The Grove

by John Rector

  “Fly paper?” He looked around the room. “You got a fly problem?”

  I took the box. “You know how it goes.”

  “That’s a big box. Could’ve just bought a swatter.”

  I ignored him and kept unpacking.

  Greg paced around behind me. “Should I tell Julie to expect you then?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “It’ll be good for you. Might be nice to be around people for a change.”

  “I don’t know if I’m up for it right now.”

  Greg was quiet for a moment. When I turned I saw him standing at the sink, staring out the window at the field and the grove in the distance.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me, Dex?”

  I felt my stomach lurch back against my spine.

  Right then, I almost told him everything. That I’d been afraid he would’ve thought I killed her, gone crazy that night, when I knew I had nothing to do with her death. About Megan and Jessica’s boyfriend and how I was convinced they had something to do with what had happened out there.

  But I didn’t.

  Instead I said, “Tell you what?”

  Greg held up a small amber bottle. At first I didn’t know what it was.

  “You’re back on your pills?”

  I managed to pull a chair away from the table and sit before my legs gave out on their own.

  “Were you embarrassed to tell me?”

  I nodded, not sure why.

  Greg put the bottle back on the windowsill then sat at the table with me. “You made the right choice. No shame in that.”

  I nodded again, and both of us were silent for a while. Even if I had been taking those pills, I wouldn’t have been embarrassed to tell Greg. We didn’t say anything else about it.

  Greg looked at his watch and stood. “Got to head out,” he said. “I’m going to tell Julie to expect you on Saturday.”

  “I didn’t say I was—”

  “Just show up,” he said. “It’s been too long since you’ve been over.” He paused. “I want you to come.”

  I looked up at him and nodded. “OK,” I said. “I’ll be there.”

  “Good,” he said. “It won’t be bad, I promise.”

  I followed him out to the porch.

  “Have you tried to get your tractor out of there yet?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “My offer still stands. If I bring that winch by we’ll have it out in a couple minutes.”

  “Thanks, but I’ll manage.”

  Greg shrugged and walked down the steps toward his cruiser. He stopped halfway and looked out toward the grove.

  “What’s all that about?”

  I followed his gaze but I didn’t see anything unusual. “What do you mean?”

  “All those crows.”

  I looked again, and at first I still didn’t see anything. Then there they were, hundreds of them, black shapes lifting into the air then dropping down again like ash.

  How had I not seen them before?

  “I wonder what they’ve found.”

  I bit down on the insides of my cheeks. “I don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t been out in while. Sort of lost interest.”

  Greg looked back at me and nodded. “I guess I can understand that. You’ve had a rough one.”

  I glanced over at the grove and the crows.

  “Those pills helping?” he asked.

  I made myself look away. “It takes a while for them to kick in.”

  “Well, it’s a start, right?”

  I raised a hand in the air. “I’ll see you on Saturday.”

  Greg waved back, then got in his cruiser and backed down the driveway to the road.

  I waited on the porch until he was gone, then hurried inside, grabbed the broom from the kitchen closet, and ran out the back door and through the field to the grove.

  Halfway there, I heard Jessica screaming.

  CHAPTER 22

  The crows covered the ground around Jessica’s body like a fire. I ran in, swinging the broom and shouting.

  They scattered.

  I watched as they settled in the field and among the branches of the cottonwoods, encircling us, then looked down at the body. I felt something twinge inside.

  She looked the same.

  They’d been all over her, but there was no damage.

  It didn’t make sense.

  When I was a kid, I’d once come across a flock of crows tearing apart a small deer that’d been killed on the road beside my farm. I remembered seeing them come away with long red slivers of flesh hanging from their black beaks, one after the other.

  They’d eaten through the deer in an afternoon.

  But here, no damage at all?

  I felt the twinge again, and this time I pushed it out of my mind. We were lucky, that was all.

  I heard Jessica come up behind me.

  “It could’ve been a lot worse,” I said.

  She didn’t speak. She moved up slow, and when she saw the body she turned away, hysterical.

  I tried to calm her, but nothing I said did any good. In the end, I stood behind her and let her cry. After a while I put my hand against her back.

  “They’re gone. It’s OK now.”

  She didn’t answer.

  I looked up and saw the dark shapes in the trees, black eyes staring back. I’d never seen so many birds in one place.

  No damage at all?

  I turned back to Jessica and said, “What can I do?”

  “There’s nothing you can do.” She spoke through tears. “They’ll just come back once you leave.”

  She was right. Now that they knew she was here, they wouldn’t leave. I was surprised they hadn’t arrived sooner. Maybe they had.

  I looked up at the trees and said, “Then I won’t leave. I’ll stay out here with you. I’ll even sleep out here if you want.” I motioned toward the house. “I’ll have to go get a few things, but then I’ll come back and I’ll stay.”

  She came closer until she was right in front of me, then looked up and said, “You’d stay out here?”

  “I would.”

