CHAPTER Twenty-Nine
Rollins and I sit on the steps of my front porch, waiting for my family to return. He holds my right hand in between both of his. Though it is a warm day for April, in the midseventies, I can’t stop shivering.
I texted Mattie a couple of times, not wanting to interrupt mass, but when she didn’t answer I went ahead and called her. She didn’t pick up. Rollins convinced me that she just had her phone on vibrate and didn’t notice it ringing.
With nothing else to do with my nervous energy, I bounce my legs up and down. “What am I going to tell Mattie?” I wonder aloud.
Rollins traces my palm with one finger. “I think you’re going to have to tell her the truth,” he says quietly. “All of it.”
I know what he means. I have to tell everything, starting with the sliding. I’ve been meaning to tell Mattie about my secret for a long time. I just didn’t want her to give me the same reaction my father gave me when I tried to tell him all those years ago. Mattie has always looked up to me. I didn’t want her to think I’m nuts. But if I’m going to solve Scotch’s murder, I’m going to need all the help I can get.
“You’re right,” I say.
Lydia’s car turns the corner, and I jump to my feet. The front two doors swing open, and my father emerges from the driver’s seat. Lydia gets out on the passenger’s side. It takes everything within me to conceal the uneasiness I feel at the sight of her. I can’t shake the feeling that she might have had something to do with Scotch’s death, especially since she was at the hospital last night.
I wait for Mattie to get out, but the two back doors remain shut. Taking a few steps toward the car, I realize there’s no one in the backseat.
“Where’s Mattie?” I demand.
My father holds the front door open for Lydia. “She went over to Regina’s house. It’s so gorgeous out, she wanted to walk. She said Regina’s parents would drive her home later.”
I groan.
“What? What’s the matter?”
Inside the house, Lydia is watching me.
“Nothing. I was just—she forgot that she was supposed to help me with a school project this afternoon.”
“Oh.”
“Rollins . . .” I turn to face him.
Rollins must read the struggle behind my eyes. I need to go find Mattie, but I don’t want to leave my father here with Lydia. He leans over and gives me a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll go find her,” he whispers in my ear. He starts to walk in the direction of his car, but I grab him and pull him into a kiss. He is rigid at first, probably shocked that I’d lay one on him right in front of my father and aunt, but then he cups my chin and kisses me back.
When we part, he says softly, “I’ll be right back.”
Turning back toward the door, I see the strained look on my father’s face. “Really? Did I need to see that?”
“Sorry, Dad,” I say, trying to sound natural. I’m not quite sure I pull it off.
I step inside the door, and my father pushes it closed.
Lydia smiles at me. “So what were you up to while we were gone? You know, my parents would have killed me if I had a boy over while they were out.”
I scowl at her.
My father turns to me. “You know, your aunt has a point. It didn’t bother me so much when you and Rollins were just friends, but it’s clear that you guys have gotten, um, closer in the past week and I’m just not that comfortable with—”
I raise my hand to stop him. I don’t feel like getting into a fight over this right now. “It’s fine, Dad. I won’t have Rollins over when you’re gone. Okay?”
My father looks surprised, like he wasn’t expecting me to give in so easily. “All right, then. Good. Do you want me to make you some lunch?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Okay. Well, ladies, I’m beat. I think I’m going to catch a few winks.” My father heads up the stairs.
I clear my throat. “Actually, Dad, I need to talk to you. Both of you.” I throw a glance at Lydia, who eyes me nervously. It occurs to me that she probably hasn’t filled my father in yet and thinks I’m going to spill her little secret, that she has a fiancé back in California.
My father rubs his eyes wearily. “Okay.”
Lydia and my father follow me into the living room and sit down on the couch. I remain standing and cross my arms over my chest before saying, “You know, Rollins’s uncle works at the hospital. That’s why he was over here this morning.”
My father exhales loudly. “I’m sorry, Vee. I was going to tell you. I was just trying to think of the right way to do it.”
Lydia looks from my father to me, confused. “What happened?” I try to figure out whether she’s acting or if she really doesn’t know about Scotch’s death.
“Scott Becker is dead,” my father tells Lydia. “It seems he was murdered last night.” He turns to me. “I’m sorry you had to hear that from Rollins.”
Lydia’s mouth turns into an O of shock. “He was murdered? How terrible!”
I turn to her. “You were at the hospital last night, weren’t you?”
“Sylvia,” my father says, a warning in his voice.
Lydia’s eyebrow twitches. “Are you insinuating something?”
“Why? Did you do something wrong?”
Lydia flinches as if I slapped her. “Vee, how could you ever think I would kill someone?” she asks.
“I don’t know. Why would you show up on our doorstep after twenty years? Why would you leave behind a fiancé without telling him where you were? Why would you use a fake name in California? Face it: I know almost nothing about you. How am I supposed to believe anything you say?” My words get louder and louder until they turn into a shout.
Lydia’s nostrils flare. “Sylvia Bell, I admit I’m no saint. I’ve done a lot of things in my life that I’m not proud of, but I can’t believe you could ever think I’d kill a teenage boy.”
Without another word, she turns and runs up the steps. Moments later, I hear Mattie’s door slam shut.
My father’s mouth is hanging open, like he’s not sure what just happened. “Lydia . . . has a fiancé?”
“Yeah,” I say softly. “In California. They were supposed to be married last week. Are you . . . are you okay?”
He shakes his head. “Of course. I’m just surprised. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
“Because you still love her?”
“Oh, Vee. I don’t love Lydia. We only dated for a couple of weeks. Until I met your mom. Come here.” He motions for me to sit next to him on the couch. When I sink into the seat beside him, he wraps his arm around me. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I thought it would be weird.”
“It is weird,” I say. “So you really don’t have feelings for her anymore? You’ve been spending a lot of time together.”
“Well, she is family. I want her to have a good life and everything. That’s why I’ve been letting her stay here. But I have no interest in her romantically.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “That’s good to know.” My thoughts turn back to Scotch’s death. I realize that my father was at the hospital last night when Scotch died. Maybe he knows whether that weird lady, Diane, was working last night.
“Dad . . .” I venture. “Do you know a nurse named Diane? She wears a bun all the time?”
“That’s a huge change in topic. Why do you ask?”
I search my brain for a reason I’d know that she worked at the hospital. “Well, remember the lady who gave me a ride home after my car accident? I ran into her at the mall last night, and I was chatting with her. It turns out that she works at the hospital. So . . . do you know her?”
“Sure I do,” my father says, arranging a pillow behind him. “Diane Acton? She works in the intensive care unit. Has for a long time, ever since I’ve worked there. In fact, she was friends with your mother.”
“What?” I say, pulling away from him. I’m not sure what to make of this new information.
“Yeah, your mom didn’t have many friends, but she sure liked Diane. I’m not sure what they had in common. Every time I’ve ever talked to Diane, she’s seemed pretty eccentric to me. But I thought it was nice that your mother had someone to confide in.”
At that moment, the front door opens.