Bent Road - Lori Roy [87]
“Dan,” Jonathon says. He breathes heavily and jostles Uncle Ray to get a better hold on him. “Can you give me a hand?”
Daniel glances back at Aunt Ruth, the only one left standing on the porch. She gives a nod, so Daniel steps up to Jonathon’s truck and grabs one of Uncle Ray’s arms.
“Should have left that girl to freeze,” Uncle Ray mumbles. Both Daniel and Jonathon turn away from his breath. “God damn dogs. Even dug up my yard.”
Clearing his throat and trying to suck in fresh air, Daniel slips under Uncle Ray’s left arm and pulls it around his own shoulders so he can use his legs to lift. Together, he and Jonathon toss Uncle Ray into the truck.
“Tell your folks I’m taking him to the hospital,” Jonathon says. Once Uncle Ray is inside the truck, Jonathon walks around to the driver’s side. “From the looks and smell of it, he’s mostly drunk. Nothing a few stitches won’t take care of.”
Daniel nods and steps back as Jonathon slides into the truck. Not certain why he does it, Daniel lifts a hand to wave good-bye. Starting the engine, Jonathon gives Uncle Ray a shove, causing his head to bounce off the passenger side door. He smiles and waves back.
Ruth counts out three tablespoons of coffee, plugs in the pot and watches, waiting for hot water to bubble up in the small glass lid. She startles, her shoulders and neck tensing, when Arthur begins to pound again. Each blow of the hammer vibrates through the floorboards. Soon, he’ll have the broken window covered over with plywood and they can all go back to bed. Daniel is with him, fetching nails and scraps of wood, just like he did when the two worked together to repair the broken window in the garage. Elaine has gone to her room and Celia is taking a shower. Ruth didn’t ask why she would shower so late at night when she’s sure to catch a chill and maybe a nasty cold. She knew enough, had seen enough, to know the answer.
Soon, steam begins to leak from the coffeepot and it gives its first gurgle. Outside the dark kitchen window is the beginning of a good snowstorm. Making herself smile first, Ruth turns to face Evie, who sits at the kitchen table, swinging her legs because her feet don’t reach the floor yet. With a creased brow, Evie watches Ruth. In the back of the house, Arthur begins to pound again.
“Your daddy and Daniel must be nearly finished,” Ruth says, taking a loaf of sourdough bread from the top of the refrigerator and readjusting her sling. Her arm isn’t so sore anymore. Tomorrow she’ll take it off. “Do you feel it? The draft—it’s almost gone. The house will warm up again soon. They’ll be hungry, don’t you think?”
Evie nods.
“And then it’s off to bed with you.”
Evie, still swinging her legs, leans forward and rests her chin in her hands. “Why does Uncle Ray hit you?”
Ruth stops in the middle of cutting a slice of sourdough and with her eyes lowered, she says, “I don’t know, Evie. Except that life is harder on some people.”
“Is it harder on Uncle Ray?”
“Yes,” Ruth says, finishing one slice and starting another. “I’d say it has been.”
“Because he wanted to marry Aunt Eve but she died and he had to marry you instead.”
Ruth nods. “Yes. Yes, that’s hard on a person.”
“But he wouldn