The air was like a rubber raincoat, which didn’t help my rolly stomach one bit. Baby James seemed fine with the heat, sleeping on the truck’s floorboard between my feet and wearing just a diaper. But Eula looked sickly as she drove so slow we coulda been outrun easy by a turtle. Even creepin’ along, the truck rattled like we was probably droppin’ parts along behind us. I didn’t complain about our slowness. As Mamie was forever reminding me, I needed to count my blessings. At least Eula hadn’t gone straight to the law like she’d wanted to. And we were moving away from that big dead body.Before we’d left Eula’s house, we wrapped Wallace up in a sheet and drug him down to the springhouse so he wouldn’t rot so fast. I didn’t know why Eula cared, but she did. It was a miserable job and we only got it done because it was downhill and we rolled him most of the way.Eula’s Holy Bible sat on the truck seat between us, its gold letters rubbed to a thin shadow and its worn-out, cracked-edged cover flappin’ in the wind that rushed through the windows.
What do You think about Whistling Past The Graveyard?
