Chapter 4.
Walking down St. Anthony"s stone steps for the first time, Celia pins her pillbox hat to her head with one white-gloved hand. In Detroit, all of the ladies wore gloves to church. Here, the women have bare hands and dirty nails. Midway down the stairs that widen as they near street level, Celia stops, the other parishioners filtering around her, and plucks a few c.o.c.kleburs from the hem of her blue cotton skirt. She frowns at the brown oval smudges that stain each fingertip of her white Sunday gloves. Perhaps the reason none of the women wear them. Having lost Arthur in the crowd that filed out of the church following the end of service, she lets the flow of the other churchgoers lead her. All around, people talk in whispers even though church is over.
"Didn"t you hear?" one woman asks another.
"Such terrible news," says a third. "Simply terrible."
Tugging off her stained gloves one finger at a time, Celia scans the crowd until she finds Ruth standing near the bottom of the stairs where everyone seems to be gathering. Her perfectly formed oval face wrapped in a blue and yellow print scarf is tilted up, smiling.
While fending off houseflies with her church bulletin, Celia had spent her first Kansas sermon looking from one hometown parishioner to the next, noticing, as they shifted about on the pews and swatted at flies, that they all had the same overgrown ears and fleshy noses. There were a few, probably in-laws like herself, and the priest, Father Flannery, who hadn"t inherited the trait. And as she studied them, she felt them studying her. Her navy blue skirt was too proper with its sharp pleats and tailored waistband. The other women wore skirts that ballooned over their large hips. They wore floral scarves, not gossamer trimmed hats. Theirs were white cotton blouses, wrinkled and nearly gray. Hers was a silk print, hand washed and dried flat on a towel. By the end of the service, Celia even looked at Arthur, crossing and uncrossing her legs so she could turn unnoticed to study the size and shape of his ears and nose, but he looked like an outsider, and Ruth, too, with her delicate brow and graceful neck. Reesa, however, could have birthed the entire congregation.
"Good morning," Ruth says, clasping her hands together and stepping back when Celia reaches the bottom stair. Her eyelashes cast a feathery shadow on her cheeks and the silver and gray in her hair shimmers in the sunlight. "Lovely service."
"Yes," Celia says. "A little warm though," and she shields her eyes. No sign of Arthur, though she does spot Reesa standing with the three women who were whispering about the terrible news. She is shaking her head as the women talk. Feeling that she has spent the better part of her short time in Kansas swatting bugs, swallowing dust and searching for Arthur, Celia drops her hand and stops looking.
Ruth smiles with closed lips. "There he is," she says, pointing up at Arthur, who is standing at the top of the stairs among a group of men wearing short-sleeve dress shirts and thick black belts.
Celia nods and gives a small wave when Arthur motions in her direction as if to point out his wife to his old friends. Elaine stands nearby at Jonathon"s side, both of them talking with the other young men who must, like Jonathon, work in the oil fields. Weeks of moaning and complaining and already Elaine is at home. Ray, who is also standing with Jonathon, seems to return Celia"s wave, which was meant for Elaine, but because of the way his left eye drifts off to the side, she"s not quite sure where he"s looking. She frowns anyway and after the group of men, all of whom have large ears and noses, turns away, she asks, "Is this where everyone meets?"
"Yes," Ruth says. "The sheriff will talk from up there." She motions toward the church"s double doors at the top of the stone staircase. "Except if it"s wintertime. Then we all gather in the church bas.e.m.e.nt."
"Does he come every Sunday?"
"No. Only when he has business, news to tell."
Celia pulls the gold pins from her pillbox hat, drops them into her change pouch and tucks the hat under one arm. "News of what?"
Ruth lowers her head and glances over her shoulder in a way that Celia has come to recognize as common.
"A girl," she says. "A local girl"s gone missing."
Behind them, a car pulls up to the curb and parks. The congregation quiets as a small, narrow-shouldered man steps out of a black and white police car. He wears a dark blue uniform and a beige tie that has pulled loose at the knot and hangs crooked around his open collar. Pa.s.sing them by, he tips his hat, seemingly at Ruth, and shakes a few hands as he makes his way to the top of the stairs, where he waits silently, hands on hips. The churchgoers gathering on the sidewalk push Celia and Ruth to the back.
"Some of you folks will already be knowing this," the sheriff says, clearing his throat into a closed fist. The six-pointed silver star pinned to his shirt sparkles in the sunlight. "But I"ll tell you all now. Little Julianne Robison has turned up missing." He pauses again. "Her folks called us in last evening. Now, chances are the child has just wandered off. Lost her way in the fields or maybe down by the river. Out playing is all she was doing."
