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Prologue
Sawyer
Love was all around me when I was a kid.
It was the twinkle in my mamma’s eyes when my little sister Noel walked out on stage at the Princess Peach pageant. Even if she ducked her chin and wouldn’t look at anybody, much less the judges.
It was in her full-body laugh the time my baby brother Leon ate cocoa powder and started crying because it was so bitter. We all laughed until he got mad and wouldn’t speak to us for an hour. He said he wanted a new family.
It was walking with my daddy in the rows, listening to his thoughts on life. It was the warmth in his voice when he’d show me the green shoots of new growth on a peach tree. It was him calling me son.
One day, this will all be yours, son…
Sitting beside Hayes pond, I reach in a plastic box and pull out a brown cricket. Its spindly legs fan out as I thread the fish hook down its spine before tossing it onto the water. I don’t like fishing with insects, but they’re the best way to catch bass or perch, my daddy’s favorite.
I watch as it bobs along the short waves, slowly getting waterlogged, slowly sinking into the depths. The wind moves through the cold trees and the early-morning light is pale gray.
It’s quiet.
I like the quiet. It helps my mind relax, and I can sort through my thoughts, straightening them out like playing cards dropped on the floor.
Fifty-two card pickup.
A dirty trick played on little kids.
Noel went fishing with us once. She was only five, and she chattered nonstop. Daddy didn’t mind her flitting around, bouncing back and forth between us, but I was ten. I wanted her to sit down and shut up. Stop scaring away the fish.
When she saw us baiting our hooks with crickets, she fell back and got real quiet.
Finally, I thought, until I looked around and saw she’d opened the box and let all our bait hop away to freedom.
It was my mamma’s favorite story.
She’d make Daddy or me tell it every time she wanted a good laugh. Her hazel eyes would crinkle at the corners, and she’d smile that pretty smile, lips parting over straight white teeth.
People say I’ve got my mamma’s eyes…
Daddy and I used to go fishing every Sunday, but he hasn’t left his room since Mamma died last month. He sits in a chair, not speaking, not eating, just staring out the window, like he’s waiting for her to come back for him, waiting for her to tell him it’s time to get up and eat something, start living again.
Mamma had gone for a walk that evening around twilight. She was just over the hill on the narrow dirt road when that truck came out of nowhere and killed her instantly.
The driver said he never saw her.
The coroner said she probably never saw him.
I hope she didn’t.
I hope she was thinking about Noel freeing all our live bait that steamy summer morning. I hope she was laughing softly, thinking of her family, full of love as she slipped away to heaven.
When the sheriff told my daddy what happened, my daddy fell to his knees. The noise that came from him was raw and wild, something I’d never heard before or since. Mr. Vincent looked at me like he didn’t know what to do, so I went and carried my daddy inside to his room.
An ache lodged in the middle of my back that night, right between my shoulder blades.
I hope if I catch a mess of fish and cook them up how he likes, maybe Daddy will come back to us and stop sitting in that chair, silent and far away.
The line dips then a sharp tug almost pulls the pole out of my hand. My grip tightens, and I turn the spinner fast, reeling in a good-sized perch, a little bigger than my palm.
A few casts later, and I’ve caught enough to feed us all, once I clean them.
I’m walking back to my truck. At sixteen, I’ve been driving for about a year. It’s close enough to walk home but cold as fuck, which is why I drove.
The last thing I expect to see is a girl sitting on the ground this side of the fence. It’s Noel’s friend Mindy Ray. She’s wrapped in a thick, beige coat that looks like a teddy bear, and her frizzy, dark-brown head is pressed forward against her knees. She’s crying. I can hear her sharp sniffles as I get closer.
“Hey.” I put my hand on her shoulder, giving her a little shake. “You oka
y?”
She only pulls away from me, not lifting her head.
Frowning, I squint up to where my old red Chevy waits. I’m kind of maxed-out on the emotional front right now, but I can’t leave her this way.
Ever since Mamma passed, the adults have been lost in their own heads. It’s like they forgot about us kids, like they forgot we’re suffering, too, and we still need them. It’s made me feel like I need to step up and look out for us, and there’s no way in hell I’m leaving her out here in the cold.
Reaching down, I catch her skinny arm and pull her to her feet. “Come on.”
“Leave me alone!” She jerks her arm out of my grip and glares at me.
Mindy’s only eleven, but she’s got this look that kind of hits you right in the gut, bright green eyes, full lips, and all that thick, dark spirally-wild hair.
