The River Widow(22)
Adah doubted that anything not in ruin would be found at the house, but she had a plan. Lester had kept his cash in a locked box in the secretary, and before they’d taken Daisy over to his parents’ farm the night the flood hit, he’d grabbed it and put it in the truck cab. With a little luck, Adah would find it in what remained of the old truck, if it hadn’t been swept away. Her goal was to be the first to check its interior and grab the box without being noticed. Now convinced that she had to somehow engage the help of a lawyer, she needed to come up with the money to pay for it. She had to find out if she really did own any of the farm and, even more importantly, if she had any rights to custody of Daisy—or if she could fight for it. Adah had never adopted Daisy and might have no legal leg to stand on. Whether Adah liked it or not, she would have to return to the scene of her crime, with Jesse and Buck beside her.
Although there was a chill in the air, the sun was a bright white coin in the sky, and Adah cracked her window as she and Daisy sat in the back seat of the Branches’ four-door Dodge sedan, reserved for use only on Sundays. Back at the house, they all changed out of church clothing, and Mabel decided to stay home and start Sunday supper instead of seeing the place where her son had perished. Now, with some burlap bags and empty crates in the truck bed, Adah had to ride in the cab, holding Daisy in her lap, squeezed between Buck and Jesse.
“Did you lock up your house that night?” Buck suddenly asked. His words had the feel of sharp little stones, and it was obvious he had to force himself to address her at all. But he had said your house . Adah registered that.
“No,” she breathed out. “We hadn’t gotten to that point yet.”
As soon as the farm appeared in the distance, Adah spotted the house. With all its windows broken, the front door hanging open on one hinge, and debris everywhere, it was a pitiful survivor of nature’s wrath. No one spoke as they took in the sight.
Then Daisy said flatly, “Is Daddy here?”
No one answered.
Adah finally whispered “No, not here” in Daisy’s ear as Jesse brought the truck to a halt in front of the carcass of what had once been their home.
In a rush, it all came back—how this place had stolen her life, her happiness, her hope, and finally had taken her innocence with one reflexive swing of a shovel that would leave its scourge on her soul for the rest of her life.
And then elation—Les’s truck was still there. It listed to one side and was jammed against the house as though the flood had pinned it and kindly kept it there for her.
After Buck and Jesse stepped out of their truck, Adah slid out with Daisy, then stood looking at the house as if still absorbing the damage. Both Buck and Jesse were climbing the porch steps and entering the house, so Adah quickly turned her attention to Les’s truck. Despite its position up against the house, she would be able to get inside by way of the passenger-side door.
She grabbed a burlap bag and searched the soggy, mud-covered interior that smelled of mold, and there it was, wedged under the seat. Glancing up at the house, she saw that the men were inside, and so she grabbed the locked black metal cash box and put it in the bottom of the bag. While Daisy stood waiting for her, she looked around for something to place on top of it. The trick would be to hide the cash box until she could retrieve it later. On the ground were pieces of sodden lumber, tree branches, assorted trash, and a crumpled soggy blanket that didn’t belong to them. Nothing of use. Nothing to take. The burlap bags she’d packed on the night of the flood were nowhere to be seen. Quickly changing plans, she pulled the box back out and then slid it under the seat of the truck they’d come in. Tonight, after everyone went to bed, she could slip outside and retrieve it.
Everything both outside and inside the house was covered in brown and black sludge. When she went in the front door, the smell of mold and mildew assaulted her, and she told Daisy to remain on the porch. As they had expected, there was very little to salvage. Most of the dishes, lamps, and glassware were shattered, and the curtains and slipcovered sofa were stinking and unfit even to wash. The plastered walls were crumbling, and the wood floor had buckled. She found a coffee cup and some of her pots and pans and placed those in the bag. Buck and Jesse had been surveying the damage in the bedrooms and emerged wearing scowls, bringing only Les’s shotgun with them.
“Nothing else,” Buck said simply. “You find anything worth keeping?” Again, he addressed her as if it were torture.
“Just a few things from the kitchen.”
“You go on and keep looking around. I’m fixing to walk the property.” He turned toward Jesse. “See if there’s anything in that truck out there.”
Remaining in the house, Adah looked outside to check on Daisy and then quickly assessed the rest of the rooms. She found her brush and comb and decided they could be soaked and cleaned. The mattresses were foul smelling and waterlogged, as were the remaining clothing and bedding. Knowing it was probably hopeless, Adah searched for Daisy’s bracelets but found no trace of them. She pulled open some drawers, and then a thought hit her. The attic. Perhaps the water hadn’t risen to the level of the attic, which Les had used for storage.
Adah climbed the steps and pushed back the slab of wood that covered the opening, then lifted herself and, crouching over because the ceiling was low, stepped onto the wooden beams.
The attic was dry. She found a large basket of fabric scraps, a broken chair, and Daisy’s cradle. She’d forgotten it was up here. Thinking Daisy would like it for her dolls, Adah stepped closer. The cradle was too large to get down on her own, but she managed to move it to the top of the stairs, then spotted a crumpled burlap bag pushed into the far corner of the attic, where the ceiling was even lower. It was so far in the shadows one might never know it was there. From a distance the bag looked empty, but Adah decided to investigate.