Bent Road - Lori Roy [94]
Ruth stands. Everyone stops talking.
“Just checking my noodles,” she says, slipping behind Celia.
“So, what’s next?” Arthur says. “Has anyone told Mary and Orville?”
“Floyd was going there straightaway from the house. Roads weren’t so bad yet near town, so I’m sure he got there. Didn’t want to bring them out to the house.” Jonathon takes a sip of coffee that must have gone cold. “Funeral’s next, I suppose.”
Everyone around the table nods and Reesa makes her tsk tsk sound again. “How are those noodles coming along?” she asks Ruth, who is still staring at the counter.
“You know the strangest thing about it all?” Jonathon says, not really asking anyone in particular. “She’s been there all along. The mattress, well . . .” He pauses, scans the table and whispers, “Floyd said it was stained, badly. From all the decomposition.”
“Good Lord in heaven,” Reesa says.
“But the quilt that was laid over her,” Jonathon says, “it was clean. White as brand new. And the room. Spotless. Furniture dusted. Windows clean. But that quilt. That’s the strangest of all. Clean as brand new.”
Celia pushes back from the table and goes to stand with Ruth at the counter. “You all right?” she asks, touching Ruth’s shirtsleeve.
Ruth nods that she is fine, and says, “Who would do such a thing? Who would do such a terrible, terrible thing?”
“Jack Mayer,” Daniel says. “That’s who.”
A few days later, when the snowstorm has passed and the trucks have cleared all the roads into town, Evie has to go back to school. Miss Olson called Mama on Sunday night to say all the teachers decided it best not to disrupt the children’s lives anymore than they already had been. Julianne had been missing for such a long time, after all. Mama shook her head after she hung up with Miss Olson and told Evie and Daniel to rustle up some clean, warm clothes because Monday was a school day.
On Evie’s very first day of school in Kansas, everyone had known that she had to sit where Julianne Robison would have sat if she hadn’t disappeared, because everyone had to sit in alphabetical order. Scott sat where Robison couldn’t, but this morning, as Evie walks into class, pulling off her coat and mittens, Miss Olson has mixed up all the desks. Some point forward, some sideways, some toward the back of the room. Most are still empty.
“Today is crazy mixed-up day,” Miss Olson says. “Pick a seat, Evie. Pick any seat you like.”
Evie hangs her coat on one of the hooks inside the door and walks past Irene Bloomer and John Atwell, toward the back of the room, wondering why Miss Olson mixed up all the desks, but she doesn’t wonder for long. Miss Olson doesn’t want anyone to know which desk would have been Julianne’s if she wasn’t dead. But Evie knows. She knows because she sat in it for the whole first part of the year. The pencil holder in Julianne’s desk is covered with black scribbles and someone carved a five-pointed star in the bottom right corner. At the very back of the room, in one of the desks turned sideways, Evie sits. She lowers her head as the rest of the kids walk into class, everyone giggling at the silly messed-up desks even though they’re supposed to be sad about Julianne being dead. Some of them must remember this, because after they giggle a little, they cover their mouths and lower their heads, too.
After the second bell rings, Miss Olson tells everyone to settle down and turn their desks if they can’t quite see the blackboard. Squeaks and squeals bounce around the room as everyone scoots until they can see Miss Olson. Once the room quiets again and Miss Olson begins to call attendance, Evie lays her index finger on the tip of the star, slowly traces each of its five points and wishes she could be dead like Julianne Robison. If she were dead, being small wouldn’t matter because no one makes fun of a dead person. If she were dead, Julianne Robison could be her friend. If she were dead, she wouldn’t have to miss Aunt Eve and Olivia.
Feeling tired, like he might never feel good again, Daniel walks into his classroom, hangs his coat