Bent Road (17 page)

Arthur, his eyes forward, says, “The man needs his pride.”

Celia reaches across her girls, grabs Ruth’s coat sleeve before she can stand, and says, “I do not care about his pride. How can you do this?”

Still staring straight ahead, as if he’s not really talking to his wife, Arthur says, “He can’t do her any harm here. It’s only for the service.”

Ruth places her hand over Celia’s. “It’s okay,” she whispers, then smiles at Evie, kisses her on the cheek, and says, “See you after.”

Evie reaches out to hug Ruth. “We’ll make brownies still?”

“Yes, sweet pea.”

Celia, now gripping only the very edge of Ruth’s sleeve between two fingers, says, “Arthur, please.”

Arthur says nothing else, and without even having to look at Ruth, he motions again for her to go.

Sitting with a rigid back, Celia turns away from Arthur. Ruth gives her a wink, stands and slips past Reesa. Once outside the pew, she wraps her frail arms around her waist, cinching her long coat closed, hiding her belly. All through the sanctuary, heads perk up. People shift in their seats, look from Ray to Ruth and back again as Ruth shuffles down the center aisle, her head lowered, her shoulders slouched forward. At the third pew from the front, she makes the sign of the cross and slips past Ray into her seat. As if she had been waiting for Ruth to be seated, the organist begins the hymn, calling them all to prayer. Ray drapes his right arm over the back of the pew and around Ruth’s tiny shoulders.

After the organ plays its final note and the congregation closes and puts away their hymnals, Father Flannery steps to the pulpit. “The Lord be with you,” he says.

“And also with you,” the congregation responds in unison.

Several rows up, Ray is speaking the words along with the rest of the congregation, loudly, probably so that everyone can hear.

“My brothers and sisters,” Father Flannery says. “To prepare ourselves to celebrate the sacred mysteries, let us call to mind our sins.”

Celia doesn’t look at Arthur, but listens for his voice. She hears every breath he takes, but he doesn’t respond along with the others. “Lord have mercy,” they all say.

Arthur is silent.

“Christ have mercy.”

He says nothing. Even Daniel knows the words. He speaks them quietly.

“Let us pray,” Father Flannery says, and Celia bows her head as he delivers the opening prayer.

“Amen,” trickles across the church.

Arthur is silent.

Through the first and second reading, Celia watches Ruth and Ray, waiting for Ray to move or stand or take Ruth away. He doesn’t. He sits motionless, his arm draped around Ruth, and as Father Flannery begins his homily, Ray slouches in the pew, pulling Ruth closer. A few seats down from Celia, Evie squirms, and Reesa quiets her by placing a hand in her lap. Next to Celia, Daniel slides down in his seat, settling in, probably tired from his sleepover at Ian’s. Arthur sits straight, his feet planted squarely on the ground, his hands buckled into fists that rest on his thighs.

Finally, signaling that the end of mass is near, Father Flannery raises the host and breaks it. Several rows ahead, Ruth and Ray stand in tandem with Mary and Orville Robison, file out of the pew and walk to the front of the church. The other parishioners fall back and away from the awkward foursome, leaving a gaping hole in the procession. Orville holds Mary by the arm, helping her to walk, steadying her.

One by one, the parishioners step forward to receive the Eucharist, all the while keeping their distance. Celia stands to follow Reesa and Elaine. She pauses, waiting her turn, watching as Ruth steps up to Father Flannery, her head lowered, her hands cupped to receive communion. Though she can’t hear them from the back of the church, Celia knows what they are saying.

“The body of Christ,” Father Flannery will say, and Ruth will respond, “Amen.”

Father Flannery lays the host in Ruth’s hands. She places it on her tongue, bows to him and, with her head still lowered, she begins to follow the procession back to her seat. But before she can take a step, Father Flannery raises a hand, stopping her. He cups her chin in his palm, raises her face toward his, and smiles down at her. Ruth lifts her eyes to Father Flannery. Slowly, gazing down on her kindly, Father Flannery turns Ruth’s head to show her profile to the congregation. Then he presses a thumb to her mouth and wipes away her pink lipstick.

Celia grabs onto the back of the nearest pew. Elaine stops.

“Mother,” Elaine whispers, reaching for Celia’s hand. “Did you see that?”

