Bent Road - Lori Roy [41]
“Who was Aunt Eve going to marry?” Evie asks, thinking that she probably isn’t a princess because she can’t feel anything except the buttons on Aunt Ruth’s dress.
Taking a deep breath, Aunt Ruth lifts her chin, and says, “A good man. She was supposed to marry a good man.”
Daniel is glad Dad went out for the night. If he were home, he’d be yelling at Daniel about something. That’s what Dad does most of the time now, yells at Daniel. Poking his potatoes and pushing them around the plate, he silently curses when one tumbles onto the red tablecloth Evie put out. Now he wonders if he’ll have to confess to Father Flannery or does it not count if you only think the bad words without actually saying them. Waiting until Mama isn’t paying attention, Daniel picks up the potato chunk and scoots his plate to cover the buttery stain. He glances up, wondering if anyone saw. Aunt Ruth winks and presses a finger to her lips.
Daniel tries to smile back, but every time he looks at Aunt Ruth since she caught him sneaking the rifle, he thinks she knows about the prairie dogs. He imagines that she saw him shoot that animal for no damn good reason, blow its head clean off. That’s what Ian had said. He went back and found that prairie dog with its head blown all the way off and showed it to his brothers so they would stop calling Daniel a city kid. Ian said he lifted that dead prairie dog up by its tail and flung it as far as he could, and his brothers had said Daniel must be a pretty good shot to blow off the head but leave the rest. Biting his lower lip and stabbing a new potato with his fork, Daniel wishes he’d never shot that prairie dog because he can’t ever take it back. But he did, and Aunt Ruth knows he has been taking the gun without permission.
“What was that?” Evie says, her mouth full of a buttered biscuit.
Daniel shakes his head at her. “Stop talking with food in your mouth.”
Evie swallows, rocking her head forward to help the biscuit go down. “There’s nothing in my mouth.”
“There,” Aunt Ruth says, staring past Daniel toward the kitchen window. “Is that what you heard?”
Mama pushes back from the table. “I didn’t hear anything,” she says, pressing out the pleats on the front of her dress. It’s what she does when she’s nervous, like when Dad went to meetings in Detroit about the Negro workers or the news showed pictures of burned-up cars and buildings. She hasn’t done it much since they moved to Kansas where they haven’t seen a single Negro or burned-up car. Also, Mama doesn’t wear skirts with pleats much anymore.
Evie nods, wiping a crumb from her chin. “That. What is it?”
Daniel turns in his seat, careful not to scoot his chair or make any noise. Through the white sheers, the window is black. “It’s the wind.”
“That’s not wind,” Evie says too loudly.
Daniel frowns and quiets her with a finger to his lips.
Again, as loudly as before, Evie says, “That was not wind. That was a thud. There it is again.”
“Yes,” Mama says, still pressing her pleats. “I hear it.”
“I think Daniel’s right.” Aunt Ruth tucks her napkin under the lip of her plate and stands. “Probably the wind. But to be on the safe side, I’ll check.”
“No, Aunt Ruth,” Daniel says, standing with a jerk and catching his chair before it tumbles over. “I’ll go. I should go.”
“Both of you stay put,” Mama says. “I’ll have a look.”
Evie jumps out of her seat and leaps toward Mama. “Let Daniel go,” she says.
Mama wraps an arm around Evie and kisses the top of her head. All four turn when something bumps the side of the house just below the kitchen window. The white sheers tremble.
“Someone’s outside the window,” Evie says, her voice muffled because her face is pressed into Mama’s side.
“Na,” Daniel says, watching the curtains, waiting for another thud. “There’s no one out there.” But he’s not sure now. The wind doesn’t bump into the house or stumble around the side yard. He wishes his heart weren’t beating so loudly because he can’t hear over it. He hates his God damned beating heart when