She missed her mother so much, but Mama’s world had turned against her, and, almost exactly a year ago, she swallowed every pill in the house to escape. Couldn’t she have stuck it out? Or put the house up for sale so they could move someplace that people didn’t know them?
No way. In the same sweet voice she always used, Mama said she had been born in Kinkaid House, and she would die here. And she did, preferring to join her parents and grandparents in the cemetery along the river rather than stay in a world that had turned against her. Thank goodness the burial plot had been prepaid, but strongly Protestant Bosque Bend had a Catholic abhorrence of suicide, and Laurel had a heck of a time finding a clergyman who would perform the simple graveside rite. Finally, Mrs. January, who’d retired as their housekeeper when Laurel was in middle school, had prevailed upon her son, who headed a small AME congregation in Waco, to lay Mama properly to rest.
“My dad doesn’t want me to meet my mother,” Lolly continued, building up steam. “He told me she wasn’t ready to take care of a baby so she sent me to him, and that he lost track of her, but he won’t even tell me her name. He says she asked him not to tell me and that he’s honoring her wishes. But I think that’s bull crap!”
Lolly spit out the last two words defiantly, her eyes blazing blue.
Laurel stifled a smile. Was “bull crap” the best Lolly could come up with? She’d heard worse from second graders. “This is all very personal, Lolly. Maybe you need to wait and discuss it with your father.”
“Or with my mother.” Lolly stared meaningfully across the table.
“Or with your mother,” Laurel repeated, folding her arms Indian-style in warning.
Somehow she’d been lured into dangerous territory. What Lolly said was logical, but the way she said it implied a lot more. But if she launched into a denial, it would seem she was being unduly defensive, making Lolly more certain than ever that she really was her mother.
She let it pass. This was really Jase’s business, not hers.
Lolly’s eyes wavered and she licked her lips. “Aunt Maxie—Aunt Maxie said you were a friend of my dad’s when he lived here in Bosque Bend.”
A change of subject. Maybe Lolly had realized it was terminally rude to try to lay claim to someone as your mother less than an hour after meeting her.
“Yes. We would visit every Wednesday after school when he came to the house for counseling with my father.”
“Do you know who my mother is?”
Back to the starting point. “Lolly, I do not know who your mother is, and I will not discuss the matter any further.” She tilted her head questioningly and lowered the boom. “Do you want me to call your father to come over now and pick you up?”
Lolly half rose from the table. “No, don’t call him! I don’t want to go yet! I want to stay here with you tonight! Please, I won’t be a bother, I promise!” Big blue eyes shimmered across the table. “I’ll go with Dad tomorrow afternoon. Just let me stay here until then.”
To her surprise, Laurel realized that she wanted Lolly to stay. Because she was Jase’s daughter, of course, but also because her curls bobbed when she talked, her eyes signaled as much as her voice, and she was so intense and fearless—a breath of fresh air in a house that had been shut up much too long.
“Well, okay, if your father agrees. But we’ll have to go to the den and call him to let him know you’re here, safe and sound.”
Laurel rose from the table, and Lolly reached out to clasp her hand. “Thank you.” She flashed the heartbreaking Redlander smile. “This is so important to me.”
*
Jase rolled over on the first ring and picked up his mobile from the floor beside the bed. His hand trembled as he pushed the icon.
Please, please, please…
“Jase, this is Laurel. Lolly’s here with me, and she’s okay.”
A two-ton elephant lifted off his shoulders. He sat up and moved to the edge of the bed. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“I think it would be best if you waited a while. She’s feeling a bit—well—unsettled. I’ll call you when she’s ready, maybe tomorrow afternoon.”
Instantly he was all father. “There’s a problem?”
“No, no—it’s just that she’s tired right now. She’ll be fine tomorrow.”
He frowned. Laurel’s answer seemed to come a little too quickly. “Be honest with me. Is Girl Child giving you trouble? There’s not much traffic at this time of night, and I bet I can cut my time to fifteen minutes.”
“Trouble?” Laurel sounded surprised. “Not at all. She’s charming. I’ll enjoy the company, and I think I can help.”