Reason Is You (9781101576151) by Sharla Lovelace Read Free Book Online Page A

his body. But that was nothing. Bob was a one-legged, very hairy, weather-worn man in blue jean shorts, a metal fake leg, and sneakers. Oh, and he had a hump on his back. I kid you not.
    “Nice to meet ya,” he said in the gravelly voice of a lifelong smoker, shaking my hand like a man. I couldn’t help but like him.
    He loaded up the bait vats, saluted me with a smile, and headed to his trailer, squeaky pole leg and all.
    I closed up shop according to Marg’s notes and thought she was awfully brave to leave that to me on the first day. Guess I made a good first impression. Well, to be fair, she’d already taken all but one hundred dollars to the bank, so it wasn’t like I was left with Fort Knox.
    I knew where I was going when I left, and it was the opposite direction from home. Within minutes, I wound through the neatly graveled figure eights, eventually landing at the end of a small rise. I got out and walked back two rows to the pinkish gray granite stone that sported my mother’s name and date of death. April 16, 1970. The day I was born.
    My dad never let it be that way. Never once was my birthday anything other than my birthday. I only knew that my mother lived in the cemetery instead of at the house with us, and we kept flowers there for her and frequently went through the scrapbook she made when she was pregnant. I was six when I really noticed the date, and my dad explained it casually as being insignificant because she was just happy she got to see and hold me there at home where I was born, before God took her to heaven.
    I never wondered if I killed her.
    I did wonder why she never came around to tell me that herself. A million other people felt the need to tell me their postmortem thoughts.
    “But not you, huh, Mom?” Nope. Never her. I took a deep breath. “We need you—me and Riley.”
    It felt awkward to say that, having never known her or had any kind of relationship with her. I always visited, always talked to her about what I was doing as if she couldn’t possibly know otherwise. But I never asked for anything. Not even advice. Not even back then when I really needed a mom. I didn’t know how to have one.
    “I’m back in this messed-up place again, and—” I blew out a frustrated breath. “You didn’t—or couldn’t—keep them off me,but I’m begging you. If you have any pull whatsoever. Please keep them off Riley.” My voice choked. “She doesn’t deserve this. She didn’t ask for this.”
    My eyes burned with tears, and the back of my neck prickled. Not like with Alex, which always felt like electric current, but just enough to make me react. I turned to see a redheaded older lady approach. She wore a lemon yellow pantsuit and carried a large orange purse that matched her orange shoes. How unfortunate to spend eternity in such an awful wardrobe choice. But, hey, when she put it all on, she probably didn’t realize there wouldn’t be a do-over.
    I swiped at my eyes and smiled, looking back at the stone where the silk daisies appeared to morph from the top. That hadn’t changed. For forty years, my dad kept her favorite flowers on her grave. He never let them fade. He changed them out before they could.
    “Nadine Danielle Shane,” the lady read as she stood next to me. She jutted her head that way as she turned to speak to me. “That your momma, there?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    She nodded and squinted at the date. “Gone a long time. You aren’t old enough to have had too much of her.”
    “None.”
    She clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “Shame. Damn shame. Your daddy raise you?”
    “Yes, ma’am. He’s all I had.”
    Her head swiveled and she faced me with a snort. “Seems to me you obviously have more than most.”
    A smile tugged at my lips on that one. “You have a point, there.”
    “Damn right I do.”
    “So, where are you from?” I asked.
    “Arkansas,” she said proudly.
    “How long have you been—”
    “Couple months, I guess. Keep ending up in