Shielding her eyes with one hand and holding her hair with the other, Celia steps away from the crowd so she can see Daniel and Evie. They both stand where last she saw them-in the steeple"s shadow this side of the whitewashed fence that wraps around the church"s small cemetery. Evie is bent down near the fence, picking the downy-like seeds from a dandelion. Daniel, standing with both hands shoved in his front pockets, watches the sheriff.
"I"ll need for any of you kids to talk with me if you"ve seen our Julianne of late," the sheriff says. "Some of us men have already been out looking but I"d like the rest of you gentlemen to join us in a search. We"ll start our looking in town and work our way out. Orville and Mary say the girl"s p.r.o.ne to going off alone. A hungry stomach"ll probably bring her home, but the more of you can help, the quicker we"ll all get home to Sunday supper."
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Taking a step backward because the shade from the steeple keeps falling away from him, Daniel sees the crippled boy leaning on the b.u.mper of a truck parked across the street, rubbing his thighs with the palm of each hand. Waiting until the boy glances his way, Daniel gives a wave. The boy waves back, pushes himself off the b.u.mper and walks across the street. Step, step, pause. Step, step, pause, until he reaches the tip of the shade where Daniel stands.
"Hey," the boy says, crossing his arms and leaning against the white wooden fence that separates them from the cemetery.
"Hey."
"Name"s Ian."
"I"m Daniel. This is Evie."
Evie blows a tuft of dandelion feathers at Ian.
"What do you think?" Ian asks, nodding at the sheriff still standing near the church doors.
"Didn"t know her."
"She"s younger." He dips his head toward Evie. "More about her age."
"Sounds like she"ll be home by dinner," Daniel says, watching all the Bucher brothers meet up at the truck Ian had been leaning against. Like the red ants in Mama"s kitchen, they keep coming, one after another.
"Like h.e.l.l," Ian says, shuffling closer. "I know what happened. I know exactly what happened." He pauses and looks around like he"s afraid someone might hear. "After Jack Mayer escaped from Clark City, he s.n.a.t.c.hed her right up. That"s what happened."
Daniel crosses his arms over his chest. "Think I might have seen that Jack Mayer," he says. "The night we got here. Pretty sure I saw him."
"At your place?" Ian says, shifting his weight from his short leg to his long one. "You catch him stealing food?"
Daniel shakes his head. "Back that way. On the drive in. Saw him running across the road. Car might have hit him. Can"t be sure. He must have been black as midnight because I could barely see him. Just like you said."
"It was a tumbleweed," Evie says, peeling apart a dandelion stem and draping the thin pieces across her bare knee.
Daniel nudges her with his foot. "Wasn"t a tumbleweed."
"Over on Bent Road?" Ian asks. "Where the road takes a hard turn? That where you saw him?"
Daniel nods.
"Could have happened. That"s the only spot that still has water this time of year. Everything else has dried up. That"s where a fellow"d have to head." Ian looks up at Daniel and smiles. "Yeah, could have happened just that way."
"Sure, I guess."
All night, Daniel had lain awake, imagining the whites of Jack Mayer"s eyes shining outside his bedroom window, which he had locked and checked twice. Probably chains hung from both wrists and he did all his traveling at night because his coal-black skin hid him in the darkness. Jack Mayer is a big man, that"s for sure. Even in the dark, at the top of Bent Road, Daniel could judge the man"s size. Hearing a rattle inside Ian"s chest, Daniel takes a step backward.
"Yep, s.n.a.t.c.hed her up," Ian says. "Probably right out of her own front yard. "Course, that means you didn"t hit him with your car. Would have been dead if you did. Couldn"t swipe Julianne Robison if he was dead."
Evie brushes the rounded, fuzzy tip of another dandelion against her cheek and looks up at Ian, her pinched eyebrows making a crease above her nose.
"Maybe," Daniel says, glancing down at Evie. "Or maybe she just wandered off."
"n.o.body wanders off for a whole night." Ian gives a wave to the group of brothers across the street. "Hey," he says. "I got to go. We"re going searching for her. Me and my brothers. Be out all day." He takes a few steps, his left foot swinging out because it"s too long. Then he stops and looks back at Daniel. "You know," he says, "your house is the first place those crazies come across when they escape. After the old Brewster place, that is. Just be sure you make a lot of noise when you get home. Bang around for a while. It"ll scare them off if they"re inside."
"Sure thing," Daniel says, crossing his arms over his chest and thinking he"ll let Dad go inside first. "We"ll do."
