Beatrice shrugged again. “I don’t know. Let’s play checkers.”
Subject closed.
Joy steered her Bug into the driveway and hopped out, leaving it running. A quick stop at home to run a comb through her hair and brush her teeth before meeting Mom and Dad for dinner. She took the front porch steps two at a time and bounded through the unlocked front door, flipping on every light she passed on her way to the bathroom.
A quick glance in the mirror. Oh man. She looked ghostly. A little makeup wouldn’t hurt if she didn’t want to scare animals and little children. Joy riffled through her makeup pouch searching for the bronzer. A little bit dusted across her cheeks and forehead would take the paste out of her skin. She added some blush to pink her cheeks and a few swipes of mascara to open up her eyes so she wouldn’t look like she hadn’t slept in weeks … even though she hadn’t slept in weeks.
Joy stared into her eyes as she brushed her teeth. Wait. That sounded like a chime. She turned the water off and cocked her ear toward the door. Was it the doorbell? It chimed again. Yep.
She jogged down the hall. Who could it be? Not anyone they knew well. Mom’s open-door policy meant come on in. None of that doorbell nonsense. Joy looked through the peephole. Oh great. Investigator what’s-his-name, the guy who’d asked her all the questions after … well, after.
Joy opened the door, but not wide enough to be considered welcoming. “Hi. Can I help you with something, officer?”
Was he going to blindside her with more questions? Please not tonight.
“Hello, um …”—he glanced at the paper in his hand—“Joy.”
Kind of rude he couldn’t have checked out her name before ringing her doorbell. Whatever. “Yeah, I’m on my way out. What can I do for you?” She should be nicer to him. It wasn’t his fault, after all. But he was a reminder. One she could easily do without.
“That’s fine. I won’t keep you. I just wanted to let you know that we’re closing the investigation on Melanie Phillips’s death, and I wanted to return your personal effects to you.” He handed her a plastic bag full of things confiscated from the scene. Joy instantly recognized most of the things in the bag, including half of a best friend necklace and the suicide note Melanie had addressed to Joy.
Joy shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut. She’d deal with those things later.
“Thanks, officer.” What was protocol for something like this?
He nodded, shifting uncomfortably. His body straining toward his vehicle. “I’m really sorry about your loss. Truly.” Joy nodded. Me, too. “Thanks.”
“Well I’ll leave you to your plans. You can trust you won’t be seeing me show up on your doorstep anymore.”
Thank the Lord for small favors. Or the universe? Maybe she should be thanking the universe.
The little car tucked neatly into a parking space right outside of Hoke’s. Joy hopped out and walked under the yellow neon signs out front to enter the retro diner.
“Hey, there. Haven’t seen you in here in a while.” Pat, the redheaded waitress, flicked a dishtowel at Joy with a grin.
Joy tried to smile. “Hey. I know. It has been awhile. But I’m in the mood for a great burger.”
The waitress’s happy face faded. That always happened when people gave even a moment’s thought to why Joy hadn’t been around lately. Wonder how long that would go on? She sure didn’t like to be a mood killer everywhere she went.
“My mom and dad here yet?” Joy looked around the dining room, hoping to avoid the twenty questions.
Pat pointed to the back. “In the booth.”
“Oh, I see them. Thanks.” Joy followed the wood paneling to the rear of the restaurant and slid into the empty side of the booth. “Hey guys.”
“Hey love.” Dad grinned. “We’re ready to order, so go ahead and decide. Then we’ll catch up.”
The rumbling from Joy’s stomach insisted on a burger, fries, and a shake. An appetite like that would be perfect for dispelling any kind of fear her parents might have about her health and nutrition.
“What can I get you folks?” Pat poised her pen above her notepad and waited. Mom ordered her usual salad, then the waitress turned to Joy.
“I’ll have a cheeseburger, extra pickles, and an order of cheese fries.” How many times had she and Melanie shared a plate of fries?
“I’ll have the same.” Dad folded up his menu. “Chocolate shakes all around, too.”
