Real Bad Things(34)
Beside her, Diane sniffled. “I hate to cry.”
Jane harbored so much hate in her heart for this woman who stood before her, for the times she’d left Jane and Jason to fend for themselves. And yet, a greater wash of responsibility told Jane, You did this. Her pain is your fault. Jason might have killed him, but Warren’s dead because of you.
If only she’d stayed in the trailer with Jason and Georgia Lee instead of going for a walk with Angie. She could’ve calmed everyone down, even Warren. Or at the very least, taken the blows. She felt sure of it. She felt less sure of how anything would have changed with Diane if she had been able to avoid the events of that night.
“I’m sorry.” No matter how many times Jane said the words, they’d never be enough. Maybe because deep down Diane knew it was a lie.
“You know when they’re coming to pick you up?”
“No.” It’d been five days since Chuck had called to say the coroner had released the remains. She expected Benjamin to show up any day now. “Would you like me to leave? I can head to the motel if you’d prefer.”
“And miss them taking you away in handcuffs? Not a chance.” Diane coughed and tossed her lit cigarette at Jane’s shoe. “Pardon me, but I’ve got to thank the preacher before he takes off.”
So much for forgiveness. Jane used her shoe to grind the cigarette so far into the grass the tobacco and filter nearly disintegrated. “He’s not a preacher.”
Diane scowled and took off toward him, trying not to sink her heels into the grass. Jane couldn’t help but wonder what kind of thanks Diane had in mind.
A car blazed down the cemetery drive and came to a shuddering stop. Jane raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun. She watched a woman in a white pharmacy smock pull her hair out of a bun held together with a ballpoint pen and let it drift onto her shoulders.
Georgia Lee.
Their first date had been at the old drive-in on Midland. When rain started during intermission, Jane had scooped up Georgia Lee despite her protestations and carried her back from the snack bar so her white flats and yellow dress wouldn’t get muddy. In the car, Georgia Lee pulled at the front of her dress, embarrassed by what might be revealed. Restraint kept Jane from placing her lips on the drops that fell off Georgia Lee’s wet ponytail and onto the skin of her long neck.
As Georgia Lee made her way to the funeral tent, Jane noticed a few wrinkles around her eyes and lips. Lipstick instead of lip gloss. No longer slim, but strong. Giant sunglasses, presumably a disguise, her purse clutched tightly along her shoulder. She need not have worried. All but the cemetery crew had faded away from the grave.
Jane had seen photos of her throughout the years thanks to her internet searches. But to see her in the flesh? Surreal. Like looking at someone you knew but only online. Or like a character who stepped out of a movie or TV show.
Jane could ignore her. She could hide behind a column as she’d done after the fight with the Ingrams. But a twitchy feeling overtook all others. Something like excitement, something like fear—what had drawn Jane to Georgia Lee in the first place. Fear and curiosity. Danger. No one would’ve believed it by looking at Georgia Lee, but Jane had known as soon as she first saw Georgia Lee that she was crossing a line she couldn’t uncross, and she knew it now.
See Jane run. Run, Jane. Run.
Jane stepped toward her. “Hey, Georgia Lee.”
Ten
GEORGIA LEE
The way the woman said Georgia Lee’s name was like hearing a familiar song, one from youthful days that pulled her right back into a day or a dream. Recognition washed over her.
Jane. My God. What is she doing at the funeral?
Jane stood a few steps away and then eased closer. Smiled after a spell, while Georgia Lee tried to recover from the shock of seeing Jane right there in front of her. Georgia Lee approached her for a hug like she’d always done, like no time had passed at all, but stopped herself.
“I didn’t recognize you.” Georgia Lee lifted a hand to her hair, absentmindedly making note of the missing ponytail Jane used to wear because she couldn’t be bothered with things like hair products or mirrors. Even with what appeared to be a bloody nose and a roll in the dirt.
“It’s good to see you,” Jane said after a too-long pause. The ends of her words were clipped, gone were those valleys of southern speech. She proceeded to take in Georgia Lee. Georgia Lee could only imagine what she must be thinking. Her outfit: an embarrassment. Her makeup: too subtle. Her shoes: might as well be a mall walker. At least her hair looked halfway to fine. She crossed her arms and positioned one leg in front of the other, heel raised slightly, in an effort to make her legs appear longer and thinner, as magazines suggested.
The only sentence her brain offered was “How long are you in town?”
Jane’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Uh. I don’t know. Until they ship me to McPherson, I guess.”
“Oh. Oh, I’m . . . yes, of course.” Prison.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jane muttered. Georgia Lee tensed beside her. “Sorry.”
Georgia Lee glanced in the direction of Jane’s gaze. Diane steadied herself against a man and wobbled her way toward his car in her heels. Georgia Lee clutched her purse and tried to stem the rage once more. Five thousand dollars tucked inside. Five thousand dollars for Diane’s silence. It’d taken hours of pacing and psyching up for Georgia Lee to walk into the bank and request it. Anonymous donation, Georgia Lee had said when the bank teller asked. Then she plastered on the most authentic smile she could muster.