A Tree Born Crooked

by Steph Post

  James had squeezed his eyes shut against the acrid smoke that filled the air, but as he became aware of the pounding emptiness in the room that replaced the roar of bullets, he slowly opened them. A haze hung in the air above him and it was the smell that hit him first. The sharp sting of spent ammunition surrounded him and mixed with the sickly reek of blood. Next, he began to feel. There was a terrible, deep throbbing in his shoulder and a searing pain along the left side of his head. He slowly raised his hand to his ear. When he brought his fingers back in front of his face, they were smeared with blood.

  As his vision came back to him, and the smoke wafted higher up into the room, James was able to see around him. The first body his eyes met was Delmore’s. He was stretched out across the room with at least two bullet holes that James could see in his back. From where Delmore had been standing, in-between everyone, James was sure that there were more. His head was twisted awkwardly on his neck, so that James could see what was left of his face. The small pistol was still in his back pocket.

  Beyond Delmore, James could make out the crumpled form of Sully Granger. His hat had been blown off and out onto the front porch. James watched his chest rise and fall, once, and then be still. He pushed himself up, the torn muscles in his shoulder screaming inside of him, until he was able to see Marlena. She was lying back in the corner of the room, curled up in a fetal position with the side of her face against the splintered floorboards, but her eyes were open. James and Marlena looked at each other for a long time before either of them blinked. Her eyes, serene, ghostly, but full of an amber light, were more beautiful than anything he had ever seen.

  Then he felt Rabbit’s hands underneath his arms, pulling him to his feet. Rabbit’s lips were moving, but James couldn’t hear anything he was saying. Once he was standing, he helped Rabbit pull Marlena up and steady her. She had been shot through the side, just above her hip, but from the way she was moving, James hoped that the bullet had gone clean through her without hitting any organs. Blood had seeped through the front and back of her shirt and jeans, but she was able to stand. Rabbit, having fallen out onto the back porch right before the shooting started, was the only one who had not been injured. He stepped over the body of Sully Granger and looked out into the woods. James’ hearing was slowly coming back in one ear, and he could faintly hear what Rabbit was saying.

  “I guess that other fella took off. There’s blood out here, but it looks like he went running through the woods.”

  James didn’t care. He pulled Marlena to him and wrapped his arms around her. His shoulder burned as she pressed against it, and he felt her shudder as his hand brushed against her side. He held her, tighter and tighter, trying to make her pain his pain, her bones his bones, her life his life. He held her covered in blood, in gunpowder, in trepidation and in gratitude. He held her until they lapsed into a reprieve all their own, and the world fell away beneath them. He held her and he tried to let go.

  SIXTEEN

  The screen door to Marlena’s house banged open and Rabbit stumbled into the kitchen juggling a newspaper, a carton of cigarettes, and two plastic bags of take-out from Willie J’s Chicken and Bar-B-Q. He dropped the Marlboros and glared at James.

  “How come I gotta be the one running all over getting stuff?”

  James stood up from the kitchen table and retrieved the cigarettes. He didn’t offer to help Rabbit untangle himself from the plastic bags.

  “I’m sorry, but did you get shot?”

  Rabbit sighed and stepped over Roscoe, lying in the middle of the kitchen floor, whining.

  “Fine.”

  Grunting, Rabbit dropped the bags down on the table and yanked his hands free of the plastic loops.

  “Sorry, Marlena, but I couldn’t find no more of them rolls of gauze like you wanted. They was all sold out at the drugstore.”

  She took the newspaper from him, wincing as she leaned across the table.

  “That’s okay. We’ll make do.”

  James set the cigarettes on the kitchen counter and sat back down at the table. He pried open the Styrofoam containers of coleslaw and mashed potatoes.

  “You hear anybody talking?”

  Rabbit slid into a chair and reached for the box of chicken.

  “Nah. Nothing we didn’t hear already on the TV this morning. On the radio they was talking ‘bout the sheriff saying he thinks Delmore’s gun was the same one used to kill that girl Nora up at Lucky’s.”

  “Well, that’s good. Not for the girl, of course. But for us.”

  He pushed a plastic fork out of its wrapper and poked it into the container of coleslaw. Rabbit took a bite of chicken and continued to talk with his mouth full.

  “You know, I think you might be right. What you was saying before. If we just lay low and keep out of the way for a spell, maybe we can make it outta this thing after all.”

  James searched through the greasy box of chicken for the piece he wanted.

  “There’s a chance.”

  James was about to bite into a drumstick when Marlena gasped. She had been flipping through the Alachua County Today, and now she spread the newspaper across the table to read it more clearly.

  “Oh my God.”

  James set his food down and rested his elbows on the table.

  “What is it?”

  Pointing to an article at the bottom of the page, Marlena began to read aloud:

  GRANDMA HITS THE JACKPOT! - Late yesterday afternoon, Florence Errol took her two miniature schnauzers for their daily stroll along the bank of the Santa Fe River in Fanning Springs. “I’ve done it every afternoon for the last twenty years,” the sixty-seven-year-old grandmother of eight claimed. Only this afternoon, Mrs. Errol got lucky. “I was just standing there, waiting for Izzy to finish her business, when I saw it laying right there, stuck up between some cypress knees.” Mrs. Errol returned to her mobile home court and got a neighbor, Edna Barrows, to go out to the river with her. Together, the two old ladies fished out the heavy black bag only to discover that it was full of cash! “A little over fifty thousand dollars,” reported deputy Ronald Hicks. No word yet on who the money belonged to or what it was doing in the Santa Fe River. Deputy Hicks said that the authorities will be holding on to the money until further notice. When asked if she was disappointed that she was not allowed to keep the money, Mrs. Errol replied, “Of course not. Money is the devil’s currency. I’m too old to darken my soul with those sorts of temptations.” Amen, Mrs. Errol!

  When Marlena finished reading, they sat in silence, staring down at the newspaper. Rabbit’s mouth was hanging open so wide he could have caught flies with it. He gripped the edge of the table, and when he could finally speak, only three words came out.

  “You’re shitting me.”

  Marlena leaned back in her chair, stunned, but James could do nothing but laugh. He picked up the leg of fried chicken in front of him and took a bite. There was no denying it now. He was home.

  Acknowledgments

  Without my husband, Ryan Holt, and my mother, Janet Sokolay, this book simply would not have been possible. Thank you especially to Ryan for never letting me give up, never letting me settle, and never letting me fall. Special thanks also to my brother, Phillip Sokolay, for his amazing cover art and design, and to the following people for everything you have done for me and for this book: Taylor Brown, Leonard Chang, Will Chancellor, Zara Kramer, Allan Kramer, Michael McBride, Christine Gabriel, my Holt family, and my Pandamoon family. You are all rock stars. And to everyone who listened, everyone who lent support, everyone who took me seriously and believed in my work—so many, many thanks to you as well.

 

 

 
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