The Last Days of Summer Read Online Free PDF Page A

first time in his chair, she had seen a fleeting glimpse of the world through his eyes. It was not a kind or pretty one. Mama was staring at her from across the table. Like she’d never set eyes on Lizzie before. The girls were too little to notice, squirming and restless and hungry in their chairs. Mama had looked long and hard at Lizzie and there had been something like pride in her eyes. And something else a bit like shame.
    So when Lizzie comes into the dining room it stops her short to see Jasper sitting there at the head of the table. That seat has never been his.
    ‘Something smells good.’ Jasper leans back in the chair so that the two front legs hang off the ground. Arms crossed behind his head. Mama would have slapped the back of his skull if he’d ever sat there like that. He’s still
wearing the grey Coca-Cola T-shirt, and from him the slight smell of sweat sweetens the already sticky room. He’s smiling. That cold, mischievous smile that is her brother and isn’t her brother, and for a moment Lizzie wonders who this man is, sitting in her chair, smelling of sweat, about to eat her supper. But the twinkle in the corner of his brown eyes, that
is
Jasper. That’s the spark that pulled the faces that made her laugh at all those childhood suppers. It’s the spark that now relaxes her enough to step forward and set the brisket down.
    ‘Glad to see you’re comfortable.’
    ‘That there grub looks mighty fine.’
    She takes the seat at the foot of the table. Feels wrong somehow to be sitting in Mama’s old seat. She turns to Joanne. ‘Where’s your sister?’
    Joanne shrugs.
    Jasper goes on as if there’s been no pause: ‘Reckon they fed us all right in there but this here smells a whole lot finer.’
    Lizzie glances at the grandfather clock. Quarter past seven. Told Katie be home by half.
So she isn’t late yet. It’s the brisket that’s early …
Lizzie sighs. ‘We might as well start.’ She rises to carve the meat.
    Jasper rises too. ‘Let me. As I recall it’s the man that usually does the carving.’
    Above the table their eyes meet. Like how many countless times before. Stealing glances round the room while Mama said grace. Sneaking bits of food. Making those funny faces. The twinkle is still in Jasper’s eyes. He’s smiling at her.
    There’s nothing sinister in that smile. Nothing bad.
He’s older, tireder, greyer, but it’s Jasper. For the first time all day it’s really Jasper. Her brother, home. Lizzie hands him the carving knife handle first. He takes it. ‘Yep,’ he murmurs, as the first cut slices, blood and juices dripping from the pink meat onto the serving plate, ‘this here sure is a lot nicer than what we was bein’ fed.’
    He dishes out four platefuls. Sits back down. The mash is passed round. And the corn. The bread. Half past now.
Where is that girl?
Lizzie takes a big bite of mash. Jasper’s eyes across the table stop her. ‘Don’t we say grace no more?’
    Joanne looks up from her plate. Head turns from her uncle to her mother and her gaze sticks. Lizzie can feel the girl’s eyes on her, but she holds Jasper’s cool gaze. Brakes squeak in the driveway and a car door slams. Crickets and July flies have started to come out to greet the evening, and their songs mix with the falling night, blown in through the open window and its screen. The front door opens and slams, and Katie’s clear young voice calls, ‘Sorry! I’m home!’ Footsteps fast approaching in the hall.
    Lizzie meets Jasper’s eyes, feeling her own go cold. ‘Whatever prayers you got to say, I reckon you can say in private.’
    Jasper comes out on the front porch and sits in the other rocker beside his sister. They are silent for a while as sunset fades to darkness. The evening primroses bloom, releasing their subtle scent, and the fragrance of the flowers mixes with that of the fresh-cut grass and the sunburned prairie, and Jasper breathes deep. At length he says, ‘I remember that smell.’