Chapter 1
Will
Will is too worried about getting sick to have a decent night’s sleep. He has people relying on him, and despite the damn rain last night, spring has arrived, making this the perfect time for logging.
At around six o’clock, he grunts in defeat and steps into his bathroom.
He almost falls asleep during the shower, so he turns the water icy cold until his senses sharpen.
Once dressed in his work clothes, he gulps down the most bitter coffee he can make, bringing him one step closer to a functional state.
He makes himself a quick sandwich for lunch, then climbs into his red truck.
As he cuts through the misty road while the sun rises in the distance, he puts on loud music and tries to clear his head. He can still smell the scent of rain that poured down on him for what felt like hours.
Months have passed since the sheriff last caught him off guard.
It used to happen often in the years following Joel’s death half a decade ago, but he hasn’t heard from the man in months.
As small a town as Van Buren is, you could go for a long time without meeting certain people if you knew how to avoid them.
He allowed himself to get too confident, and last night, he paid for it.
It could have been worse, he tells himself, remembering times when he was left with more than a cold and aching knees.
He stops at James Street to pick up Bradley, who is drinking coffee with his wife on their front porch. She’s getting bigger by the day, with the baby due in a couple of months. Will waves, and she waves back, then she and Bradley kiss before he heads over.
“Morning, bud,” Bradley says as he enters the truck. “Bagel?”
“Bring it here.” His stomach grunts in gratitude with the first bite he takes. He eats half of it within a minute, then puts the rest aside so he can resume driving.
“What do you have planned for us?” Bradley asks as he plays with the radio stations.
“Red Oak.”
“Sweet.”
Will chose that kind of tree because it’s easier to cut and can be sold for high value.
It also has a high level of moisture, so they’ll need to sort it quickly, or the quality won’t remain top-notch.
Being the owner of a small business, he tries to justify his high rates by providing high-quality wood that he handpicks.
“Didn’t see you last night at Rodie’s.”
Will shifts uneasily in his seat. He was on his way there when the sheriff and Sheryl stopped him by the side of the road. Get your ass in here. We’re going for a ride. “I was too tired. You had fun?”
Bradley smiles. His front tooth is slightly broken, and there are a lot of freckles across his face in a true ginger fashion. “You’re in the presence of Van Buren’s newest—though unofficial—darts champion.”
Will snickers. “Honored.”
They meet up with Will’s two other employees, Roger and Esteban, who have arrived with the heavier equipment and their big truck.
They drive to the edges of Carter County in search of red oaks until they find a cluster.
Will walks among the potential trees, assessing the straightness of the trunk, the number of lower branches, the condition of the bark, and whether there are any cracks or splits.
He narrows down his options, then uses a mallet to tap on the trunks, listening for a solid sound rather than a hollow one.
Finally, he uses a moisture meter to make sure the trees aren’t too moist.
A little past noon, they’re done loading the logs onto the truck and make their way to store the wood.
In his small office next to the log yard, Will calls some of his clients to let them know they can come check out the newest logs.
Two of them make a purchase without needing to check for themselves.
“Do you have time to hang?” Bradley asks as Will drives them back to town.
“I promised Julie I’d stop by.”
Bradley nods. “I’ll go say hello to her later this week. How’s she holding up?”
“She’s strong. Hanging in there.” As she slowly fades away.
Will drops Bradley back at his house, and once he’s alone again on the road, he cranks up the volume.
It’s his favorite station because they mix classic rock with a bit of jazz.
He’ll rest at home for a few hours after seeing Julie, maybe even take a long nap.
In the evening, he’ll go out to Rodie’s and… “Shit.”
He stops by the side of the road and hurries to open his bag.
He takes out his calendar and flips through the pages until he finds today’s date, May 14, 1991.
At eight o’clock, he’s supposed to be at his uncle’s house.
He shivers at the thought of what could have happened if he had forgotten about that, then he shivers at the thought of what is waiting for him there.
Since it’s four o’clock, he has enough time to visit Julie, but he’ll have to keep it short since he’d better catch some sleep before tonight’s event.
With a deep sigh and a heavy heart, he gets back on the road.
*
Riverways Manor Nursing Home is not far from the town center.
Julie has been there for almost three years as the treatments for her Hodgkin’s lymphoma had kept failing.
Will wants nothing more than to take her to his house, but he can’t afford the treatment and facilities she needs.
He also can’t afford her hospice, but the mayor can.
He buys a bouquet of tulips from a nearby flower shop, then steps into the bright building. Martha smiles at him from across the reception desk, her dyed blonde hair puffy and curly. “I was hoping you’d stop by. Julie has been asking about you.”
“How is she?”
“Today was a good day. She even ate more than usual. You have time to sit with her before dinner.” She watches him closely. “You seem tired.”
“Didn’t sleep much last night.”
She winks. “I see.”
You’re so off the mark, Martha.
He walks down the familiar hallway, trying not to look at anyone he passes since he can only digest his own sister’s dire condition.
There’s a lemony scent in the air due to the cleaning product the staff uses, and Will can no longer smell lemons without thinking of this place.
Julie’s room is at the end of the hallway, facing the small back garden that is just now beginning to blossom.
As usual, she sits on the bed reading a book.
Her head is covered with a blue bandana; her once-fair skin is now ashy.
Her beautiful green eyes are dimmer than they used to be, but there is still fire in them.
On her nightstand there’s a framed photo of Will and their mom, who died a few years ago in a car accident.
There used to be a photo of the three of them instead, but Julie decided she didn’t want to look at her old self every day, and Will can understand that.
“Are those for me?” Julie asks, her voice slightly hoarse.
“I offered them to Martha, but she kindly declined.” He kisses Julie’s cold forehead, giving her the flowers. “Good book?”
“It’s quite boring, honestly. Too many descriptions. I can picture a forest just fine without reading about the shape of the trees and rocks.”
“I can tell you all about the shapes of trees.”
“And that is why you’re never invited to parties.”
He puts his hands over his heart. “Ouch.”
“You’ll need to go to the library soon. The latest bunch of books weren’t great. Tell Francie to try harder.”
Since the librarian would bite his head off, he will do no such thing. “Sure.”
She takes a sniff of the flowers. “I can barely smell anything these days, but they’re lovely. Did you go outside last night? It rained so much.”
He keeps his expression neutral. Julie is aware of what happened with Joel five years ago, but she wasn’t living in town full time back then because of school, so most of the gossip didn’t reach her.
Then she got sick, and Will did everything he could to keep the hell he was dealing with from her. “I called it a night early.”
“But you didn’t sleep well.” She gives him a knowing look.
“I’ll make up for it tonight.” Though he can never tell how long his time at the mayor’s house will last. It depends on the number of guests and the way things roll.
They talk about anything besides Julie’s condition, and soon a nurse comes with dinner.
Will glances at his watch. He needs to leave now if he wants to catch a nap and a shower before driving over to the mayor’s house.
He says his goodbyes and drives home. His house is not far from the town center but secluded enough to feel isolated.
You need to take a turn between the trees, then drive up on a dirt road to reach it.
He and Julie grew up in that small house, sharing a bedroom because their mom couldn’t afford something bigger.
Their dad left when they were little to God knows where and never offered any support.
The house may be small, but it’s spacious enough for one man who doesn’t have many possessions.
Will worries he’ll be too troubled to fall asleep, but his exhaustion prevails.
He wakes up after an hour to the alarm clock, groggy but relieved.
He takes a shower—the kind he never enjoys taking—then gets dressed in plain jeans and one of his many flannel shirts.
He’s starving, but it won’t be wise to eat at this stage.