by Roni Teson
She spoke to me in a soft tone. “Love doesn’t work out too good, dear—remember that. One day Rainey will tell you more.” She looked at Rainey. “Let’s bury your sister. We’ll talk about your situation later.”
They nodded in agreement like two BFFs. Left me hanging.
What situation?
Mr. Greggs, a widower who met Mama online a while back, opened the door, took her arm. Led all of us to the curb. He jogged over to the casket for his pallbearer duties along with some other guys from town, including Sam Farthington, a new addition to our lives and I think one of Mama’s many boyfriends.
By the graveside, the preacher said a few more words. Mama and I dropped some dirt on the casket. Later, at our house she gave him a stack of money.
“Pastor Jacob, my donation for the church. Thank you for handling my daughter’s service so respectfully.”
He put the money in his coat pocket. “When will we see you at church?”
Mama chuckled. “This soul’s already saved.” She handed the pastor a drink. “A touch of bourbon, the way you like it.”
“Viola. You’re something special,” Pastor Jacob said.
More people filled the kitchen until the room became wall-to-wall bodies. Rainey got real close to that preacher. Her hand slipped into his pocket, I thought she lifted that stack of money Mama just gave him. I must have been real tired, because the next thing I saw—Mama’s prideful eyes, aimed right at Rainey.
2
Liars
The moment I woke up, I ran downstairs barefooted. Rainey’d leave the minute she could sneak away, even if it meant not saying good-bye to me.
After the funeral gathering the night before, our house seemed empty, real quiet, until I heard Mama’s voice coming from her office. Nothing got by her elephant ears. I tiptoed to the door, leaned as close as I could, held my breath. Eavesdropping’s a rule breaker to Mama.
“We’ll be on a plane later today, Rainey.”
“I can’t.”
“You heard the lawyer. Besides, I need you.”
“When will you tell Molly?”
“We’re telling her—right now.”
Thank goodness my feet moved before my brain. I pushed away from the wall, turned toward the kitchen right when the door flew open.
“Good, you’re awake.” Mama followed me. “We need to talk to you.”
I fixed a bowl of Lucky Charms. Wondered why a lawyer got involved in whatever Mama wanted to tell me. Bad enough that Lydia died, now what? But Mama and Rainey took their time. Both of them fixed their coffee, la de da, while my insides bounced on a trampoline.
Tell me!
I sat at the breakfast counter with my bowl of cereal. Rainey’s coffee smelled good when she set her cup next to me. On her way around the counter, she touched Mama’s arms in a gentle way.
Oh lord, this wouldn’t be good.
Mama leaned in front of us, hesitated. “Duke died before Lydia.”
I maneuvered my spoon under a star, scooped it into my mouth—anything to keep my jaws from yapping. Listening didn’t come easy to me.
“She adopted his sons. Duke wanted it that way after their mother passed.”
When I looked up from the cereal Mama looked away. Rainey studied the inside of her cup like she looked for an escape route or something.
“The way this works in Florida, the money goes to the descendants,” Mama said.
“That’s good, isn’t it? The boys gotta have something to live on,” I said.
Rainey cleared her throat, glared at mama. I waited for her to ask Mama to go on. But nobody said a word.
“What? Tell me,” I said.
“I can’t just blurt it out,” Mama said to Rainey.
I looked from Mama to Rainey. “Well?”
“What Mama wants to tell you,” Rainey said. “Is—“
“Your grandfather didn’t leave me a trust fund. We’ve been living off the money Lydia provides—well, provided,” Mama said.
“Why did you tell me your daddy left you money?”
“Because, I’m ashamed I didn’t know him.”
“I don’t know mine,” I said.
Rainey started to say something, but Mama waved her hand. “Let me do it,” she said. “Molly . . . Lydia was not your sister.”
I stared at her, didn’t understand. “So Lydia’s not your daughter? Just me and Rainey?”
Mama walked around the counter, made Rainey move so she could sit next to me.
“Molly,” Rainy said. “Lydia was your mother.”
Mama’s hand shot out like a Wack-a-Mole, smacked Rainey right in the head. “I wanted to tell her!”
Rainey barely flinched, even sat up taller. “You take too long. She needs to know. The whole thing’s a mess.”
