Peaches Read Free

into the bridge of a protruding root. She landed with her upper body sprawling across the train tracks. Underneath her, the crème de menthe shattered and stabbed at her through her short overalls. At the same time, her ankle exploded with unbelievable pain.
    “Help!” Murphy called. Gavin had landed on the other side of the tracks and turned to look at her, then beyond her.
    “Yip yip yip!”
    “Help me up!”
    Gavin seemed to be considering.
    Murphy stared at him, helpless and disbelieving. “Come on!”
    “Sorry,” Gavin said, then turned and sprinted. Murphy watched him hop into his car, the engine of the Honda roaringto life. Without lights, he peeled out, sending gravel flying up behind him. In another second the sound of the engine faded into the distance.
    “’Ooser,” she slurred into the bit of metal that was up against her mouth, trying to roll over. But her foot was still stuck in the root, and it just made another arrow of pain shoot up her leg. “Shtupid shree.” She let her body relax into the tracks again, only stirring when she felt something wet on her cheek. Two something wets.
    “Uck,” Murphy mumbled, trying to wave her arms to swat away the tiny dogs. She managed to flip onto her back and sit up just in time to see the two big bare feet of Walter Darlington as they arrived next to her own.
    Walter, gray at the temples and big boned, held his rifle over his shoulder like a fishing pole, looking both extremely pissed off and extremely satisfied, and took in the shattered glass surrounding Murphy’s butt, the cuts on her hands, the last of the crème de menthe seeping into the rocks. Behind him, just arriving and panting from the run, was the Darlingtons’ fleshy, puppy-like teenage daughter. She swooped down beside Murphy immediately and snatched up the dogs, one in each arm, her big brown eyes wide and staring.
    “Your tree tripped me,” Murphy murmured, ready to make the case that she could sue. It was the tree that was at fault, not her.
    Walter glared, shaking his head. “Sweetie, you picked the wrong day,” he wheezed, his shoulders heaving as if he’d run a hundred miles instead of a couple hundred yards. “You couldn’t have picked a worse one if you tried.”

 
    On June 11, 1988, Jodee McGowen and her boyfriend snuck onto the Darlington Peach Orchard to pick peaches, and got distracted in the pecan grove. A boy named Miller Abbott had carved a jagged heart into a nearby tree with Jodee’s name inside, but Jodee had no idea. Three weeks later she found out she was carrying her first and only child.

Date: April 10
Subject: Murphy McGowen/Trespassing/Theft
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
    Walter,
    I’ve reviewed Miss McGowen’s record and feel that if both parties are willing, the punishment I’ve suggested is more than fair. Why don’t you call her mother first and see if she’ll agree to give her up to you for the spring break? Make it clear to her that she’ll be working long hours on the trees, that it would be for the entire two weeks, and that of course there would be no pay—I don’t want any misunderstandings here.
    I’d give her community service either way, so it would be in her best interest to do it through the back door, without the courts and another spot on her record. I’ll impress that upon Miss McGowen if you need me to. Let me know if you need me to talk to Jodee as well—I’d be happy to.
    I don’t foresee any problems, but let me know if you need me to intervene at any point. The girl is a firecracker.
    Golf Sunday?
    MA
Judge Miller Abbott
Kings County District Court

Chapter Two
    L eeda Cawley-Smith stuck a spoon into the hole of her lobster claw pastry and dug out a giant dollop of amaretto crème. She stuck the spoon in her mouth and sucked on it, watching to see if her mom would say something. Nothing. Leeda dug two fingers in this time, sticking them between her lips and letting them linger there like the