Hadley changed into her black funeral dress. She hated the old thing, but it was appropriate, she guessed. Black was the one color that washed her out. She stood looking in the mirror.
"Pale Hadley," she said, shaking her head.
It was no use. Nothing short of ostrich feathers and a three-foot-high headpiece of hot pink plastic flamingos would dress up this drab dress.
"Oh well, Onus," Hadley said. "It's a funeral, not a fashion show."
Onus ambled into the bedroom and jumped on top of the bed.
"I bet you do that all the time when I'm away," Hadley said.
Onus made a beeline for the pillows at the head of the bed. Diving headfirst between the two, Onus disappeared. It was his favorite game.
Hadley knew what would happen next. In a couple of seconds, Hadley saw one paw shoot out from under one of the pillows. It moved left, then right, then, disappeared again.
The pillows jiggled and vibrated as the Onus earthquake rattled their foundations. The space between the pillows parted, and Hadley saw half a fuzzy face and one eye.
"Meow," Onus said.
"That's right," Hadley said, "play hard to get. See if I care."
Onus disappeared from sight.
Hadley laughed. She looked at her watch.
"Much as I'd like to play hide-and-seek with you, old thing," Hadley said, "I've really got to get a move on. I'm going to be late."
Hadley scrambled for her shoes and pocketbook.
"And don't forget that cake," she reminded herself.
She flew out the door and into the car.
"This road is si-gogglin,'" she said, winding down the curvy back road to Increase Clifford's.
***
It had been some time since Hadley had been this far back in the sticks. She could see why Eucle Clifford would not want to waste his gasoline running Increase to Kyle's funeral.
Eucle and Increase belonged to another time. It was rumored that Eucle ran a small still somewhere near a clear-running creek in some long-forgotten hollow on his place. Hadley couldn't help but wonder if this was not the real reason Increase didn't want her driving down the long dirt road to their cabin.
"Howdy, Increase!" Hadley said. "I was running a few minutes late. I hope I haven't kept you waiting very long."
"Nonsense, child," Increase said. "As far as I'm concerned, I could stand right here in this shady spot till doomsday. Heared me a bobolink, Hadley! It's beautiful out here, ain't it?"
"They are beautiful songbirds, Increase. And it is a mighty pretty day. What you got under the cotton towel?"
"A cushaw pie," said Increase.
"You know, Pixies has a few of those. I've been meaning to buy one and make me some pies. I love that squash. I think it makes better pies than pumpkin. What do you think?"
"I think ennythin' that's edible is a gift of Gawd," said Increase.
"Amen," said Hadley.
"I'm worried 'bout Virgie," Increase said. "How you think she's holdin' up?"
"I'm sure she's broken right now," said Hadley. "Who wouldn't be? Kyle was her grandson. And just between you and me, Cleve doesn't seem to be in any mood to share her burden and grieve along with her."
"I knowed whut you sayin', and Claire shore ain't no help," said Increase.
"Virgie's from good stock," said Hadley. "She's strong. I'm sure she'll weather through this storm somehow. Her folks have lived on this rocky land for a long time. They've seen their share of heartaches, like the rest of us, I guess."
They drove in silence, soaking in the beauty of the afternoon.
"Here we are!" said Hadley.
"And there's Dulcie, waitin' on you like a liddle boomer stickin' her hand out for that cake I spied in the back seat."
"Ruth's got a couple of boomers at the rescue center. It's still hard for me to distinguish their chatter from cicada sometimes. I love the red in those little squirrels' coats."
"Yeah," Increase said. "But they's two sides to ever' coin, Hadley. Them boomers can be like rats if they nest in yer attic. Tear yer house to smithereens, but settin' on a branch, chatterin' away like a magpie, a boomer is as purty as a peach."
"Dulcie," Hadley said, "don't forget to get your cake out of the back seat before you leave."
"I won't. And thanks. I can't wait to eat it with a scaldin' cup 'a black coffee. My mouth's watering like a creek just thinkin' about it. Y'all look mighty fine, today," Dulcie said.
"Aw, we do not," said Increase. "We all look like a bunch 'a buzzards 'round the road kill."
"I know I do," said Hadley. "Black is definitely not my color."
"Claire's not here?" Increase said, looking over the small knot of mourners who had gathered by the graveside.
