Moonshine by Justin Benton

Author:Justin Benton [Benton, Justin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Astra Publishing House
Published: 2020-06-09T00:00:00+00:00

AS THE CROW FLIES, THE FARM could not have been more than half a mile from Rebecca’s house, and I’d probably passed by there a hundred times without thinking twice. It was a simple white house, one level and sturdy, and not in terrible shape, but clearly abandoned. The windows had been boarded up with scrap wood to keep vagrants out, and the white paint was peeling off into little curls that dropped and hung in the surrounding crabgrass. Clover overran the front yard and knotweed shoots poked up through the slats in the porch floorboards. The whole place was in terrible need of some fixing up, and I could feel Pa’s disappointment.

“Looks nice, Pa.”

“Used to look a lot nicer.”

We walked first toward the fields, where little dust devils swirled around the withered cornstalks. It looked like nothing had been planted for years. Crows and field mice had picked out everything they could eat seasons ago.

“How big is it, Pa?”

“Hundred and ninety-four acres,” he said, looking out over his old fields. A proudness came into his voice, something I hadn’t heard since the attack. He sounded almost alive again.

“How come there’s nobody here?” I asked.

“Money troubles, I reckon. Seems to be a lot of that going around. I’d bet you the bank owns it now, or the government.”

Pa stubbed the toe of his boot under a clod of dirt, then kicked harder.

“Look at that,” he said.

I squatted down to have a look. Beneath a fine layer of dust were rich black crumbles. I rubbed the dirt in my hand. It was moist and stained my fingertips.

“There’s an underground spring. Keeps the dirt wet and the pond full,” Pa said.

We crossed through the weeds toward the east side of the house. I spied a busted window with a board missing and peeked in. It was the kitchen—empty save for about two inches of dust on the floor. I tried to picture my ma walking around in there, cooking up corn bread or something, but all I could imagine was a faceless woman doing all that.

Together we headed down a slight hill behind the house, and not more than fifty yards away I caught the shine of sun on water. It was an oval-shaped pond, a whole lot bigger than I’d imagined. The water looked as clear as what we pumped out of the well at home. As I walked down to the edge, a shadowy shape beneath the surface darted away.

“A fish! I saw a fish!”

“Bass and bluegills,” Pa said quietly.

“And you never come here to fish?” I asked. I’d never known Pa to pass up a good fishing hole.

“Never could bring myself to come back out here,” he said, staring out at the water. “I reckon you could if you wanted. Just don’t let nobody see you.”

I thought on it for a second, but decided it wouldn’t be much fun without Pa. The place had a feeling to it like it was more for a family, not just one person.

We walked a quarter of the pond’s edge and sat on a limbless log.

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