Chapter 34
The sound of the crickets and cicadas was loud, constant and melodic. Neal had always loved the brutal buzz, reminding him that it was deep summer and the nights were long and full of stray sounds from dark insects and rambunctious children on neighboring lawns. He sat on the back porch, looking out at a row of bridal wreath bushes, round and filled with blooming flowers. The line of bushes set a border in front of the yard’s back fence, their round and tall fountain-like branches arching up, covered with pearl white flower tufts. Near these were tulips and stray gardenias. His father did all of the planting, though his mother asked every year if they could hire a gardener. That night, they’d had grilled strip steaks for dinner along with ripe tomatoes from a local woman who gr
