Twenty-Eight and a Half Wishes (22 page)

We sat in silence, taking it all in. Finally, I held out the ring on my hand. “I found it in the box.”

Aunt Bessie nodded. “That’s the ring your daddy gave Dora.”

I clutched it to my chest. My mother, my real mother who loved me, had worn this ring. I hoped holding it next to my heart would make me feel closer to her, but I only felt empty and cold. And cheated.

“Do you think…” Violet stopped to clear her throat before starting again. “Do you think Momma killed Dora?”

Aunt Bessie was quiet. “I don’t know, Violet. I would sure hope not. How could someone do such a thing, no matter how upset they are? And even if they did, how could they live with it? If she did, she made her own life hell, as well as the hell she made for you girls.”

“What about Daddy?” I asked.

“I loved your father to death, he was my brother, but he made his own hell. He could have done more to protect you girls, should have, but he wallowed in his own misery. He paid for that, too.”

Violet spoke up. “There were other things in the box. A savings passbook, Dora’s will, and a photo of Dora and Rose.”

Aunt Bessie opened the lid and pulled out the passbook first. Violet must have put the papers back in order. I suddenly felt bad abandoning her with the mess of it all. I had luxury of running away and leaving her to pick up the pieces. I’d done it our entire lives. Violet had always been the stronger of the two of us. I got used to leaning on her and letting her take charge. It seemed unfair that I became upset with her now for telling me what and how to do things when I had encouraged it all along.

Life was a complicated mess.

“The will says the money in the savings account is Rose’s.”

Aunt Bessie nodded, pulled the will out, and read it. “The savings account, her parents’ farm, there’s some oil stock as well.” She looked up and nodded. “I knew about all of it. Your daddy told me after Dora died. Her family was long gone; your daddy was all she had, but she never put his name on any of it, just Rose’s. Earl and I watched after it all, waiting.”

“Waiting for what?” Anger rose inside me. I lived in hell for twenty-four years. For what?

“Until it was the right time.”

I stood up, my blood boiling with rage. “The right time? And who got to decide that? If Momma hadn’t been killed, neither one of us would know right now.” I shouted, “Our entire lives are a lie! We had a right to know!”

“You’re right, Rose. You had every right, but it wasn’t my place to tell you.”

“Wasn’t your place to tell? So you just watched her abuse me,
us
, and no one says a word because it’s not the
right time
? Did you know she used to lock me in a closet? I would pound on the door, screaming and begging her to let me out. Violet would stand outside the door, crying and pleading to Momma to let me out, but Momma would hit her and tell her it had nothin’ to do with her. We lived through hell. If that wasn’t the right time, when was?” My tirade left me shaky and lightheaded, but my outrage remained, simmering in resentment.

“Rose.” Violet tugged on my arm, crying. “Sweetie, I know you’re upset.”

I sat down next to Violet. “Upset? Aren't you upset? Daddy, Aunt Bessie, Uncle Earl, they all stood by and watched her abuse us. I had money,” I pointed to the box on Aunt Bessie’s lap, “money we could have used to escape from her, but no one told us. They just left us there.”

“I wanted to tell you, Rose, it wasn’t that easy. I promised I wouldn't,” Aunt Bessie said through her tears.

“Promised who?”

She hesitated. “Your daddy.”

Daddy. I couldn't forget his involvement in all of this, him more guilty than Aunt Bessie. Daddy had a front row seat to what Momma had done.

I started to cry.

Violet pulled me into a hug and rubbed my back. “It’s okay, Rose. Shh…it’s okay. It’s just gonna take some time.”

Time was the one luxury I didn't have. I’d been cheated out of working through all the emotional garbage of our parents’ past. And worse, I would be leaving Violet to work through it alone.

“There’s something else in here.” Aunt Bessie said, lifting a small square of paper out of the box.

“What is it?”

