The fog made it so talking to Ever was like talking to a priest on the other side of one of those Catholic confessionals on TV. I told him how I’d been on the verge of getting to go to Dairy Queen with Herman and Lila LeBlanc until my father roared out of the church and took me away.
“For a long time I was really sad about it. I mean, not about the ice cream. It was more like I realized around then that I’d probably never have a normal life.” I could still remember the way Lila had smiled at me, like it was the dawn of something. She’d barely looked at me since. Hadn’t even responded when I’d asked how her Blizzard was. Since then, we’d been distant.
“Hmm.” It was the kind of nonjudgmental sound Ever specialized in.
“As I got older, I started thinking about how strange my dad’s reaction was. He wouldn’t talk about it, but I think there was something under the surface I was too young to realize at the time.”
The shadow that was Ever was quiet. Finally, he asked, in a thick voice, “What do you think that was?” Wine sloshed as he lifted the bottle.
I sighed and lay back in the canoe, careful not to rock it. My long hair fanned everywhere, even trailing over the sides of the boat, ends dipping in the water. “I think my father secretly hates Herman Blanchard.”
Ever didn’t respond.
“Herman’s weird—no doubt about it. But it’s the kind of weird that doesn’t register until you’re older. Except everyone whoisolder has to treat him with kid gloves because of who his daddy is. I think my dad finally got sick of it.”
“Augustus Blanchard,” Ever said. “And his sharp bear’s cane.”
“Sharp?” I thought of it—those ruby eyes and giant fangs. Sharp if it struck you, maybe…
The canoe started rocking, enough so I had to grip the sides. Ever crawled closer.
“Ruth.” Now I could see his face. His eyes were urgent.
“You’re going to capsize us!”
“Have you ever spent time around Augustus? Did your dad make you?”
“Yeah. He’s a church elder, so he used to come over some nights when I was a kid. I talked to him once, but that was it. He used to scare me.”
Slowly, the concern bled out of Ever’s face. He sank down into the middle of the canoe. “Creature fear.”
“What?”
“The animal part of you that senses threats.”
I took the Boone’s Farm from him, swallowed, and wiped my mouth. “He was creepy, but I used to dream about being a Blanchard anyway. Imagine having that much money.” I shook my head. “It’s wasted on Herman and Augustus. They never even leave Bottom Springs.”
“I don’t know.” Everett’s eyes followed the strands of my hair off the edge of the boat. “There’s something to be said for being the biggest beast in the forest. That’s power, and it’s something people get addicted to. Rots their insides.” His voice grew lower, gravelly. “If you know how to look, you can actually watch them transform into monsters over time.”
“Like werewolves on a full moon,” I joked. “All broken bones and twisted flesh.” Ever had been into pulp magazines last summer and I was trying to make light, sensing his darkening mood.
He didn’t smile. “Like werewolves,” he agreed, and was quiet. I could sense him drifting away to that place I couldn’t follow.
“The one time I talked to Augustus,” I said, trying to pull him back. “He said he knew what it was like to bear rotten fruit. I didn’t understand as a kid, but now I wonder if he was talking about Herman.”
“If there’s something rotten,” Ever said stiffly, his focus returning, “it’s in both of them.”
I frowned. “What’s with all this talk about the Blanchards, anyway?”
He cut his eyes away, so I knew I’d hit something. Then he tapped the side of the canoe. “Did you hear Augustus isn’t naming Herman in the will?”
It was a side step, a cheap distraction, but it worked. “You’re kidding.” Imagine thinking your whole life you’d inherit millions, only to have it taken away. “Who’s getting it, then?”
Ever shook his head. “That’s the thing. No one knows. I was hoping you’d heard something—from your daddy, maybe.”
“I didn’t. Where’d you hear it?”
He shrugged. “Around.”
