The Secret Sense of Wildflower Read Online Free PDF Page A

hasn’t looked up once, not even with Preacher standing a foot away from him. If I was a betting person, I’d bet Johnny wishes he had a peach can to sit at Preacher’s feet to ping some tobacco spit into.
    The top of a whiskey bottle bulges out of Mr. Monroe’s pocket and on one of Preacher’s repents Mr. Monroe snarls and takes out his pocketknife. He opens the blade swiftly with his thumb and scrapes at the dirt caked on the bottom of his boots, letting the dirt fall onto the church floor. Two deacons start to come forward to take Mr. Monroe out of the church but Preacher holds up a hand to stop them, as if even he knows this wouldn’t turn out well.
    Mr. Monroe doesn’t look the least bit sorry for Ruby’s death and heat rises to my face. I want to smack the man from here to Christmas, and Preacher, too, whose empty words make no sense. Why would God call Ruby home by way of a rope and an oak tree? A trickle of sweat slides between my shoulder blades and I let out a huff. If God decides to call me home anytime soon, I will refuse to answer.
    Arthur Monroe’s livelihood is hunting, setting traps and selling the meat. His clothes always stink like a ripe carcass. Though he is an eligible widower, his odor discourages even the most ardent widows and spinsters of Katy’s Ridge.
    If he manages to corner you anywhere, on the road, or at Sweeny’s store, he’ll tell you the story of getting gassed in a trench in the big war in Europe, World War I, and the whole time you’re getting gassed just standing there. On one of those occasions when I was wishing I had a gas mask, Mr. Monroe told me that once or twice a year he checks into the Veterans Hospital in Nashville with blinding headaches. I got a headache just hearing about it.
    A few years ago, during one of those headaches, he came after Johnny at school for forgetting to feed Arthur’s old coon dog. The whole school witnessed him bursting through the door and dragging Johnny right out into the schoolyard. While he beat the tar out of him, he kept yelling, “Get behind me, Satan!” A short time after that, Johnny quit coming to school and started hanging out on the road.
    Sweat sticks my legs to the wooden bench. I think of Ruby inside that box, her baby inside of her, Ruby’s belly being its own little casket. It is entirely possible that I have entered my own version of hell where life is not fair and the wrong people die and for no good reason.
    Mama takes my pinkie finger on my right hand and bends it to the point of pain. This is my signal to stop my squirming in church. As I take my hand away, I give her a look that says she will end up like Ruby if she’s not careful and she gives me a look back as if daring me to try it. Meanwhile, Preacher is using Ruby’s death to put the fear of God in us and further his cause. After Preacher finishes, he looks pleased with himself and wipes the sweat from his face with a starched white handkerchief and looks over at the organ.
    In a flourish of wrong notes, Miss Mildred starts playing Amazing Grace , real slow. This was Daddy’s favorite hymn, but I try not to think about that, or about the last time I heard it, which was at his funeral. We all sing along, most of the congregation confident that Ruby Monroe was the wretch that needed saving in the first verse and since she never came to church she was out of luck. Ruby was lost, but nobody even tried to find her.
    When the music stops, the four McClure brothers go up front to lift Ruby’s pine box to carry it to the gravesite. Buddy, the youngest McClure, grunts as if the box weighs more than he expects. They balance their load and we file out of the church, following the box up the hill. In the distance a pile of fresh red dirt marks Ruby’s final resting place, a stone’s throw away from Daddy’s willow tree.
    A fine, misty rain starts to fall and the melody of Amazing Grace still plays in my head while we walk up the hill. Aunt Sadie lightly squeezes my