She opened it and froze in shock. When she recovered, her eyes clouded over. “It’s from your Momma. It's a note to Rose.”

I wiped the tears from my cheeks, then shook my head. “I don't want to hear it, Aunt Bessie. I can't take any more.”

“I think you want to hear this, child.”

I nodded for her to read.

Dear Rose,

I know I’ve been a bad mother to you and there were days I tore myself up with guilt over it. At first I tried to love you like I did Violet, but in the end Violet turned against me, too. Your daddy, Violet-- they both stopped loving me, all because of Dora. In my heart, I knew it weren't your fault, but you were Dora’s, never mine. Your eyes reminded me of it every day, shining with the softness she had in hers, taunting me that your daddy wanted her, not me. Your visions were the last straw, when I finally gave up trying to love you. I’m ashamed to admit, every time I hurt you, in my heart I was hurting her. Later, when you were older, I realized what I had done, and God help me, I tried to stop, but old habits are hard to break.

The irony is that in the end, you were the only one who stayed with me. Your daddy’s body may have died last year, but his spirit died years ago, his body just waiting to catch up. Violet, she left to marry Mike as soon as she got a chance and I hardly saw her after that.

But you, Rose, you were there for me, taking care of me in spite of all my meanness. I watched you sometimes when you weren’t looking, amazed at the gentleness of your spirit and even though I beat it down as often as I could, I envied it. You had what I never did.

I should have told you about your mother a long time ago, but I was afraid if I did, I’d lose you, too. You’re all I had left.

Believe it or not, I do love you.

Momma

Hearing Aunt Bessie read Momma’s letter was the first time I ever heard Momma say she loved me. I began to sob. And didn't stop until well into the night.

Mike slept in Ashley’s room and Violet and I clung to each other, crying in her bed. I had no idea what Violet cried for. Did she feel guilty for hurting Momma? For choosing me over her? I cried for never getting the chance to know the momma who wrote that letter, all the years lost to her pain and pride. And I cried for her. I couldn't imagine the pain she must have endured forced to face me every day, rubbing her nose in the fact she would forever be second choice, Dora’s leftovers.

When I finally fell asleep, long after Violet, I cried for me, and all I would miss and all I would lose. It wasn’t fair. Life wasn’t fair. But then again, I’d learned that lesson a long, long time ago.

Courtesy of Momma.

Chapter Sixteen

Aunt Bessie left after Violet and I went to bed, but not before she told Mike she had all the papers for everything left to me in the will.

And that I was a millionaire.

The next morning I sipped hot coffee trying to clear the fogginess in my head when Mike announced I had more money than God. That’s not what he actually said, and technically it wasn’t true since I only had $1.5 million, but it might as well have been a trillion. I didn't understand how it could be possible, but Mike said Uncle Earl and Aunt Bessie were the executors of Dora’s estate. Daddy didn’t want to deal with it, so Uncle Earl took over and had a knack for investing. He had cashed in the oil stock, made some smart investments, and more than quadrupled my worth over the years. That amount didn't even include Dora’s parents’ farm. And to imagine I’d been worrying I’d be homeless when Momma left everything to Violet. I supposed the right thing to do would be to give half to Violet. She planned to do the same with Momma’s possessions. But why waste time on the details of half when I’d leave everything to her anyway?

I hadn’t brought dog food for Muffy and eggs had turned out to be a fiasco the other night. I really didn’t want to be alone and it turned out, neither did Violet. We agreed I’d leave Muffy there and run home, shower then come back to spend the day with Violet and the kids.

A few blocks from my house, the convertible sputtered and coughed such thick plumes of black smoke into the air I worried the EPA would swoop in and contain me and the car at any moment. Instead, it died, right there on the curb.

So today wasn’t my lucky day, either.

I walked the last few blocks, hot and sweaty by the time I got home. It was only midmorning and already burning up outside. I nearly drained a glass of ice water before calling the rental company to let them know where the car had died. I told them I’d be in later to pick up my old one. I’d had my fun. I didn't need it anymore.

