The River Widow(13)

When she had finished bathing and wrapped herself in a towel, her hair dripping down her back, she wiped the tub clean and picked out tiny twigs and pieces of hay that must have come off her body. She wanted to leave no trace of her filth behind. Only then did she realize she had no clean clothes to put on.

She tiptoed down the hallway and peered into her mother-and father-in-law’s bedroom, where a chenille bathrobe hung on a hook behind the open door. It was her only option, so she took the robe and wrapped it securely around herself. The robe almost swaddled her twice around, as Mabel Branch was as stout and stocky as any man. Her soft fleshy features and silver-streaked hair pulled back into a bun were the only things that made her appear feminine.

And yet of all the Branch family members, Mabel seemed the only one with charity in her heart. Mabel often gave old clothing, shoes, and coats to the poor through her church, though always making sure people noticed her altruism. If only Adah could get her hands on some of that old clothing now. Adah had long ago taught herself to sew; she could take in and refashion Mabel’s discards.

Outside, another storm was gathering, and a gloomy haze crept over the farm, pressing in against the walls of the house. Every sound from within and outside was dulled, the air itself thick with foreboding.

Adah stepped silently down the staircase and into the hallway below, then gazed into the parlor to her right. A well-sized room with tall windows, sofas and chairs that were rarely used, and polished tables on which sat frozen bouquets and dusty figurines.

Mabel was sitting straight backed on her sofa, a Queen Anne look-alike, her eyes muddled with grief, the flesh under her eyes swollen so full it appeared she could scarcely see. Buck Branch sat beside her patting her hand, while Jesse stood over the both of them. Daisy was nowhere in sight, and Adah could only assume the little girl was taking a nap.

She took in a deep breath and held it. Preferring to face the lions as soon as possible, Adah stepped into the room.

When he saw Adah, Buck stood to his full height, his chest thrust forward, and said, “Git on in here. We got some questions for you.”

Lester’s father was also large, making it curious as to where Lester’s litheness had come from, and his height and demeanor meant he had a powerful presence. His ruddy complexion made it evident he’d spent most of his life out in the elements, and his chest and shoulders were still broad and formidable, as though they could carry the world, despite the ample hard belly that protruded in front of his body like a watermelon. He had steely gray-tufted hair, and age spots on his bald pate and on his arms and hands. Buck’s large hands, knobby knuckled and braided with large blue veins like rivers, were clenched on his hips. Adah had always read dominance and anger in those hands. For a man his age, he commanded respect, but today a stench of sweat blended with the sour smell of fear.

Adah stole a look at Mabel. “I borrowed your robe.”

Mabel leaned back, waved off her comment, and peered askance, as if unable to speak.

Buck commanded again, “Come on in here.”

Her head ringing, Adah did as she was asked and stood before her seated mother-in-law and her standing father-and brother-in-law.

“What’s this I hear about you and Les going down close to the river?”

Adah gulped, trying not to show it. She and her story felt as flimsy as one of Good Housekeeping ’s paper dolls. “We did. Lester and me. He freed the livestock and was gathering up tack and such while I was inside. We were loading up the truck when we saw the milk cow running off in the wrong direction. So we went down to save her, and before we knew it, we were in the water.”

Buck surveyed her with a skeptic’s crinkled eye. Sizing her up, making her sweat it out. “It must have been your idea.”

“Maybe it was. I don’t remember.”

“Say what?”

“I don’t remember. I mean, not all of it. It was so . . . quick.”

“So you ain’t no help,” Buck said. Then he pulled himself up even taller, breathing harder, faster. His stare a brutal arrow of hard sunlight. “My son ain’t no damn fool. He’d have known where the water was.”

“It was pitch dark. We knew we were getting close as we searched out the cow.”

“It was so dark you couldn’t see the river, but you could see a cow?”

Adah hadn’t thought of that. Naturally, the Branches would look at her explanations with the harshest scrutiny. Thinking fast, she scrambled. “Our cow’s white. We could spot her especially when lightning flashed, and we could hear her sloshing in the mud ahead of us. Then a big ole wave came. We both went down with it.”

Buck didn’t move except for a narrowing of his eyes. He let long tense moments pass, then spoke with a croaking but loud voice. “Jesse and I ain’t buying it.”

Adah touched her wet hair. “You saw for yourself I was in the river. I was picked up way down.”

“No doubt you was in the river. That much is true. Jesse’s been hearing that some folks is saying it was a miracle.”

Adah shrugged. “Just good luck, I guess.”

“Good luck for you. Too bad my son don’t seem to have got any of that good luck rubbed off on him.” Buck’s eyes flashed with rage. “I want the damn truth. I want it now!”

“I’ve told you everything I can remember!”

“You’ve told me nothing that can help me find my own God-fearing flesh-and-blood kin out there in the freezing cold.”