From the sound of his voice, Dad is almost to the garage. Daniel leans against the barn, breathing so fast and deep that he doesn’t have time to think. He swallows and leans forward. Dad has taken a few more steps toward the garage, and Uncle Ray is following Dad with the tip of his rifle again, slowly turning his back on the house. Pressing against the barn, Daniel remembers the shotgun propped over his shoulder. Grandpa’s old shotgun. Dad thinks he’ll find it in the garage, behind the door, behind the oil barrel, under the blanket. He knew Uncle Ray would come one day. He knew it and was ready. Except he isn’t ready because Daniel has the gun.
“Where you going, Ray?” Dad says. “I told you she’s not here. Gone off with Jonathon.”
Uncle Ray is backing toward the house, his rifle still pointed at Dad.
“I’m no damn fool, Arthur. You stay put. Stay right there.”
Near the bottom stair leading up to the porch, Uncle Ray slips. He drops the tip of the rifle for a moment and grabs the railing to right himself before aiming the gun back at Dad. If he would turn slightly to his left, he might see Daniel, leaning out of the shadows, watching.
“Ruth,” Uncle Ray shouts up the set of stairs. “Get your damn self out here.”
“She won’t hear you, Ray. She’s gone off.”
Uncle Ray backs up the stairs, stumbling but holding onto the railing with one hand and balancing the gun with the other. At the top of the stairs, he pushes the latch on the screened door with his elbow, kicks it open and disappears onto the porch. Before the door has slammed shut, Dad slips into the garage.
The path from the side of the barn through Olivia’s gate is waist deep with snow. Daniel runs toward the garage, throwing his knees high, but before he reaches the gate where he can step onto the cleared gravel, the porch door swings open again and Uncle Ray walks out, dragging Aunt Ruth behind him. She carries two suitcases with her, causing her to stumble and trip.
“Ray,” Mama shouts from inside the house. “The baby. Be careful of the baby.”
By the time Uncle Ray and Aunt Ruth reach the bottom step, Dad is back outside the garage, looking left and right as if he might find his shotgun wedged there in a snowdrift. Daniel, having squatted behind a fence post outside the glow of the porch light, squints toward the house. Mama is there, standing inside the screened door. Ahead of him, Olivia’s gate bounces in the wind, the slide bolt rattling and the strap hinges creaking.
“Ray, stop,” Mama shouts. “Leave her be.”
Really, it’s more of a scream, something Daniel has never heard before. The sound makes his stomach tighten as if he might vomit right here in the snow. Mama’s scream seems to surprise Uncle Ray, too, because he shoves Aunt Ruth away from the house and aims his gun at Mama. Dad takes two quick steps but then stops.
“Take it easy, Ray,” he says.
“I’ll go, Ray,” Aunt Ruth says. “See. I’m packed. Already packed to come home.” She is standing on the hard, cold gravel in only her slippers and she is wearing Elaine’s beige housecoat. Her hair hangs loose and blows into her eyes. “Please. Let’s go. Leave Celia be.”
Uncle Ray jabs his gun at Aunt Ruth, but she doesn’t flinch the way Mama did. She’s seen a gun up close before, Daniel thinks. She’s had one pointed right in her face.
“You think I should leave here, Ruth?” Uncle Ray says.
“Yes. Yes. I’m coming with you. Coming home with you now. I’m ready. See?” she says, lifting one suitcase. “I was waiting on the weather. Just waiting for it to clear.”
Dad takes two more steps toward Uncle Ray.
“Come down here, Celia,” Uncle Ray says, aiming his gun at Mama again.
At this, Dad backs up.
Mama stands at the top of the stairs, her eyes locked on Dad. She starts to cry.
“Get down here, now.”
Mama presses both hands over her mouth and doesn’t even bother to brush away the hair that blows across her forehead and eyes. She shakes her head and takes the stairs one at time.
“You’ve been drinking, Ray.” Dad is trying to calm him and, at the same time, looking all around at the ground and in the air for anything that might help.
When Mama reaches the bottom step, Dad presses one hand in the air to make her stop right there. Behind her, the porch door opens again. Mary Robison and Evie step outside. Standing side by side on the top stair, Mrs. Robison holds Evie’s hand.
“Did you tell him, Ruth?” Mrs. Robison shouts across the drive.
Aunt Ruth shakes her head. “Not now, Mary.” She chokes before the words come all the way out. “Go back inside, Evie.”
Mrs. Robison smiles down at Evie, nods and Evie runs down the stairs and grabs onto Mama’s legs.
“I owe it to you, too, Ray,” Mrs. Robison says, walking down the stairs.
Mama is trying to push Evie away, trying to make her go back inside but Evie won’t let go.
“Shut up, the all of you,” Uncle Ray shouts, and waving the rifle tip at Mama, he says, “Get on over with Ruth.”
Mrs. Robison walks past Mama and when Dad steps forward to stop her, Uncle Ray jabs at him with the gun and Dad stops.
“Don’t involve yourself,” Dad says to Mrs. Robison.
Ignoring Dad like she doesn’t know he’s there, Mrs. Robison keeps walking, slowly because she doesn’t have anything on her feet. “I owe it to you most of all,” she shouts over the wind.
Uncle Ray backs away as Mrs. Robison walks toward him. He staggers closer to Daniel. The weight of the gun seems to throw him off balance. He takes aim at Mrs. Robison, too, but she doesn’t stop like Dad. With the rifle poised on his shoulder, Uncle Ray dips his head, presses his cheek to the stock and fires.
Celia must have screamed, maybe she is still screaming. Someone shouts at her. It’s Ray.
“I said get your damned self over there.” He waves his gun at her.
Celia starts to walk toward Ruth, but Evie has latched onto her legs, stopping her. She rips open Evie’s arms and pushes her toward the stairs.
“Go. Go now,” she screams.
Evie falls against the stairs and crawls on hand and foot toward the porch. Arthur is yelling, too, telling Celia to stay put, stay God damned well put.
“Don’t you move, Celia,” he tries to shout over Ray. “Don’t you take one God damned step.”
Behind Ray, Ruth stands in her robe and slippers. The hem of her robe slaps her legs. She shakes her head and presses both hands in the air as if she doesn’t want Celia to come any closer.
With his rifle pointed at Arthur now, Ray walks forward, steps around Mary Robison’s lifeless body, grabs Celia’s arm and flings her toward Ruth. Stumbling backward and falling on her hind end, pieces of ice and gravel bite into her palms. Ray roots himself and points the gun at Arthur’s head. Celia shuffles backward like a crab on her hands and feet until Ruth grabs her from behind and helps her to stand.
“Please, Ray,” Celia says, wiping Mary Robison’s blood from her cheek and drying her hand on her blue-checkered apron. “Enough. Please stop.”
“Don’t know who the hell you think you are,” Ray shouts, aiming at Arthur. “Coming around after twenty years. God damned coward. How you like me taking your wife?”
Arthur lifts both hands, surrendering himself. Blood shines on his cheek and neck and stains one side of his shirt.
“Take it easy now, Ray,” he says. “I should have told you. Should have told you about Eve. Christ, Ray, I was a kid.”
Ray backs away, stumbling as he tries to step around Mary Robison’s feet, and takes aim at Arthur again.
Celia grabs Ruth and guides her down the driveway. “We’re going, Ray,” she calls out. “Do you see? We’re going. Wherever you want.” She pulls Ruth backward, leaving the two suitcases. “Come on now,” she calls out again. “Like you said.” Ruth is stiff, but Celia knows they have to get clear. She needs Ray to back away a little more. “Come on, now.”