there, that she’s real. She’s not just another dream.
Zede’s shantyboat is tied up just down the way, but the closer I get, the more things look wrong about the Arcadia. The porch rail is broken out. Leaves and downed branches litter the roof. A shattered window shines its sharp fangs in the sunlight near the stovepipe. The Arcadia lists in the water, her hull mired up on the bank so high, I wonder how we’ll ever break her loose.
“Arcadia! Arcadia!” Fern cheers, and claps, and points, her sun-gold curls bouncing up and down. She stands in the center of the boat the way only a river girl can. “Arcadia! Queenie! Queenie!” she yells again and again as we come closer.
There’s no sign of anybody around. Maybe they got up this morning and went off to fish or hunt? Or maybe they’re down at Zede’s?
But Queenie doesn’t leave the boat much. She likes staying home unless she’s got womenfolk nearby to visit with. There’s nobody else around here.
“This it?” Arney sounds doubtful.
“Must be they’re not home just now.” I try to seem sure of myself, but I’m not. A thick black feeling comes over me. Queenie and Briny wouldn’t ever let the boat look like this. Briny was always prideful about the Arcadia. He kept things up real nice. Even with five kids around, Queenie made our little home spotless. Shipshape, she called it.
The Arcadia is a long way from shipshape now. It looks even worse as Arney steers us close to the gangplank, then cuts the motor so we can float in. When I grab the porch rail to pull us to, a piece of it comes off in my hand, and I almost topple into the water.
We’ve no sooner gotten tied up than I see Silas running down the bank, his long legs pumping through the sand. He jumps over a brush pile, nimble as a fox, and for a minute, I think of Camellia scampering away when the police came.
That seems like years ago, not just months.
Silas meets me when I climb off the boat. He grabs me in a bear hug and swings me and holds me up over the sand while his feet sink down into it. Then he sets me on the end of the plank.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he says. “I never thought I’d see you again.”
“I wondered too.” Behind me, I hear Arney helping Fern, but all I can do is look at Silas. He’s a sight for sore eyes, that’s what he is. “We’re home. We made it home.”
“You did. And you got Fern here too. Wait’ll Zede sees!”
He hugs me again, and this time my arms aren’t pinned down by his. I hug him back.
It’s not till Fern talks that I remember there’s anybody else watching. “Where’s Queenie?” she asks.
The minute I let go of Silas and step back to look at him, I know something’s wrong. Nobody’s come out of the shanty, even with all the racket we’ve made. “Silas, where’s Queenie? Where’s Briny?”
Silas holds me by the shoulders. His dark eyes stare hard into mine. The corner of his mouth quivers a little. “Your mama died three weeks ago, Rill. The doctor said it was blood poisonin’, but Zede told me she just had a broke heart. She missed y’all too much.”
The news guts me out like a fish. I’m empty inside. My mama’s gone from this world? She’s gone from this world, and I’ll never get to see her again?
“Where…where’s Briny?” I ask.
Silas holds me tighter. I can tell he’s afraid that if he lets go, I’ll crumple like a ragdoll. For a second, I think I will. “He ain’t been well, Rill. He took to the bottle after he lost y’all. He’s worse since Queenie died. Worse by twice.”
CHAPTER 23
Avery
Trent and I stand side by side gazing up at the ancient columns that line the perimeter of a decaying stone and concrete foundation. They stand like sentinels, military in stature, their feet lost in ivy and lush grass, their hats crowned with carved scrollwork and moss-hued cherubs.
A few moments pass before either of us realizes that Jonah has climbed the steps to investigate what must have once been a multilevel veranda. Rusted second-story railings loop along the columns high above our heads, binding them like faded strings of gold braid.
“Hey, come on back over here, buddy,” Trent calls to Jonah. The stones look solid, but there’s no way of knowing how stable this place is.
A