Maeve's Girls

by Christine Gael

  But something had changed in the past two weeks. There had been a seismic shift and everything looked and felt different. She even found herself mourning her mother at moments as she worked.

  They'd all taken a mid-morning break when Sasha made them bacon and egg croissants. The four of them had just set their napkins down when the knock on the door finally came.

  None of her sisters moved as she stood.

  "Call us in if you need us," Kate murmured.

  Lena headed for the front door, her stomach feeling like it was full of pop rocks. She swung it open without asking who it was, because she already knew.

  "Hello, Sheriff."

  "Lena," he said, his voice low and solemn as he tugged his hat from his head. "Can I speak with you a minute?"

  She stepped back and waved him in. Briefly, she considered talking to him in the living room, but then led him toward the study.

  He might be here as a courtesy, out of affection for Maeve, to let them know what was about to go down, but this wasn't a casual social call.

  She closed the door behind them and they both sat.

  "I thought you'd like to know that I spoke to one of the clerks at the Target this morning. She confirmed that Sasha and Maggie were there last week, and approached right outside the window on their way out by a man in a Pinto with a smashed quarter panel. She was actually considering calling us, but he left before she had the chance and they seemed fine when they left. She assumed it was a lover's spat between Sasha and the male driver, since she seemed to be yelling at him."

  "Sounds about right, knowing Sasha." Why was he even telling her this? What did it matter now? And why did his eyes have to look so soft and gentle?

  "So I went over to Tim Lischio's place to talk to Serina and the Pinto was parked in the driveway, where I got to see the car up close and in person. I noticed the dent had some navy blue paint streaks pushed into the gray. Sort of the same color as your rental car." He shifted in his seat and held her gaze. "When I spoke to Serina about your version of the events that occurred and how much we could figure out by testing paint chips, then went on to tell her about the clerk that saw the Pinto in the driveway at Target where your sisters were harassed, she played dumb. But when I explained that a person involved in planning to run someone off the road could be considered an accessory to attempted murder if the victim decided to file a police report, she realized she may have been hasty coming to the station about the threat you made against her."

  "Did she, now?" Lena schooled her features to hide her shock. Was Serina prepared to back off after all?

  "Apparently, her boyfriend Jeb has some priors and he would do a good stint of hard time, even if he pleaded to a lesser charge."

  She wanted to be happy, and part of her was. At least her focus wouldn't be split between trying to untangle herself from some trumped up charges over an ill-timed threat, and the drama that was about to explode when news of Maeve's confession came out.

  "So did you tell her about the letter, then?" Lena asked, unable to stand the grotesque anticipation even a second longer.

  Joe's strong throat worked as he stared at her blankly. "What letter?"

  Her brain went momentarily offline as she gazed back at him. "The letter that--" She broke off mid-sentence at the sudden intensity in his face.

  "When I spoke to Serina, I also asked her if she was sure that you had given her that bag full of cash, or if maybe she was mistaken about that, too. Turns out, she remembered she was mistaken, and was glad I'd gone above and beyond to return it to her. When I left the house, she and Jeb were packing up to head to Missouri."

  He couldn't be serious.

  "Are you saying--"

  "I'm saying that I got to thinking about how sometimes it's best to let sleeping dogs lie, and that maybe you were right. Maybe the world is better without Clyde McFadden in it."

  He shot to his feet like the dinner bell had been rung, and towered over her desk, his gray eyes roving over her face as if he was taking in every feature. "I've got to get back to the station, but I thought I'd let you know so y'all could rest easy."

  Her breath was stuck in her chest as she struggled to find words. He was halfway to the door and she still hadn't managed it, when he turned back around.

  "I almost forgot. Your mama lent me a book before she passed and I never returned it." He reached a hand into his back pocket and pulled out a worn paperback copy of To Kill a Mockingbird. "I don't know what took me so long to get around to reading it," he said as he came back over to set it on the desk. "I'll be seeing you, Lena."

  It wasn't until he was out the door that she finally let out her pent up breath in a rush.

  She'd lied to him, over and over, and he'd repaid her with an act of kindness she could hardly fathom. Joe Fletcher had done more than turned a blind eye to the truth for her and her family. He'd flat out broken the law and tore the blindfold off Lady Justice in the process.

  She reached for the paperback with a trembling hand and picked it up. A still-sealed, notarized envelope, folded in two, slipped from between the pages.

  Oh, Joe…

  Kate

  Ten weeks later...

  * * *

  "Is that what you're wearing?"

  Lena's incredulous tone had Kate wheeling around with low-key dread. She looked up to see Sasha sweeping down the stairs in a magenta dress that hugged every curve, with a matching floppy hat.

  "You bet your sweet bippy it is. Mama loved magenta and she would think I looked smashing in this outfit."

  "Yeah, it's perfect...if we were going to the Kentucky Derby," Lena said, shaking her head ruefully.

  A few months ago, the conversation would've had Kate's jaw locked up with tension as she tried to figure out how to diffuse the situation before it got ugly. Now, though, she just chuckled.

  "Speaking of outfits, Sister Mary Murphy called and wants hers back..." she cracked, eyeing Lena's staid, gray sheath dress dubiously.