Celia takes Elaine’s hand and looks back for Arthur, but he isn’t behind her. He has returned to his seat and is staring straight ahead. A few of those having already received communion and returned to their seats close their eyes and shake their head, as if sorry to have seen such a thing but certain that it needed to be done. As Ruth passes by, closer now because Celia has made her way to the front of the church, a pink stain smears her lips and left cheek. She slips back into the third pew, kneels and, with her head lowered in prayer, takes a tissue from her coat pocket and wipes the lipstick from her face.

Daniel grabs the back of Aunt Ruth’s seat as Dad takes a sharp turn into Grandma Reesa’s drive. He falls to the left, squishing Evie, and when the car straightens, they both sit up and Evie punches him in the arm.

“Get off me,” she says.

In the front seat, Mama grabs the dashboard. “Are we in such a hurry?”

Dad doesn’t answer until he has stopped near the garage and thrown the car into park.

“This family,” he says, staring straight ahead, “will never go to St. Anthony’s again.”

The car is silent for a moment. Daniel watches for what Grandma Reesa might do because she is the one who cares the most about church. Instead, Aunt Ruth, whose lips are smeared with a pink shadow, speaks.

“That’s not the answer, Arthur. Not on my account.”

Dad slams his hands on the steering wheel. Mama, who is sitting in the front seat, and Elaine, who is wedged between Aunt Ruth and Grandma Reesa, both jump. Aunt Ruth presses her hands over her mouth, Grandma Reesa lets out one of her groans and Evie’s chin puckers. Then the car is quiet. Daniel closes his eyes so his chin won’t pucker like Evie’s.

“I think you should all hustle inside,” Mama says quietly. “Evie, you and Elaine help Grandma set the table. Daniel, maybe you can start a fire. A fire would be nice.”

Daniel nods. Aunt Ruth opens one door, Grandma Reesa the other. A blast of cold air shoots through the car as Evie and Daniel crawl out from the last seat in the station wagon. Before Daniel steps out of the car, he turns back. He wants to tell Dad that he saw Uncle Ray at the Buchers’ and that he is going to drive a grader. He wants to ask him about hunting for quail and pheasant and if it’s as easy to shoot a bird as it is to shoot a prairie dog. He wants to ask Dad to help him practice before the Bucher brothers take him hunting. But when Dad glares at him, Daniel knows not to speak. Instead, he climbs out of the car and closes the door behind him.

 

W
aiting until the others have gone inside, Celia inhales, filling her lungs with crisp, dry air, and lays her hands in her lap.

“You shouldn’t have sent Ruth to sit with Ray,” she says.

Arthur crosses his arms on the steering wheel and rests his chin there. “One good snow will bring down that roof,” he says.

A few yards in front of the car, overgrown cordgrass, brown and brittle, has nearly swallowed up Reesa’s small shed.

“Lot of good snows over the years, I suppose,” Celia says. “And it’s still standing. Help me understand, Arthur. Why do that to Ruth?”

Arthur is quiet for a moment, staring straight ahead. “Are you sorry I brought you here?” he says, still looking at the shed and not at Celia.

His dark hair has grown past his collar, making him look younger and somehow stronger. Celia stretches her arm across the back of the seat and weaves her fingers into the dark waves.

“No. Well, sometimes.” She smiles but Arthur doesn’t see. “I’m glad we’re here for Ruth. And for our family. Elaine is certainly happy.”

“Yeah, Elaine’s happy.” He nods but doesn’t smile. “What about Evie and Daniel?”

Celia crosses her hands in her lap. “Happy enough. They’ll make more friends along the way.”

“That’s where we found her,” Arthur says, nodding toward the small shed.

“Who?” Celia says, sitting forward on her seat. “Do you mean Eve? You found Eve there?”

“Don’t know why Mother keeps it around.”

Celia falls back in her seat. “Right here. So close to home?”

Arthur nods and hangs his head between his arms. “The best I can do is to keep track of Ray,” he says. “It’s the best I can do. For now.” He lifts his head and kneads his brow with the palm of his hand. “I’ll take care of her.”

Celia nods.

“I’ll take care of Ruth,” he says again, this time speaking more to himself than to Celia.

“Yes, Arthur, you will. I know you will.” Wishing she meant what she said, Celia brushes her hand against his cheek. He leans into her touch. “People were different today. Did you notice? In church, they were different.”

