Crooked River: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page B

did you.”
    We stared at each other for a few seconds. I looked away first.
    “Something you need to tell me, Sam?”
    A chunk of hair had fallen in front of my eyes. I tucked it behind my ear, but it came loose again. My auburn curls used to be long, hanging just past my shoulders like Mom’s, but they were chopped short now and I still hadn’t gotten used to them tumbling and springing all over the place. I’d done it myself a few hours before Mom’s funeral. Took a pair of scissors into the bathroom, locked the door, and hacked away at my curls until they lay in a penny-colored heap at my feet. When I finally came out again, Grandma had asked, “Do you feel better?” And I had said yes, even though it wasn’t true.
    “Sammy?” Bear said again, softer, taking a small step toward where I sat in the dirt.
    I looked up at him. His eyes were the same color as Ollie’s—amber with gold and green flecks—but I hadn’t noticed until now how sad they looked, how many new wrinkles had formed around the edges.
    He said, “I didn’t hurt that woman, if that’s what you’re thinking. I would never do something like that. I would never put our family in trouble that way, not after everything . . . Sam, I would never—”
    “Me and Ollie saw her,” I blurted out.
    He pulled back a little, surprised. “What?”
    “In the river.” I was rushing, trying to say everything before I lost my nerve. “Yesterday morning. We went to the swimming hole and she was, she was . . . there floating. And dead. She was dead.”
    “Oh my God.”
    “We tried to pull her onshore, but she was too heavy. We tried, but . . .” My voice cracked. I hadn’t cried since Mom’s funeral, but all of a sudden pressure was building behind my eyes and my throat was stinging. If I started crying, I wouldn’t be able to stop. I sucked in a deep breath and wiped the back of my hand across my nose. I sniffed and said quietly, “The current got her.”
    Bear set down the bucket and came closer. He crouched beside me in the dirt but didn’t seem to know what to do with his hands. He reached for me, then pulled away again, patted my shoulder, pulled away. He worked his thumb over his knuckles and said, “So the jacket’s hers?”
    I nodded. “I think so.”
    “Then we need to give it to Detective Talbert.”
    I stared at my dirt-covered palms. “Can’t we just put it back where you found it?”
    Bear laughed a little, but I didn’t see what was funny.
    “No,” he said. “We can’t. We need to tell them.”
    “What if they think you did it?” I mumbled.
    He shifted his gaze toward a patch of grass just outside the garden where Ollie sat, making a daisy chain. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his brow. “We’ll be all right, Sam. If we tell them the truth, we’ll be all right.”
    He rose to his feet and squinted up at the sun. “Think we might reach a hundred today?”
    I didn’t answer. I stared as he walked away from me, as he lifted the bucket of squash and tomatoes and carried it out of the garden. When he was out of sight, I reached beneath the beans and yanked out another weed. Adults were supposed to fix things, not make them worse.

 
    4
ollie

    F our weeks, one day, fourteen hours, forty minutes, thirty-two seconds, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five . . . This is how long my mother has been dead and how long I’ve been living without her. Add fifteen more seconds. Another minute and another until I lose count and have to start again at the beginning.
    July 4, 1988.
    Time of death: 10:26 P.M.
    Four weeks, one day, fourteen hours, forty-nine minutes.
    And counting.
    Bear pours water around the base of a tomato plant. My sister pulls weeds. A daddy longlegs crawls over my shoe. A white butterfly dances above orange marigolds. I lift a leaf, look under, and find a ladybug. If I squint and imagine, the cornstalks grow a little taller.
    A shadow moves between the rows.
    She’s trying to hide,