Bent Road - Lori Roy [59]
“I told her about Eve’s dresses,” Ruth says, stepping back to the table and lowering herself into her seat. “Told her what a wonderful seamstress Eve always was. She saw them in the upstairs bedroom and asked about them.” She turns toward Arthur. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Mama,” Elaine says, nodding toward Evie. “Go ahead.”
“Not today,” Celia says. “It’s your day.”
Arthur lays his gloves on the table and runs both hands over his hair, smoothing it. “It’s probably best,” he says.
Taking a few deep breaths, Celia squats so she is Evie’s size. “Evie, dear,” she says. “I know Aunt Eve is very special to you.”
Evie puckers her lips and nods. The very roundest part of her cheeks and the tip of her nose are red, chapped from the cold dry winter air even though it’s barely December. A lot of cold weather to go. The ends of her white, silky bangs catch in her eyelashes when she blinks. She tilts her head.
“She was very special to all of us,” Celia says, inhaling and holding the air in her lungs to steady her voice.
“Aunt Ruth showed me her picture. So now I know what she looks like.”
Celia takes Evie’s hands. They are warm and soft and still smell like the pink lotion she rubbed on her arms and hands after her bath the night before. “We know how you love Aunt Eve’s room and her dresses.”
Evie nods and starts to smile, but then stops and nods again.
“Honey, Aunt Eve won’t be coming to Elaine’s wedding.” Celia clears her throat. “Aunt Eve has passed on, Evie.”
Evie crosses her arms and bites her lower lip.
“You know what that means, right?” Elaine asks, reaching a hand toward Evie.
Evie ducks away from Elaine, plants her feet shoulder width apart and rests both fists on her waist. “I’m not stupid. I know what it means.”
“When she was quite young, Evie. She died when she was quite young.”
Celia glances at Arthur. He is leaning against the doorframe with his head lowered and his arms crossed. Less than five months in Kansas, and it must seem to Evie that everyone disappears or dies. First Julianne Robison and now Aunt Eve. In Detroit, Celia knew how to care for her children. She shut off the news when they came down for breakfast, locked the front gate, walked them to school. But here in Kansas, she doesn’t know what to lock. Now her fears walk through her very own kitchen, stand on her back steps, sneak up on her at church. In Kansas, she doesn’t know how to care for her children.
Celia stands from her squatting position and takes a few steps toward Evie. “We all miss Aunt Eve very much. We should have told you sooner, but we didn’t know when it would be right.”
“Why?” Evie asks.
“What, honey? What do you mean, why?”
“Why did she die?”
“No good reason why,” Arthur says. “Never a good reason.”
“Daddy’s right,” Celia says, tilting her head and smiling. “And we don’t need to talk about what happened right now. That’ll be for another day, but you should know that she would have loved you very much.”
“Is that why Aunt Eve didn’t get married and wear the dresses?” Evie asks. “Because she was dead?”
Ruth presses a hand over her mouth.
“Evie, let’s not talk about that,” Celia says. “Let’s just remember how much we loved Aunt Eve.”
“That’s why he hates Aunt Ruth,” Evie says, pointing at Ruth. “Uncle Ray wanted to marry Aunt Eve, but she died. She died and he had to marry you.”
Celia sucks in a quick breath, and Ruth closes her eyes.
“Evie Scott, that is a terrible thing to say,” Celia says.
“I saw a picture. I saw Aunt Eve and Uncle Ray. Uncle Ray is happy. He is smiling in the picture and his eyes are almost normal. Aunt Eve is wearing a straw hat. I saw it.”
Arthur steps into the kitchen and tosses his leather gloves on the table. “You will not say another word, young lady.”
“Aunt Eve died and Uncle Ray had to marry Aunt Ruth. That’s why he hates you.”
“Stop it now,” Arthur shouts, silencing the kitchen.
Evie pushes Celia’s hands away and takes a step backward.
“Please, Evie,