Lillian is prettier than I imagined she would be. She has curly strawberry blond hair, cut close to her head. Seven silver hoops run along the edge of her left ear, but there is nothing at all in her right one. Her nose is long, but not too long, and she has very small, square teeth, exactly like Dad’s. Her slight, graceful build is accentuated by a pair of lemon-colored corduroy pants and a white T-shirt. I try hard not to look at her for too long—(I will tell Dad later how I avoided her at all costs)—keeping my eyes on her shoes when she walks over and stands in front of us. Brown leather ankle boots with lug soles. The one on the left has a torn shoelace.
“You must be Agnes and Benny,” she says. “I’ve heard so much about you.” Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper. “And Honey.” Her voice cracks on the word “Honey,” which is what finally makes me look up. When I do, she looks away from Honey and gives me this great big fake smile. “I’m your aunt Lillian.” She extends her hand. I drop my eyes again until she lowers her arm. But then Benny steps forward, his good hand stretched out just a few inches. Lillian drops to one knee. “Benny.” She studies his face for a few seconds. “You look just like your dad.” I sidle a glance over at my little brother, whose hand Lillian is now gripping, and resist the urge to push his hand away from hers. He doesn’t know any better.
Benny reaches out and runs his finger along the display of silver lining Lillian’s ear. She doesn’t move. “You like those?” she asks after a minute. Benny nods. “I got one put in every year after I turned twenty-five.” She grins. “Helps keep me young. I hope.” I do a mental math check in my head. Seven hoops. She’s thirty-two.
“Well, let’s go inside,” Nana Pete says, running her hands up and down the sides of her arms. “I’m freezing.” Lillian stands back up and looks at her mother.
“Freezing? It’s at least sixty degrees out here, Ma.” She takes a step toward her. “You look a little shaky. Are you feeling okay?”
“Oh yeah,” Nana Pete says. “But lying down for a while wouldn’t kill me, either.”
“You sure you don’t wanna play, Agnes?” Lillian asks me. “Final round? Double or nothing.” I look up from my book that I am pretending to read and shake my head for the third time. Lillian, Honey, and Benny are sitting on the floor between the two beds, playing gin rummy. Lillian’s back is pressed up against the side of my mattress. Nana Pete is in the other bed, sleeping like a log.
“Don’t ask her again,” Honey says. “She’s doesn’t do anything fun anymore.”
Lillian turns around to look at me. “Is that true, Agnes? You don’t like to have fun?”
I roll my eyes and turn over on my other side.
“See?” Honey says. “I told you. All she ever wants to do is read that ridiculous book.”
“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.” I’m talking to the wall, but I know Honey can hear me.
“Don’t tell me what to do. You’re not my mother.” Honey’s voice is edged with a meanness that I don’t recognize. It makes my heart jump a little. I lower my head and stare down again at the picture of Saint Germaine, who was treated like a slave by her own family for most of her life, forced to sleep in a barn, nearly starved to death, and beaten regularly. She had offered everything up for the glory of God, refusing to succumb to her earthly torment. If only I could do the same.
“So, Lillian,” I hear Honey ask. “What was it like growing up with Agnes’s dad?” She’s using her fishing voice, trying to extract information that isn’t any of her business. “You guys just don’t seem to be anything alike. I wouldn’t even guess you two were related.” I grit my teeth and roll back over soundlessly, holding the book in front of my face.
Lillian doesn’t say anything for a minute. Then she clears her throat. “Actually, I used to be a lot like my brother. Or at least I wanted to be. He was smart and funny and a great athlete. You know, just an all-around wonderful guy. When we were growing up, I followed him around like a puppy dog. He never made me feel bad about it, either. He let me come along when he played basketball with his friends or whenever he went out for a hamburger at the Friendly’s on the corner.”
I feel a twinge, thinking of how often I have told Benny to scram when he comes around Honey and me. But it fades again as Lillian keeps talking.
“When he went away to college in Iowa, I thought I was going to die from loneliness. I was still in the same high school we had gone to together, but it felt like being in jail or something without him there. Not being able to see him when I walked down the halls or listen to my friends scream his name when he lined up for a foul shot on the basketball court just really tore me up inside. I literally counted down the days until he came home for his first break. All I wanted to do was go down to the hamburger place and sit in one of the booths and talk with him.” She pauses. The cards snap and flutter under her fingers.
“And?” Honey asks. I lower my book slightly so I can see the top of Lillian’s head.
“Well, the first few times he came home things were all right. I remember during fall break of his sophomore year, he brought home a girl he was seeing. I think her name was Fern. Or maybe it was Bernie. Something like that. Anyway, he took me along for just about everything he and Fern did together that weekend. The three of us went out to the movies, we hung around the house, we even went horseback riding.”