Good Dirt

Time

Time

T ime matters, Ebby thinks as she types. Hours, minutes, seconds, can make a difference.

They found Betsey with the rope taut against her neck, Ebby writes. By the time they untied her, she was gone. Some folks said that Betsey had done this to herself. That she’d decided it was better than the alternative. But Moses, for one, never believed it.

Ebby looks down at her hands, poised over the keyboard. It is useless for her to wonder, now, whether Moses could have done anything to prevent Betsey’s death. But Moses must have felt, back then, the same urgency that Ebby has felt, to step back in time and undo what has already happened.

Martin Oldham was furious. He sent his nephew back to his sister-in-law’s estate in the next county over. He gave everyone at the pottery a half-day off to mourn Betsey. Still, he hadn’t put a stop to his nephew’s cruelty before it was too late. Jacob Oldham’s disposition had never been a secret. It was likely that no one had ever dared to say no to him, before Betsey. Surely Betsey must have known that no was the most dangerous word in the world. Which made Oldham all the more furious.

Ebby hears a sound and looks up. She can see that Avery is on her way back across the yard, and that the rental car still isn’t back. She looks at her smartphone. Two more hours have passed. Maybe she should be worried about Henry, but she doesn’t want to think about it. She continues to type.

Later, Moses thought of the last time he and Betsey had walked back from the market together, side by side. Their fingertips had touched lightly as they parted ways. With no other place to put his grief, Moses leaned over his worktable at the pottery and prepared a clay disk for the bottom of a new jar. When it was ready, he carved five words into it. He knew that no one was likely to see those words for a long time, but he hoped that one day someone would. Those words were the only part of his craft that he could truly claim as his own. Because as much as he felt that he’d inherited his mother’s feel for the clay, all those hours and days he had put in at the wheel, year after year, had been under the yoke of bondage, on the orders of a man who claimed to own him. Someone to whom Moses was not permitted tosayno.

Avery has reached the kitchen door and is rapping on the wood again.

“I need your help,” Avery says. “Henry still hasn’t come back. It’s been eight hours already. Couldn’t we just drive around?”

Ebby is determined to stay out of this.

“I really don’t have time now,” Ebby says. “I’m going to the doctor.”

“On a Sunday afternoon?”

“There’s someone on call.” Which is the truth, even though Ebby does not, actually, have plans to go to the doctor. She rummages through her brain files for some ailment to invent, in case Avery asks.

“Listen,” Ebby says. “Just let me know if you decide you want to call the police. At least to see what they suggest.”

“But the police? They won’t have time. They’ll be busy with that head on the road.”

“Right, sure,” Ebby says. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know.” She closes the door as she speaks. Ebby walks toward the corridor, mentally cursing the abundance of windows in the cottage. It takes a while to get away from Avery’s stare. When she’s finally out of view, Ebby remembers something Avery said and turns back. She pulls open the kitchen door. Avery is still standing there.

“What did you say?” Ebby asks. “What did you say about a head?”

“They found a head on a farm road,” Avery says. “Not far from here.” She pulls her cellphone out of her shirt pocket. “See?”

Ebby leans in and reads the first paragraph of a news item on Avery’s phone, mumbling a rough translation as she goes. “Body of female victim found between highway and woods…”

Ebby grimaces at Avery, then steps aside to let her into the room.

“I’m not saying,” Avery says, “that anything terrible like that has happened to Henry.”

Ebby breathes in and out, suddenly unsure of what to say. Feeling a bit guilty. Because she is thinking of something else. A woman has been found murdered in a field and Henry, who supposedly went out to take photos, has been gone all this time. Ebby has always thought that Henry’s disappearance before their wedding was about her and Henry. But what if it really was about something else? What if this is more than a bizarre coincidence? Is she a terrible person, to wonder whether her ex-fiancé could have anything to do with the crime?

It feels ludicrous and, at the same time, perfectly reasonable in a world where someone you once believed in has turned out to be the kind of liar who could promise you a life together one minute and disappear on you the next. After that, what could she not believe? Ebby struggles to banish the thought. Maybe it’s all an unfortunate coincidence. But then where the hell is Henry?

Instead of speaking, Ebby raises a water bottle in one hand and an empty glass in the other. A silent question. But Avery shakes her head.

“It’s just that, it reminds me that things can happen to people,” Avery says.

Ebby raises her eyebrows at Avery. She does not need to say a word. She knows, when Avery’s skin goes blotchy pink, again, that Avery realizes she’s put her foot in her mouth. Satisfied with Avery’s apparent embarrassment, Ebby picks up her purse. Pulls out her own smartphone. Swipes and clicks, to undo the block she has put on the local news bulletins. She prefers to shield herself from services that, from time to time, might fill her phone screen with images from her own life. But blocking push notifications means a person can miss updates like the one that has reached Avery.

“All right,” Ebby says, “maybe we can take a drive around town, just to see.”

“Oh, thank you!” Avery says, as if it had been Ebby’s idea. As if Avery hadn’t kept nudging her to do this until she agreed.

“Do you know which way he was headed? What was he planning to take photos of?”

“He was in a water phase,” Avery says.

“River water or seawater?”

Avery shakes her head slowly. “What about your doctor’s appointment?” she asks.

Ebby says ahmm as she tries to recall the exact lie she used with Avery a minute earlier.

“It can wait until tomorrow,” Ebby says.