Rachel eventually spoke, and it was to insist that she be the one to tell Laverna. Rachel felt that her mother needed to hear that their good-luck charm had been undone by bad luck of his own. For the first time in her life, she needed to be near Laverna. The Chief and Bucky thought this was a bad idea, but they did not want to fight her. They found her a coat, and the Chief insisted that he would drive.
Rachel was in shock as she regarded the scene in Krystal’s driveway. It seemed like a dream. Krystal’s car was gone. The Chief said she was at the hospital with the body.
A city cop car was parked outside, and the long sedan of the sheriff. Bert sat in the dirt, a cooler open beside him, and he ate a sandwich.
Rachel rushed him. He didn’t flinch as she tore across the gravel. He was expressionless as she lunged, as if he had been expecting it all along. She was yanked backward by Bucky, pulling at her T-shirt until it began to tear. She heard screaming, a wail that could be heard throughout Quinn, another siren. It took a moment until she realized the uncontrollable keening sound was coming from deep within her.
The Chief pushed Rachel into his truck, and they both waited for Bucky, who was talking to the cops. Bert kept eating his sandwich, even though it had started to rain again. They watched as Reverend Foote appeared, gingerly holding the rifle.
They watched as Reverend Foote handed the sheriff the gun, as the reverend walked up to Bucky and put his hand on his shoulder. They watched as the reverend said something, his brow furrowed as he attempted an expression of concern.
Bucky reached back and punched the reverend so hard in the face that he stumbled backward and tripped over Bert. Reverend Foote landed on his back, arms cast out in a perfect cross, as if it would break his fall.
Both cops did nothing, just stood there. Bucky crossed the driveway and got into the truck with them. He was shaking. He asked the Chief to turn on the heat as they backed out, and Rachel looked over as they drove away. Bert continued to eat his sandwich, and the reverend remained prone in the gravel.
Rachel watched the sheriff slide the rifle into the backseat of his car, no lights flashing.
The Mercy Rule
Laverna already knew, just as the Chief had suspected. It was Ginger Fitchett who called, Ginger Fitchett who had the police scanner going all day and all night next to the cash register at the Sinclair.
After Ginger called, Laverna went out to the back deck and drank a beer and watched the river. The sleet warmed back into rain in the afternoon, made the water a sheet of ripples, turned the surface gray with motion, gray with reflection of the storm clouds above. Laverna removed her corduroy blazer, despite the damp air. She slid the red velvet headband from her hair, threw it at the wind chimes, missed by feet. Kicked off her low-heeled pumps, the same gray as the river. She tugged the gauzy scarf from her neck, dangled it beside her chair in hopes Frank would snatch it away and bury it in the yard. There was no more need for armor.
She drank her beer and waited. She knew Red Mabel would show, and that they would get drunk, and she would cry, and Red Mabel would sit beside her and smoke, because that’s what always happened when somebody died. This was how they mourned.
Frank crawled on her lap, and they watched the river together. He tucked his head into her armpit. She had come to learn that it was his favorite place on earth.
She heard the truck pull up, and she could tell it was not Red Mabel.
She lifted Frank from her lap, set the beer down, and went to the front door.
The Chief and Bucky helped Rachel inside. Frank came galloping from the back, and sniffed at their legs, as Rachel lowered herself to the couch. Bucky tucked an afghan over her, and they stood there, all of them, waiting for Laverna to do something.
She sat down next to her daughter, and asked Bucky to fetch a beer and an ashtray. Rachel handed her the piece of paper Jake had given her that morning. Finally, the tears came as Laverna read the statistics, the careful columns of runs batted in, errors, runs scored, and batting averages. Jake paid close attention to each one of the Flood Girls, and there would be nobody who could possibly take his place.
She drank while Rachel smoked, cigarette after cigarette, and not a word was spoken.
The Chief and Bucky took turns rolling a ball across the carpet for Frank, until the dog had enough, and he nosed the ball under the couch. He crossed the room and lay across Laverna’s feet.
Bucky built a fire, because it was the only thing he could do.
When Red Mabel sped down the driveway, and lurched to a stop, the Chief stood up and kissed Rachel on the forehead. He and Bucky left as Red Mabel rushed in.
Perhaps they thought that grief was women’s work, or perhaps they were afraid of Red Mabel’s anger.
Later, Rachel finally spoke. “I can’t go to his funeral.”
“I know,” said Laverna.
“I imagine it will be at Reverend Foote’s church,” said Red Mabel, attempting to be helpful.
That was when Rachel broke, and Laverna reached over and pulled her close.