Violet fed Muffy some hotdogs before I left (after I told her the consequenting results were her full responsibility) but it meant I didn’t have to hurry back. I had planned on a shower but decided a bath sounded better, especially since I needed some time to mull over the events of the previous night. After I refilled my glass with more ice and water, I set it on the bathroom counter and climbed into the steaming bath. I leaned my head against the porcelain edge, hoping my pain would seep into the warm water. I knew that was too much to expect, so for now, I’d settle for skimming some off the top.

I lay there, dozing off, when I heard a noise in the kitchen. I jerked upright and sloshed the water in the bathtub. The sounds stopped.

Someone was in my house. And heard me.

I climbed out of the tub, shaking with fear, unsure what to do, but trying not to splash any more water. I was naked in my bathroom and my clothes were in the bedroom. Should I lock the door? The doors were thin; it wouldn’t take much to break it in. Whatever I decided to do, I needed to do it fast.

I grabbed the towel lying on the toilet seat, wiped the water off the floor, and closed the shower curtain halfway, hoping to hide the water in the tub. The door to the hall stood slightly ajar. Footsteps were moving my direction.

Fighting my rising hysteria, I opened the linen closet door and slipped in, carefully closing the door. I clutched the wet towel to my chest and over my mouth, trying to stifle my gasps for air. The bathroom door creaked open and footsteps thudded on the tile floor. Then stopped. The person could open the closet door at any moment. I tried to hold my breath, scared of being heard. Then I remember the glass of water. If they saw the ice, they would know I was somewhere in the house.

A million thoughts raced through my head. Whoever it was would find me naked, right before raping and murdering me. Surely, I was safe since my vision told me I wasn't supposed to die until Sunday. That knowledge gave me little consolation, trapped in a closet where old memories spewed into my head, reminding me of the hours spent locked in the dark.

Just when I thought I would give myself away with an outburst of hysterical crying, the person walked out of the bathroom. Chill bumps spread across my skin and water dripped off my body as noises came from my bedroom. Objects crashed and drawers and doors slammed. The sounds moved farther away, and I guessed the person had moved into Momma’s room. I wasn't sure how much longer I would last before my claustrophobic frenzy overcame me. Loud swearing and banging moved into the hall adding to my anxiety. It sounded like the intruder hit the other side of the closet wall. The sheetrock vibrated violently, and the wooden shelves jabbed into my back, scraping against my skin. I couldn't contain the cry that escaped from pain, but I hoped the towel muffled the sound.

I discovered the intruder was a man from the vulgarities he spewed—about me and life in general—as he made his way back into the kitchen. I heard items flying in all directions and the ricochet of something metal bouncing off the vinyl floor. More cursing followed. It was obvious the man hadn’t found what he was looking for.

I listened to the full-out assault on my kitchen, unable to contain my panic. I covered my face with the towel, wadded up extra-thick and sobbed as quietly as I possibly could.

The noise stopped. Hiccups shook my shoulders, and I bumped into the closet door with a bang.

Footsteps moved back down the hall.

I needed a plan. I wasn’t about to let someone kill me, standing naked in the linen closet. But my choice of weapons was sadly lacking. All I had was a wet towel. And my fingernails. I’d gouge his eyes out, then he couldn't see me naked.

I had no idea how one went about gouging a person’s eyeballs out but I supposed it had to be done. Too bad I just got a manicure the day before.

I wasn’t sure what to do with the towel. Drop it? I needed both hands since he had two eyes. Unless he had an eye patch, which seemed doubtful. But he’d see me naked. Then again, if I was going to blind him maybe I should give him something worth seeing for his last view. I couldn't bring myself to do it though, stand naked in front of a strange man. I bit the towel in my teeth and held my hands out in a claw like stance, somewhat reminding me of a velociraptor ready to attack.