Bent Road - Lori Roy [88]
Ruth lays down her knife and brushes a handful of crumbs off the counter into her palm, which she dumps into the sink. “No, Evie. He wouldn’t hurt the baby.” Ruth says it even though she’s not sure it’s the truth.
Evie stops swinging her legs and lifts her chin. She doesn’t look like a little girl when she raises her eyes to Ruth. Her skin is pale and gray, her eyes old and tired and the fringe of white bangs that usually hangs softly across her forehead has been pushed back, sharpening her jawline and cheekbones.
Tilting her head, Evie says, “Then maybe it’s time you go back home with him.”
Ruth smiles with closed lips. Her chin quivers. “Yes,” she says. “I think it’s time.”
Chapter 25
When day breaks on Saturday morning, the snow continues, but because the wind that blew all through the night has stopped, it falls straight down, in thick, heavy clumps. Outside the kitchen window, where the maple tree sparkles with an icy skin, two sets of tire tracks cut through four inches of snow that blanket the drive—one set going, partially filled in now with fresh snow, and one set coming, deep ruts that still show the indentation of the chains on Jonathon’s truck. Knowing the back door will swing open at any moment, followed by a blast of cold air, Celia slides her eggs off the hot burner and makes herself touch Ruth’s sleeve. Something to comfort her. The only thing Celia can manage. Ruth sets aside the potato she is grating for hash browns and wipes her hands on her apron.
Arthur walks into the kitchen first. Jonathon follows, shaking out his blue stocking cap and brushing the snow from his coat. Arthur takes off his hat and sets it on top of the refrigerator. His dark hair is wet and matted on the ends, his nose and cheeks are red and his shoulders are dusted with snow.
“Smoke coming from his chimney.” Jonathon slaps his hat against his thigh. “Someone must have driven him home from the hospital.”
“I spoke to Floyd,” Arthur says to Ruth. “He says they’re done over at your place. Done all they could. Didn’t find anything.”
“Been so long,” Jonathon says. “Since it happened, I mean. They didn’t really expect to.”
Ruth nods, and turning her back on them, she continues shredding her potato into a hot skillet, the paper-thin slivers sizzling and popping in melted butter.
After everyone has finished breakfast, Arthur asks Jonathon and Elaine to drive over to Reesa’s and bring her back to the house before the storm strands her alone and he tells Daniel to get busy shoveling the snow off the roof.
“The flat roof over the porch,” Arthur says. “That’ll be the trouble spot. The rest should be fine. Just fine.”
Daniel nods. “Yes, sir,” he says, holding his fork in his left hand and his knife in his right. Like Arthur, like a Midwesterner. All night, Daniel stayed awake with Jonathon and Arthur, boarding up the broken window, listening for Ray, and from the three cups that Celia found on the kitchen table this morning, he even drank coffee with them.
Once Jonathon and Elaine have left for Reesa’s, Arthur heads outside to bring more firewood up to the house and Ruth excuses herself to do some sewing, all of them leaving Celia alone in the kitchen. Even Evie shuffles back to her room, her head and shoulders slumped as if she’s thinking about Olivia. Outside, there is a thud as Daniel drops the ladder against the house. His footsteps cross overhead. Warming her coffee with a refill, Celia pulls out a chair, sits and cradles her mug. After a few deep breaths, she stares across the room at Elaine’s closed bedroom door, the one where Ruth and the baby were supposed to stay once the little one came along, except now Celia doesn’t want them here anymore. After the snow stops and the storm has passed, Ruth can go home with Reesa. She can live there, anywhere, as long as it’s away from Celia’s family. She doesn’t want Ruth and her baby in her home for one more day.
In Elaine’s room, Ruth pulls her suitcase from under the