Read Online The Risen by Ron Rash - Free Book Online Page B

shower in the bathroom we shared. I may have listened to the radio a while longer or turned it off and closed my eyes, sleeping more easily than I had for days. I’m not sure. My next clear memory is of sitting at the breakfast table the next morning as my brother sat down to join me. A bruise purpled his left cheekbone and his upper lip was swollen.
    â€œWhat on earth happened to your face?” our mother exclaimed.
    â€œI was fishing,” Bill answered. “A laurel branch whipped back and nailed me good.”
    I’d had branches do the same to me, and I knew he’d met Ligeia at Panther Creek. Surely that morning I’d have noticed if there were also scratch marks, the raking kind that fingernails make. Yet even so, why would I have thought Ligeia responsible? Or that she’d caused the bruise or swollen lip. After all, she’d boarded the bus to Charlotte and everything was fine. My brother had said so.
    It is all so suddenly improbable—Ligeia falling in the water, hitting her head and drowning. A stream, a rock, a laurel branch. Improbable, but not impossible. To think otherwise, I have to believe my brother is a murderer.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    D amn,” Bill said that Sunday when he came back upstream. “You drank another beer?”
    â€œHell yeah, and look at this,” I said, the words I spoke slippery as creek rocks. I lifted the stringer and showed Bill a fourteen-inch rainbow, the biggest we’d caught that summer.
    â€œI guess it’s your lucky day, and about to get better,” Bill said, and nodded toward the woods downstream. “Ligeia’s waiting for you.”
    â€œWhy?” I asked.
    â€œWhy do you think?”
    Years later I would read Faulkner’s answer when someone asked why he drank. To feel braver and stronger, he’d answered, and I had been feeling exactly that way, but the sensation quickly drained away.
    â€œMaybe it’s not such a good idea. I’ve been thinking that if Grandfather found out . . .”
    Bill shrugged, gave a slight smile.
    â€œIf you don’t want to go, little brother, that’s fine. I’m just the messenger.”
    â€œYou don’t think I will, do you?” I replied, meeting his eyes.
    â€œI don’t care either way,” Bill said, no longer smiling. “But she’s got to leave soon, so if you’re going go now, though you might want to wash the worm and fish slime off your hands first.”
    I kneeled by the creek and rubbed my hands with sand and water. As I got up, the world seesawed a moment, then rebalanced.
    â€œI’m going,” I said.
    Bill patted my jeans pocket.
    â€œDon’t forget to put that on,” he said. “You understand?”
    â€œYeah, yeah,” I mumbled.
    Beer sloshed uneasily in my stomach, and the disconnect between my head and feet caused me to stumble twice. After that I kept my eyes on the ground as Imade my way into the woods. Ligeia had her bikini on. She sat on the quilt, knees tucked. I stood above her, swaying slightly, unsure what to do or say.
    â€œYou can lay down beside me, Eugene,” she said, giving me a drowsy smile. “I’m a wild child but I won’t bite.”
    â€œIf Bill asked you to . . .”
    â€œHe didn’t ask me to do anything.”
    â€œI just don’t want to be disrespectful,” I said, slurring the last word.
    Despite the Valium and wine, Ligeia’s eyes hardened. I’d see that look again when I taught at the community college, always in the eyes of women who’d grown up hard, a distrust of anything spoken softly.
    â€œ Respect ,” Ligeia answered. “Is that what gets a girl’s panties off up here?”
    â€œI didn’t mean, don’t mean,” I stammered. “It’s just that Bill, he’s better looking, and athletic.”
    Ligeia patted the quilt.
    â€œCome sit with me, Eugene,” she said, her voice softening.
    I sat