Mom laughed and held up her hand. “Oh, not for me. Diet Coke, please.”
Pat scooped up the menus. “I’ll be right back with your drinks.”
Could Melanie actually be with them there at Hoke’s?
Almost like when little kids had imaginary friends. But, in this case, the invisible friend wasn’t imaginary. Joy scooted to the right a few inches. Logically, she knew she wasn’t sitting on Melanie, but … still.
“So how’s business?” That should help keep the attention off herself.
Mom beamed. “Great. Dad and I made a big sale today.
Should make for a good Christmas in the Christianson home.”
“Congrats. What’d you sell?”
“You know that house out at the lake with the wraparound porch?” A grin pulled at the corners of Dad’s mouth.
“Sure. The one a few doors down from our new-old house?” If they ever finished the rehab so they could actually move in.
“That’s the one. We sold it for more than the asking price.” Dad wiggled his eyebrows. Nothing made the man happier than coming out on top of a good deal.
“Wow. That’s awesome.” For them. Not so much for the buyer. Buyer beware and all that good stuff.
“Yeah. It turned out well for everyone.” Mom spread her napkin in her lap. “As for the rest of the weekend, we still have a pretty full day tomorrow. We’ll go to church, and then Dad and I have a couple of showings after.”
Joy shrugged. “I figured. It’s cool. I have tons of homework.” But Joy at church? That would be interesting to say the least. Would some kind of spiritual alarm bell go off if she walked through the doors of the sanctuary?
Dad lifted his hands for the waitress to set the tall milkshakes down. “We’re just sorry we’re not around much this weekend.”
Or any weekend. But Joy would never say that to them. The mommy-daddy guilt would be too much for them to bear. They’d never believe that she actually preferred it that way. Or maybe they’d believe her, but then they’d worry what it meant.
Mom glanced at Dad with a question in her eyes. He gave a soft nod.
Oh great. Here it comes. The mental stability check.
“Okay, so your dad and I are very concerned about you, sweetheart. We want to know what’s going on with you. It’s time to be honest with us. How are you?”
Joy took a long draw on her straw, filling her mouth with the fudgy shake. How was she? The line from Steel Magnolias welled in her chest. Joy wanted to blurt out “I’m fine! I’m fine! I can run all the way to Texas and back if I wanted to … but Melanie can’t!” But there was no way Mom and Dad could handle that kind of emotion. “I’m okay. I’m sad. I’m mad. I had my life turned upside down, so it’s going to take awhile. But I’m going to make it.” Joy shrugged. “I have no other choice.”
Dad reached a hand across the table and covered Joy’s.
The warmth of the human contact drew her pain to the surface and tears welled up. She blinked rapidly, keeping the flow at bay.
“Joy honey, we’re concerned about you.” Dad squeezed her hand. “I just barely touched you, and now you’re ready to burst. You’re keeping your emotions in, and they’re just bubbling at the surface ready to pour out at any moment.”
As if to punctuate his point, a big tear coursed down Joy’s cheek. Mercifully, Dad didn’t point it out.
Pat saved the day. No one spoke as she set a perfect plate of greasy diner food in front of them. “Need anything else?” Pat wiped her hands on her white apron and glanced at each of them.
Dad smiled and shook his head. “I think we’re fine. Thanks.”
Easy for him to say.
Eyes back on Joy, Dad dropped the smile. “Your mom and I think you need to see someone.” He looked at Mom. “We think you need some professional help.”
Joy dropped her fork. “Professional help? What do you mean? Like a shrink?” They couldn’t be serious.
Mom shook her head. “No. Not a shrink—that’s a psychiatrist. What you need is a counselor. Someone who can help you talk through what you’re feeling. Help you come to terms with all you’ve lost. Melanie and Austin on the same day, and in tragic ways.”
She forgot to mention faith, hope, and love. Those three were gone, too.
Mom reached across the table and squeezed Joy’s hand. “It’s been a horrible time for you. And you probably carry some misplaced guilt about the circumstances.”