"Virgie said she's under the weather," Dulcie said.
"Umm, more likely, Claire's all doped up and can't stand up," Increase said. "I d'clare I never seed a woman who wasted her whole life chasin' one pill high after anothern. It ain't good for her to be all loopy like that all the time."
"I don't know 'bout that," Dulcie said. "I'm just goin' by what Virgie says."
"Come on," Hadley said. "We don't want to hold up the preacher. They might look to one of us to say a few words over the grave if we hold them up."
"Who's Virgie got to say words over Kyle?" Increase asked. "I don't think that boy's darkened a church door since he was a baby. He can't be on any church roll I know of. I wonder who's preachin' his service?"
"Ain't from 'round here," said Dulcie. "He's some snake-handler from back in the sticks. Virgie came from way back yonder, ya know."
"Oh," said Increase. "Ain't got nuthin' 'gainst no holy roller, long's he keeps his moccasins on his feet."
"Shush up," Dulcie said. "Virgie might hear ya."
Hadley saw Beanie standing nearby. She nodded his way. Beanie smiled. He looked very professional in his black pants and crisp white shirt. He held his shovel like a palace guard holds a shiny sword. He wore a solemn expression on his face that was most appropriate. Hadley was proud of her friend.
She glanced over at Virgie. Poor woman was a wreck. She looked like she'd been wrung through the ringer. There were dark circles and bags under her eyes. She needed sleep. She surely sat up with Kyle's body all night before they'd taken him to the cemetery today.
Virgie looked ashen and weak. She looked like she'd dropped 10 pounds since the last time Hadley saw her. Cleve Winthrop had made an appearance after all.
In spite of his bluster, Hadley was glad to see he was here. But he hadn't spent much time on cleaning up for the service.
Cleve looked as disheveled as a skid row bum. His shirt collar was uneven and wrinkled. One corner of his shirttail cascaded over his belt. There was a three-day stubble on his face, and his eyes were bloodshot.
Probably not from weeping, Hadley thought.
Hadley could only hope Cleve kept quiet and did not embarrass Virgie further.
Hardy Branwell stood on the other side of the group, quite a distance away from Candy and Virgie and Cleve.
He looks like an outcast. He looks uneasy and uncomfortable, but at least he had the decency to show up, Hadley thought.
Candy was distraught. Her two small children were fussy and whining and wanting to go home, but Candy seemed not to notice. Hardy looked down at the ground, never once looking Candy's way.
How hard it must be for him, Hadley thought.
***
Hadley, like everyone in the valley, knew of Hardy's heartache since Candy had taken up with Kyle Winthrop. Hardy blamed Kyle for the miserable state his daughter found herself in.
It had been rumored that Hardy had offered to build Candy and her kids a brand new home, but Candy had declined. If Kyle was not welcomed there, then she would have no part of it. Rumor was that Hardy had punched a hole in a door when Candy told her father 'no thanks.'
Two little children and a daddy who was murdered. It was sad beyond words. What would become of those kids? Would they both turn out as sorry as their daddy, Kyle?
Hadley felt a lingering guilt. She had often said those two kids would be better off if Kyle Winthrop was out of the picture.
But Hadley had meant off in jail or something. Certainly not murdered.
Candy's future looked hard and bleak. She had made her bed among a thorn patch of the sorriest mountain dirt. Kyle had never married her. Why she had allowed herself to have first one child, and then another, was a mystery. It was almost as if she was willingly sinking into the mire and muck that was Kyle Winthrop.
Candy took after Hardy. She was a smart girl, a pretty girl. It just didn't make good sense. Hadley pondered why such a girl would ever want to hitch her wagon to such a no good nag like Kyle. Kyle was as lazy as the day was long. But love was fickle, and the heart made a girl do crazy things sometimes.
"We gather here bound by a cord of sorrow at the death of Kyle Winthrop. Like seasons pass, a man lives out his mortal life, then turns to dust."
The preacher opened a worn Bible and began reading. He ended the sermon with a prayer. No snakes, Hadley was glad to see.
They all stood silently until the preacher finished.
Hadley walked back to her car. Increase got in. They drove down the road a bit, and Hadley turned the car around.
"Shoot, Increase," she said, "I forgot to ask Beanie where he'd be next Monday."