They Call Me Crazy by Kelly Stone Gamble Read Free Book Online Page A

she’ll finally start using the herbs I told her about. They’ll do her more good than all those pills. Roland won’t agree, but if we show him how much better she is using my medicine plan than his, he’ll come around.
    “And I killed him.” She turns her attention toward the rain, as if daring the devil to keep up his games. A crash of thunder sounds, but she doesn’t flinch.
    I lay my hands on either side of her head and press my palms to her temples. I trace her jawline with my thumbs. I feel her skin respond, like tiny bugs waking up, moving, alive. I shut my eyes and feel her senses then run my fingers down her arms and hold her wrists. “No, you didn’t, sweetie. You just think you did.”

Chapter Six
    Cass
    I ’m not used to driving, especially at night on wet gravel. The rain has stopped, but water flows through the ravine on either side of the road, rushing in the opposite direction and giving the illusion that I am traveling slowly, moving without moving, going nowhere. I have the windows down to air out whatever the stale smell is and let in the fresh scent of newly fallen rain.
    In the past few years, I’ve begun to doubt Grams’s ability to see things. Maybe she’s losing her sight as she gets older. Maybe she never had it, and I just wanted to believe. I told her the truth. I told her I killed Roland, and she acted as if I didn’t do anything. But he’s dead, lying in a hole and turning to fertilizer.
    Damn! I forgot to get daisy seeds at the store.
    She’s been wrong before. When she said all those years ago that Roland and I were meant to be together, she was wrong. Dead wrong. Sure, I loved him. I always have, and in a way, I always will. But just because you love a man doesn’t mean you should live with him for the rest of your life. I tend to think it’s the opposite. If you want to keep loving them, maybe you shouldn’t live with them.
    A car passes, one of the few that travel this road. I appreciate the extra light. It’s very dark out here with no streetlights. However, the approaching car means I have to move closer to the rushing water on my right. I slow almost to a stop, not wanting to slide the truck into the ditch, into the water that may carry me away. I close my eyes and wait for the other car to pass. I focus on my breathing and try to keep my heartbeat from rising. It’s time for my medicine, and I’m almost home.
    No. No medicine. It fogs my mind. Besides, I have the herbs Grams gave me. I’ll make tea instead.
    My driveway is mud now. I carefully maneuver the truck up the steep hill, trying to keep control as it slides sideways in the muck. Pressing the gas pedal harder doesn’t help much because the truck isn’t moving. In the side-view mirror, I see balls of mud flying through the air as I slam my foot down on the accelerator.
    Our house— my house—is on a hill. The people in town call it Booker’s Hill, named for Shady Booker, who once lived on the peak in a two-story A-frame he built himself. When that house burned down, somebody replaced it with the shack that I now call home. Maybe it was nice in its day. I tend to doubt it.
    The front overlooks nothing more than a narrow country road. The backside of the hill leads to Spring River. It’s a beautiful view, if you fancy rivers. I like to go down to the small landing where Roland keeps—kept—his johnboat and watch the moonlight shimmer on the water.
    The driver’s door creaks loudly as I step out of the truck, holding the brown paper bag that contains my raspberry bubble bath. Grams taught Lola and me from an early age that raspberry is the only thing a woman should put in her bath. She says it will keep your man from wandering. As I mentioned, I’m beginning to doubt Gram and her ideas. It obviously didn’t work for me, and now I’m buying it out of habit.
    Both my feet sink into the muck, which covers my sandals in dark slime. I struggle to keep my balance while I yank one foot free. The earth