Mama made a snapping noise with her tongue. “Rainey, you’re walking a fine line.”
“Wait.” A siren went off in my head. “Lydia had a baby? Me?”
Rainey stood behind me and rubbed my back. “Yes.”
I shoved the bowl away, spilled milk on the counter. Couldn’t look at Mama or Rainey. Shook her hands off me. “This is messed up.”
Mama stood, hugged me. Her tears spilled on my pajamas. “I’m sorry, honey. So many years went by. . .”
I pushed her away. “Don’t touch me.”
“Lydia wanted a good life for you,” she said.
“Why. Why, why!?” My spit hit Mama’s forehead. “Why didn’t I know?”
“Molly,” Rainey said. “Hold on—”
“No, you lied to me, too.” Tears streamed down my cheeks. I backed away. Glared at Mama. “My whole life, I thought you were my mother!”
“I am your mom. I raised you as my own.” She crossed her arms. “We did the best we could, considering the situation.”
“Situation again, your stupid word. Liars!” I wanted to run away forever, but where would I go? Besides I couldn’t even catch my breath.
Mama and Rainey kept their distance, stared at me.
A salty taste filled my mouth from snot dripping down. I wiped my nose with the back of my sleeve. “Why didn’t she keep me?”
Mama let out another long sigh. “She was fifteen years old, way too young.”
“So I’m not supposed to be here. I am a mistake?”
“Nonsense,” Mama said. “You’re God’s plan.”
“Are we getting religion now?” I said.
“No.” Rainey looked at Mama like she wanted to tell her to shut up but her mouth didn’t have the strength. She shifted her focus toward me. Seemed to relax. “Molly Bishop, you’re meant to be.”
Patches of red splashed across Mama’s chest. She inched closer. “I love you, Molly. You’re my daughter.”
“What would you do if you got pregnant?” Rainey put her face right up to mine. “Mama raised you as her own because she didn’t want you to go anywhere else.”
“We had several discussions, Lydia and me,” Mama said. “She wanted to take you away every time she found a new husband. Would’ve defeated the purpose.”
“Purpose?” I said.
“Lydia wanted a normal life for you,” Rainey said.
“I couldn’t let her take you to live with . . . strangers,” Mama said.
How could this be? I wanted to leap up to heaven and find Lydia. If she were there, I’d yell at her—I’d keep my baby! Why didn’t you tell me!?
“Why bother now? You should have let the lies die with Lydia,” I said.
Mama’s cheeks sunk in, like lemonade without the sugar. “Secrets, Molly. Not lies. We need to get what’s rightfully ours or the boys will get everything.”
“What are you talking about?” I said.
“I told you, Lydia died a millionaire several times over and she didn’t have a will.” Mama’s hand rested flat across her forehead. For the first time in my life, I thought about hitting her, hurting her, knocking that hand off her arm into another world.
“I barely knew her. How could a
nything of hers be mine? I don’t want her money,” I said.
“You’re her only natural child. The Holiday fortune belongs to you. Not those . . . stepsons,” Mama said.
“So it’s all about the money?” I grabbed my cereal bowl and flung it into the sink. Shattered, like my whole life. “I’m going to my room.”
Mama blocked my way. Her bloodshot eyes blinked back more tears. “In a minute Molly, you can be alone. Listen, we could’ve done this different, but here we are.”
Before Lydia died, Mama didn’t look old enough to be a grandma. Showed on her face now. I stared at a whole bunch of fine lines around Mama’s mouth, dark circles under her eyes.
“Rainey’s going with us to Florida.” She spoke in her calm voice, the way she did when she wanted something from Marcus or Sam. “We have a plane to catch.” She lifted my chin. “Molly, look at me. This is important.”
“Don’t touch me.” I pushed Mama’s hand away. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“We’re going to Florida, you have no choice.” Mama went into commando mode. “Rainey call that man of yours, tell him you’ll be back next week. Molly, use my suitcase. It’s in the hall closet.”
I stared at her, frozen. She clapped her hands, stomped her foot. “Go! Pack your summer clothes. I’ll call your school. We’ll work this out. Everything will be back to normal in no time.”
Normal? My insides twitched.