How did Mom know? If she could see it, then Joy was probably right in feeling guilty. Did everyone else think it was her fault? Did Maggie think it was Joy’s fault her daughter was dead? Joy pushed her plate away. No point in trying to pretend she had it all together. They knew the truth.
“… and your dad and I, we have to take care of you and protect you, and we can’t know what’s going on inside your head unless you let us in there. Right now, you’re closed off, and I understand. Self-protection is natural to a degree, but we want you to see someone professional who can help you break through some of that stuff.”
What stuff? Like how she’d never trust another relationship? How she’d probably never get married? How Joy’s view of what it means to be a best friend is shattered into a million tiny pieces along with her heart? That kind of stuff? Impossible.
Dad nodded, and a crumb fell from his bushy silver mustache. “We love you. You’re everything to us, and we’ll do anything to make sure you come out of this strong. Right now, this is the best option we see. We’re here for you of course, but we don’t have the ability to really know how to help you.”
Their words made sense. Joy would have recommended the same thing to a friend. It was so different when it was happening to her though. “Who will I see? And when will I go?”
“I’m not sure if you heard about this, but they hired a permanent family therapist at church, just this week. She moved here from New Jersey. Mary Alice Gianetti. She has an office at the church, and she’ll be meeting with you once a week on Mondays for about an hour.”
Mom’s words tumbled over one another like they always did when she was nervous. It was why she didn’t make a good salesperson. And why she wasn’t selling Joy on the concept of therapy.
“You said Monday. Is that like two days from now?” How could Joy get herself out of it by then?
“Yeah. Why not get started right away?”
Joy could think of a few reasons. “Is this open for discussion?”
Dad shook his head. “It’s happening, sweetie. Has to.”
Joy nodded. Wow. Good ol’ Mary Alice Gianetti from New Jersey wouldn’t know what hit her.
Chapter 9
Mom thundered her Saab mid-life-crisis Turbo into the church parking lot Monday after volleyball practice. She pressed the satellite POWER button silencing Bill Cosby on the comedy channel. Did Mom think listening to the same comedian’s spiel Joy had been hearing since she was a little girl would do the trick to help her forget about her best friend’s suicide? She couldn’t be that lame.
Joy closed her eyes. She’d have to walk across that big parking lot, through those familiar doors, sit down with the one stranger in the whole church—the counselor, Mary Alice Gianetti—and talk about her most raw feelings. Sounded like a party.
For once, as they left the car and walked toward the building, the parking lot seemed too small, the distance too short. Mom leaned her body into the back of Joy’s arm. Was she trying to hold her up or make sure she didn’t get away? Probably a little of both. Now there was a thought. Joy could take off. Run until she couldn’t run any longer. Problem was, the demons that plagued her would surely follow close at her heels.
The double-door entrance rose up under the steeple that pointed to heaven. Like most churches, this one believed it had a special “in” with God. A fast track to the pearly gates. Maybe it did … but, if so, that meant so many other people who thought they were right, too, were going to be really surprised one day. Joy never heard the pastors address the beliefs of other faiths. They preached as though they assumed everyone understood and agreed that their teaching was right, so by default the others missed the mark. What if they were wrong? Someone had to be.
Joy had already mostly proven to herself the church was completely off about one very important thing she’d been taught, and had believed, since she was a little kid. Supposedly, people died and then beamed right up to heaven. Simple as flipping a switch. But even though she wanted more proof, Melanie made it look pretty likely that when people died, they didn’t, or at least some of them didn’t, immediately go to be with Jesus.
So the pastor was wrong. And so was the Bible. Now, what was Joy to do with that bit of knowledge? Where did it put her faith in everything she’d ever been taught?
Maybe she’d make that the first question she’d ask her counselor. What happened to people after they died? Or better yet, what do you do about your faith in God when you prove Him wrong? If even a professional gave the party-line answer to either of those questions, as Joy expected her to, then she’d know that Mary Alice Gianetti really was as clueless as the rest of them. Or that there was no answer.