Arthur glances at her but doesn’t answer.

“They think Ray did it.” Celia pauses but no response. She looks back at the shed that seems larger now. “They really think he took Julianne, don’t they?”

Still no answer.

“Because of what happened to Eve. Because Julianne was so like her.”

“Small town. Nothing much else for folks to talk about.”

“But what if he did? What if . . .”

“Ray didn’t have anything to do with what happened to Eve.”

“How do you know that, Arthur? How do you really, really know for sure?” Celia touches his hand. “You’ve always said how much Evie resembles your sister. Like Julianne did. If people really think . . . we have to consider it. For Evie’s sake. My God, Arthur. You found Eve dead right here,” she says, pointing across the drive toward the shed. “Right outside your mother’s house. How can you be so sure? You promised Ruth, remember? You promised her you wouldn’t be too sure of yourself.”

Arthur nods and lays a hand over Celia’s. “We’ll go to Hays from now on. For mass, we’ll go to Hays.”

Celia needs to trust him. Now, more than any other time, she needs to trust Arthur. And maybe she could have until she saw the looks on people’s faces today. Most of them have probably known Ray all their lives. And all of them believe.

“I think it would be a nice drive for all of us,” Celia says, trying to swallow the lump that has formed in her throat. “It’s a lovely church.”

Arthur nods. “Hays’ll be fine.”

 

E
vie listens for Daniel in the hallway outside Aunt Eve’s room. He is supposed to start a fire and that always takes him a good, long time. Grandma Reesa says the trees of Rooks County are plenty safe if the matches are in Daniel’s hands. Hearing nothing, she opens her small plastic tote and lays it on the bed. She blows the dust out of the corners and looks around the room. The Virgin Mary won’t fit inside the small case, and even if she did, Grandma Reesa would notice if Mary went missing. She is still mad at Daddy for gluing the hands back on, even though she said he could do it. Grandma says it’s shameful to use plain old glue on the Virgin Mary and to leave clumps of it stuck to her wrists. Evie walks to the table where the statue sits and touches the seam where Daddy glued her left hand onto her left wrist. She lifts Mary, tilts her back and forth, feels the weight of her before gently placing her back on the table.

Pausing to listen for footsteps again, but hearing nothing except the faraway clatter of Grandma Reesa’s pots and pans, she walks to the dresser next to the Virgin Mary’s table, opens the small, center drawer and peeks inside.

“Are these your pictures?” she says.

She giggles, feels that she’s done something naughty by talking to Aunt Eve like she’s right here in the same room. Glancing around, she muffles another giggle with one hand and, with the other, lifts out a small silver frame with a picture of Grandma Reesa when she wasn’t so big and a man, who must have been Grandpa. Evie holds the picture close to her face.

“He doesn’t look so nice. Was he a nice dad?”

No one answers. After propping the picture up on the cabinet, she takes out another.

“Just look at you,” she says, smiling down on a picture of Aunt Eve and Daddy. “Your hair is like mine. Look,” she says, holding up one of her own thin braids. “Just like mine.”

Evie sets the picture next to the first one and pulls the drawer open a little farther.

“Who is this?” she asks, and then nods. “It’s you, isn’t it? You seem so happy. Look at how you’re smiling.”

Pulling one sleeve down over her hand, Evie wipes the glass in the last frame and holds up the picture. A young man, much younger than Daddy, is lifting Aunt Eve off the ground. His arms are wrapped around her waist and Aunt Eve is smiling and holding a wide straw hat on her head with one hand so it won’t fall off. She is a girl, almost as old as Elaine, but not quite. The man is wearing a brown cowboy hat pushed high on his forehead. He has dark hair and is staring at Evie through the camera lens. Evie tilts her head left and right.

“He looks like Uncle Ray,” she says, smiling. “He’s so young and his eye is not so bad.”

Then she remembers the Uncle Ray who came to the house wanting a piece of Aunt Ruth’s pie and frowns. She looks around the room, at the closet full of dresses, at the Virgin Mary, at the window over the bed, wishing Aunt Eve would tell her the man isn’t Uncle Ray, but she doesn’t. Still hearing the clatter of Grandma Reesa’s pots and pans, Evie puts the first two pictures back in the center drawer, closes it and lays the third picture, the one of Aunt Eve and the happy man, in her small bag.