Bent Road Part 17

She pushes his hands away. "Shhhh," she says. "Listen. I think someone's at the back door. Do you hear it?"

Reaching with one hand for the spot between Celia's legs, Arthur mumbles something about the wind. Celia slides off the end of the bed, yanks the quilt from under Arthur's feet, causing him to startle, and after wrapping it around herself and securing it by tucking in one end, she stands and looks straight into the eyes of a black silhouette standing in the window.

"Arthur," she says through clenched teeth.

Backing away from the window, she trips over the quilt and, as she stumbles, each step yanks down the blanket until she is naked again. The black silhouette still stands in the window.

"Arthur, someone is there," Celia says, squatting behind the bed and gathering up the quilt.

Arthur sits up, swings his legs around so that he is staring directly into the window. He is close enough to touch the gla.s.s. It's black. Empty.

"No one there, Celia," he says.

"Well, I saw someone. And I heard knocking."

Arthur exhales, loudly enough that Celia can hear, stands, pulls on the jeans draped over the end of the bed and walks past her, giving a playful tug on her quilt. She slaps his hand and gathers the cover under her chin with two fists.

"It's probably Jonathon. That kid might as well put his name on the mailbox."

As Arthur opens the bedroom door and steps into the kitchen, Celia whispers, "Jonathon wouldn't peek in our window."

"Suppose not," he says. "I'll give a look."

Evie pulls her robe closed and presses her face to the gla.s.s in the back door that leads onto the porch. With each breath, a frosty patch balloons on the window. Soon, she can't see outside. Rolling her head to the left, she presses her ear against the cold, wet gla.s.s. Quiet. She looks again and, seeing nothing and hearing nothing, she takes a step back, pulls the sleeve of her flannel nightgown down over her hand like a mitten and rubs a circle in the icy patch of gla.s.s.

"Evie," Daddy says.

A light switches on in the kitchen.

"Evie," he says again, taking a step toward her.

He fills up the small hallway that leads from the kitchen, past the bas.e.m.e.nt stairs, to the back door.

"Step away, Evie."

Evie smiles at Daddy, turns back to the window and looks up to see Uncle Ray's face where it was dark before. She knows it's him because he wears his hat high off his forehead, but something about Uncle Ray isn't quite right. As Evie steps away, he steps forward. His head sways, like it's not screwed on tight enough, and one shoulder hangs lower than the other. Pressing both hands against the gla.s.s, he says something and smiles a crooked smile.

"What?" Evie says, stepping forward again and putting one hand on the door handle. It's cold but she squeezes it anyway. "Uncle Ray's out there," she says, looking back at Daddy.

Uncle Ray doesn't scare her like he used to, like he did on the night he asked for pie, because Aunt Eve loved Uncle Ray even if one of his eyes wanders off where it doesn't belong. She loved him so much she wanted to marry him but then she died and he had to marry Aunt Ruth. He wouldn't even be mean at all if Aunt Ruth had died instead.

"Don't open that, Evie," Daddy says, taking another step toward her. "Come away from there."

Uncle Ray looks over Evie's head. He sees Daddy standing behind her. Daddy isn't wearing a s.h.i.+rt and his feet must be cold, too. The handle is warm in Evie's hand now. Uncle Ray isn't smiling anymore, and in the dark, his cloudy eye is a black hole. With one hand, he knocks on the gla.s.s. With the other, he rattles the door.

"You tell Ruth to come out here," Uncle Ray shouts through the gla.s.s. "I should have left your girl to freeze."

Now Mama and Aunt Ruth are standing behind Daddy. All three of them creep closer, looking like Daddy and Daniel when they found a rattlesnake in the barn. Daddy snuck up on the snake with a long-handled spade. He hacked it in two and said to Daniel, "Careful, son. Rattlers never travel alone." They found another snake coiled up in the back corner of Olivia's stall, its tail shaking like a tin of dried beans. Daddy hacked it up, too.

"Evie, honey. Come on back to bed," Mama says, peeking around Daddy. "You must be so cold."

Aunt Ruth, standing at Daddy's other side, nods.

"You know they think I was taking their girl, Ruth? That what you think, too? That why Floyd's got his G.o.d d.a.m.n dogs over at our house?"

Evie presses against the door, the k.n.o.b still in her hand. She can feel Uncle Ray on the other side, jiggling the handle, wanting to come in. He shakes it harder. It sounds like the second snake when Daddy crept toward it, the dry hay snapping under his black boots. Evie frowns, imagining that Daddy is carrying a long handled spade.