  “What if someone comes to the house? What if—”

  I stopped her. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” I said. “I’ll protect you. I promise.”

  Jessica stood for a moment, staring into my eyes; then she wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her lips against mine.

  Her skin felt as warm and smooth as I’d imagined.

  I didn’t want to let go.

  CHAPTER 23

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s morbid.” Jessica shook her head. “And I don’t want it looking down at me all the time.”

  I laughed.

  “It’s not funny,” Jessica said. “It’s sick.”

  I held the skull in front of me, turning it over in my hands. I’d picked it up at a garage sale a few years ago. At the time, Liz had called it an impulse buy, but it wasn’t. I’d bought it for Clara. I’d thought she might like it once Halloween rolled around.

  I still think she would have, too.

  “He has to have a head,” I said. “Otherwise it won’t look right.”

  “OK, but not that.”

  “What else are we going to use?” I held up the skull, dancing it in front of me. “It’s perfect.”

  “No, Dexter, I’m serious.”

  I looked back at the skull and frowned. It wasn’t even real. I didn’t know why she was so upset about a piece of plastic, but I could tell by the tone of her voice that there was no point in arguing.

  I dropped the skull on the ground and went back to nailing the crossbeams together.

  “So, what else did he say?”

  I sighed. I’d gone over my entire conversation with Greg three times so far, and Jessica still didn’t believe he didn’t know.

  I went over it again.

  “You don’t think he’s protecting you, do you?”

  “
Protecting me?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. You guys are friends. Maybe he’s watching out for you.”

  “Greg’s first priority isn’t to me, no matter how good of friends we are.” I’d brought a few old clothes from the house, and I picked up a faded flannel shirt and slid it over the horizontal beam. “If he knew you were out here, he wouldn’t give me, or anyone else, a second thought.”

  “So, what’s he doing?”

  “He’s not doing anything. He doesn’t know.”

  She looked up at me, and I could tell that possibility wasn’t getting through. I thought she was going to say something else, but instead she just turned away and stared out into the field.

  I grabbed a pair of blue jeans and wrapped them around the base pole. I had an old brown belt, and used it to bind them up. When I’d finished, I carried the scarecrow to the edge of the grove and leaned it up against one of the trees. I took a step back.

  “Just doesn’t look right without a head,” I said.

  Jessica walked over.

  “You know, just because that kid hasn’t told anyone yet doesn’t mean he’s not going to.”

  She was right, but I wasn’t ready to think about that so I kept quiet.

  “You’d think you’d be smart enough to know that.”

  The tone of her voice was rough, and at first I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right. “Smart enough?”

  Jessica put both her hands over her mouth and turned away. “That was terrible,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “That’s OK.”

  “I just—”

  She didn’t finish and I didn’t press.

  A moment later she said, “I really think that kid is going to say something.”

  “Maybe not.”

  “Yesterday you said you thought he would.”

  “I might’ve been wrong. He hasn’t told anyone yet, so there’s a chance—”

  “A chance isn’t good enough. We can’t have this hanging out there. Why don’t you see that?”

  “We don’t have a choice.”

  She opened her mouth to speak and I held up a hand, stopping her. I knew what she was going to say.

  “I told you, no.”

  She nodded slow, then said, “You might have to consider the idea that it’s our only option.”

  I shook my head.

  Jessica stared at me for a moment then made a dismissive sound in the back of her throat and walked away.

  As she left, I called after her. “What are we going to use for a head?”

  She didn’t answer, just kept walking.

  After she was gone I turned back to the scarecrow and frowned. I took the cowboy hat I’d pulled from my closet and set it on top, but it didn’t look right so I took it off again.

  I went back to the skull, picked it up, and brushed the dirt off. I walked over to the scarecrow and wedged the skull on the post, then put the cowboy hat on top.

  Perfect.

  I dug a hole a few feet from the body then carried the scarecrow over and slid the base into the ground. I filled the hole and took a few steps back.

  The scarecrow rose above the corn, a shadow against the red sky.

  I smiled.

  CHAPTER 24

  When I unrolled my sleeping bag, I smelled the dusty warmth of old campfires and thought of Clara and Liz. I tried to remember the last time we’d all been camping. Two summers ago, at least.

  “Are you OK?”

  Jessica sat on the ground with her legs tucked under her, watching me. The way she looked in the fading light reminded me of Liz.

  “I think so,” I said. “Just thinking of the last time I slept outside.”

  She slid her legs out and eased down on her side, turning one palm up to support her head. “How long has it been?”

  “A while.”

  “I used to love camping when I was a little girl,” she said. “We’d go to Red Creek and set up along the riverbank. My father would build a fire and we’d cook hamburgers and tell stories.” She paused. “The stars were so bright.”

  “Red Creek.” I laughed, more to myself than her. “There was one spot out there, no one around, just up from the rail bridge. There was an ash tree that—”

  “Had been hit by lightning.” She smiled. “Funny, we always thought we were the only ones who knew about it.”

