Iona Moon Read Online Free Page B

going to marry Sharla in her condition—even if Jack Wilder did hold a shotgun to his head. Maybe that was the real reason Sharla lay the blame on Everett. He’d turned the gun on himself and was safe from her daddy.
    Iona stayed clear of the Wilder place for the rest of the week. She wanted to see Sharla alone and planned to sneak over there some night. She’d ask Sharla what it was like to make love with Everett Fry, to feel the scar on his shoulder with her fingers, the place where the flesh was puckered and hard.
    Did a dead lover whisper your name, or was silence the most important thing? Did you hear the wind in the grass? Did the branches beat against your window? Did he smell like a man, like your own father, or was his breath sweet as cinnamon and almonds?
    Iona never got the chance to ask these questions. On Sunday, Jeweldeen appeared. She still wore her church clothes, though it was late afternoon. Her little white anklets and patent leather shoes were speckled with mud. It had rained during the night, and Jeweldeen had ridden straight through the puddles.
    â€œSharla’s not pregnant anymore,” Jeweldeen said, puffing as she tried to catch her breath. “She’s sick though. Too hot to touch. Daddy found her on the floor of the cellar when we got home from church, bleeding like a stuck pig. ‘Well that’s that,’ he says, and we carried her upstairs. My hands were burning. Fever a hundred and four, I’d say, but he won’t call the doctor. ‘Leave well enough alone,’ he told me. We put her in a tub of cold water. The bleeding slowed down but she’s still hot.” Jeweldeen climbed on her bike. “I better get back there before Daddy sees I’m gone.”
    â€œI’m coming with you.”
    â€œHe won’t like it.”
    â€œSince when do you care?”
    Jeweldeen shrugged and Iona ran to get her bike.
    They rode fast without talking. The day was already dark, the air heavy with low clouds. Al Zimmerman’s bulls rammed their heads into the electric fence as the girls passed. The shock made them rear back but didn’t stop them from charging again, digging at the dirt with their sharp hooves.
    Jeweldeen peeked down the cellar window as they propped their bikes against the side of the house. “Look at this,” she said. Iona was afraid Sharla’s father had already forced her back down the stairs. But it was nothing like that. It was Jack Wilder himself, on his hands and knees, scouring the place where Sharla had curled into herself hours earlier.
    They found Sharla in the living room. All the shades had been pulled down, and the place smelled musty. She lay on the couch, wrapped in a white sheet, wide awake. The cold bath had brought her temperature down. Her face was bloodless, pale as always. In fact, she seemed a lot more like herself than the last time Iona had seen her.
    Sharla’s eyes looked red and sore, but she didn’t blink. “Don’t you stare at me,” Jeweldeen said. “I didn’t do nothing.”
    Sharla breathed hard. Iona thought she had something to say, but all of a sudden she was wailing instead, punching and kicking at the sheet from inside till she’d beaten it away from her. She clawed at her white breasts and her white belly as if she wanted to tear off her skin too. Iona tried to grab her wrists, but Sharla was quick. She slapped at the air and kicked Iona in the stomach. The sheet was stained underneath Sharla’s rump, and her thighs were streaked with dried blood. “You better get some towels,” Iona said to Jeweldeen. The sight of her naked sister startled Jeweldeen enough to do what Iona asked.
    â€œLook at her,” Sharla said. She pointed to the picture of Maywood Wilder above the television. Iona did look. The head floated, bigger than life, cut off at the shoulders. She wore glasses that magnified her eyes but left them out of focus. Someone had