Read Online Dogwood by Chris Fabry - Free Book Online

came over just to sit on the couch and drink coffee. Mama wasn’t bawling or nothing. She was talking like she’d talk about what kind of meat she was going to cook for dinner or who was getting married or getting a divorce.
    I swear, sometimes I forget and start worrying about how we’ll send them to college, she said. And then it’ll hit me fresh. It’s all I can do not to bust out crying when I see a school bus. All the kids in their classes are growing up and having parties, and it’s like my kids are stuck in time, their faces never changing. She was holding Karla’s picture in her lap, rubbing her face with a thumb.
    Maybe you should move away from here, the other woman said. I can’t remember her name. Put some distance between you and the memories.
    Sometimes I think that’s a good idea. I really do. But then I think that there’s not a place on earth where I could get away from the memories. There’s no island far enough away that I could forget my kids and what happened.
    Maybe it would help your marriage.
    There’re some things that can’t be helped. They just are. You either live with them or you don’t. Simple as that.
    There’s nothing simple about it.
    You got that right. You certainly got that right.

K arin
    Slowly, over time, I told my story to Ruthie. I did not reveal the conglomeration of boys I had known too well but the one boy, who seemed so right and so wrong. Ruthie said the tongue held the power of life and death, and it felt like if I didn’t tell all, I would die.
    “Tell it, then,” Ruthie said.
    It was a scene that came back all too often—a scene I would rather forget, but it does show Will. In my mind were images and bits of conversation from the high school homecoming dance. Junior year. I wore a billowy, pink dress with lace above my cleavage. Not that there was much but just above what there was. My mother had helped pick it out, thrilled I was going with Eddie Buret, the son of the police chief and a respected family in our community.
    Eddie stood next to me in front of our fireplace, both sets of parents clicking cameras, lights flashing.
    Eddie’s mother smiled and shook her head. “She looks so much like you, Cecilia.”
    “Do something funny,” Eddie’s dad said.
    “Kiss her,” my father said.
    Everyone laughed when Eddie did. Everyone but me. On the outside I smiled, but on the inside something died. I did not want to ride in the same car with him, let alone kiss him. I cursed myself for agreeing to go, but I was a good girl and didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
    Things didn’t get better at the dance. Eddie kept getting too close, dancing faster and with more intensity, sweating, looking at me knowingly, like we both wanted the same thing. I was glad when he asked if I wanted to go for a walk. Our gymnasium was an oven of hormones. I wanted to go home, but I settled for a stroll.
    Eddie went to get us drinks and Will appeared.
    “I didn’t know you were going to be here,” I said.
    “Student Council has to set up and take down,” he said, smiling. “Thought I might as well have some punch.”
    He had let his hair grow longer. He wore an old black-as-night suit that could have been his father’s or brother’s. Shoes a little big, probably his father’s. His tie was out of style by at least ten years, and he wore a little too much cologne.
    “You want to dance?” he said.
    “I just want to go home.” I glanced around for Eddie. “I’m with this creep who thinks—”
    “Ready, Karin?” Eddie said, coming up behind Will and bumping his shoulder. “Sorry about that. Clumsy me. Didn’t realize you’d been let off the farm. Git all yore chores dun in time fer the big dayunce?” He snickered.
    Will smiled, as if the words were toothpicks thrown by a two-year-old.
    Then Eddie squinted and turned up his nose. “Do you guys smell something?” He looked down. “Hey, Will, you better check your shoes and make sure you didn’t step in some cow