The River We Remember

by William Kent Krueger

What had come by the end of May was the smell of promise.

It was the knowledge, always there like a knife in his heart, that he was not what he seemed, not what people thought, not at all the man he wanted to be.

Grief—both Charlie and Brody knew this well—doesn’t come in the immediacy of the moment. Nor does it send a calling card for later. It arrives unannounced, springing from some unexpected incident, grabbing the heart in moments of total surprise.

The other Creasys stood watching from the dark of the garage. They made Brody think of hyenas in a cave.

Standing in the doorway to hell.”