Page 61 of The Unmaking of June Farrow
Esther gave him a nod. “Morning, Robert.”
“June.” A woman unpacking a crate of jam jars said my name in greeting as we passed and I smiled, keeping myself half-hidden behind the flowers.
“Beatrice Covington,” Esther whispered beside me. “Her husband used to work on your farm before Eamon had to let him go.”
Had to.I wanted to ask what she meant by that, but she was already motioning toward someone else.
She gave a wave to a black man crouched at the corner of the tent with a hammer in hand. He was wearing suspenders, his hat tipped back to reveal a wrinkled forehead.
When he saw me, he grinned widely, giving me a nod. “Mighty good to see you, June.”
I smiled in return.
“That’s Percy Lyle. He owns the pig farm down the road from you.”
Lyle. That family was still living in Jasper in my time.
“Claire White,” Esther said under her breath as a woman waved us toward a line of tables. “Should probably watch out for that one.”
“I’m never going to remember all of this,” I muttered.
“You won’t have to.”
Esther set the bucket of flowers down beside the stage and I did the same, keeping my hands busy with untangling the stalks. There was an assembly line started, where three women were wiring together branches of willow. They were already whispering, eyes shooting in my direction every few seconds.
“Heard you were back.”
The voice at the end of the table belonged to the woman Esther had called Claire. She had a spindly branch in one hand, a small pocketknife in the other.
I gave her a placid smile. “Hi, Claire.”
Esther’s eyes met mine in another silent warning before she picked up her bucket, heading to the other side of the stage.
Claire snapped the branch, working it into the garland. Her thin, pale pink lips were crowned by a perfect cupid’s bow. “Was startin’ to think Sam was lyin’ about seein’ you. Thought maybe you’d come by to say hello, but it seems you’ve been very busy since you got home.”
She didn’t look up at me, as if to demonstrate that she was clearly in control of the moment. There was more to what she wasn’t saying than what she was.
“You know, we’ve been prayin’ hard for you. Thank God your mama is better.” Her gaze finally flickered up.
“Thank you.”
The words were flatter than I wanted them to sound, but I wasn’t a stranger to this kind of arms-length inquiry. The morbid, superior curiosity of people who pretended to be good Christian folk was something still alive and well in Jasper.
“We took a few suppers over to the house; poor Eamon was practically starvin’ to death.” She gave a hollow laugh. “And you know the town has tried to do what they can to help out at the farm. A real shame to see it fall into such a bad state. It just breaks my heart.” She frowned.
I could feel a fire burning in my chest, her words like gasoline, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on why. Eamon wasn’t mine. He didn’t belong to me. Still, I couldn’t stand that look on her face when she said his name.
“Hello, Claire.” Esther was suddenly beside me again, her hand tightening on my arm before I could speak.
Claire gave her a wooden smile. “I was just tellin’ June how much she was missed while she was away.”
“Yes, well, that’s very kind of you.” Esther’s tone was placating at best.
“None more than Annie, surely.” Claire locked eyes with me.
Again, the words singed. Whatever the reason, Ihadleft Annie,and I still couldn’t even begin to wrap my head around that. The shame of it was growing heavier by the day, and Claire didn’t seem the slightest bit concerned about offending me. I recognized that cool judgment in her tone. The sweetness-laced insult. I’d known a lot of women like that in my life.
“June, honey, would you mind popping into the diner and getting a pie for supper?” Esther pressed a couple of bills into my hand, and I fought to unclench my fingers.