"Go on home, Ray," Daddy shouts, taking another step toward Evie. "It's too late for this now."

Daddy must make Uncle Ray mad because he starts banging on the door. Just over Evie's head, his fist pounds into the gla.s.s. The door rattles in its frame. Evie knows what Uncle Ray is doing is bad. She can see it in Mama and Aunt Ruth's faces. Their eyes are wide and they are both leaning around Daddy like they want to scoop up Evie and wrap her in her favorite patchwork quilt. Evie presses against the door. The gla.s.s shakes overhead. Uncle Ray is pounding with both fists now, probably because he sees Aunt Ruth. He wants to talk to her and to see his baby. That's what he said in the hospital. That's all he wants. And now the men with dogs are at his house and he's mad about it. Daddy reaches to grab Evie's arm.

"Go on, Ray," Daddy shouts.

"What'd you tell them?" Uncle Ray keeps beating on the gla.s.s.

Evie pulls away from Daddy and wraps both hands around the k.n.o.b. It's so warm now, almost hot. Daddy grabs both of Evie's shoulders. His fingers dig into her arms, like a snakebite, like a rattler bite. She cries out. Her breath fogs the gla.s.s. Uncle Ray looks fuzzy. Maybe he smiles, but Evie isn't sure because the gla.s.s is cloudy. He pulls back both fists in one motion and brings them down as Daddy lifts Evie up and away.

"What'd you tell them?" Uncle Ray shouts.

The gla.s.s shatters into tiny pieces and rains down like the fuzzy-tipped seedlings Evie and Daniel blew off the tops of dandelions when they first moved to Kansas. Dangling from Daddy's arms, Evie watches the feathery gla.s.s sprinkle down around her. Daddy holds her, crouched over, s.h.i.+elding her so she can't see Uncle Ray or the door or Mama. Only the feathery gla.s.s. The house falls silent.

Because she can't breathe very well, Evie twists and squirms until Daddy stands. He turns away from the window, and after taking a few steps toward Mama and Aunt Ruth, his body tensing each time he steps on a piece of gla.s.s, he hands Evie to Mama like a cup of hot soup, carefully so none of her spills over. Laying her head on Mama's shoulder, Evie can see Daddy. He is staring at the broken window. Uncle Ray is there, his fists frozen where they hit the gla.s.s. He looks at Evie, or maybe he's looking at Mama. Mama sets Evie down, gathers the top of her robe under her chin with one hand and waves at Evie to go back into the kitchen. Yes, he's looking at Mama. He smiles.

Daddy stands still for a moment, watching Uncle Ray smile at Mama and then he lunges, leaping over the scattered gla.s.s. He grabs at Uncle Ray through the broken window, but Uncle Ray is gone, across the porch and down the steps. Daddy throws open the door.

"Arthur, no," Mama shouts. "Leave it be."

But Daddy doesn't listen, and he runs after Uncle Ray.

Hearing the gla.s.s break, Daniel slips by Elaine, who has just hung up with Jonathon. She grabs for Daniel's sleeve, but he is too quick. A few short steps and he is across the kitchen and standing at the top of the stairs that lead to the bas.e.m.e.nt. He reaches for the gun cabinet but it's locked, and the spot where Dad's shotgun usually hangs is empty. But Daniel's rifle is there, right where it should be. Aunt Ruth hears him, grabs his hand and shakes her head. He pulls away from her. This time, he'll take a shot. He'll have his own gun and the trigger won't be too heavy. He could shoot Uncle Ray, kill him dead just fine with his .22. And he'd do it, too, in three perfect shots, if the cabinet weren't locked. No time to fish for the key. He pushes between Aunt Ruth and Mama and follows Dad out the door.

Before Daniel crosses the porch, a light flips on. In the center of the gravel drive, near the garage, Dad catches up to Uncle Ray, whose legs can't keep up with his top half. He is stumbling and falling from side to side until Dad grabs his collar. For a moment, Uncle Ray is steady on his feet until Dad yanks him backward, causing Uncle Ray's boots to fly out from under him. Landing flat on his back, he lets out a groan. As Dad kicks Uncle Ray in the side, wincing and bouncing on one leg after he does it because he is barefooted, snowflakes begin to fall, sparkling in the porch light.

