by Sharon Sala
“Right.” She tucked her hair behind her ear as she gathered her thoughts. “Here’s the deal. Franklin Sheets was a son of a bitch. We both know that. But he was my biological father, and I have a right to his estate.”
“I don’t care about any of that,” Bodie said.
“Well, actually, neither do I. Or not the way you might think, anyway. I’ve made arrangements for everything to be liquidated. A foundation has been set up that will be run by a bank of lawyers, with all the earnings and benefits going to the John 3:16 Mission.”
Bodie started to smile.
“Sheets would hate that.”
“I know,” she said, and then leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “Tyrell already knows this, but there’s a full-ride scholarship in his name for any college or trade school he chooses to go to. It was his willing ness to tell what he knew that tipped the scales in our favor. I want him to know it was appreciated.”
Bodie’s smile turned into a full-fledged grin.
“He’ll love that.”
“I know.”
“As for the devil’s spawn, I get his ashes tomorrow at three o’clock. Will you go with me?”
“Yes, but you’ll have to drive.”
“I know. I just need you to navigate the way to the bridge. I want to find the deepest part of the Arkansas.”
“You’re really going to do it, aren’t you?”
There wasn’t a trace of anger, a twinge of fury, even a frown across her brow, when she answered.
“Yes. But not for me. For Mommy.”
“Then I’m your man.”
Maria looked at him then, her gaze fixed on the face of the man who was her heart.
“You were always my man. Even when I didn’t know it.”
Maria stood on the bridge, holding a burlap sack in one hand and the box bearing her father’s ashes in the other. The wind that had been blowing earlier had suddenly calmed.
She opened the box and unceremoniously dumped the clump of gray, dusty ashes into the sack, then tossed the box in after them.
The sun had gone behind a cloud, as if God refused to waste daylight on what was left of this man.
Bodie’s hand was on her back as she swung the sack over the side and sent it sailing.
End over end, then oddly flopping about, as a small puppy might have done in struggling to get out.
It finally settled on the water without a sound, floating along with the current. As they watched, the river water began soaking the coarsely woven burlap, causing it to sag, then slowly sink beneath the surface.
She stood without moving, without speaking, watching intently until the sack and its contents were gone.
At that moment the sun came out from behind its cloud, the rays hitting the water in such a way that it appeared as if a million tiny diamonds had just been tossed into the flow.
“Ready to go home?” Bodie asked.
Maria nodded.
They walked back along the bridge to where they’d parked, got in their car and drove away, while deep within the dark, muddy water, the sack and its pitiful contents went about the business of sinking into the ancient mud below.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-8430-6
BLOOD STAINS
Copyright © 2011 by Sharon Sala
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Table of Contents
Epilogue
