Bent Road - Lori Roy [53]
By the time Orville finished his first cup of coffee, he had noticed the three girls, just like they had noticed him. Leaning on the café counter with one elbow while a young Isabelle Burris dropped two cubes of sugar in his coffee, Orville Robison tipped the brim of his hat toward the girls’ table. Even at thirteen, Ruth could see that he noticed Eve most of all. She had the kind of beauty that made people stop to stare at her as if they might never see such a thing again. Orville was no different from most folks who saw Eve for the first time. He looked at her once, at all of them sitting around the table, glanced away, and as if surprised, as if unable to trust his own eyes, he looked again. The second time, he looked only at Eve. But Eve was barely fifteen, so within the amount of time it took Orville Robison to finish that cup of coffee, he settled on Mary, the oldest of the three—nearly nineteen. Six months later, Mary Purcell became Mary Robison. Together, the three girls hand-stitched Mary’s wedding gown and she wore a red feather tucked in her garter.
Lowering her eyes and pressing her hands together, Ruth prays that Julianne will come home to Mary and Orville soon. So many years, the two of them went without a child, but then, like the rain that came after so many years of dust, Julianne was finally born. Even after Mary’s hair had started to gray and her friends were counting grandchildren, Julianne was born. Ruth finishes her prayer for Julianne with a silent “Amen,” makes the sign of the cross to bless the Robison family in God’s name, opens her eyes and there is Ray, sitting in the third pew.
Celia reaches across Elaine and Evie and touches Ruth’s forearm. Her face is pale again, like that first day she slid out of Ray’s truck, a strawberry pie cradled in her hands. Ray nods in their direction. His eyes, even the bad one, rest on Ruth. With the tiniest motion, no more than raising one eyelid, he calls Ruth to him. Placing a hand on the back of the pew in front of them, Ruth turns toward Celia again. Celia squeezes Ruth’s arm until she can feel the small, tender bone through her wool overcoat. Ruth lowers her head and scoots forward on the wooden bench.
“I can’t believe he would sit right there next to Mary and Orville,” Celia whispers and shakes her head. “You stay put, Ruth.” And then to Arthur, she says, “Tell Ruth to stay put.”
It seems that all through the church, in the pews in front of Ray and behind, people begin to scoot in whichever direction will take them farther away from the man they all think took Julianne Robison. Ever since the men from the state came to help Floyd search for Julianne, people have become more convinced than ever that Ray took the child and that he killed Eve all those years ago. Getting their first glimpse of him since he came back home, they raise their hands to their mouths so they can whisper unseen. They take sideways glances. They turn away if Ray catches their eye. Some of them even give Ruth a fleeting look, just long enough to pucker their lips at the sour taste of it all and shake their heads, but Mary and Orville Robison seem to take no notice. Instead, they stare at the empty spot where Father Flannery will soon stand, without even a glance toward Ray.
“Arthur,” Celia whispers again. “Tell Ruth to stay put.”
Arthur tips his head in greeting to Ray, and with the smallest nod, he motions Ruth to go.
Celia sucks in a mouthful of air, and with Daniel caught between them, she hisses at Arthur. “What? What are you doing?”
Arthur, his eyes forward, says, “The man needs his pride.”
Celia reaches across her girls, grabs Ruth’s coat sleeve before she can stand, and says, “I do not care about his pride. How can you do this?”
Still staring straight ahead, as if he’s not really talking to his wife, Arthur says, “He can’t do her any harm here. It’s only for the service.”
Ruth places her hand over Celia