The Lost Causes of Bleak Creek(45)

“I’m Roberta’s niece, Janine,” she said, still trying to recover from the whiplash of greeting a guest moments after learning her uncle had likely been murdered.

“Hi, Janine. I’m Mary Hattaway.” She extended a bony hand, which Janine had no choice but to shake.

“Mary’s the secretary over at our church,” Aunt Roberta said.

Oh, right. The secretary at Second Baptist. The one in that Gazette article who said that kids were being…what was it? Oh yeah, “bombarded by sex.”

“You bet I am,” Mary said. “What brings you to town, Janine?” The woman’s piercing eyes made the conversation feel unnecessarily intense.

“Just visiting,” Janine said, knowing it was what her aunt wanted her to say.

“Would you like to join us in the kitchen, Mary?” Roberta asked. “I was just about to make some coffee.”

“Oh, that’s sweet, but I only have a minute before I have to get back to work. Is that your camera, Janine?” She pointed into the kitchen, where the camcorder still sat on the table.

“You bet it is,” Janine said.

Mary smiled coldly, picking up on the echo of her own words. “How cute,” she said. “My daughter Tammy likes playing around with cameras too. Just got her a Polaroid for her birthday. She’s been havin’ a ball with it.”

Janine wished she could keep her mouth shut and go with the flow for her aunt’s sake, but she knew it wasn’t happening. “Oh,” she said, “I don’t play around with my camera.”

“No?” Mary cocked her head to the side like an inquisitive spaniel.

“Not at all,” Janine said. “I’m making a documentary.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay for some coffee, Mary?” Aunt Roberta said as she went ahead and loaded up the Mr. Coffee machine, her veneer of sunniness again starting to feel manufactured. “It should only take a minute.”

“What’s it about?” Mary asked, ignoring the question and taking a step closer to Janine, who held her ground even though she wanted nothing more than to leave the room.

“Well,” Janine said. She could feel Aunt Roberta looking at her, desperately hoping Janine would say the right thing. But Janine was pretty sure Mary already knew what the movie was about—that it was, in fact, why she’d stopped by in the first place—so she felt fine throwing her off the scent a bit. “It’s about architecture.”

“Oh. How interesting.” Janine could tell Mary wasn’t expecting that. “In our town?”

“In lots of towns,” Janine said. “I’ve been filming buildings and structures all over the country.” The word structures seemed like an odd choice once she’d said it, but Mary didn’t seem to notice.

“Hmm. Fascinating.” Mary kept holding eye contact with Janine, as if she were scrutinizing her soul. “I bet my daughter would love to see this little movie when it’s finished.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Janine said coldly.

After a few moments, Mary finally looked away. “Well, guess I should be gettin’ back to work!” she said. “Roberta, I hope you’ll be bringin’ Janine with you on Sunday. We’d love to see you there.”

“I’m Jewish,” Janine said to Mary, knowing full well she could have just nodded and smiled. “We don’t really do Sundays.”

“Oh, gosh,” Mary said, genuinely surprised for the second time that visit. “That’s…just fine.” She shook her head. That’s too bad is what she’d been about to say. Janine was sure of it. She’d forgotten about this aspect of her Bleak Creek visits—how people never really knew how to hide their mix of fascination, prejudice, and sympathy for those unlike themselves—but it all came flooding back to her.

“My sister married a Jewish man,” Aunt Roberta explained.

“Well, Janine, you’re still welcome to come by anyway.” Mary looked very proud of her own benevolence. “If you’d like.”

“I doubt it,” Janine said, smiling. “But thanks.”

Mary stared at her a beat. “See you Sunday, Roberta.” She opened the door and was gone, leaving an offensive trail of White Diamonds by Elizabeth Taylor in her wake.

Aunt Roberta walked into the kitchen and sat down at the small brown table. She looked tired. “I told you to let me do the talking,” she said.

“I know,” Janine said, sitting down across from her. “I’m sorry.”

Aunt Roberta let out a defeated sigh. “I meant what I said about Jim. These people…I don’t think you understand who you’re dealing with here.”

Janine was suddenly overcome by the magnitude of what her aunt was saying, the sheer awfulness of it. For lack of knowing what else to do, she stood up and walked behind her aunt’s chair, draping her arms around her in an awkward hug.

“I miss my family,” Aunt Roberta said, starting to cry again. “Donna. The old Donna. Jim. I miss them so much.”

“I know. Me too.”

“Not a day goes by that I don’t wish we’d never sent Donna to that school. Not a day.”

Janine wasn’t sure if this was the right moment for a question, but she tried anyway. “Why did you send her?”