The Line That Held Us by David Joy

Author:David Joy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Publishing Group
Published: 2018-08-13T16:00:00+00:00

EIGHTEEN

The rain that had started the day before continued through the night, so that by morning the jobsite was slopped. Forecasts showed the weather breaking up by evening, but it would be a day or two before they could get back to work. For once, Calvin Hooper didn’t mind. There’d been so much going on that he’d gotten behind on everything at home: the woodpile, sealing a mouse hole in the cupboard, changing the oil in his rig.

An open outbuilding his grandfather’d built from warped pine planks and rusted tin he salvaged from a derelict barn stood behind the house. The old man had used the place to keep rain off his tractor, but nowadays Calvin used the cover to work on cars. He had his white Ford Super Duty up on a set of rhino ramps. Lying flat on the packed dirt floor, he pulled the pin on an oil drain valve he’d installed on the pan after stripping the old plug with a cheap socket set he bought from a man on the side of the highway. The valve made the job easier and cut down on the mess fifteen quarts of 15W-40 could make. He opened the valve and the oil ran a black line into the container. While he waited, he stretched his hands and listened to the rain beat against the tin.

Someone came into the shed and as he rolled to look he could see two sets of feet: a pair of men’s slacks covered the necks of black ankle-high boots that zipped up the sides, and two heavyset, liver-spotted legs, black leather flats scuffed and worn down to nothing. Calvin scooted out from under the truck, and Michael Stillwell offered his hand to help him from the ground. Sharon Moody stood behind Stillwell in a black T-shirt and a wool skirt with a plastic grocery bag tied over her head to shield her hair from the rain. Calvin stared at her, at how her face contorted into something halfway between smiling and crying. He pushed himself to his feet, dusted the dirt from his pants and his shoulders, then reached for a shop towel to wipe his hands.

Darl’s mother came forward, and before Calvin could warn her he was dirty she had her arms wrapped around him and her face buried in his chest like he was the last thing in the world to hold on to. Only five days had passed since she laid her son in the ground, almost a week more since she’d gotten word of how Calvin found him. Calvin put his arms around her, careful not to get oil on the back of her shirt, and the two of them stood there for a long time tilting back and forth like they were slow dancing. Stillwell seemed like he was trying to read what was happening and that ate Calvin up. If Darl’s mother weren’t right there in his arms, he would’ve clobbered that boy right in his fucking nose.

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