Mom held the door open and ushered Joy through. Her eyes searched Joy’s for signs of something. Poor Mom. The days of their carefree, chatty relationship seemed so distant. Now it was always somber with talk, or unspoken questions, about death, suicide, and betrayal. Joy shivered and pulled her arms tight around her body.
They approached the pastor’s office where light crept from under the doorway. Don’t knock, Mom. Just keep going.
Phew. She moved past the office door and zeroed in on the open door at the end of the hall. Mom poked her head through the open doorway. “Mary Alice? I’m here with Joy.”
Last chance to run. Joy stared through the window at the end of the hallway. Those snow-covered cornfields looked inviting.
“Oh hey, Peg. Great. Send her in. If you want to, you can wait in the coffee shop. I’ll send her down when we’re through.”
Mom nodded and held her hand out toward the office. “Go ahead, sweetheart. It’ll be fine.”
Whatever. Joy shoved her hands deep into her pockets and skulked past Mom through the doorway.
“See you in a little bit, sweetie.”
Joy nodded. Stop being so fake, Mom. Didn’t she know everyone could see through her? It was okay to be normal. Or at least some version of normal.
“Hi, Joy. I’m Mary Alice. Come on in and have a seat.” She stood from her desk with her hand outstretched, bangles tinkling from wrist to elbow, and gestured toward the corner.
Well, at least Joy thought she was standing. Mary Alice Gianetti could not have been five feet tall. Joy stepped toward the stuffed chairs and sank into one. The counselor followed her and chose the blue one across from Joy’s red one.
Mary Alice Gianetti crossed her denim-clad legs, her three-inch strappy gold heels dangling from her toe. So how tall was this woman really? And what was it about the counselor’s name that made Joy say the whole thing every single time? Mary just wouldn’t cut it. Mary Alice just sounded weird.
“So, Joy …”
Okay, if this lady was lame enough to say something like “tell me what brings you here today,” Joy was out of there.
“We’re actually going to do things a little bit differently than I usually would at a first visit. What I’d like to do is talk about the future. The past is the past. It’ll be there—we’ll get to it, but there’s a lot of tragedy in the past from what I understand about what you’ve gone through recently. More important is to try
to rediscover what made you who you are. I’d like to help you find your purpose again and prove you’re still in there.” She tapped on her chest. “The real you.”
Joy shrugged. The more she could keep Mary Alice Gianetti talking, the less she’d have to say herself.
“So let’s start by looking ahead. What is the one dream job you could really see yourself doing one day?” The counselor waited with her pen poised over her yellow legal pad.
Joy looked up at the ceiling tiles. Some had rings of water stains. Two were missing completely. Surprising for a church where everything was usually impeccable.
The counselor kicked off her heels then drew her legs up into the chair and crossed them. Her bright purple satin tunic billowed up for a brief moment, and Joy saw a taut tummy—years of exercise, no doubt. The tan courtesy of the local beds.
“I don’t know.” Brilliant. All that buildup, and I don’t know was the best Joy could come up with for her first words ever spoken in a counseling session?
Mary Alice waited.
“There was a time when I thought I would be a veterinarian, but I don’t know anymore.” Joy shrugged.
“Why don’t you know? What do you mean you don’t know anymore?”
Was she joking? Joy searched the wall for proof of a college degree. “Well, I think it’s just with all that’s gone on, I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know what matters to me.” As she stopped and thought about it, where had the passion gone? The shelves of animal books lining her room. The National Geographic DVDs and magazines piled on the floor beside her desk. The applications to the best vet schools in the country that she’d collected early and stacked on her nightstand where they’d been for the past year, completed and waiting until the first moment she could send them.
Oh, and she couldn’t forget the animal first-aid kit she’d had beneath her bed since she was eight, waiting for a broken wing to splint. Time was, she hadn’t gone a day, rarely a few hours, without thinking about the clinic she’d open near the lake after she’d proven herself by working for the Animal Clinic off of Route 30 for a few years.
THE SHADOWED ONYX: A DIAMOND ESTATES NOVEL Page 7