Shaking out the Dead Read Online Free PDF Page B

behind her and said as gently as she could, “Rach.”
    Rachael was still. Tatum knew that Rachael was well aware that she was being evicted and that Tatum was the one escorting her from the premises. Definitely not the fairy godmother with sage advice and a basket of magic, Tatum knew that she was more like the Chinese mothers who tortured their daughters by binding their feet, knowing what it takes to survive in this messy, unfair world. This is going to hurt , Tatum told Rachael, silently, in her mind. It’s going to hurt, but you have to do it to survive.
    She reached out to touch the back of Rachael’s head, fingertips nearly touching the soft child hair lifted by the breeze, when Rachael bolted.
    Rachael ran across the clearing away from the house to where the trees thickened at the border of the woods. Tatum rose from her knee and ran after her. She felt no right to catch her but a responsibility to follow, to make sure she didn’t get lost or hurt. Rachael kept running and Tatum followed, keeping up easily. Rachael took fast glances over her shoulder, not oblivious to the fact that she maintained her freedom only by virtue of Tatum’s mercy.
    Over the pinecones and sticks and morning frost, Rachael ran like a child in a nightmare. Tatum did her best to follow, not chase, but doubted there was a distinguishable difference. Suddenly, Rachael turned, cheeks flush and breath heaving.
    â€œI wish you died instead of my mom,” she screamed.
    â€œOf course you do,” Tatum said, throwing up her arms. “Duh.”
    Their eyes crashed in the space between. Rachael was anger and tears and futile indignation.
    â€œSo what would you do if your wish came true?” Tatum said, trying. “If God zapped your mom here instead of me. What would you do?” She squatted so she would be Rachael’s height. “Huh? How would that be?”
    Rachael looked at her, distrustfully.
    Tatum did think it would be great. Not because she wanted to die right then and there, but for the magic of it — standing in the forest, making your wish, abracadabra. Rachael’s face did not change, but Tatum could feel her wish for the magic, the wish for her own face to melt away and Margaret’s to emerge as from a Polaroid.
    Tatum went to Rachael and picked her up. She was not light. Rachael turned her head away from Tatum as Tatum knew she would. But she didn’t resist. Tatum walked a few feet but Rachael was far too heavy for her to be carrying. She returned her to the ground but kept hold of her hand. Rachael trailed slightly behind but did not wrestle her hand away.
    When in it, love seems fused with time. This, Tatum knew, was the problem. It was shocking, always, to discover that they can split paths, that they are two, love and time, and they can turn their backs to each other and follow arcs that pull them farther and farther apart.
    The frost was turning from white to clear, and the sun reflected up from the ground. They emerged from the trees. Tatum led Rachael past the grave.

    î‘
    Tatum stood in the V between the driver’s seat and her open car door under long-fingered clouds feathering across the blue sky. Weather was coming, the road was waiting, and they were an hour behind. Lee buckled Rachael into the passenger’s seat of Tatum’s car and kissed her temple.
    â€œI love you,” Lee said to Rachael, then pressed his lips together and nodded.
    Tatum watched his “I love you” hit Rachael like an egg hits a windshield. Splat. Drip. Only the insult reaches the intended victim behind the glass.
    â€œTake care,” Tatum said to Lee, across the roof of the car. Kind, quick words. She hoped they excused her from anything more effusive. She swung into the driver’s seat and looked sidelong at Rachael. Her expression was flat. Tatum wanted to say something that would let her know that she wasn’t in on the bogus “I love you.” People