Bent Road - Lori Roy [93]
They start with the closest door. Daniels holds it while Jonathon unscrews it from its hinges. The job is easy until only the bottom hinge is left attached and Daniel has to hold the door square so it doesn’t bend the hinge and ruin it. He uses his legs for leverage and tries not to grunt so Jonathon won’t know how heavy it is for Daniel.
Once they have removed the door from its frame, the two of them carry it down the stairs and prop it up in the foyer where the wind and snow can’t get to it. Then they go back upstairs and do the same thing three more times. At the second small bedroom, Daniel asks Jonathon if he thinks Mr. Brewster would let them have the rocking chair for Evie. Jonathon says that he thinks a bottle of bourbon for Mr. Brewster would be a fair trade.
By the time there is only one door left, both Jonathon and Daniel have pulled off their coats and hats. “Just one more,” Jonathon says. “We’ll get it downstairs, wrap them up in a tarp or two and head on home.”
At the end of the hallway, Daniel opens the last door enough to grab onto the edge with one hand while holding the knob in the other. He waits while Jonathon unscrews the top hinge and braces himself as he pulls off the middle one. The door is instantly heavier. Daniel uses his legs to stabilize himself, and this time, he can’t help the grunt that escapes him.
“Here,” Jonathon says, taking part of the weight once he has removed the last screw. “Let’s lay it down for a minute.”
Daniel rests the bottom of the door on the floor and, following Jonathon’s lead, he slowly lowers it, walking backward so it can lie down in the hallway.
“Good Lord,” Jonathon says, dropping the door the last few inches.
The sudden movement makes Daniel stumble backward. When he catches his balance, Jonathon has already stepped over the door and taken two steps into the bedroom, blocking the entry. Daniel follows, slipping around Jonathon, stumbling again as he steps into the room.
“Jonathon,” he says. “What is that? Is that . . .”
Sheets cover none of the furniture in this room. A dresser and chest of drawers stand on opposite walls and a lace curtain hangs in the room’s only window. Bright white light spills inside, making the pale yellow walls shine. The snow is still falling. And there, its wrought-iron headboard centered on the largest wall, is a single bed made up with a white quilt that someone has carefully tucked around the remains of a very small person.
“Julianne Robison,” Jonathon whispers. “After all these months. It’s Julianne Robison.”
Chapter 27
Celia steps back, giving Ruth more room to roll out the noodle dough. Soon the white floury clump is nearly paper-thin and Ruth is dabbing her neck with a dish towel. She smiles at Celia, only half a smile really, and after pulling a tea towel from the top drawer, she drapes it over the noodles.
“They have to dry a bit now,” she whispers.
Celia nods, and she and Ruth sit at the kitchen table with the others.
“Part of the roof had collapsed by the time we got back with the sheriff,” Jonathon says. “Fellows from Clark City came out, too.”
Arthur stretches and rests one arm on the back of Celia’s chair. Ruth sits next to Reesa; Daniel, across the table from them.
Jonathon continues. “They had a hard time of it, getting up the stairs to find her.”
Reesa shakes her head and makes a tsk tsk sound. Daniel props his elbows on the table and rests his chin in his hands. His nose and cheeks are red and probably chapped, too. And Elaine, who was checking on Evie and making certain her door was shut tight, walks back to the table and stands behind Jonathon.
“Floyd brought her down. Couldn’t do much looking around, though. Wrapped her up tight as he could in that quilt of hers and brought her on down. Nothing left. Not a damn thing of her left.”
Celia presses her hand over her mouth. “Are they sure it’s her?”
“Sure as they can be. She had blond hair. Looked more like dried straw, what was left of it. But Floyd, he said that means blond. And she was no