Bent Road - Lori Roy [46]
“I didn’t hear your truck,” Ruth says.
“Truck’s dead. Walked up here thinking Arthur could give me a jump.” Ray takes off his hat, holds it at his side and tips a nod in Evie’s direction. “Thought about that pie, too.”
“Arthur’s not here.” Celia takes Daniel’s arm. “Try again tomorrow.”
“Dan can help, can’t he?” Ray glances at Daniel. “Arthur letting you drive a truck these days?”
The tips of Ray’s boots hang over the edge of the threshold, teetering there, not quite inside, not quite out.
“No, Ray.”
Everyone turns toward Ruth. She is almost lost, wedged between Celia, Evie and Daniel. Celia glances down at Ruth’s belly. She has wrapped both arms around her waist as if hugging herself for warmth.
“Daniel can’t help,” Ruth says. “You try tomorrow. When Arthur is here.”
“Sure is a cold one tonight,” Ray says, winking his droopy lid at Celia. His good eye travels from her face down to the white buttons on the front of her dress. It lingers there long enough to be too long, while his cloudy eye floats about. “I can wait maybe. Nothing wrong with waiting a spell. Arthur be home soon?”
Caught between two answers, Celia can’t reply. It’s something about the way he stares at her, taking his time, letting his eyes linger, maybe imagining something. Wondering if the others notice and feeling ashamed for it, she shuffles her bare feet and wraps her arms around her waist.
“Tomorrow,” Celia finally says. “You’ll see Arthur tomorrow and no sooner.”
Daniel yanks off Dad’s jacket, slings it toward an empty hook where one arm catches, leaving the jacket to hang lopsided, and stomps into the kitchen. Evie follows, still clutching Mama, while Aunt Ruth flips the deadbolt and waits in the window until Uncle Ray’s footsteps go down the stairs. Then she hurries into the kitchen ahead of Daniel, Mama and Evie, and leaning over the sink, she stands on her tiptoes so she can see out the window.
“He’s leaving,” she says quietly, as if Uncle Ray might hear, and hoists herself onto the counter for a better view. “He’s at the end of the drive now.”
“Ruth,” Mama says, dropping Evie in her seat at the kitchen table. “Please get down before you hurt yourself.”
“He’s gone for sure,” Aunt Ruth says, holding her swollen belly as she slides off the counter. “I’m so sorry for the trouble. So sorry if he scared anyone.”
“I wish it had been Julianne,” Evie says, poking her cold potatoes with the tip of her butter knife. “I wish we would have found her.”
Mama tilts her head, sighs and brushes the hair from Evie’s forehead.
“I should have had my rifle,” Daniel says.
Mama’s head lifts straight up. “Daniel, no,” she says, reaching out to him.
He steps back and doesn’t take her hand.
“Don’t say that. Don’t you ever say that.”
“A rifle would have stirred up a mess,” Aunt Ruth says, moving to stand next to Mama. “A real mess.”
“Would have made a mess of Uncle Ray.”
“Daniel,” Mama whispers. “That is never a good answer. Never. You did fine, just fine. Your father will be very proud of you.”
Daniel leans a bit so he can see between Mama and Aunt Ruth. “You left that strap on Olivia,” he says to Evie. “She’s a cow, not a dog.”
“Did not,” Evie says, stabbing a potato and waving it at Daniel. “Did not. Did not. Did not. You left the gate open.”
Daniel steps forward, wanting to grab Evie by the hair and fling her onto the porch, fling her all the way back to Detroit.
“It’s done now, kids,” Mama says, pressing a hand to Daniel’s chest. And then in a quieter voice, as if she’s afraid Uncle Ray might hear, she says, “Let’s please not argue.”
“Sorry, Mama,” Evie says.
Mama smiles, but it isn’t a real smile. It’s the smile she gives