Bent Road - Lori Roy [80]
Warm air meets them inside. It burns Daniel’s cheeks and lips. He inhales, drops down to one knee and holds Evie’s hands.
“Evie’s here. Evie’s home.”
Mama rushes in like the hot air, sweeping Evie up. She checks for missing parts, too. When she gets to Evie’s hands, Mama presses them to her cheeks and rubs them between her own hands, warming them, softening them up.
From behind Daniel, Dad says, “Where have you been, child?”
But Mama quiets Evie, tells her that it doesn’t matter. “You’re home, sweet pea. You’re so cold. So cold.” And then to Daniel. “Where?” is all she says.
“I turned around and there she was.” Daniel stands and whispers. “She saw Olivia. She saw what happened.”
“I left her lead on,” Evie says. “I did it. I left it on.” She cries into Mama’s shoulder. “I did it.”
Mama looks over Daniel’s head at Dad. Aunt Ruth wraps a blanket around Evie’s small body. The old quilt smells sour and moldy like the basement. Mama hates drying clothes in the basement.
“No, Evie,” Mama says. “It was an accident. No one’s fault.” Mama stretches out her arms, holding Evie where they can look into each other’s eyes. “Where were you, Evie? How did you get home?”
“Uncle Ray brought me,” she says. “We went to Mrs. Hathaway’s farm, but there were men there so Uncle Ray brought me home.”
Chapter 23
Celia cracks a third egg, cracks it so hard that the shell collapses in her hand leaving the yolk and white to slide through her fingers and into the dumpling dough. Dropping the shell into the sink and wiping her hands on the dishtowel tucked in her apron, she picks up a wooden spoon and stirs the thick dough. After a few minutes, she shifts the spoon to her other hand and continues to dig and grind until she’s breathing heavily. Pausing once to roll her head from side to side, she shifts hands again, wraps her forearm around the bowl, drops the spoon and kneads the dough by hand. On the front burner, the chicken stock grows from a simmer to a rolling boil.
“Take it easy,” Arthur says, leaning back in his chair and stretching.
Celia glances up at Arthur, but says nothing, and instead reaches for another egg. Reesa shakes her head. Celia grabs the egg anyway, cracks it as hard as the last and throws the empty shell toward the sink. She misses, and as it falls on the floor, she wipes her hands across the front of her white blouse.
Her right arm still in a sling, Ruth leaps from her seat to scoop up the shell. “A nice warm meal always makes things better,” she says. “Always makes the house smell so wonderful.” She talks as she picks up every piece of the slippery shell as if no one will notice the mess if she keeps talking.
“Making this house smell pretty good, that’s for sure,” Arthur says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table.
Celia takes a teaspoon from the drawer and begins to dip up the dough and drop it into the boiling broth, ignoring the fact that it’s too runny because she’s added one too many eggs. She clears her throat and chokes back a sob when Ruth, after cleaning the egg shell from her fingers, steps forward and whispers, “The kids are fine, Celia. Evie is fine. Safe and sound.”
Pausing mid scoop, while Ruth kneads another cup of flour into the dough, Celia says to Reesa, “I’ve asked that Evie return all of Eve’s things to you, along with an apology. I don’t know what she was thinking. And getting in that truck with Ray.” She stops, swallows. “We need to call Floyd and report this.”
“Report what?” Arthur says. “He gave the girl a ride home. Damn fool that he is, he just gave her a ride home.”
“They are searching his farm,” Celia says, stirring her broth. “Searching it with dogs. And he took Evie there. You know what that means.”
Arthur brushes his hair back from his face and takes a deep breath before speaking. “For twenty-five years, Floyd has been thinking Ray had something to do with what happened to Eve.” His eyes are swollen from his having rubbed them and from being tired. “That’s the only reason he’s keeping such an eye on Ray. Listen, I’ll keep him