Bent Road - Lori Roy [96]
“Shut up,” Daniel says, holding half of his sandwich with both hands. “You don’t know anything about my aunt. You shut up.”
“Jacob remembers,” Ian says, talking about his oldest brother who is grown with his own two kids and lives in Colorado. “He remembers when it happened. Told us all everything. Ma told him to hush up about it, but he told us anyway. Says it was exactly like Julianne. Except they found Eve Scott before she rotted all away. All bloodied up between the legs. Just like Julianne Robison. Right?”
Daniel didn’t see much of Julianne, but he saw enough and heard enough from Jonathon to know Julianne didn’t have any legs left to be bloodied up—nothing but bones.
“You knew about her, right?” Ian says. “You knew about Eve Scott?”
Daniel doesn’t answer.
“Everyone else says it was your uncle. But I know it was Jack Mayer. I know it was. He bloodied them both up. Right there between the legs.”
Daniel drops his peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, squishing it with his knee as he lunges across the table. He grabs Ian’s collar and punches him square in the nose.
Chapter 28
Celia feels Arthur behind her, his body so much broader and taller, shielding her from the northern wind. No snow has fallen in four days, so while Arthur and the other county workers have cleared the roads and driving is easy enough, the temperature has continued to fall and not a flake has melted. Fourteen inches of snow covered the ground by the end of the day that they found Julianne, and the wind has stirred up the landscape, driving the snow into five-foot drifts in some spots and leaving frozen barren ground in others. Inside the cemetery, snow disguises the graves that lie in St. Anthony’s shadow, making them almost beautiful. Someone, probably the two black men standing near the fence line, waiting and smoking, shoveled a path from the gate to Julianne’s gravesite and the area around. Still, Celia’s feet are cold and damp and beside her, tucked under one arm, Evie shivers. Celia pulls her closer, letting Arthur shield them both.
Beside Evie, Daniel stands with his hands folded and his head lowered. The entire town is here, a sea of dark coats and hats that surround a tiny grave, lying in the shade thrown by three large pine trees. The pines’ branches are thick and white and clumps of snow drip when the wind blows. Celia tries to think it is a lovely spot for Julianne, so much nicer with the trees and the view of the church than the newer section of the cemetery where Mrs. Minken was recently buried. Here, Julianne lies near the grandparents she never met. Here, she lies in a grave that was probably meant for her mother.
From their spot near the back of the crowd, Father Flannery’s voice, fighting with the heavy wind, is no more than a broken few words. “Tender young life . . . accept God’s will . . . forbidden . . . we powerless sinners . . .”
Arthur touches Celia’s arm and points to a closer spot, but Celia shakes her head and squeezes Evie. She is afraid to go closer, afraid that whatever took Julianne might find its way to her family. After a brief silence, the mourners around Julianne’s grave say “Amen” in tandem and, following their lead, though she can’t hear Father Flannery, Celia makes the sign of the cross, nudging Evie to do the same.
Behind her, Celia feels Arthur make the sign across his chest and his deep voice echoes “Amen.” She leans into him, letting the sound of him comfort her. As everyone parts, filtering down the narrow shoveled path toward the gate, Evie tugs on Celia’s sleeve. In a whisper, she asks to go to Elaine, who is standing a few rows up with Jonathon, Ruth and Reesa. Celia nods, and watching until Elaine has wrapped both arms around Evie, she turns toward Arthur. He is gone.
Daniel offers his arm to Mama because when Dad slipped behind him and started to walk away, he whispered for Daniel to take care of her. Mama takes Daniel’s arm and smiles up at him.