After the sheriff finishes his announcement, the crowd breaks up and Celia drifts back toward Ruth, all the while keeping Evie and Daniel in sight. From the top of the church steps, the sheriff points and gestures to the group of men who have gathered with him, his black pistol slapping against his thigh. Every so often, he pats the gun and scans the crowd as if one of these fine Christians is hiding Julianne Robison in an attic or under a porch. After all of the men have gone their separate ways, apparently following the direction of the sheriff, Arthur walks down the stairs toward Celia. With arms crossed and feet spread wide, the sheriff watches Arthur take the stairs two at a time and hand Celia his car keys and tie. The sheriff is listening and nodding to the men standing around him but he is watching Arthur.
"Why don"t you and the kids go on home?" Arthur says. "I"ll be along later. And take Ruth. No sense Mother driving her."
When Arthur leans in to kiss Celia"s cheek, she grabs his upper arm and draws him to her. "Arthur, I don"t like this," she says, still watching the sheriff. "I"d rather have you home." She glances at Evie and Daniel and whispers, "This will scare the children."
"Nothing to worry about," Arthur says, laying one hand over Celia"s. "We"ll have her home in no time." He kisses Celia"s cheek, peels open her fingers and gives her a wave as he walks away.
Still standing at the top of the stairs, the sheriff watches Arthur until he climbs into Jonathon"s truck. This seems to put him at ease because he lets both arms drop and walks toward his patrol car. As he pa.s.ses by, he tips his hat in Celia"s direction. She exhales, only then realizing that she had been holding her breath.
"Guess it"s just us," she says and waves at Daniel and Evie, motioning for them to come along.
"Poor Mary must be sick with worry," Ruth says.
"How did you know?" Celia glances at Ruth across the top of the car. She pauses while the children run toward them. Daniel outpaces Evie, who struggles to keep up in black leather shoes that are too big and slip off her heels with every stride. A few car lengths ahead, where he stands at his truck waiting to follow the sheriff and the other men, Ray watches Evie, too. He removes his hat, wipes his forehead with a kerchief and when Evie finally reaches the car, her face red and her upper lip damp with perspiration, he slips into his truck. Once Daniel and Evie have crawled into the backseat, and while Elaine is too far away to hear, Celia says, "You already knew about the little girl, didn"t you?"
Ruth makes a small motion as if she is going to look over her shoulder but stops herself. "A person hears things."
"Do you think it was that man everyone is on the lookout for?" Celia asks. "The one Daniel thinks we saw the other night?"
Ruth shakes her head. "Those fellows from Clark City are harmless. Never caused any trouble before."
At the end of the block, where the street changes from concrete to dirt, Ray"s truck kicks up dust and then disappears. Celia opens her door and Elaine slips into the backseat alongside Evie and Daniel.
"They share a pew with us," Ruth says once both women are inside the car. She unrolls her window after Celia starts the engine. "Orville and Mary Robison sit on the other end of our pew. Them with only one child. Me and Ray without any. We fit fine."
Heading south out of town, Celia holds the steering wheel with two hands, her shoulders and forearms still sore from driving so much a few days earlier. "Do you know them well?" she says.
"As well as anyone, I suppose. And no better than most. We were friends, closer friends, when we were young. A long time ago."
"We saw that girl, Mama," Evie says, leaning forward and draping her arms over the front seat. "We saw her on the way to Ian"s house." She turns toward Daniel. "In the truck. You remember?"
Daniel shrugs.
"Is that right, Daniel?" Celia asks, keeping her eyes on the road. "Did you see her?"
"Don"t know. I wasn"t looking."
"I saw her. I know I did," Evie says. "Will I go missing, too?"
"No, Evie," Celia says, not turning around because she"s afraid of losing her grip on the steering wheel. "Julianne will be home by dinner. The sheriff said so. No one is going missing. No one."
Ruth smiles at Celia"s children sitting shoulder to shoulder across the backseat and rests her smile the longest on Evie so she"ll believe what her mama told her-that bad things don"t happen to nice girls. Except Ruth knows that"s not true. Sheriff Bigler must know it, too. He was full of hope up on those steps, shielding his eyes and looking at the Robisons" house three doors down from the church as if Julianne might walk right up the sidewalk at any moment. But early this morning when he knocked on Ruth"s back door, he wasn"t so hopeful. Standing on her porch, his hat in hand, he must have known that if a hungry stomach was all it took to bring Julianne Robison home, she would have already eaten Mary Robison"s Sat.u.r.day night roast and potatoes and been tucked in good and tight. Instead, at 7:00 on Sunday morning when the sheriff came knocking, Julianne Robison had been missing for well over twelve hours and a hungry stomach hadn"t done a thing to help her.
"It"s Floyd," he had said when Ruth pulled open the curtain on the back door. "Floyd Bigler. Sorry for the early hour."
