Bent Road

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 more than a bit of a thing.”

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 and hat in the closet at the back of the room and sits. Ian is there, teetering on the edge of his seat, waving at Daniel from four rows over. He wants to tell Daniel something but since Mrs. Ellenton separated them on the third week of school, he’ll have to wait until lunch. Daniel waves back and presses a finger to his lips when Mrs. Ellenton walks into the room, her high heels clicking across the tile floor. From the front of the classroom, she smiles at Daniel and tilts her head like people do when they feel sorry for someone.

At noon, Mrs. Ellenton dismisses the class for lunch. Daniel doesn’t wait for Ian like he normally would. Instead, he takes his bag-lunch from the shelf near the door and races through the halls with his head down because every kid in school is staring at him-the kid who saw Julianne Robison dead. He hears Ian calling out but his crooked legs can’t keep up. The cold weather seems to have made Ian stiffer, like every step he takes is painful. If it were possible, Daniel would say Ian looked even smaller, like he shrunk during the snowstorm. Everything except his head. It seems to have grown, and Daniel rubs his own neck thinking how heavy Ian’s head must be to carry around all day. Once inside the cafeteria, Daniel sits at his usual table, which seems to be more crowded today, and opens his lunch. When Ian finally sits, he is panting for air. His eyelids are gray and sunken into his head and a bluish tint surrounds his mouth.

“Hey,” he says, tossing his lunch on the table. “What are you doing?”

All around the cafeteria, kids watch Daniel. Not one of them has been his friend all year, but now they all want to hear about Julianne Robison.

“Doing nothing,” Daniel says. “Eating.”

“So you found her. You really found her.” Ian smiles at the full table and leans forward. “What’d she look like?”

Daniel shrugs. He sees Julianne every time he closes his eyes, but he thinks he’s really seeing only what he imagines. Once Jonathon realized what they were looking at up there on the second story of Norbert Brewster’s house, he grabbed Daniel’s arm and shoved him back into the hallway, telling him to stay put, stay damned well put, until he could figure things out.

“Come on,” Ian says, cupping his mouth with both hands so no one can hear what he’s saying. “You got to tell me.”

“She didn’t look like anything,” Daniel says, taking a bite from his sandwich but thinking if he chews or swallows, he’ll vomit.

“Did it smell bad?” Ian asks, but then answers his own question. “I guess not, because of the cold. Frozen, huh?”

Daniel lifts his eyes, looking out from under his brow without moving his head. “Yeah.”

“You know, most folks say your Uncle Ray did it.” He leans forward and whispers, “But I still say it was Jack Mayer. Swiped her up the second he broke out. Swiped her up and killed her there in Brewster’s old house.”

Ian leans back and studies his lunch like he’s thinking about eating it, but he pushes it farther away instead and closes his eyes. He sits that way, taking in deep breaths for a good long minute before opening his eyes, ready to go again.

“She’s the first person murdered around here in twenty-five years,” Ian says. “The first in twenty-five years.” He waves at two of his brothers sitting at the other end of the table. They both jump up and sit back down next to Ian. Once they are settled, Ian starts talking again. “ ’Course you know who the last person murdered was.”

Daniel shakes his head and keeps eating even though he feels sicker with every bite.

“ ’Course you know.”

Both of Ian’s brothers nod but neither says anything.

“It was your own Aunt Eve. Your dad’s sister. You know that? Murdered right there in your Grandma’s shed. Everyone says your Uncle Ray did it but they couldn’t ever prove it.”

Daniel stops chewing.

“Say he killed her same as Julianne. You know, blond like Julianne. A girl. Older, of course. But blond just the same. Say he couldn’t help himself.” Ian looks at his brothers again, like he’s making sure he’s telling everything right. Both brothers nod. “But I say it was Jack Mayer killed them both. Killed your aunt before they locked him up. And now Julianne, just the same, twenty-five years later.”

“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.