The Enchanted Life of Adam Hope - By Rhonda Riley Page 0,94
bit my lip and nodded, grateful for the simple words and natural embrace. Without hesitation, Cole stepped into the moat of silence surrounding Adam and wordlessly patted his shoulder. Then I realized that Cole and his family must have left the service early, to pick up the food and chairs. I ignored the question on his face as he looked around the nearly empty room. Eloise gave all her attention to carving the turkey. A current of envy went through me. She had a normal husband, an ordinary life.
Momma waved to the boys. “Thank you for the turkey and the folding chairs.” She turned to the boys. “Y’all take those back outside. We’ll bring them in as we need them.”
For a moment, the clatter of the chairs being stacked on the porch covered the silence inside the house. The churchwomen hovered nearby, rearranging the food, their voices dropping to puzzled murmurs as it became clear no other people were coming.
As if on cue, the three younger girls slipped single-file around the islands of adults and disappeared down the hall without a whisper, little blond Tina in the lead, pulling Lil and Sarah behind her. Gracie followed them with her eyes, but did not move. Rosie raised her chin up as if against a strong wind.
The screen door bumped gently behind me and Freddie walked in. I was nearly faint with gratitude to see his face. A normally aloof man, he let me hug him. I hoped to see Marge with him. Or at least one of the gang from the Sunday picking parties. But no one followed him in.
“Reverend?” Momma said.
The room went still. Every head but Adam’s bowed.
The reverend, his arms raised stiffly, asked for the blessing and forbearance of God. Then the eating began.
Everyone collected their food from the side of the table opposite Adam. Everyone, even Momma and Daddy, ate standing, holding their plates, talking in strained whispers.
Gracie filled a plate for Adam. He took it, but did not eat. After a few moments, he leaned over and set the untouched plate back on the table. He did not look up, not even when Freddie walked up to him.
“Buddy. I’m sorry,” Freddie said.
All other conversation in the room ceased. Rita grimaced and scurried out of the room, her heels thumping on the wood floor. Adam turned a blank and brittle face up to Freddie. I fought the impulse to flinch.
Freddie acknowledged Adam’s silence with a nod.
Rosie put her hand on Adam’s shoulder. “Thanks for coming by, Freddie.”
The low murmur of conversation continued around us. Everyone ate and quickly left. With each departure, I felt heavier, as if gravity pulled stronger, as there were fewer of us left in the house.
Soon, only Momma remained. Daddy had taken her big casserole dish out to the truck and stayed there, smoking. The stunned smile affixed to Momma’s face since the funeral had vanished. She turned around in my empty kitchen, a puzzled, fearful expression on her face, a dishrag limp in her hand.
“It’s okay, Momma. You can . . .” The word “go” cracked in my throat. I covered my mouth against what I wanted to say: “Please stay and help me.” I froze, frantic to have her stay and wanting her to leave as quickly as possible.
Her glance bounced around the room, and she pressed her lips together in a shallow, tight smile. She nodded, then left.
I listened to their truck pull away. Immediately, I wanted the girls and Adam. I spun around, suddenly aware that I didn’t know where they were. I ran from room to room. Panic flushed through me and I sprinted through the house again, convinced suddenly that death had taken not one but all of them. I ran to the front porch, calling their names. Nothing. Then the back porch. A flash of white among the woods that flanked the fields caught my eye.
Beyond the apple tree and the twins’ playhouse, in a small clearing of the trees, Adam squatted, his back to me. The girls, quietly pressed around him, did not see me.
I passed the spot where I’d first found Adam and stopped several yards from them. To my right, the field lay still unturned. I felt, then heard, his voice radiate. Loving, sad, and exquisite. Adam extended his arm and touched his fingertips to the middle of Gracie’s chest. Her eyes glistened and grew wide. A tremulous smile crossed her lips.