West Virginia

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Joe Halstead. West Virginia

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For Molly

Chapter 2

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In all things Jamie strove to be like his father. He’d never gone to school, lived in West Virginia his whole life. Claimed he’d only ever be happy in West Virginia and that no change of place could ever change who he was. All his friends could sit on their heels in their old age while he just kept on working, and he did so by preference. He’d been sensible and well meaning and always had a look of honesty about him. Tall, with good posture, a nice chin; a man who’d look you straight in the eye, friendly, but with a boyish air. There’d been something assured, Gregory Peck–ish about him. Jamie’s best memory of him was the day he’d found the arrowhead. It was a Saturday and they were walking through the woods. He was five or six years old. The old logging road they often walked went through thickets, across a creek bed, and wound around a hill until it reached a pasture. Jamie fell on his butt and noticed the arrowhead lying under a laurel bush. Almost two inches long, the arrowhead’s sides narrowed until they reached the tip, pencil thin, sharp. The right side was shaped with a precise curve.

“What’s that?” his father said.

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