“I’m staying,” she said, her eyes threatening to tear.
“You don’t want to see this. Shit, we’ve pulled a lot of bad stuff from this river lately, and more than a few bodies. Better off waiting at home with your mama.”
“I promised my mama I would bring her home. And if Patsy’s down there”—Flannery pointed to the Kentucky—“I don’t intend to waste another second just waiting and pining. I aim to take back news, and if the situation warrants, prepare for a burial this very afternoon.”
It was almost a relief saying it. Burial. Relief she wouldn’t have to go through another fake birthday.
“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Hollis said, but Flannery knew he was thinking the same thing.
“Mama’ll want to have a proper one, give her a nice service.” Flannery tasted each word as it traveled from the heart to the tongue. “We’ll need to have a funeral as soon as the officials give us the . . .” For a minute she couldn’t imagine what the officials would be giving them. What remnants of young lives, what mottled human remains they might find in that crusted, old Mercury? Still there needed to be a ceremonial good-bye of sorts. An ending to wishing, the yearly birthday celebrations. The madness. Mama’s and hers.
The whole town knew about the sham. The parties, the waiting. The disappointment and depression that followed Mama for weeks after, until she’d shake it off and start talking about the next year’s celebration.
“Dad will want Danny buried in the Catholic cemetery,” Hollis said. “If the kids are down there together, you and Jean might want to think about leaving them together that way. Be less talk knowing our families are together on this.”
A deputy with a different county badge interrupted. “Excuse me, sir. Brought you a coffee.” He handed the sheriff a Styrofoam cup.
“Thanks, Howland.” Hollis took a small sip.
The deputy sipped from his own cup. “Sorry about all this, sir. I was hoping it weren’t the Henrys’ car. Thinking how terrible—”
Hollis nodded. “Thanks for the coffee. How’s Ginny feeling? I know she had a headache when she left last night.”
“Right as rain. Sure was a good get-together you threw yesterday, sir,” the deputy piped, his voice picking up a notch as if he was relieved Hollis’d changed the subject. “Thanks for inviting us. Ginny’s still talking about your vittles. All the fine things you do for the school kids.”
Flannery raised a brow.
Hollis mumbled a thanks through the steam of his coffee. The deputy told Hollis, “Mayor Conner said it was your best barbeque yet. One of your biggest. Said it was real generous of you to do all that, donate your home and all that food to raise monies for the high school like that. Yessir, thinking of them kids so they can have themselves a proper band and nice decorations for their big prom dance. Ain’t right you have this in your lap, now.” He squeezed Hollis’s shoulder and slipped off.
Hollis smiled at Flannery, looked a little embarrassed, and said, “I try to make sure the students have themselves a nice shindig at the end of the year.”
“That’s real nice, Hollis,” Flannery said, meaning it.
“Just something I always wished for Patsy and Danny. Louise and I decided a while back, we’d make it happen for Glass Ferry’s kids—have us a barbeque to raise the funds. They can have themselves a real band instead of a jukebox.” He cleared his throat. “Flannery, Dad’ll want those two buried—”
“Mama will want her on Butler Hill,” Flannery said firmly.
Hollis shook his head and walked away.
Flannery lagged behind him, slipping past the small crowd of onlookers and over to the sycamore trees near the Kentucky’s banks.
Hollis stopped to talk to a couple of state troopers, all the while keeping an eye on Flannery and the Mercury.
“Hell, are you kidding?” Hollis laughed weakly at something one of the troopers said.
The trooper said, “Yup, I missed my pool buddy this weekend. Gravey’s Bar just wasn’t the same without you, Hollis.”
“Likely to be missing me a while if Louise has her way,” Hollis told him, and snatched a more direct peek at Flannery.
Flannery turned away and pretended she wasn’t listening, but snuck glances at the two, perked an ear to pluck their conversation.
“Your wife’s still bent about the last time?” the trooper asked Hollis.
“That woman can light a meanness anytime.” Hollis sighed loudly. “I was cleaning up the picnic tables after the barbeque, carrying in the dishes for her. Soon as I hit the door, here she came a’harping. I tried to get her out of my way, but she stumbled and twisted her ankle. Hell, all I wanted, Billy, was to get out of my clothes and pop me a cold one. But, damn, that beer cost me a week’s salary what with the doctor bill.” Hollis shook his head.
“Sorry, buddy,” the trooper said.
Flannery gasped and moved a step away. She forced her attention back to the river. Bracing herself against a tree, she watched the tow truck driver try to secure the winch to the back of the Mercury. The man disappeared under the murky waters several times, attempting to attach the cable to the car’s frame or axle or onto something that might work. After the third try, he got it hooked and pulled the lever on the winch, and the metal cable popped and tightened.
The old Mercury looked like a giant catfish poking up like that, still half-stuck, mud-soaked in debris and strangling algae.
The tow truck operator turned off the winch and restarted it again, but the old catfish wouldn’t budge. The nose of the half-sunken Mercury clung to the muddy floor of the Kentucky, slowly pulling, sliding the wrecker back toward the water, the heavy engine weighing it down. Finally, the man took the smaller winch on the front bumper of the wrecker and wrapped its cable securely around the nearest big tree.
As the Mercury was pulled up and out onto the gravel boat ramp, dirty water and mud sloshed out from underneath, poured out of cracks. Sediment, muck, and other debris that was hard to pinpoint, oozed out of its metal cavities.
Flannery edged closer. She didn’t notice Hollis had slipped up beside her. He gave a low whistle and said, “To think all that’s been right under our noses all along.”
Flannery strained for a better look, but couldn’t see inside, what with every window, every door and opportunity coated in thick, foul-smelling sludge.
The big tow truck pulled the vehicle up the ramp and onto a small, grassy knoll. A group of law officials surrounded it. A trooper stepped forward and pushed the small crowd of advancing watchers back, behind some imaginary line, urging folks to keep clear, go on home, threatening to ticket anyone who disobeyed.
Soon the coroner and his men arrived.
The tow truck operator slowly began wiping down the doors, handles, windows, and windshield with rags and long squeegees.
Hollis started to walk over and join the other men, but Flannery touched his uniform sleeve, tugged. “I want to see when they open it.”
He wrinkled his brow. “You can’t mean—?”
“I’ve been waiting twenty years, and I mean every word. Take me over there with you. I have every right to see. To see the last place I know she was. The last place you said she was.”
Hollis looked like he didn’t have the energy or time to argue with her and nodded. “It’s gonna be bad, and it’s gonna get busy. Stay out of our way,” he warned. “Us big dogs don’t play much,” he said in a stiff voice, again reminding her of that night in ’52.
*
Flannery crawled into bed on prom night, telling a string of half-truths, pretending to Mama she had the cramps and that Chubby’d told her to leave.
Mama had come home a little after nine, surprised to find Flannery in her nightgown, lying in bed, cuddling the water bottle to her stomach.