Deep River Burning Read Free Page A

officials, one of whom was Denver’s father, Ted Oakley, arrived at Samantha’s house. Ted was the head of the Adena town council and was respected for his fairness and even-keeled approach to community matters. The four gentlemen spoke to Samantha’s mother, who was pointing at a tall tree that was dying. Three of the men walked to the edge of the property and carefully scanned the ground until they found the small crack that puffed smoke. Denver’s father stayed behind to talk to Mrs. Hewitt.
    “Is there anything wrong?” Mrs. Hewitt asked. “What are they looking for?”
    “Well, we’re not sure yet,” Ted replied. “Is it all right with you if I ask you a question or two?”
    “Sure, please come in,” she said as she stood back clearing the doorway. “Would you like some coffee?”
    “No, thank you, I won’t be taking up much of your time.”
    “What can I do for you?” Mrs. Hewitt asked.
    “Was yesterday the first time you saw the smoke hole?”
    “Yes. My daughter Samantha noticed it yesterday when she was playing in the yard and chasing after the dog. Cute little thing is so hard to keep after.”
    Ted gazed out toward the road and around the yard and trees. “Has anyone in the house had any unusual health problems of late?” Ted asked.
    “Nothing unusual,” she said.
    “Any sickness at all?”
    “Well my husband was organizing his tools in the basement on Sunday when he started to get a headache and feel nauseous. He went upstairs and slept for a while and started to feel better. It was just a touch of the flu, I’m sure,” she said, getting a little nervous.
    “Mind if I . . . go down to your basement for a minute?” Ted asked hesitantly.
    “No, no, not at all. Let me show you the way.”
    Mrs. Hewitt pointed Ted down a staircase with a very low ceiling. He looked around and saw nothing unusual in the basement, only a lot of tools, some dusty boxes, a broken down tricycle, and some gardening equipment. He walked from one corner of the basement to the other inspecting the walls and the floor, then moved several boxes, a garden hose, and a work table in order to see into the corners of the basement. He scanned his eyes over a washing machine and clothes dryer, pipes, weight lifting equipment, and a lot of cobwebs. Mrs. Hewitt apologized for the disheveled appearance of the basement, but Ted only laughed and said, “I haven’t seen too many basements that are not disheveled.” As he was leaving, he thanked Mrs. Hewitt for her time and informed her that people from the Department of Environmental Protection would probably be stopping by soon to speak to her again. As Ted walked outside, he took special notice of the warm, breezeless day that sparkled in every direction in contrast to the grim, necklace line of smoke that spun through the crack in the ground.
    On the day the smoke hole was discovered, Denver was dealing with her restlessness by listening to music and talking to Helena on the phone about things she would never tell anyone else. She talked about how Josh sometimes looked at her as if she was a painting in a museum that changed its hues at different times of the day, which frightened her, and how if she ever got married, she wouldn’t change her name. She liked Oakley. It reminded her of a grove of tall trees. She talked about how her mother walked the path that was expected of her, married at eighteen, pregnant at twenty.
    Sometimes, when her mother thought no one was home, she would cry when she was standing in front of the kitchen window, or when she ran her hands over the old hardbound books in her husband’s study. Denver walked in on her mother a few times during one of these moments when her mother’s heart seemed to be falling to pieces, slowly, one by one like a flower that drops its petals until it’s just a withered stalk. But her mother would quickly wipe her tears away and go back to cleaning the counters or organizing the pantry. Denver wondered