Lola closed her eyes, battling the waves of nausea. “How many men have there been?”
“How would I know? Weren’t you listening? I just told you I lost count. All I had to do was let them use my body for a little while. They adore me and I let them. I’m much more beautiful than all the actresses in Hollywood put together, and I’m going to be more famous. You just wait and see. Besides, I like sex. It feels good when they do it just right. You just don’t understand the modern woman. You’re old, Mother, and all dried up inside. You probably don’t remember what sex is.”
“Taking money for sex? Do you know what that makes you?”
“Liberated,” Jilly snarled.
Carrie stepped away from the door. “No, it doesn’t. It makes you a dirty little whore, Jilly. That’s all you’ll ever be.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jilly shouted. “Men don’t want you the way they want me. I can drive them crazy, and they don’t give you the time of day. I am liberated and you’re just jealous.”
“Come on, Mother. Let’s leave.” Carrie touched her mother’s shoulder.
Turning her head into the pillow, Jilly muttered, “Yes, leave. I’m sleepy now. Go away and let me rest.”
Carrie had to help Lola to the car. She had never seen her mother so distraught, and it scared her.
As they drove away from the hospital, Lola stared blankly out the window. “You’ve always known what she was like, and you tried to tell me, but I wouldn’t listen to you. I’ve been living in a fog, haven’t I?”
Carrie nodded. “Something’s wrong with Jilly. The mean streak inside of her goes beyond . . . it isn’t normal.”
“Did I do that to her?” Lola asked, sounding bewildered. “Your father spoiled her, and after he left us, I spoiled her too so she wouldn’t feel abandoned. Did I make her the monster she’s become?”
“I don’t know.”
Neither one of them said another word until they reached home. Carrie pulled the car into the driveway, parked it in front of the garage, and turned the motor off. She was opening the door when Lola grabbed her arm.
“I’m so sorry for the way I’ve treated you.” She began to weep then. “You’re such a good girl, and I’ve taken you for granted all these years. Our lives have revolved around Jilly, haven’t they? It seems I’ve spent the better part of her eighteen years keeping her calm . . . happy. I just want you to know that I’m proud of you. I’ve never told you so, have I? I guess it took this nightmare to make me realize what a treasure you are. I love you, Carrie.”
Carrie didn’t know how to respond. She couldn’t remember if or when her mother had ever told her she loved her before. She felt as though she’d just won some kind of a contest, but by default. The golden child was tarnished, and because she was the only one left, she got the prize.
It wasn’t enough. “What are you going to do about Jilly?” she asked.
“I’m going to make her do the right thing, of course.”
Carrie pulled away. “You still don’t get it. She won’t do the right thing. Maybe she can’t. I don’t know. She’s sick, Mother.”
Lola shook her head. “She’s spoiled, but I can work on—”
Carrie stopped her. “You’re still living in dreamland,” she muttered. She slammed the door when she got out of the car and went into the house.
Lola followed her into the kitchen, took an apron from the wooden peg on the wall, and tied it around her waist.
“Do you remember what happened on my eighth birthday?” Carrie asked as she pulled a chair from the kitchen table and dropped into it.
Hoping to avoid the unpleasant remembrance, Lola didn’t turn around. “Not now, dear. Why don’t you set the table and I’ll start dinner.”
“You gave me that Barbie doll I wanted.”
“Carrie, I don’t want to talk about this now.”
“Sit down. We need to discuss this.”
“It happened a long time ago. Why do you need to go over it again?”
Carrie wasn’t going to back down this time. “I came into your bedroom that night.”
“Carrie, I don’t—”
“Sit down, damn it. You can’t keep living this way. You have to face the facts. Sit, Mother.” She wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her.
Lola gave in. She took the chair across from her daughter, and primly folded her hands in her lap. “I remember your father was very upset by your accusations,” she said. “And Jilly was crying. You woke the whole household that night carrying on.”
“She wanted my doll,” Carrie said. “When I wouldn’t give it to her, she told me she was going to cut my eyes out with scissors. I woke up around midnight and she was standing over me with your shears in her hand. She had this sick smile on her face. She was opening and closing the scissors making this horrible clicking sound. Then she held up my new Barbie doll and I saw what she’d done to it. She’d stabbed the eyes out, Mother, and that smile on her face . . . it was so awful. As I was about to scream, she leaned down and whispered, ‘Now it’s your turn.’ ”
“You were too young to remember exactly what happened. You’ve blown this little incident way out of proportion.”
“Oh, no, I haven’t,” she said. “That’s exactly how it happened. You didn’t see the look in her eyes, but I’m telling you she wanted to kill me. If I had been alone in the house with her, she would have done exactly what she wanted to do.”
“No, no, she was just trying to scare you,” Lola insisted. “She never would have hurt you. Jilly loves you.”
“If you and Dad hadn’t been there, she would have hurt me. She’s crazy, Mother. I don’t care what happens to her, but there’s an innocent baby now.” She took a deep breath, and then blurted out, “I think we should encourage Jilly to give the baby up for adoption.”