  "This is perfectly suitable attire for a memorial service," Lena sniffed, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from the stiff fabric. She moved smoothly toward the purse that was slung over the back of an armchair and pulled out a black silk scarf covered in a riot of magenta blooms. She wrapped it wordlessly around her neck and sailed past them toward the door. "Ready?"

  Sasha's mischievous grin wobbled and she nodded. "Yup. And, seriously, Lene," she added, reverting to the affectionate nickname she used to call Lena when they were kids, "you look great."

  Kate agreed. Lena was still Lena. Her clothing conservative, her makeup light and tasteful—a touch of mascara, a sweep of nude gloss, a hint of color on those enviably high cheekbones—but she was also different. Softer looking, somehow. Her hair had grown out to sweep the middle of her back, and she often wore it down now. She'd also stopped coloring it and the result was odd but stunning. A mix of silver and red that made Kate think of mermaids and their mama. Most of all, though, Lena seemed happier.

  All these years, she'd been keeping far away from La Pierre as much as she could. At first because of Maeve, but then because it was the scene of the crime…a representation of everything ugly. And now there were no more secrets. Not to anyone who mattered, at any rate.

  The truth will set you free...

  "Where's Maggie?" Sasha asked, slipping a light shawl over her shoulders.

  "Coming!" Maggie called.

  She headed down the stairs in a black wrap dress with a swingy skirt that made her look far younger than her forty-plus years.

  "Looking good," Sasha said with a whistle.

  "Yeah, yeah, yeah, we all look amazing," Kate said, glancing at her watch. "Now, can we get in the car before we miss our own mother's memorial service, please?"

  "I told Harry we'd get him at ten thirty, so we've got to go," Maggie agreed.

  They all bustled out into the Indian summer sunshine. When they ran into traffic a full mile away from the cemetery an hour later, Lena groaned.

  "I told
you we should've left earlier."

  It was only when they got a little closer that they realized the traffic was all headed to the same place.

  "Geez Louise," Maggie breathed, gazing out the window.

  "A lot of folks said they'd be coming, but this is surely all of La Pierre and more..." Harry shook his head in awe.

  Sasha beamed as she scanned the throngs of people parking on the grass and hoofing it to the location where their mother's ashes would be buried. "Crawdad's holds two hundred, so let's hope they don't all plan to come to the gathering afterward!"

  When they pulled into the cemetery, the funeral home director was there managing traffic. He smiled when he saw them and waved them toward an empty parking place reserved for them up front.

  The second they stepped out of the car, people swarmed. Kate did her best to give all her attention to those offering sympathy and funny or touching anecdotes about their mother, but she also had one eye peeled, on the lookout for Frank and the kids.

  When they'd come so close to losing everything, worst of all, Lena, Kate had gone through a two-week period of what she could only imagine was a delayed reaction to all that had happened, from Sasha's trauma to the weight of the guilt for her part in everything that followed. Bringing Lena the gun that was used in a murder. Allowing their mother to lead by example, burying what happened to Sasha in a deep, dark place to fester instead of dragging it out into the sunshine and letting it heal. She'd wound up having a kind of mental breakdown.

  First, had come the relief, which lasted a day or so. Then came something else. A typhoon of pain, so deep, she wondered if she'd ever come back from it. Her sisters had rallied around her, but they were all going through their own transition period, trying to adjust to this new reality. All the drama after the will reading had taken center stage, but when it was all said and done, their mother was dead and she'd taken a piece of each of them with her.

  It had been Frank who had come through. Not in a big way—that wasn't his style—but in a dozen little ways. After everything came to a head, she'd planned to do what she'd always done. Shield him from the ugliness and deal with it herself. Only, midway through an innocuous conversation about frozen beef stew, she'd lost it. Everything came pouring out of her. The truth about Clyde and what he'd done to Sasha, what their childhood had been like, her own dissatisfaction that she'd settled for living life on volume five for fear of becoming like Maeve. All of it. To her surprise, when she was done, he was still on the other end of the line and wide awake.

  "You mentioned thinking we should go talk to someone...maybe we should, Katie."

  No words of comfort. No promises of a better tomorrow. No grand gestures. But it had been enough.

  So they'd started going to counseling twice a week, halfway between their house and Maeve's. It was rough, at first. A lot of painful revelations came to light, and she had some real soul searching to do before coming to the conclusion that she'd played a part in their toxic dynamic. She hadn't known how left out he'd felt when the kids had come along. She'd been so obsessed with being a good mother, he'd become part of the furniture, but with a paycheck. Another thing to tend to, but not a partner. Not a lover. And even after the kids were old enough to care for themselves, she'd never come full circle. She made his meals and kept the house clean, but she didn't listen when he talked, or asked about his hopes and fears, or told him she thought he was handsome or funny. She'd taken him for granted as much as he had her, just in a different way, and neither of them had expressed those feelings.

  They'd been on a handful of dates since they started therapy, and they'd talked more those nights than they had in the past twenty-plus years. She found that, away from the rut of their lives at home in front of the constantly blaring TV, he was attentive, smart, and even funny sometimes.

