Inside the kitchen, Ruth puts the pie into the refrigerator and lifts the lid on the cast-iron skillet where several pieces of Mother’s fried chicken sizzle and pop. A rich, salty smell fills the house. She turns down the flame, checks the timer on the sweet bread and slides a pot of chicken broth onto the stove. In the open window, the curtains hang motionless. Outside, everyone is still gathered around the cow that Ray bought cheap at the sale barn because no one wants an apple-assed cow. Patting the animal on its hind end and saying something that Ruth can’t hear, Ray throws back his head and laughs. Ruth steps away from the window and turns when footsteps cross the living room and stop at the kitchen’s threshold.
“Are you Aunt Ruth?”
Ruth dries her hands on a dish towel. “I am,” she says. “And you are Eve?”
“Evie.”
Evie has long, fuzzy braids and a heavy fringe of white bangs that fall across her forehead and catch in her eyelashes. Her skin is like pink satin.
“Evie,” Ruth says, trying out the name. “And you’re Daniel?”
Daniel is only a few months shy of Arthur’s height, and eventually, after some good Kansas cooking, he’ll be as broad, too. However, unlike his father, Daniel is blond with pale blue eyes that shine against his tanned skin.
“I’m so glad you’ve moved to Kansas.” Ruth pats her face with the dish towel that smells of soap and bleach.
“We’re happy to be here, ma’am,” Daniel says, staring at his feet.
“Please, call me Aunt Ruth.”
“Whose room is that upstairs?” Evie asks, tapping the floor with the toe of one black shoe. “The one we slept in?”
Ruth swallows before she can answer. “I’m not sure which room you were in, sweet pea.” She slips, forgets that Evie is not her sister, calls her sweet pea. A sugary, delicate bloom like Eve.
Evie looks at her brother and then at the ground. “The one with the statue and the dresses.”
“That’s Eve’s room,” Ruth says. Her chin quivers. She clears her throat. “My sister, Eve.”
“Eve,” Evie says. “Like me.”
Ruth smiles. “Yes, very much like you.”
“She’s small, too, isn’t she? I can tell from the dresses. Small like me, and you, too. Not like Grandma Reesa.”
Ruth laughs aloud. The first in so long. “She was perfect like you. The exact right size.”
“I like her dresses,” Evie says, standing where the living room meets the kitchen. “Will she come for dinner, too?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
The chicken broth has grown from a slow simmer to a rolling boil. From outside, Ray gives off another burst of laughter. Ruth steps aside and waves Evie and Daniel toward the kitchen window.
“Come,” she says. “See what Uncle Ray has brought for you.”
While Daniel hangs back, not seeming to care about the shouts and laughter coming from outside, Evie joins Ruth at the window and hoists herself up onto the counter for a better view.
“A cow,” she says, her pink cheeks plumping up with a smile. “Uncle Ray has brought us a cow. And he’s a cowboy, Dan.” She slides off the counter and turns toward her brother. “He’s wearing a hat and boots, too. He’s a real cowboy.”
Ruth brushes aside the fringe of bangs that fall across Evie’s brow. “You two should go on out and get a closer look.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Daniel says, taking Evie’s hand.
Evie stops before disappearing into the back hallway. “I’m glad we’re here, Aunt Ruth,” she says. “I’m going to like Kansas very much.”
“And we’re happy to have you.”
The hinges on the back door whine as they open and close. Pressing the dish towel to her face, Ruth returns to the kitchen window and breathes in the lemon-scented soap until she knows she won’t cry. She is a child again, nine years old, seeing her own sister, Eve. She was the oldest, perfect in almost every way. Evie is so like her, has her light blue eyes and shimmering blond hair. They could be twins, Eve and Evie, separated by many years but twins just the same.
Outside the kitchen window, Evie skips across the drive, kicking up small clouds of dust. Nearing the cow, she slows and walks to Ray’s side. She raises one hand to her forehead, shielding her eyes from the sun, and looks up at him. Ray steps back and lifts the brim of his hat as if taking a closer look. All these years, Arthur has lived with this painful reminder. Now Ruth and Ray will do the same.
Chapter 3
Evie sits next to Daddy in the cab of his truck, her stomach stuffed full from her first Kansas meal. Daniel slouches in the seat next to her, a dish of Grandma’s leftover fried chicken resting on his knees. After everyone finished eating lunch, Grandma asked them to take the food to the Buchers because Mrs. Bucher just had a new baby. Uncle Ray said the Buchers are one lucky family because their baby was born a blue baby and nearly died. Evie asked Daddy what a blue baby was, and he said the Bucher baby was pink as any other.
Cradling a loaf of sweet bread, Evie leans against Daddy so he’ll shield her from the hot dry wind blowing through the truck. “Tell me about Aunt Eve,” she says.
Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, Daddy wipes the other over his eyes and down his face. “She always wore her hair in braids when she was a girl. Same as you.” Daddy looks down at Evie. “Looked a good damn bit like you.”
Over lunch, Grandma Reesa said that in her house Evie is to be called Eve. Mama frowned and asked Daddy what he thought about that. Instead of giving Mama an answer, Daddy patted his stomach and said Grandma’s fried chicken was the best in the Midwest. Mama frowned about that, too. But Evie won’t mind being called Eve. It makes her believe that in Kansas she’ll grow like a weed and one day soon, she’ll be big enough to wear Aunt Eve’s dresses.
Evie giggles to hear Daddy curse. “She doesn’t live here anymore?”
Daddy shakes his head, stops and shakes it again. His white teeth shine against his dark skin. “No, Evie, not anymore.”
Driving through the dust kicked up by Jonathon’s truck, they near the tumbleweed-lined fence. Jonathon is towing their cow to the new house. Mama had thought Elaine should get to name the cow because she is the oldest, but Uncle Ray said he figured it was a job for the youngest in the family, so Evie picked Mama’s middle name-Olivia. This made Uncle Ray smile. He tugged on one of Evie’s braids and then winked his milky eye at Mama, patted the new cow on the rump and said that Olivia was a damn fine name. Mama frowned about that, too, but it was too late because Olivia was already Olivia.
Daddy slows at the top of the hill and the truck drifts toward the side of the road until it feels that the wheels might slip off into the ditch. Evie looks for the monster they saw the night before. Daniel leans forward, too, but he’s probably looking for the man he thinks Mama hit. In the daylight, Evie doesn’t see a monster, only a fence that Daddy says will cave in if someone doesn’t pull off those weeds soon. She doesn’t see a strange man, either. Once over the highest point, a truck driving the other direction appears. The other truck swerves toward the tumbleweed fence, slows and stops. Daddy stops, too.