Lola was outraged by the suggestion. “Absolutely not,” she said, and slammed her hand down on the table. “That baby is your niece and my granddaughter, and I’m not going to let strangers raise her.”
“It’s her only hope for a decent future,” Carrie argued. “She’s already got one huge strike against her with Jilly as her mother. I only hope whatever is broken inside of Jilly isn’t genetic.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. The only thing wrong with Jilly is that she’s used to getting her way. Lots of young women are fooling around with men these days. It’s wrong,” she hastily added, “but I understand why Jilly wanted men to love her. Her father left her, and she’s been trying to—”
“Will you listen to yourself?” Carrie shouted. “For a little while, I thought you were finally seeing what Jilly was, but I guess I was wrong. You’re never going to open your eyes. You asked me if you had made her the monster she’s become, remember?”
“I meant to say that her behavior was monstrous, but Jilly’s a mother now. When I go back to the hospital to bring her and the baby home, you’ll see. She’ll be all right.”
It was like talking to a brick wall. “You think the maternal instincts are going to kick in?”
“Yes, I do,” Lola said. “You’ll see,” she repeated. “Jilly will want to do the right thing.”
Carrie gave up. Sickened, she went to her room and stayed there the rest of the night. When she came down the following morning, there was a note on the kitchen table. Her mother had gone to Sears to purchase a crib, baby clothes, and an infant car seat.
“Dreamland,” Carrie muttered.
On Monday morning, Lola went to the hospital to bring Jilly and the still unnamed baby home. Carrie refused to go with her mother. She told her she had to work an early shift at Sammy’s and left the house before Lola could question her.
Jilly was waiting for her mother. She was dressed and standing in front of the bathroom mirror brushing her hair. She waved her hand toward the screaming infant she’d dropped in the middle of the unmade bed seconds after the nurse had left the room and told Lola she could either keep her, sell h
er, or give her away—she didn’t much care what she did with her. She then picked up her overnight bag and walked out of the hospital with the money she’d stolen from her sister’s college fund tucked into her bra.
The withdrawal didn’t appear on the bank statement until two weeks later. Carrie was outraged. She’d worked hard to save the money, and she was determined to get it back. She tried to report the theft to the police, but Lola wouldn’t let her.
“Family business stays in the family,” she decreed.
Carrie graduated from high school the following spring and worked two jobs that summer. Lola used some of her savings to help with Carrie’s college tuition, and Carrie found part-time work on campus to help with expenses. When she came home for Christmas break, she could barely look at Jilly’s baby.
However, Avery wasn’t the kind of child who put up with being ignored. It only took a couple of drooling smiles, and Carrie was smiling back. Each time she returned home, the bond grew stronger. The child adored her, and the feeling, though never openly stated, was reciprocated.
Avery was the sweetest, most intelligent little girl, and Carrie in every way possible had become her substitute mother. She certainly had all the protective instincts of a mother. She would do anything to keep Avery safe.
Yet here they were, five years later, and Jilly was still able to cause the family pain.
“Did she, Carrie? Did she hate me?”
Carrie forced herself to concentrate on the child’s question. Planting her hands on her hips, she took a deep breath and then asked, “What do you care what Jilly thought about you?”
Avery lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know.”
“Now, you listen to me. Your no-good mama probably did hate you, but not because of who you are or what you looked like when you were born. You were a perfect baby. Jilly just didn’t want responsibility.” She pointed to the chair adjacent to the bed. “I’m going to tell you something important, and I want you to pay attention, so sit down.”
Avery hurried to do as she was told.
“You’re probably too young to hear this, but I’m going to tell you anyway. Your mother’s a frickin’ maniac.”
Avery was disappointed. She thought she was going to hear something new. “You already told me that, Carrie. Lots of times.”
“That was just another reminder,” she said. “Jilly has never been normal. Fact is, she should have been locked up in a loony bin a long time ago.”
Avery was intrigued by the thought of her mother being locked away. “What’s a loony bin?”
“It’s a place where sick people go.”
“Is Jilly sick?”
“Yes,” she answered. “But not the kind of sick where we feel sorry for her. She’s mean and hateful and just plain crazy. She’d have to be crazy to walk away from someone as wonderful as you,” Carrie added. Leaning forward, she brushed the hair out of Avery’s eyes. “Your mother grew up with something important missing from inside her head. She might not be a pure sociopath, but she’s damn close.”
Avery’s eyes widened. In a hushed voice she said, “Carrie, you just said ‘damn.’”
“I know what I said, and I know what I’m talking about.”
Avery got out of her chair and went to sit beside Carrie on the bed. She latched on to her hand and said, “But I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m going to explain. A sociopath is a person who doesn’t have a conscience, and before you ask, I’ll tell you what a conscience is. That’s what’s inside your head that tells you when you’ve done something wrong. Your conscience makes you feel . . . bad.”
“Like when I told Grandma I already practiced on the piano, but I didn’t, and then she told me I was a good girl, but I wasn’t ’cause I lied, and then I felt bad?”
“Yes, just like that,” she said. “Your mother doesn’t have any heart or soul, and that’s the truth.”