  Maggie and Sasha had decided to keep the house and live together to save on costs while they got the businesses up and running. It was slow going, with a lot of red tape, paperwork, and planning, but they were both so passionate and driven about the projects that Kate had no doubt they'd succeed. She and Frank had decided together that they would forgo their portion of the house equity for the next two years. She was sure he'd balk, but he'd just shrugged and said that they didn't have the money before, and they’d get by without it, just like they always had. Tomorrow, she'd be headed back home with him to see how things went. She was nervous, but also excited.

  She was finishing a conversation with Alistair when she heard someone call her name. She looked over to find Frank and the kids heading her way and she moved toward them, even happier to see their faces than she'd imagined she'd be.

  As she looked him over with his old, slightly wrinkled suit and his old, slightly wrinkled face, she realized with a start that she still loved him, in her way.

  Would it be enough?

  Only time would tell.

  She met them halfway, and slipped her arm around her husband's waist and beamed at her kids. "Hey, guys, I've missed you!"

  Lena

  "She would've loved all this attention," Sasha mused with a bittersweet smile.

  Lena surveyed the packed room in awe and nodded. "She really would have. And lucky for us, the Fire Marshall is here, along with half the volunteers from the firehouse, so we should be safe enough."

  Crawdad's was bursting at the seams. The burying of Maeve's ashes had been short and sweet, per her request. She was far more interested in having a real ripper of an after-party and, judging by the raucous laugher, music, and drinks flowing, the fine folks of La Pierre had not disappointed.

  So far, like so much of the time she'd spent here, it had been cathartic. Like a period at the end of a long sentence. Granted, her time here wasn't up yet. After speaking with the department head at her school, she'd opted to extend her sabbatical for another year in order to create and oversee a series of classes on navigating womanhood, to be taught to at-risk teenage girls in the area. The curriculum, so far, including topics like women's health, identifying lucrative careers, relationships, friendships, motherhood and much more. All of it under the umbrella of Maeve's Way, the newly named non-profit that encompassed all of Maeve's good works. She'd only just begun scratching the surface of all that could be done as she met with female educators and professionals in the area, but the work was satisfying and empowering and she couldn’t wait to see where it all led.

  "You two better get some catfish before it's all gone."

  Lena looked up to see Joe sidling up next to her and Sasha. He was dressed in jeans and a camel-colored sport jacket that made him look like an old time movie star. He held a beer mug in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.

  She accepted the lager with a nod of thanks as Sasha let out a gasp of dismay and pushed her way toward the buffet line.

  "I've been so busy chatting with everyone, I hadn't even gotten a chance to grab a drink, never mind food," Lena admitted.

  She wanted to kick herself for feeling nervous around him. She was a grown woman, for Pete's sake. But things were still tentative between them. For the first month after he'd left the book on the desk, she'd wondered what, exactly, he knew. Despite him calling a week later, she'd avoided him, still unsure if there was a secret between them. After being weighted down by so many for so long, she just didn't have the heart to keep up pretenses anymore, and certainly couldn't imagine building any kind of relationship on top of one. It was only after his third call that she finally decided to answer. And she was glad she did. They met for a drink and, when she'd broached the subject of Clyde, he'd surprised her...

  "I just want to make sure I'm the person you think I am. I've done things that many people would view as unforgivable."

  "You are exactly who I think you are, Lena," he murmured as he took her hand and laced his fingers with hers. "And everything I'd want you to be."

  Since then, they'd gone out a few times, but it had been non-stop action between planning the services for Maeve, getting the classes off the
ground, and getting the estate business taken care of. Now that this part was over, she looked forward to getting to know him again. Maybe even starting tonight, after the party was over...

  "I think everyone is waiting for a speech," Maggie said as she sidled toward them, her cheeks rosy, likely from the crush of bodies as well as the libations. "You ready?"

  When they'd planned the party, Lena had hoped Sasha would do the talking. She was the one who had spent the most time with Maeve in her later years, after all. But the three of them had ganged up and voted Lena in for the job, pointing out that it'd be a shame to waste all those doctorates and not have her write the speech.

  She'd done it and had wound up pretty happy with the results. She just hoped everyone else felt the same way.

  "Give me five minutes, I just have to do something first." She shot Joe a quick nod and he waved her along and said they'd catch up later.

  It took her a full ten minutes to locate Harry and, when she did, she found him outside in the parking lot, hands in his pockets, staring out at the setting sun.

  “How are you holding up?” Lena asked softly so as not to startle him.

  He turned and smiled, but she could see the tears in his eyes and instantly stepped toward him and slipped her arm around his shoulders.

  "No, no, I'm fine. Better than fine, actually. I'm great," he said, leaning in to her embrace. "Your mama would've been tickled by all this action. She would've been even more tickled to know that you not only came, but you stayed. I hope she's looking down on this right now and seeing how far her girls have come."

  Lena bit her lip hard as another rush of emotion washed over her. "Your girls, too, Harry," she murmured, tightening her grip like he was a buoy and she was adrift. "Some of us, at least..." He stiffened and she wondered if she'd overstepped. But an instant later, he relaxed and let out a low chuckle.