The boy radiated excitement, practically bouncing where he stood, but Bill’s worry had turned to irritation.
“Where were you, son? You know the rules.”
Benjy shook his head impatiently. “Pop, just come and take a look, would you? If you wanna be mad at me, hold on for five minutes.”
The boy grabbed his mother’s hand and began to tug her along. Ruth let herself be guided, quietly pleased. Whatever had piqued Benjy’s interest, most boys would have wanted to impress their fathers, but Ruth and her son had a bond. They were allies, always.
“Bill?” Ruth called back to her husband.
He sighed, shaking his head. “I’m coming.”
Bill Swickard could be gruff, but it was mostly make-believe, trying to set boundaries for his boy, raise him right. Ruth loved the kind heart that beat in his chest. It was the reason she’d married him.
Benjy raced across the shorn autumn cornfield, sure-footed in the dark. He knew where the wilted stalks were thickest, where the groundhogs had dug a hole back in September. Her boy could have found his way to that oak tree with his eyes closed. It had planted its roots into his heart, and Ruth knew that no matter what happened, she and Bill had to make the farm thrive. A lot of local kids, farmers’ children especially, couldn’t wait to leave home, but Ruth had a feeling about Benjy. He would stick it out. Hard work never frightened him, and this place had become a part of him. Ruth felt lucky, and proud.
The night deepened and the moon brightened as they hastened across the cornfield. Ruth glanced at Bill and saw him shake his head as he ran, chuckling to himself. Benjy’s excitement made both of her men sweet.
“Boy’s got a lot of energy at the end of the day,” she said.
“Nice to be young.”
“We’re still young, honey.”
“Tell that to my back,” Bill muttered.
Benjy reached the tree well ahead of them. “Careful! The ground’s all broken up!”
They slowed to a walk. Ruth wished they’d thought to bring a flashlight. As they approached the oak, she saw that Benjy’s words didn’t quite describe what had happened to the field around the base of the tree. The ground had split open both north and south of the oak, producing a fissure on either side, but the level of the ground around that crack in the earth had also risen—or the rest of the farm had sunk a little. And it wasn’t just the ground. The tree had split in two, not from any lightning bolt but from whatever violent underground upheaval had taken place.
Droplets of rain began to fall.
“I’ll be damned,” Bill said, slightly bent as he began investigating the fissure.
“I told ya!” Benjy crowed. His hands flapped as he gestured around him. “I mean, look at it.”
Ruth gazed sadly at the oak, surprised that Benjy didn’t seem to share her grief. They’d had so many wonderful hours climbing that tree, picnicking beneath it, playing make-believe. But he was more fascinated by the method of its destruction than disappointed by the fact of it. Perhaps it would strike him later what had been lost, but she didn’t want to put her sadness on him. Maybe his approach was best.
“What do you suppose caused it, Bill?” she said.
“Don’t you guys get it?” Benjy cried. “There’s something underneath! You can even see it!”
Fat drops of rain, cold as ice, touched her neck and cheeks and hands.
Ruth walked around the oak from one side and Bill from the other, careful of the broken ground. For the first time, she noticed the smell of turned earth, but beneath that odor lay another. She thought of her grandmother’s house, and the summer rats had built a nest in the kitchen wall and died there. This stink wasn’tas strong as that had been, but the memory combined with the lingering trace in the air made her recoil. Her stomach turned sour, and she halted her steps.
“What is it?” Bill asked.
“You don’t smell it?”
“It smells disgusting!” Benjy announced happily. It was all part of the excitement for him.
Ruth laughed. “Boys.”
But the laugh, and her smile, were false. The odor had punctured her happiness, and she felt off balance and wary.
She spoke her husband’s name, but perhaps too quietly, because Bill didn’t seem to hear. He reached the fissure that led out from the north side of the tree and crouched.
“Ruth, come and take a look at this. What do you make of it?” he said.