Making no noise, Dad drops down and drives one knee into Uncle Ray's ribs. Something cracks. Sitting on Uncle Ray's chest, Dad holds him square with his left hand and beats him in the face with his right. Uncle Ray's shoulders bounce off the ground with each punch. He lets out m.u.f.fled grunts, like Dad is beating all the air out of his lungs. The black tangled hairs on Dad's chest sparkle with wet snowflakes. He pounds Uncle Ray's face again and again until a set of oncoming headlights flash around the corner of the house. With one fist caught in midair, Dad stops. His sparkling chest lifts and lowers, and thick frost floats from his mouth, up and around his head and neck. Daniel turns and squints into the bright light. Stepping out of the truck and seeing Dad and Uncle Ray, Jonathon reaches back inside and flips off the headlights. He pulls on his hat and tugs the brim low over his forehead.

"How about I take it from here, Arthur?" Jonathon says.

Dad stands, his bare feet straddling Uncle Ray. He nods and says, "Good enough."

Jonathon walks a few yards across the gravel drive, his footsteps the only sound, bends down and slips his hands under Uncle Ray's shoulders. Without saying anything to Elaine or Mama or Aunt Ruth, who are all standing at the top of the stairs, Jonathon drags Uncle Ray's limp body to his truck, his boots leaving two thin trails in the dusting of snow that has started to cover the gravel drive. Daniel runs to the pa.s.senger side of the truck and opens the door. He blinks away the snowflakes that catch in his eyelashes and watches Jonathon try to lift Uncle Ray, but when he can't quite get him into the truck, Jonathon looks to Dad for help. Dad, having not moved, stares at Jonathon for a moment before walking inside. First, the screened door slams shut, next the door off the kitchen. Mama and Elaine follow him but Aunt Ruth doesn't move. She stands, watching Jonathon try to lift Uncle Ray into the truck.

"Dan," Jonathon says. He breathes heavily and jostles Uncle Ray to get a better hold on him. "Can you give me a hand?"

Daniel glances back at Aunt Ruth, the only one left standing on the porch. She gives a nod, so Daniel steps up to Jonathon's truck and grabs one of Uncle Ray's arms.

"Should have left that girl to freeze," Uncle Ray mumbles. Both Daniel and Jonathon turn away from his breath. "G.o.d d.a.m.n dogs. Even dug up my yard."

Clearing his throat and trying to suck in fresh air, Daniel slips under Uncle Ray's left arm and pulls it around his own shoulders so he can use his legs to lift. Together, he and Jonathon toss Uncle Ray into the truck.

"Tell your folks I'm taking him to the hospital," Jonathon says. Once Uncle Ray is inside the truck, Jonathon walks around to the driver's side. "From the looks and smell of it, he's mostly drunk. Nothing a few st.i.tches won't take care of."

Daniel nods and steps back as Jonathon slides into the truck. Not certain why he does it, Daniel lifts a hand to wave good-bye. Starting the engine, Jonathon gives Uncle Ray a shove, causing his head to bounce off the pa.s.senger side door. He smiles and waves back.

Ruth counts out three tablespoons of coffee, plugs in the pot and watches, waiting for hot water to bubble up in the small gla.s.s lid. She startles, her shoulders and neck tensing, when Arthur begins to pound again. Each blow of the hammer vibrates through the floorboards. Soon, he'll have the broken window covered over with plywood and they can all go back to bed. Daniel is with him, fetching nails and sc.r.a.ps of wood, just like he did when the two worked together to repair the broken window in the garage. Elaine has gone to her room and Celia is taking a shower. Ruth didn't ask why she would shower so late at night when she's sure to catch a chill and maybe a nasty cold. She knew enough, had seen enough, to know the answer.

Soon, steam begins to leak from the coffeepot and it gives its first gurgle. Outside the dark kitchen window is the beginning of a good snowstorm. Making herself smile first, Ruth turns to face Evie, who sits at the kitchen table, swinging her legs because her feet don't reach the floor yet. With a creased brow, Evie watches Ruth. In the back of the house, Arthur begins to pound again.

"Your daddy and Daniel must be nearly finished," Ruth says, taking a loaf of sourdough bread from the top of the refrigerator and readjusting her sling. Her arm isn't so sore anymore. Tomorrow she'll take it off. "Do you feel it? The draft-it's almost gone. The house will warm up again soon. They'll be hungry, don't you think?"

Evie nods.

"And then it's off to bed with you."

Evie, still swinging her legs, leans forward and rests her chin in her hands. "Why does Uncle Ray hit you?"

