Say No More by Gemini Sasson Read Free Book Online Page B

on the floor and they were on the couch, touching and kissing each other, making happy sounds. It seemed so long ago now.
    “I get mad, too.” Lise fished two teabags out of the ceramic snowman and dropped them into a couple of mugs. “Mad that it happened. Mad they weren’t more careful. Mad that Cam won’t be here when I need him most.”
    “It’s my fault, Lise, dear.” Estelle touched her shoulder, but quickly drew her hand back before the gesture became something more. “I should’ve insisted Ray put that roll bar back on the tractor. Even if I had, though, he probably would’ve ignored me. He could be so stubborn sometimes.”
    “That’s absurd. It’s not your fault.” But she didn’t say the rest — that Ray had removed the roll bar that at least would have saved Cam’s life. The whistle on the teapot shrieked. Lise poured the hot water into the cups and set them on the table. She sank into her chair and bobbed her tea bag up and down, before scooping a teaspoon of sugar into the cup.
    “I saw it happen from my sewing room window.”
    Lise dropped the teabag into the cup. Her head snapped up. “What?”
    Eyes lowered, Estelle joined her at the table. “I saw Cam drive the tractor over the silage pile. They were trying to tamp it down so they could pull a tarp over it. Keep the rain from ruining it.” She took her handkerchief from her pocket and twisted it between her hands. “Ray ran up beside the pile to tell Cam to back up. And when, when he did, it ... the tractor, I guess it hit a pocket of air. One of the tires spun. The tractor slipped sideways and, and I screamed at them from inside the house. Screamed. But it rolled. Cam was thrown. Ray couldn’t get out of the way in time.”
    Her mouth twisted into an ugly shape. She clenched her fists until her knuckles whitened. “I rushed outside, but all I could see at first was the mangled underside of the tractor. When I moved around to the other side and saw, saw ... I knew. There was nothing I could do.” Estelle’s gray eyes took on a distant look, as if she were reliving the day. “They found them right next to each other.”
    “It wasn’t your fault.” Lise lifted her cup, her mouth tight. They were words spoken out of civility, not compassion. “They couldn’t have heard you that far away. Not with the tractor running.”
    “I screamed at them because Hunter had run after his grandpa.” Her voice diminished to a scratchy whisper. Like autumn leaves skittering over concrete on a windy day. “I was afraid for Hunter.”
    Lise’s hand froze in mid air. “He saw it happen?”
    Estelle nodded dully, her jaw trembling as she dissolved into muted sobs.
    Half-standing, Lise reached across the table suddenly, her cup tumbling onto the floor. Hot tea splashed everywhere. The cup shattered into a dozen pieces. A shard skittered across the linoleum, nicking my back paw. I jumped, as much because of the anger I saw in Lise’s face as from the sound of a mug breaking.
    “How close was he?” When Estelle didn’t answer right away, Lise smacked the table with her palm. She repeated herself, more loudly, more accusingly. “I said how close was he?!”
    Estelle’s shoulders hunched forward. Tear stains dotted her blouse. She unwadded the tissue, blew her nose. It took a few seconds for her to find her voice. “I don’t know. Ten feet, maybe?”
    “You mean, he could’ve —?” Lise collapsed onto her chair like she’d been struck. “Oh my God.”
    Whatever trust there was between them broke at that moment. Just like the cup hitting the floor. Even if you glued it back together, it would never be as strong again, never be whole.
    The clock on the wall ticked loudly. Each pulse of the second hand sounded like the drum beat of a death march. I had never noticed that sound before. Never realized how time actually could change pace. But it did. It plodded.
    Finally, Lise pushed her chair back and got up. She turned away, one hand