“Mama, don’t talk like that.”
“That’s the truth, and I got to talk that way now. We ain’t got time for pretty words, just the truth. You save yourself from getting married till you’re old enough to know who and what you want. That Jerry Flynn you’re seeing. He’s a good boy. But you’re too young to think about marriage, and so’s he.”
“I ain’t said nothing about marriage.”
“No. But you could be thinking it. I thought it when I was your age. Got married and your daddy wasn’t through with other women. He wouldn’t never have been through with other women. I don’t know any more to say. Wouldn’t know what to say he died some other kind of way. But like this. There ain’t no words… Do you hate me?”
Karen shook her head. “I don’t know how I feel… What we gonna do now?”
“You could go to your grandma’s. You could stay there till I could figure some things out.”
“I don’t want to go there by myself.”
“You been there by yourself plenty.”
“I know. But Daddy’s there. Can’t we just go home?”
“There ain’t any home, Karen. It blowed away.”
“Can’t we just go there anyway?”
“If I can walk that far. I’m getting so stiff I can hardly move. Get there, all you’re gonna find is the house is blowed away. There’s just the floor.”
“I want to go.”
They walked out to the road, caught a ride with a man driving a rickety transport truck full of squawking chickens. The man, who had four teeth poorly arranged in his mouth, looked at Sunset when she climbed in next to him, Karen by the passenger door. He said, “You been in some kind of accident?”
“You could say that,” Sunset said.
The man drove them most of the distance and let them out where they didn’t have to walk too far, which suited Sunset fine.
When they got there it was noon and they were both hungry and had nothing to eat. As Sunset had said, there was only the floor left and a few items strewn about. The chicken house out back was gone, except for two posts with a tangle of net wire between them and a twist of feathers and meat where the storm had driven a chicken through it. The outhouse was gone too, leaving only the deep pit full of stinking waste. The yard was no longer littered with fish. There were a few left and they had dried up and shriveled in the sun and they stunk to high heaven. As for the rest of the fish, it was obvious what had happened to most of them. There were coon tracks in the dirt where they had come to feed. It looked like every coon in East Texas had attended a shindig there, dancing and leaping to cricket-leg music by the light of the moon.
In the not too distant trees they could see clothes and lumber and snarled limbs. There was a gap where trees had been knocked down by the tornado, and there was the overturned car wedged between two abused oak trees.
The walk had actually helped Sunset. She was moving more easily, feeling some oil in her joints, but she was tired and ready to rest.They sat on the flooring of the house and looked around.
Karen said, “I don’t know what I expected. You told me it was all gone.”
“Yeah, honey. Long gone.”
“I’m so hungry.”
“We can pick blackberries.”
They went down by the creek where the berry vines grew thick and picked some blackberries and ate them as they went. The berries were warm and sweet and the vines were close to the ground. While they picked they were cautious to watch for snakes. After a while they went back to the flooring and sat on the edge of it and looked out at the day as the sun staggered past noon and began to tumble to the other side of the sky like a ball rolling downhill.
When Sunset felt strong again, they went and looked at the car. No doubt about it, it was ruined. Pete’s files were strewn around it. Sunset began picking them up.
“These might be important to the next constable,” she said.
Karen helped her. They tried putting the files back inside the wooden file cabinet, but it was too busted up. They gathered all the files, even those still in the cabinet, and put them in the car.
About two in the afternoon they went to sit on the flooring of the house again. Karen sang, a little halfheartedly, but her voice when it was perking was really sharp, and Sunset thought: Yeah, she’s good as Sara Carter, but with less nose in the notes.
After a while a truck came clattering down the little road in front of the house. Sunset looked up, saw the driver was her mother-in-law.
Karen broke and ran toward the truck, yelling, “Grandma.”
Sunset said, “Watch you don’t get run over.”
The truck slowed and stopped. Karen jerked open the door, grabbed her grandma and hugged her.
Sunset walked over, said, “How’d you know we was here?”
“Where else was you gonna go? Don’t you think you ought to come home?”
“I don’t think Mr. Jones would like that.”
“Honey, far as I’m concerned, there ain’t no Mr. Jones no more.”
6
When they arrived at Marilyn’s house the body was in the basket and it was covered with a scrap quilt. Karen said, “I want to see him.”
“I thought you didn’t,” Sunset said.
“I do now.”
“You’re sure?” Marilyn asked.
“No. But I want to see him.”
“All right, baby,” Marilyn said. “I fixed him best could be done. He ain’t dressed now. But he’s covered in ice. I’ll show you his face.”
Marilyn lifted the quilt and they took off the basket lid. Marilyn raked ice away from Pete’s face. Sunset stared at the candle wax pushed into the bullet hole. Marilyn had added some rouge to Pete’s cheeks and a touch of lipstick to his lips, powder to the rest of his face. This had been done before the ice, and the ice had turned it all to a mess. Sunset thought Pete looked like someone about to try out for the circus.
“It’s kind of overdone,” Marilyn said. “But he looked so pale. So blue around the lips. The ice messed it up. I didn’t know at the time we were gonna put him on ice. I’ll redo him before the funeral.”
“Cover him,” Karen said, and staggered off toward the sleeping porch. About the time she made it there, she began to cry.
Sunset started that way, but Marilyn caught her by the arm. “She needs to be let alone for a bit.”
Sunset nodded.
Marilyn pushed ice over Pete’s face, put the lid on the basket with Sunset’s help. They covered the basket with the quilt.