Ruth tugged at her terrycloth belt and smoothed back her hair. "Ray"s sleeping," she said, steaming the windowpane as she talked through the gla.s.s. Dark clouds in the east dampened the rising sun so Ruth flipped on the porch light. Floyd stepped back, the glare making him squint and bow his head.
"Yes, ma"am, I know it"s early. A quick word is all. Just a few questions."
Over the backdrop of a percolating coffeepot, with Floyd sitting at her kitchen table, Ruth learned that Julianne Robison hadn"t come home to supper the day before. Mary Robison had walked the neighborhood searching for her, calling out the way mothers do when the kids wander too far. She was mad as a grizzly when she first called Floyd, but after he drove the town for two hours and darkness settled in, she wasn"t so mad. Just plain scared. A group of fellows from town were already looking for her, had been all night, and Floyd had been to see most folks living in the outlying areas, asking them to search their barns, abandoned wells, cellars, any place a young girl might get herself stuck. He"d been checking in with all the folks. Good old-fashioned questions. Maybe someone had seen the girl out walking one of the back roads or catching a ride. Ruth told him that she and Ray had spent Sat.u.r.day helping her brother and his family settle in. Arthur was gone a good many years but he"s back now. Thank goodness. They all met at Mother"s, ate a heavy lunch and unloaded the truck at the new house. Ruth baked a strawberry pie-not so nice with brown sugar on top-and they unpacked boxes until late afternoon. Didn"t see a thing out of the ordinary. Not a thing.
"I"m real sorry to hear this," Ruth said, hoping that Floyd would forget about his cup of coffee. "Real sorry indeed."
When Floyd took another sip, Ruth pressed both hands into the pockets of her robe. In her right one were the two stones she had pulled from Ray"s pants pocket that morning. Both stones were smooth and together fit in the palm of her hand. Waiting for what Floyd would say next, Ruth rolled the stones between her fingers and rubbed her thumb over their smooth edges. Outside, the breeze that kicked up with the early-morning clouds had died out and the air was still. Maybe it wouldn"t rain after all.
"I"ll keep a good eye out. Any more questions? Is that all?"
"I suspect it is. For now, I"d say yes. Please ask Ray to have a look around the place. You, too, if you have a mind to."
Watching behind Floyd, waiting for the bedroom door to open, Ruth wiped her top lip with a dish towel. She has known Julianne Robison since she was a bundle wrapped in a pink fleece blanket. "There"s still time for you," Mary had said as she handed Julianne to Ruth on the first Sunday the Robisons brought their new baby to church. Mary Robison was Ruth"s age, even a few years older, and Orville Robison was a good bit older than Ray. Still, the Robisons had been blessed with a little girl. Now, the sweet baby that had smelled of talc and vanilla was gone.
"Will you come again?" Ruth said. "Ask any more questions?"
Floyd twisted his lips up the same way he did when they were kids figuring multiplication facts in Mrs. Franklin"s cla.s.s. "Might be more. Can"t tell. I"ll come along if there are."
Ruth leaned against the kitchen counter, shifting a little to the right so she could see the k.n.o.b on the bedroom door. "I"m real sorry," she said. "Mary must be beside herself from worry. You tell her I"ll bring her a ca.s.serole. A real nice one."
Taking his hat from the table and tucking it under his arm, Floyd stood and pushed in his chair. "Sorry to bother you so early, Ruth. I"ll see myself out."
Ruth tightened her robe. "No bother."
"One more quick question." Floyd slapped his beige hat against his left thigh a few times. "You say you were busy at your brother"s all afternoon."
Ruth nodded, swallowed and continued to watch the bedroom door.
"And you folks came home around five o"clock?"
Again, Ruth nodded.
"Didn"t stay for supper?"
"Arthur"s family had such a long day and Mother made a late lunch. Didn"t bother with eating again. Left them alone to a quiet evening."
"So, you and Ray were home here all night?"
Behind Floyd, the bedroom door opened.
Floyd turned. "Morning, Ray," he said. "Hope I didn"t wake you."
Ray ran one hand through his dark hair, pushing it off his face. "First thing home, ate some of Ruth"s meat loaf," he said. Both eyes, even the gray overcast one, settled directly on Floyd. "Leftover pie for dessert."
"She does make a fine pie," Floyd said and at the same time studied Ruth as if waiting for her to confirm Ray"s story.
Ruth cleared her throat and nodded again. "Pie wasn"t so nice. Strawberries were tart."
Lowering her eyes to avoid Floyd"s stare, Ruth tried to remember the last time she had seen little Julianne. Church, probably. Most likely, last Sunday. Julianne, with silky blond hair that hung to her waist, always wore a pink dress to services. She"d wear it until she outgrew it or until the weather turned too cold.