Bent Road - Lori Roy [48]
“Nothing,” Daniel says, studying his dirty, chipped nails when Arthur looks up at him.
Reesa finishes scattering the bread crumbs over the cubed meat. “Do you want to watch, Celia?”
From her seat at the kitchen table, Celia says, “I can see fine from here. Thank you.”
“Can we forget about the meat for a minute?” Arthur says.
“When you do this yourself,” Reesa says, leaning toward Celia as if no one can hear, “you should freeze the meat first, after you’ve cubed it. Makes the grinding easier.”
Celia flashes another smile and the meat grinder begins to whine.
“Are we done with the meat, everyone?”
Reesa, breathing heavily from the effort it takes to turn the hand crank, ignores the question.
“We’re done,” Celia says.
“This is bad,” Arthur says. “He’s awful close now, and pretty soon, you’ll be big as a barn.”
Celia exhales, nodding as Reesa tilts the bowl of ground meat so Celia can see what it’s supposed to look like. “She won’t be big as a barn,” Celia says. “We can still hide that peanut for a few months.”
Nearly knocking Daniel to the floor when he stands, Arthur pinches his brows at him as if Daniel is somehow always in the way. “And what then? A half a mile away, Celia. What then?”
“Why are you angry with me? I didn’t invite the man back.”
“I didn’t say I was angry with you. I said . . .”
“Please,” Ruth says, pushing back from the table with one hand and holding the other over her stomach. “Don’t argue. Maybe Mother is right. Maybe I should live here. It is a good bit farther away.”
“You plan on staying locked up here for good?” Arthur says. “Never going to church again? Never going to the store? That,” he says, pointing at her stomach, “will be hard to hide in a very short time.”
“That’s uncalled for, Arthur,” Celia says, starting to stand, but Ruth holds up a hand that stops her.
“I understand what you’re saying, Arthur. Really, I do. But I’m not your problem to solve. Let me move here with Mother. It will be easier. I’ve done it before. Lived here for a time.” She pauses. “Lived here until things quieted down. Besides, Ray was sober. Maybe he’ll stay that way.”
Daniel, one foot crossed lazily over the other, clears his throat. “Ian says some folks think Uncle Ray did something to Julianne. He says folks think Uncle Ray is that crazy.”
“Ray didn’t do anything to that girl,” Arthur says, leaning against the wall. “Man’s a damn fool and a drunk, but he didn’t take that child. Folks are just trying to piece together the past.”
“How do you know that, Arthur?” Celia says, feeling that she should believe her husband, have faith in him, know that he’ll protect his family. But since the moment Ray stood on her porch, his one good eye staring at the buttons on her blouse, she doesn’t feel any of those things anymore. She doesn’t believe. She’s heard the murmurs when she and Ruth walk through the deli in Palco, seen the sideways glances. More and more, people believe it. They believe Ray is the reason Julianne Robison has never come home.
“How can you be so sure?” she says. “We should be cautious, more mindful.”
Outside, a truck rambles down Reesa’s driveway, stops and idles near the garage.
“Think your ride is here, Dan,” Jonathon says, stepping back from the table for a better view out the kitchen window. “Yep, it’s Gene Bucher.”
“Can I go, Mom?”
Celia nods, motioning for him not to forget his overnight bag.
“Your toothbrush is in the side pocket,” she calls out as the screened door slams. “And mind your manners.”
When the truck passes by on its way back to Bent Road, Arthur sits again, but this time, instead of pressing his back straight and sitting with one foot cocked over the opposite knee, he leans forward and rests his head in his hands.
“Ray didn’t do anything to Julianne Robison.” He looks up at Celia, holds her gaze. “He didn’t do it.” He stares at her until she lowers her eyes. “And please don’t you start talking about leaving,” he says, turning toward Ruth. “You know damn well I can’t have you living in this house.”