls out a whiskey bottle, grabs it by its thin neck and flings it at the shed. The bottle shatters. Someone screams, maybe Mama, maybe Elaine. Daniel falls backward, shuffling like a crab until he is pressed flat against the shed’s far wall. Glass and warm bourbon splash up on the other side of the hole he had been looking through. The bits of glass sparkle in the cool sunlight for an instant before disappearing. The gravel driveway is silent.
Once the glass has settled, Celia turns to Arthur. He has not moved. Reesa reaches out to him but instead stops and walks inside. Ruth stands near the truck’s front bumper, her head lowered, her arms hanging at her side.
“Ruth,” Arthur says.
Ruth raises her head.
Celia gasps, covers her mouth again. Elaine and Jonathon lower their eyes.
“Oh, Ruth,” Celia whispers.
“Go on with Celia,” Arthur says, still staring at the shed, but Ruth doesn’t move. “Now,” he shouts.
Ruth’s shoulders jerk.
“Go with Celia, now.”
Celia wraps one arm around Elaine, both of them standing still, unable to move. Ray lies on the ground, blood smeared under his nose, down his chin, across his collar.
“Jonathon,” Arthur says in a quieter voice.
Jonathon lifts his chin, pulls down his hat over his eyes and takes a step toward Arthur.
“Get them inside.”
Jonathon nods, takes Ruth’s forearm and, with his head lowered so that the brim of his hat hides his face, he guides her toward Celia and Elaine. Celia passes Elaine to Jonathon but shakes her head when he motions her to follow. She watches until the three have gone into the house and the screened door has slammed shut behind them.
“Gather yourself and leave,” Arthur says to Ray. “Ruth isn’t your concern anymore.”
Ray pushes himself up, favoring his left side as if Arthur has broken a rib or two, picks up his hat, pulls it on so the front brim is cocked a little too high and limps toward his truck. “I don’t see how you have any business between me and my wife.”
“How many times, Ray?” Arthur says, picking up his hat and pulling it on. “How many times you lay a hand on her?”
Ray wipes the corner of his mouth, smearing the blood that drips down his chin. He spits red. A cut above his left brow drips blood into his bad eye.
Arthur throws open the truck door. “Not your wife anymore.”
“Arthur,” Celia says, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the house and away from Ray. “Please, let him be on his way.”
Arthur pulls away and without looking at Celia, says, “Get inside.”
“You’re a man, Arthur. Same as me,” Ray says, though he is looking at Celia when he says it, not in her eyes, but lower. “You wouldn’t have me telling you about your wife, would you? Wouldn’t want me telling you when you could or couldn’t have her.”
“Well, I’m telling you now,” Arthur says, taking one step to the left so he blocks Ray’s view of Celia. “Ruth is no longer your concern.”
With his forearm, Ray wipes the blood from under his nose and steps up to Arthur. The brims of their hats nearly touch.
“You wait until they come looking for you,” Ray says, “thinking maybe you