“It’s a thing,” I mutter, grabbing the end that he’s holding out to me. We’ve both got a grip on it for a few seconds before he lets go. The hammer immediately falls to the ground, taking me with it.
And there’s that chuckle again. “You’ll end up hurting yourself if you try to swing this as many times as you’ll need to if you want that laptop in…what’d you say? Itty-bitty pieces?”
Leaving the hammer on the ground, I get up and brush the dirt off the hand that caught my fall. “You could’ve just said it was heavy.”
Not going to lie, it’s impressive watching Deacon completely destroy my laptop. We end up triple-bagging it in those thick, black trash bags so the pieces are contained. He’s just started working up a sweat when he lifts the bag to give it a good shake. Hearing all those pieces rattle around makes me relax for the first time in days.
“Now what?” he asks.
“I was thinking I could sprinkle them in different trash cans around town.”
The look he’s giving me lets me know he’s done humoring me. “How about we chuck it in the river. Let it wash away into the Gulf.”
“Okay, yeah, that works too.”
Dumping what was left of my laptop into the river is a bit anticlimactic, and I realize I could have thrown the thing in there whole and it would have disappeared all the same. So without overthinking it, I throw my phone in just as the last piece of laptop sinks under the water.
After we leave the riverfront, Deacon stops by the store and I grab a new phone. I really don’t have the money for it but there’s no way I can get by without one.
As we pull out of the lot, I turn to Deacon. “Can we make a stop before heading back to the house?”
Deacon and I pull through the gates and slowly make our way down the narrow, meandering lane, taking us deeper into the property, until we come to a dead end.
“Is this it?” Deacon asks.
“Yeah.”
He puts the car in park. “Want me to wait here or come with you?” He hands me the flowers we just picked up from the grocery store.
“Wait here if that’s okay. I won’t be long.” I take the flowers, then jump out before my mind lingers on how good he’s been to me over the last few days. Even more so than normal.
I’ve been on edge all week and I know there is one thing I can do that might make me feel a little better.
The sun casts a gentle golden glow through the clouds, and a crisp breeze blows across the lawn and through the tree limbs, making them sway. I follow the sidewalk until it ends then step carefully through the grass. The bench is shaded by a lone pecan tree on the other side of the fence. I clear away the leaves and bits of shells and sticks before sitting.
There are prettier headstones and bigger headstones in this cemetery, but I think Mom and Dad have the best spot. They are in the very back, surrounded by others on three sides instead of four. I don’t know why that feels important, but it does. Also, for most of the day they are protected from the elements. These branches seem to stretch further on this side of the fence, as if they know how special my parents were and deserve to be protected from the harsh sun when it is at its highest.
“I was going to wait until I knew the truth, one way or another, beforecoming back, but I’m scared that’s never going to happen now,” I whisper to them, holding the bouquet close.
The only response is the rattle of the cicadas in the limbs above me.
“I’m not giving up, but it may take a bit longer to get the answers we all deserve. I thought I had a good plan, but I just threw my laptop in the Mississippi River, piece by piece, so I guess I need a new plan.” My quiet laugh is swept away by the gentle breeze.
I push off the bench and sit cross-legged in the grass at the base of their headstones, right between them. Needing to be closer. I bury my face against the soft petals and drag in a deep breath. The fragrance of my childhood. Roses were my mom’s favorite.
I pull one free from the bunch and set it in front of Dad’s tombstone before laying the rest in front of Mom’s, then I put a hand on each granite slab.
“I can’t believe you’ve been gone for ten years,” I whisper, my voice catching as I try unsuccessfully to stop the tears. I trace the numbers on Dad’s tombstone marking the day they died, him only an hour after Mom, and wonder for the millionth time if things would have ended differently had I been with them.
My parents had gone to Corbeau to attend the wedding of a distant cousin. I was supposed to have gone with them but they let me skip when I got invited to a concert in New Orleans with my friend and her family on the same night.
Ten years since another car ran a stop sign and T-boned my parents’ car, changing my world forever. On that dark, empty road, that driver made a choice. They left. Fled the scene. No call for help even though later reports showed my dad didn’t die instantly. Could he have been savedif he had gotten immediate medical attention? Not knowing the answer to that question has haunted me for a decade.
But my desperation to learn the truth may be my downfall. Maybe I should have left well enough alone and not chased Camille down, insisting she work with me.
I made the decision to use Camille to get to Ben when I approached her outside her Junior League meeting instead of letting this go, so it wouldn’t be hard for someone to believe I did that so I could kill him in revenge.
A hand lands on my shoulder, making me jump.
