The Unmaking of June Farrow

I stared into the dashboard, that vision of him disappearing into the tall tobacco projected across my mind. The flash of his white T-shirt as the leaves swallowed him up, the last sight of him gone.

“I suppose if you really want to know, you can find out when you go back,” she said.

I looked at her, resisting that slow churn in the pit of my stomach. She was right. How hard could it be to retrace Eamon Stone’s steps and find out what became of him, where he went, when I returned to my time? But the idea of going back meant something different now. It wasn’t just returning to the place I knew; it was also letting go of everything I’d learned since I’d been here. I didn’t know how to just pick up my life again and go on like my entire world hadn’t changed. I didn’t know how to move on from this.

“Dammit.” Esther’s eyes went to the rearview mirror, her hands tightening on the steering wheel.

I turned around, peering through the dusty back window. Behind us, a police car had appeared, the single red light on its roof flashing. I exhaled unevenly before I faced forward, watching the car in the side mirror.

“Dammit,” she said again, reaching toward the glove compartment. It fell open, nearly hitting my knees, and she reached inside.

She moved so fast that I barely saw what she had hold of before she dropped it into the pocket of her door. It was a handgun.

My heart sprinted, a pain igniting in my chest. “What the hell are you . . . ?”

“Listen to me.” She cut me off, eyes still on the mirror.

I looked again out the back window. The police car was getting closer.

“June!” Esther’s voice rose.

When I finally looked at her, the truck was beginning to slow.

“You were home all night,” she said, one of her hands reaching out to take hold of my sleeve.

“What?”

“That night, you were home. With Eamon and Annie. Just the three of you.”

I searched her face, the panic in her eyes now flooding into my own veins. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Just say it!” Her hoarse whisper made me tremble. “Repeat what I just told you.”

“I was home,” I stammered, trying to remember. “All night.”

She let me go, and I leaned away from her, pressing myself to the passenger door as she guided the truck over onto the shoulder.

My mouth went dry when the police car followed. We came to a stop, and Esther shifted the gear into park. There was a calm on her face now, a forced steadiness as she drew in a long breath. As soon as she had herself composed, her hand silently drifted to that pocket in the door and stayed there.

It was a few seconds before the police officer got out, and when I saw his face, my teeth clenched painfully. It was Caleb, the man who’d knocked on Eamon’s door. He took measured, easy steps toward the truck, one hand at his belt, where his gun was clipped into a holster.

“Esther,” I whispered.

She ignored me, leaning out the window just a little. “That you, Caleb?” Her tone had completely shifted to match her relaxed expression.

When he reached the window, he pulled the hat from his head. “Esther.”

Then his dark eyes fixed squarely on me. His mouth pulled in a half smile. I mimicked it, but it felt all wrong. I could tell by his expression that it looked wrong, too.

“Good to finally see you, June.”

There was a knowing undertone to the words, as if he were referring to the fact that he hadn’t actually laid eyes on me when he came by the house yesterday. But he’d known I was there.

“Just got in a few days ago.” Esther spoke before I had to.

“I heard. You didn’t say she was headed back to Jasper.” He was still watching me. “How’s your mother?”

“Better.” My voice was tight in my throat.

“That’s good to hear,” he said. “People ’round here sure will be glad to see you. Been a long time.”

My eyes cut to Esther, looking for any clue as to what was about to unfold here, but she was unreadable.

“I’m sure Eamon’s told you I’ve been looking forward to sitting down and talking. I thought now would be a good time.”

I couldn’t tell if my breath sounded as loud in the truck as it did in my ears. Had he followed us? Had he been watching us in town?

“Talk?” I echoed.

“You have some time to come down to the station?”

Esther laughed nervously. “Now?”

“As good a time as any.” He smirked.

“Can this wait? We’re just headed back to the farm.”

“You’re not the only one who’s been waiting for June to come home, Esther.” He set a heavy hand on the lip of the door, a seemingly innocent gesture, but something about it felt distinctly threatening. “We’ll make it quick. I’ll tell you what, I’ll even have her home before supper.”

Esther’s gaze moved to me. She was scared, her hand still half-hidden in the pocket of the door. She was considering. Weighing her options. But if she pulled out that gun, I had no idea what would happen. Would she really shoot him? Just threaten him? What would he do when he saw it? Turn his own gun on us?

“Sure.” I smiled, hands still clutched around the pie in my lap.

Esther’s eyes bored into me.

Caleb’s smile widened. “Great.”

He waited, and when I didn’t move, he gave a nod toward my door. My hand was unsteady as I reached for the handle and opened it. I left the pie on the seat, locking eyes with Esther one more time as I got out.

I came around the truck, catching a glimpse of the gun at his hip as he fell into step beside me. He opened the door to the police car, and his hand clamped down on the top of the window as he waited. My eyes fell to the badge on his chest.

MERRILL COUNTY was engraved in an arc over the word SHERIFF. Beneath it was a name.

RUTHERFORD

My heartbeat skipped as I looked at his face again. He was still smiling, but he had the look of someone who’d gotten what they wanted, confirming that there was something very, very wrong about what was happening here.

If his name was Rutherford, then he had to be related to Nathaniel. Too young to be a brother, too old to be a grandson. A nephew, maybe.

I pulled up my skirt, sliding onto the bench seat in the back of the car, and the door closed a little too hard behind me. Then he was rounding the car, climbing into the driver’s seat. He turned the ignition, hand reaching for the switch on the two-way radio that was fixed to the dash.

Esther sat completely still in the truck in front of us, but I could feel her eyes in that rearview mirror. The car turned around, and I swallowed hard before I looked back, one hand clutching to the hot leather of the seatback as I watched her through the dusty rear window. A few seconds later, she was erased from view, disappearing behind the hill.





Eighteen


The courthouse loomed over me as the door of the police car opened, and I stared up at it, a lump in my throat.

If the sheriff wanted to cause a scene, he’d been successful. Nearly everyone on the street had stopped to stare as we climbed the steps. The birds nesting in the eaves above the entrance took off, darting over the roof and out of sight as the doors opened.

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