Page 117 of The Best Kind of Bad

“She was fine, I guess. That Jim, though.”

I nod. “You saw that cane? He used to use that to whoop on his kids.”

She looks at me in horror. “He’d hit them with the cane?”

“Right on the back of the neck. Runner said he worked for Jim one summer and was so scared he’d get caned, he quit after one month.”

“I don’t blame him.”

“Me, either.” I plant my hand behind her and lean back.

“Julietta wanted to unburden herself. But if that was an apology, it needed work.”

“An apology for what?”

She shakes her head. “I suspected Jerry was the father of my mom’s baby, but they confirmed it. And I guess they weren’t too nice to her about it.”

“Sounds about right.”

She glances at me. “That fucker called my mom a gold digger.”

“Want me to get revenge?”

She laughs.

“Old Jim’s too old. That wouldn’t be a fair fight, but I bet Jerry could throw a punch or two.”

She purses her lips. “He’s pretty old, too. Does he have any kids?”

“Yeah. Steven. He was in my dad’s class.”

“Is he an asshole, too?”

I think about that and shrug. “A small one. A very tiny asshole.”

She laughs, leaning into me. Silence settles between us. After a while, she looks back at me. “I’m glad I know, I guess, because I realized something.”

“And what’s that?”

Her fingers trace the seam on my pants. “I wanted to know why my mom never came back to Silver Bend. I thought maybe the town betrayed her in some way. But now I know it wasn’t the town, it was just one family.”

“One shitty, bitter family.”

She nods against my chest. “I wish I could have talked to her about it. She carried that by herself. My dad didn’t even know the details. The way they treated her… nobody deserves that.”

“Not everybody has a big heart like you, Marnie. Some people just like to assume the worst of other people.”

“Well, fuck those guys, then.”

I laugh. “Yeah. Fuck ‘em.”

She takes a deep breath and lets it go. We both watch a meadowlark land on the nubby end of a goldenrod. It dips under the bird’s weight. Its warbled song fills the air.

“Can you picture it?” I murmur, pulling her closer. “The wagons would have probably come from over that way. To the east.”

“You’re talking about great, great grandpa Novak?”

I nod. “Gus said they took the train to Chicago and bought their gear there. Wagons. Tools.”

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