“Like the song you like to sing? Is it that kind of heart and soul?”
“Yes, just like the song,” Carrie assured her. “Jilly doesn’t have room in her heart to feel any emotion that doesn’t directly involve or benefit her.”
Avery was leaning into her side, looking up at her with those wonderful violet blue eyes that were so much more beautiful than her mother’s. Carrie could almost see the purity and goodness behind them. “Jilly’s too busy loving herself to love anyone else, but you can’t waste your time feeling bad about that. None of it is your fault. You believe me, don’t you?”
Avery solemnly nodded. “It’s my no-good mama’s fault, all right.”
Carrie smiled. “That’s right.”
“Do I have a soul?”
“Yes, you do. Everyone but your no-good mama has a soul.”
“Before Jilly hurt Whiskers and made him die, did he have a soul?”
“Maybe,” she allowed, thinking of the kitten Jilly had cruelly taken from her.
“Where is it?”
“Your soul?” Carrie had to think about the question for a few seconds before answering. “It’s inside you, wrapped around your heart. Your soul is as pure as an angel’s, and I mean to help you keep it that way. You’re nothing like Jilly, Avery.”
“But I look like her. You said so.”
“It’s not what you look like that’s important. It’s what’s inside you that matters.”
“Does Jilly love you and Grandma and just not me?”
Carrie was exasperated. “I thought you understood what I was telling you. Jilly doesn’t love anyone but herself. She doesn’t love Grandma, she doesn’t love me, and she doesn’t love you. Now do you understand?”
Avery nodded. “Can I play with the jewelry now, Carrie?”
Carrie smiled. The child, it seemed, had moved on to more important matters. She watched her sit at the vanity and begin to dig through the box again. “You know what’s the best thing that ever happened to you?”
Avery didn’t look around when she answered. “Having you for my aunt Carrie.”
“Is that what you think is the best thing?” she asked, surprised and pleased. “How come?”
“’Cause that’s what you told me is the best thing.”
Carrie laughed. “Yeah, well, there’s something even better.”
“What?”
“You aren’t growing up afraid all the time the way I was. Jilly’s never going to come back. You won’t ever have to see her . . . not ever. That’s definitely the best thing.”
A shiver ran down Carrie’s back the second the words were out of her mouth. Was she tempting fate by making such a boast? Could one summon up a demon simply by proclaiming that it didn’t exist? The chill felt like a premonition. But of course it wasn’t. She was just a worrier, that was all. Shaking off her grim feeling, she went back to work.
The following week was busy. Avery chose pink for her walls, and Carrie added white trim. She thought the bedroom looked like an explosion of Pepto-Bismol, but Avery loved it. She was all settled in the big front bedroom by Sunday afternoon. Carrie’s suitcases had been packed in the trunk of the car. Carrie was going to sleep in Avery’s old bedroom on the grossly uncomfortable daybed her last night.
They had all of Carrie’s favorite foods for dinner that night—forbidden food on her perpetual diet—fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and green beans simmering in bacon fat. Lola had made a fresh salad, using the vegetables she’d grown in her backyard, but Carrie barely touched it. Since she’d already decided to take a day off from her diet—one wonderful, guilt-free day—she ate two helpings of everything else with unbridled gusto.
After Grandma Lola had read Avery a story and tucked her into bed, Carrie went in to kiss her good night. She turned on the nightlight, shut the bedroom door, and then went back downstairs to put some last-minute paperwork in her carry-on.
One task led to another, and she didn’t get back upstairs until after eleven. Lola was already asleep in her room at the back of the house. Carrie checked on Avery�
��oh, how she was going to miss the pip-squeak—and she almost burst into laughter when she spotted her niece in the big bed. The child was wearing at least five necklaces and four bracelets. The tarnished tiara with most of its glass diamonds missing was tangled in strands of her hair and tilted to the side of her head. She was sleeping on her back clutching a worn-out teddy bear in her arm. Carrie sat down on the bed and tried not to disturb her niece as she gently removed the jewelry.
After she put the trinkets back in the box, she walked quietly to the door. She was pulling it closed when Avery whispered, “Good night, Carrie.”
She’d already closed her eyes by the time Carrie turned around to look at her. In the soft glow from the streetlight the little girl looked like a cherub. Carrie didn’t think she could love her any more if she were her very own child. The instinct to protect was overwhelming. She hated the thought of going away, felt as though she were abandoning her.
She had to leave, she reminded herself. Avery’s future depended on her. When she was financially secure, she would be able to support her mother and her niece in the style she felt they both deserved. Guilt was a powerful deterent, but Carrie wasn’t about to let it interfere with her plans. She had her goals and her dreams, and Avery and Lola were tied to both.
“I’m doing the right thing,” she whispered as she walked down the hall to the bathroom. She was still trying to convince herself when she stepped into the shower.
Carrie had just turned on the water full blast when the slamming of the car doors awakened Avery. She heard a deep laugh and got out of bed to see who was making the noise. She saw a man and a woman. They were standing by the side of an old, beat-up car, their heads together, laughing and talking.
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