“Those two men have dogs,” she says.
Uncle Ray doesn’t answer, but instead pulls down hard on the gearshift, backs up, rolling the steering wheel so the truck’s tailgate swings around toward the ditch and throws the gearshift forward again.
“Do you know those men, Uncle Ray?”
Again, Uncle Ray doesn’t answer. His hat sits high on his forehead, and even though his eyes have plenty of room to see, he doesn’t look at Evie. Turning the steering wheel the other way, passing one hand over the other the same way Daddy does, Uncle Ray presses on the gas and the men and the two dogs disappear when Uncle Ray drives back onto Bent Road.
The sky is almost all the way dark now, but even so, Evie remembers the place were they saw the men and dogs. She went there a time or two with Daddy when Uncle Ray was away with his other family in Damar. It’s Mrs. Hathaway’s farm, except Uncle Ray uses it because Mr. Hathaway died a long time ago. Evie slides back in her seat and grabs onto the blanket that Aunt Ruth left behind. For one quick second, something smells sweet and light like Aunt Ruth. Evie feels like she wants to cry again, though she doesn’t know why. She grabs two handfuls of the rough quilt, wadding it up in both fists and watches for home.
Daniel is standing in the center of the gravel drive, staring down at Olivia, when Dad starts to beat on his steering wheel. Only then, does Daniel notice the empty sound of the truck’s engine. It is rattling and choking but it won’t turn over. Dad throws open the driver’s side door.
“Go get your mother’s keys,” he shouts at Daniel.
Daniel doesn’t move.
“Hurry up about it,” Dad says, reaching behind his seat and pulling out a set of jumper cables. Next, the hood pops open. “The keys, Dan. Get your mother’s keys.”
Daniel backs away a few more steps. Dad is going to search for Evie but his truck won’t start. How will they find Evie if Dad’s truck won’t start? One more time, Dad shouts. Daniel jumps, spins around, takes two running steps and stumbles.
“Olivia,” Evie says. “Is that Olivia?”
Daniel straightens and grabs Evie by the shoulders. Her cheeks and nose are red, her eyes watery. She steps to the side so she can see Olivia.
“What’s wrong with her?” Evie says. “Her neck is bad. Her head isn’t the right shape.”
From a few yards away, Olivia’s one eye is staring at them. It’s big and black, and like a piece of polished glass, it shines where it catches the porch light. Daniel turns back to Evie and checks her over top to bottom, searching for missing parts. Two eyes, two ears, a whole head.
“Come inside,” he says, stepping in front of her so she can’t see Olivia. “Dad,” he shouts, pulling Evie toward the house. “She’s home. She’s home.” Stumbling up the stairs, across the porch and pushing open the back door, he shouts, “Mama.”
Warm air meets them inside. It burns Daniel’s cheeks and lips. He inhales, drops down to one knee and holds Evie’s hands.
“Evie’s here. Evie’s home.”
Mama rushes in like the hot air, sweeping Evie up. She checks for missing parts, too. When she gets to Evie’s hands, Mama presses them to her cheeks and rubs them between her own hands, warming them, softening them up.
From behind Daniel, Dad says, “Where have you been, child?”
But Mama quiets Evie, tells her that it doesn’t matter. “You’re home, sweet pea. You’re so cold. So cold.” And then to Daniel. “Where?” is all she says.
“I turned around and there she was.” Daniel stands and whispers. “She saw Olivia. She saw what happened.”
“I left her lead on,” Evie says. “I did it. I left it on.” She cries into Mama’s shoulder. “I did it.”
Mama looks over Daniel’s head at Dad. Aunt Ruth wraps a blanket around Evie’s small body. The old quilt smells sour and moldy like the basement. Mama hates drying clothes in the basement.
“No, Evie,” Mama says. “It was an accident. No one’s fault.” Mama stretches out her arms, holding Evie where they can look into each other’s eyes. “Where were you, Evie? How did you get home?”
“Uncle Ray brought me,” she says. “We went to Mrs. Hathaway’s farm, but there were men there so Uncle Ray brought me home.”
Chapter 23
Celia cracks a third egg, cracks it so hard that the shell collapses in her hand leaving the yolk and white to slide through her fingers and into the dumpling dough. Dropping the shell into the sink and wiping her hands on the dishtowel tucked in her apron, she picks up a wooden spoon and stirs the thick dough. After a few minutes, she shifts the spoon to her other hand and continues to dig and grind until she’s breathing heavily. Pausing once to roll her head from side to side, she shifts hands again, wraps her forearm around the bowl, drops the spoon and kneads the dough by hand. On the front burner, the chicken stock grows from a simmer to a rolling boil.
“Take it easy,” Arthur says, leaning back in his chair and stretching.
Celia glances up at Arthur, but says nothing, and instead reaches for another egg. Reesa shakes her head. Celia grabs the egg anyway, cracks it as hard as the last and throws the empty shell toward the sink. She misses, and as it falls on the floor, she wipes her hands across the front of her white blouse.
Her right arm still in a sling, Ruth leaps from her seat to scoop up the shell. “A nice warm meal always makes things better,” she says. “Always makes the house smell so wonderful.” She talks as she picks up every piece of the slippery shell as if no one will notice the mess if she keeps talking.
“Making this house smell pretty good, that’s for sure,” Arthur says, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table.
Celia takes a teaspoon from the drawer and begins to dip up the dough and drop it into the boiling broth, ignoring the fact that it’s too runny because she’s added one too many eggs. She clears her throat and chokes back a sob when Ruth, after cleaning the egg shell from her fingers, steps forward and whispers, “The kids are fine, Celia. Evie is fine. Safe and sound.”
Pausing mid scoop, while Ruth kneads another cup of flour into the dough, Celia says to Reesa, “I’ve asked that Evie return all of Eve’s things to you, along with an apology. I don’t know what she was thinking. And getting in that truck with Ray.” She stops, swallows. “We need to call Floyd and report this.”
“Report what?” Arthur says. “He gave the girl a ride home. Damn fool that he is, he just gave her a ride home.”
“They are searching his farm,” Celia says, stirring her broth. “Searching it with dogs. And he took Evie there. You know what that means.”
Arthur brushes his hair back from his face and takes a deep breath before speaking. “For twenty-five years, Floyd has been thinking Ray had something to do with what happened to Eve.” His eyes are swollen from his having rubbed them and from being tired. “That’s the only reason he’s keeping such an eye on Ray. Listen, I’ll keep him clear of this family, that’s for sure. And I know the man is up to plenty of no good, but I don’t believe for a minute that he hurt Julianne Robison.”
Celia throws her teaspoon into the broth, jumping back when it splashes up. “What about the night Julianne disappeared? He wasn’t home. Ruth said so.” Celia stands, hand on hips. “He could have done it. How can you know?”
“Evie doesn’t have any friends.”
Everyone turns. Daniel stands outside his bedroom, his hair tousled and his eyes red as if he woke up from having cried himself to sleep.
“At school. She doesn’t have any friends at school. Neither do I, except for Ian. It’s not like in Detroit. Nobody likes us here.”
Celia, pulling off her apron, walks toward Daniel. He takes a few steps backward. “What do you mean, Daniel?”