  “My daughter loved that spot.”

  “Your daughter?”

  I nodded. “I haven’t told you about her, or my wife.”

  “No, but I sort of knew. Why didn’t you say anything about her?”

  “We’re separated. It all happened recently. I guess I didn’t know what to say or—”

  Jessica stopped me. “I meant your daughter. Why haven’t you said anything about her?”

  I glanced down at my wrist and the blue and red bracelet. My face felt warm, and I couldn’t bring myself to look up.

  “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

  I wasn’t sure if I did or not, so I didn’t say anything. After a moment, Jessica turned over on her back and stared up at the sky.

  “The stars are coming out,” she said. “They’re so clear out here. It’s nice.”

  I looked up. There was still some light to the west, but the rest of the sky had darkened to a bruised purple. There were no clouds, and several constellations were beginning to burn through.

  I moved my sleeping bag alongside Jessica and lay next to her. She inched closer, her skin touching mine.

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” she said. “Sometimes I open my mouth when I shouldn’t.”

  “You didn’t say anything wrong.”

  “I just want you to know you can talk to me, if you want.” She paused. “You’re so private.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Isn’t it lonely?”

  I didn’t know what to say. The question was so direct that I wasn’t sure how to answer. So I told her the truth. I told her it was.

  Jessica didn’t say anything for a while, and we both stared up at the stars. Every now and then a firefly would blink green in the corn, looking for a mate. A few had gotten stuck in the flypaper I’d draped over the stalks that afternoon, but even those still pulsed, light and dark, on and off, never quite giving up hope.

  “She died, didn’t she?”

  I nodded, then realized Jessica couldn’t see me and said, “Last summer.”

  “She was the girl on the bike?”

  I nodded again, unable to speak. It didn’t matter if Jessica could see me or not. I knew she understood.

  Clara had been struck by a car along CR-11. The driver didn’t stop, and Clara had lain in a drainage ditch alongside the road for several hours before she died. I don’t know if she’d been conscious that entire time or not. The doctors had assured me she hadn’t suffered, and most of the time that was a small comfort.

  Other times, when I imagined her scared and alone and calling out for me, for anyone, it didn’t help at all.

  “They never found the driver,” I said. “Greg thought it was someone passing through. They probably just panicked and ran.”

  I waited for Jessica to say something, anything, but she didn’t. Instead, she leaned into me and put her head on my chest.

  No empty words of comfort or sympathy, just that one human gesture. The need to be close, to touch, to know you’re not alone.

  It had been so long.

  We stayed like that for a while, staring up at the swirl of stars, now bright and deep against the blackening sky. I thought about Clara at Red Creek, running up from the river, her towel wrapped tight around her shoulders, her blond hair pushed behind her ears.

  In my mind, she was laughing. Happy and alive—the sunlight shimmering off her skin.

  I wasn’t sure if I was remembering an actual event or putting it together in my mind. The image was so vivid and beautiful that I didn’t really care either way.

  “Will your wife come home?”

/>   Jessica’s voice pulled me back. Her head was still on my chest, and when I tilted mine down to look at her, she didn’t move.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so.”

  “Does she want a divorce?”

  I thought about my last conversation with Liz. “She says she doesn’t, but I don’t know if I believe her.”

  Jessica looked up. “She said she didn’t want a divorce?”

  I nodded.

  Jessica put her head back on my chest and said, “Then she’ll be back.”

  Her voice sounded flat, almost sad, and I thought I understood why.

  “I didn’t say I wanted her back, even if she does decide to come home.”

  “You say that now.”

  “No, she’s the one who left. She’s the one who ran out on me, on our marriage. That’s not easy to forget.”

  Jessica didn’t speak.

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “I’d like to.”

  I put my hand under her chin and brought her face up so I could see her eyes. “This is what I want. This is where things make sense. Do you understand?”

  She nodded.

  “I mean it,” I said. “Being with you feels right. It feels—

  ”

  “Perfect,” Jessica said. She rubbed her cheek against my hand then settled again on my chest. “It feels perfect.”

  I laid back and smiled.

  Neither of us said anything else, and after a while we both fell asleep, folded together under a pinwheel of stars.

  FRIDAY

  CHAPTER 25

  I woke up screaming.

  The pain came from everywhere, all at once, and I pushed myself up—fast, clawing at my face and neck.

  Red ants.

  Hundreds of them.

  I felt them in my hair and under my clothes, crawling over my entire body, tiny needles digging into my skin.

  I jumped up and shook and ripped at my shirt. When it came off, I beat it against my chest and back, scraping the ants away. I watched several drop to the ground, and when I looked down I didn’t believe what I was seeing.

  Not hundreds of them, but thousands.

  The ground boiled red around me.

  I stepped back and felt them scattering along the inside of my thighs. I moaned and fumbled with my belt. When I pulled it open, I slid my pants and underwear down and kicked them off into the corn.