The Bone Field by Debra Bokur (the best ebook reader for android .txt) 📗

blazed with wrath. “Enough!” he shouted. He raised his hand to strike her again. She braced herself, feeling the skin of her lip split wider as his hand met her cheek, the force of the blow making her swoon. The taste of salty blood filled her mouth again, and she spat on the floor.

“And then, of course,” she said, blocking out the pain, enunciating each word clearly as she spoke directly to Nathan, “there’s your mother, who was raped by her own father when she was thirteen.” She turned toward Abraham.” Isn’t that right, Abraham? Or maybe you’ve already told your grandson the truth?”

Abigail’s eyes met Kali’s, then darted away. She twisted her hands anxiously. Beside her, Nathan smiled. Kali looked at the two of them, standing side by side, and suddenly knew the truth. The stocky, broad-shouldered man with the round, freckled face and dark, curling hair reaching toward his short neck. The tall, narrow woman with the pronounced forehead and the blue eyes. The photos of Helen Stafford and Reggie McCartney flashed before her eyes, and she felt the missing pieces fall into place like bits of broken glass drawn back into shape by some invisible, magnetic force.

“You don’t look much like your mother, do you, Nathan?” she said.

Abigail looked up sharply.

Kali met her eyes. “This is not your son,” she said. “Your child died at birth. You stole this boy and his life, and you left your dead infant lying next to another woman in an old field of fruit. What will your God have to say about that, I wonder?”

“Do you know the meaning of the name ‘Nathan’?” asked Abraham. His voice was unnervingly calm. “It means ‘gift from God,’ and that is exactly what he was to us and our family. When Abigail’s child was born without the breath of life, Ruth and I knew at once that Helen’s child was meant to be hers. It was so clear.”

“Helen was disobedient and willful,” said Ruth. “She slept with her friend and became pregnant when she knew her duty was to carry Abraham’s child.”

Abraham waved his hand in the air, the knife flashing against the light. “Enough of this,” he said. “Let us begin.”

“Hallelujah!” said Nathan. He looked at Abraham, ecstatic. “You’ve saved so many souls from damnation, Grandfather. Today I will do my part to share God’s love!”

Nathan began to sing. Kali knew it was a hymn, though she didn’t recognize the words. His voice rose and fell, and Ruth and Linda joined in. As they bowed their heads, Kali could see that their eyes were closed. The singing was beautiful and trancelike, and she had to shake herself from falling under its spell.

Abraham signaled to Nathan, who stepped forward and grasped her arm firmly just above her elbow. Abigail backed away, against the wall. Kali tried to keep the desperation from her voice. She took another breath and spoke again.

“Nathan! In my pocket! The official report, the autopsy report that proves you are not Abigail’s son!”

He didn’t seem to hear her. She felt the deep, piercing cut of the knife slice into her flesh, striking the bone of her upper arm. The room spun around her. She heard herself scream as the blood poured down her arm. There was a roar like the walls collapsing as she threw herself backward with all her might, and her chair tipped over, slamming to the hard floor. She was dimly aware of a door crashing open and a man’s voice shouting in words she didn’t understand. The cart with the surgical equipment hurtled through the air, the clash of knives and the metal shelves loudly ringing as they struck the wall. The prayerful singing reached a wailing pitch. Then came more screaming. Only it wasn’t hers. One man’s voice thundered above the others, and she imagined that she recognized it. Then the light was extinguished, and she remembered thinking how odd it was that her last thought on earth would be a blurred vision of Elvar’s face.

“Stay still.”

Then she heard Elvar’s voice, but it made no sense. I’m hallucinating again, she told herself. She dreamed she was being lifted into the air as the outline of everything receded and the edges dissolved into black.

CHAPTER 32

Kali cautiously fingered the edges of the wound where the sutures had grown stiff with dried blood, wincing as a tidal surge of pain washed through her arm and up her neck, landing with a spectacular burst in her head. From the angle of sunlight illuminating a stretch of the scratched floorboards, she concluded that it was early afternoon, and that she’d successfully slept away most of the day.

“About time you rejoined us,” said Walter. He leaned back in the old armchair in the corner of her living room, his hands dangling off the ends of the armrests. He’d pulled the coffee table close, resting his feet on its surface.

“Get your feet off my table,” she said.

He snorted. “Don’t give me housekeeping lectures.” He swung his feet to the floor. “This chair I’m sitting in has enough dog hair on it to build a whole new dog. Nina’s going to make me sleep in the garage when she sees the back of my shirt.”

“I’m constantly surprised she doesn’t make you sleep there every night,” said Kali. She winced as she pushed herself into an upright position on the sofa, looking around. “Why am I out here and not in bed?”

“That’s as far as your boyfriend wanted to carry you. He said this is where you sleep most of the time anyway.” Walter looked at her inquisitively. “Is that true?”

She shrugged. “It’s closer to the coffeepot. And he’s not my boyfriend.”

Walter observed her carefully, noting the bruises on her face, the black eye, the sutures on one arm, the rooster scratches on the other. “You’re a real mess,” he said. “I think you may be carrying the whole battle-scar-collection mission a little too far. At least lay off the roosters. And put some