Burying the Honeysuckle Girls Read Online Free
Author: Emily Carpenter
what he got up to; she saw the way his hands brushed the backs of certain girls in town.
She knew some things about Howell too. Nothing near like what her daddy did. But, all the same, illegally poached deer steaks did show up in her kitchen once in a while. And moonshine from a still in the grove behind their house.
Unlike the Lurie girl, though, she knew how to keep her mouth shut.
Jinn had loved Howell once, although it’d been so long ago, it seemed like another life. She used to wear her hair down, the way he liked it. Used to let him shimmy off her nightgown and run his hands over her every morning, even before the sun had come up, even though she’d been up half the night with babies.
But these days he jumped out of bed right when his eyes cracked open. He got dressed, even down to his boots, and headed out with a curt nod. He sure didn’t notice which way her hair was done. He didn’t notice much, except when she did something wrong.
That kind of thing—that settling , her mother called it—happened in a marriage, and there wasn’t no sense in crying over it. The secrets he kept from her, that was part of the settling, she reckoned. And now she had her own secrets. The ladies from Chattanooga. And the other, most important one, the secret she held like a love letter, close to her heart.
The conversations with Tom Stocker.
Jinn blushed and pushed the jug a bit farther into the shadows. One hundred dollars! With the money hidden away, she’d have time to figure out what to do with such a windfall. Maybe she should cut out and go to Hollywood. Pack up the children, hop a train, and get herself a screen test, like the ladies said.
Howell would be fit to be tied. He might even come after her. For sure he’d want Walter back. Collirene, he’d cut loose pretty easy, but he’d need the boy on the farm. Maybe she should leave Walter behind. But Collie was five, her baby. She wasn’t going nowhere without Collie. The girl still sucked her thumb and cried for her at night.
Jinn decided she needed to lay out her options side by side, like laundry hung on a line, so she could examine each of them clearly. But it would have to be just the right time. When she was out in the meadow gathering her honeysuckle, Collie by her side, as always, collecting dried locust skins for her cigar box. In the meadow she could think, work it all out in private. She couldn’t do that in the house. Howell could tell what she was thinking just by looking at her. He’d suss out somehow what she was plotting, for sure. Then he’d get to stomping and swearing through the house, and there was no telling where that would lead.
Chapter Three
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Mobile, Alabama
I ran, coward that I was, from the party. Away from my angry, confused father, from Wynn’s cold face and Molly Robb’s baffling new look. From Jay and his unbearable kindness.
So that was it. Eleven months of therapy, sharing and learning how to face my problems, not to mention the purchase of a pair of kick-ass boots, and I’d ruined it all. Less than an hour at home, and I’d reverted back to Old Althea.
The busybody dog followed me out the front door and clicked down the front steps behind me like it thought I might want company. I growled at it to stay, and, looking confused, it plunked its miniature bottom down in the grass.
I ran to the head of the path that led into our woods, telling myself to breathe. My father was sick. Alzheimer’s was a terrible disease. He hadn’t laid eyes on me in almost a year. His mind was muddled, pierced with the buckshot of old memories. He didn’t know what he was saying.
Unfortunately, that bit of wisdom didn’t stop me from feeling like the earth had tilted and I was sliding, sliding down a sheer rock face, with nothing at all to slow my descent. To stop me from plunging into the inexorable, yawning chasm below.
It was almost dark. The party had grown louder, and the laughter and voices and clink
She knew some things about Howell too. Nothing near like what her daddy did. But, all the same, illegally poached deer steaks did show up in her kitchen once in a while. And moonshine from a still in the grove behind their house.
Unlike the Lurie girl, though, she knew how to keep her mouth shut.
Jinn had loved Howell once, although it’d been so long ago, it seemed like another life. She used to wear her hair down, the way he liked it. Used to let him shimmy off her nightgown and run his hands over her every morning, even before the sun had come up, even though she’d been up half the night with babies.
But these days he jumped out of bed right when his eyes cracked open. He got dressed, even down to his boots, and headed out with a curt nod. He sure didn’t notice which way her hair was done. He didn’t notice much, except when she did something wrong.
That kind of thing—that settling , her mother called it—happened in a marriage, and there wasn’t no sense in crying over it. The secrets he kept from her, that was part of the settling, she reckoned. And now she had her own secrets. The ladies from Chattanooga. And the other, most important one, the secret she held like a love letter, close to her heart.
The conversations with Tom Stocker.
Jinn blushed and pushed the jug a bit farther into the shadows. One hundred dollars! With the money hidden away, she’d have time to figure out what to do with such a windfall. Maybe she should cut out and go to Hollywood. Pack up the children, hop a train, and get herself a screen test, like the ladies said.
Howell would be fit to be tied. He might even come after her. For sure he’d want Walter back. Collirene, he’d cut loose pretty easy, but he’d need the boy on the farm. Maybe she should leave Walter behind. But Collie was five, her baby. She wasn’t going nowhere without Collie. The girl still sucked her thumb and cried for her at night.
Jinn decided she needed to lay out her options side by side, like laundry hung on a line, so she could examine each of them clearly. But it would have to be just the right time. When she was out in the meadow gathering her honeysuckle, Collie by her side, as always, collecting dried locust skins for her cigar box. In the meadow she could think, work it all out in private. She couldn’t do that in the house. Howell could tell what she was thinking just by looking at her. He’d suss out somehow what she was plotting, for sure. Then he’d get to stomping and swearing through the house, and there was no telling where that would lead.
Chapter Three
Saturday, September 15, 2012
Mobile, Alabama
I ran, coward that I was, from the party. Away from my angry, confused father, from Wynn’s cold face and Molly Robb’s baffling new look. From Jay and his unbearable kindness.
So that was it. Eleven months of therapy, sharing and learning how to face my problems, not to mention the purchase of a pair of kick-ass boots, and I’d ruined it all. Less than an hour at home, and I’d reverted back to Old Althea.
The busybody dog followed me out the front door and clicked down the front steps behind me like it thought I might want company. I growled at it to stay, and, looking confused, it plunked its miniature bottom down in the grass.
I ran to the head of the path that led into our woods, telling myself to breathe. My father was sick. Alzheimer’s was a terrible disease. He hadn’t laid eyes on me in almost a year. His mind was muddled, pierced with the buckshot of old memories. He didn’t know what he was saying.
Unfortunately, that bit of wisdom didn’t stop me from feeling like the earth had tilted and I was sliding, sliding down a sheer rock face, with nothing at all to slow my descent. To stop me from plunging into the inexorable, yawning chasm below.
It was almost dark. The party had grown louder, and the laughter and voices and clink
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