Ruth stops in the middle of cutting a slice of sourdough and with her eyes lowered, she says, "I don't know, Evie. Except that life is harder on some people."

"Is it harder on Uncle Ray?"

"Yes," Ruth says, finis.h.i.+ng one slice and starting another. "I'd say it has been."

"Because he wanted to marry Aunt Eve but she died and he had to marry you instead."

Ruth nods. "Yes. Yes, that's hard on a person."

"But he wouldn't hit you now. Since you have a baby in there." She points at Ruth's stomach. "He wouldn't hurt the baby."

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 Sat.u.r.day 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 ap.r.o.n.

Arthur walks into the kitchen first. Jonathon follows, shaking out his blue stocking cap and brus.h.i.+ng 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 b.u.t.ter.

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 pa.s.sed, 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 bed. The last time she touched it, she had just moved in with Arthur and Celia. She had been remembering the devil's claw growing outside Mother's house, the smell of it, the feel of the sharp pods. She had known she was pregnant, known it for sure, but didn't know how to be happy about it. Now, even though Ruth has lived in Arthur's house for nearly five months, even though she thought she had found a way to be happy, the moment she lays back the top of the blue suitcase, she smells home. She smells Ray. There was always something musty about him and that house. No matter that she scrubbed with bleach and washed with lye soap. No matter that she always hung out the clothes and towels to dry so they wouldn't mold. The house still smelled old and damp. Now she breathes in the smell, soaks it up, so she'll be ready.

Daniel pushes his shovel across the flat roof, clearing the last patch of snow. Standing straight, he plants his shovel like a pitchfork in a drift that has collected where the angled roof meets the flat. Up the road, Jonathon's truck creeps into sight. As he starts down the hill, his back end fishtails, leaving crooked tracks in the fresh snow, but then it falls back into a straight line. Watching the truck, Daniel arches his back and groans the way Dad would have. He thinks about Ian and all of his aches and pains. Mrs. Bucher says they're worse in this cold weather. Ian won't be hunting pheasant today. He won't be a pusher or a blocker, and he d.a.m.n sure won't be hunting Jack Mayer.

As Jonathon's truck slows at the bottom of the hill and turns into the drive, Daniel looks back toward Uncle Ray's house. White smoke drifts up through the falling snow. Yep, Uncle Ray made it home, made it home in good enough shape to keep a fire going all morning long. Daniel stretches again, pulling his wool cap down over his ears, and leans on the shovel. The snow is falling straight down, harder since Daniel climbed onto the roof. A new layer of white has filled in where he already shoveled.

Walking to the edge of the roof, Daniel stands over the header board where he is sure not to fall through and squats to wait for Jonathon's truck to pull up. The chains on his tires make a crunching noise as he drives around the house. The truck stops and both doors fly open. Elaine steps out of the pa.s.senger's side, and Jonathon, the driver's side. Both hold out a hand, but Grandma Reesa takes Elaine's. Jonathon doesn't move, instead standing near the truck until Grandma Reesa has started up the stairs, leaning on Elaine with one hand and the handrail with the other. When she is at the last step, Jonathon slams his door, walks around the truck and, when he pa.s.ses under the spot where Daniel squats, he calls up to him.

"I'll be needing a hand later today if you got one."

"Sure," Daniel calls down. He coughs and spits in a pile of snow on the ground below. "What do you need?"

"Ran into Norbert Brewster this morning," Jonathon says, removing his hat and shaking off the snow. "Said I'd better get what I want out of their old place quick. Said the roof is caving in on a good day. Won't hold up to this snow. Thought about driving out there. It's a decent road on toward Clark City. Things'll ice over tonight and we won't be going anywhere for a day or two." Jonathon glances back at his truck. "Says he's got some good hardware out there. And some cabinets might be worth saving. Could use an extra set of hands ripping it all out. Won't be any good if the weather gets to it."

"Sure, I'll go." Daniel drops the shovel into a mound of snow below. No sense staying at home. Once he goes back inside, even before he can hang up his gloves and hat to dry, Mama will be asking him how he's feeling. She'll press her hand to his forehead like his not having any friends is a sign of the flu and then she'll c.o.c.k her head and say once again how lucky they are that Uncle Ray didn't get his hands on Evie. She'll whisper that part so Evie doesn't hear.

"Hustle on in and put on dry clothes," Jonathon says, offering Daniel a hand as he steps off the ladder. "We'll head out when you're done."

Chapter 26.