Darkness at the Edge of Town (Iris Ballard #2)(39)
She was getting riled up, so I took her hand. “Mom. Mom, I don’t know any more than what I’ve told you.”
“Faye, Billy wouldn’t do anything to put the baby in danger,” Grandma said.
“If they’re filling his head with mumbo jumbo, God knows what will happen. They could sacrifice it to Satan or something!”
“They’re not Satanists, Mom. And Satanists don’t do that, regardless.”
She wasn’t listening to me. I’d seen that look before. Mouth wide open like a beached fish, eyes double their size only half focused—she’d gone down the crazy chute. “You have to find him, Iris. You-You-You have to get them all out,” Mom said desperately.
“I’m working on it, Mom. I’ve called in some favors. I’ve interviewed former members, I know he’s somewhere in Niagaraville…”
“And you’re going back to their lair, right?” Mom asked.
“Uh…yeah. I have to.”
“Why can’t you just go in, flash your gun in their faces, and demand to know where he is?” Mom asked.
“Because that’s illegal and I’ll get arrested?”
“There’s a baby involved now, Iris! My grandbaby! Possibly the only one I’ll ever have! You’ll risk your life for strangers’ innocent children but not your own niece or nephew?”
“Mom, yesterday you were yelling at me for risking my life, even though I wasn’t, and now you’re yelling at me for not risking my life,” I spewed back.
“There is an innocent baby’s life on the line now, Iris. A baby that can’t defend itself. It’s up to us to look out for it and save it from those psychopaths!”
“Mom it’s not a baby, it’s a weeks-old fetus. It’s not crawling around and—”
“Of course you wouldn’t consider it a life,” Mom said, scoffing and rolling her eyes dramatically. “What would you know about children and compassion? You killed your own baby with Paul and then wouldn’t give Hayden one because of your stupid career.”
She may as well have punched me in the gut after spitting in my face. I was speechless for a few seconds, the rage too overwhelming. I was shocked I could still breathe. “Wow. Just…wow, Mother. You know what?” I walked toward the kitchen counter, where my purse sat. “I don’t need this. I don’t need you judging me, especially when you have absolutely no right to.”
“No right? I’m your mother!”
“Is that what you think you are?” I snapped.
“Iris…” Grandma said.
“You want to insult me, Faye? Judge me? No.” I stared directly into her brown eyes. “You have one child who skipped town the moment she could and another who would rather live on a farm working twenty-four/seven with a bunch of brainwashed cultists than see you ever again. And you’re lecturing me on motherhood? You’re lecturing me on anything?”
“Iris, stop!” Grandma said.
I glanced at Grandma, then back to Mom. “No, no, you’re right, Grandma. In a battle of truth and wits she’s entered the Thunderdome unarmed. There’s no sport in this.” I put my purse strap over my shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, the dried-up spinster with no compassion is going to spend the evening trying to find your son. Although I’m starting to think he has the right idea staying the hell away from you, you ungrateful, childish, cruel bitch. Go to hell, Faye.”
I opened the front door, stepped out, and slammed it hard behind me. I was literally vibrating with fury as I walked toward my car. My hand could barely turn on the ignition. How dare she? How fucking dare she? I thought to myself as I hit the steering wheel with my palms. Part of me knew she was frightened and furious and needed to lash out as she usually did, as I’d told myself I’d let her, but she obviously hit a nerve. She mentioned Hayden’s name and I just saw red.
One of the greatest regrets of my life was not having a child with Hayden. On the nights I needed to torture myself, that was always the ammo I used to wholly eviscerate myself. He wanted children, we both did, and we talked about it even before we married. We always intended to have them, but I wanted to be farther along my career path, on surer footing, before I had to take time off. Sadly, most of the FBI mothers’ careers took years to get back to where they were before their babies. But there was time. Or so I thought. Fate had other notions. Hayden never got to hold his baby because of me and my career, twice over. Mom had to know I’d harbored massive guilt about that and used it to win a ridiculous argument anyway. And people called me heartless.
My cellphone began ringing before I got around the block. It was my grandparents’ number. Probably Mom calling to either continue the fight or apologize. I didn’t want to hear either. It was a bad fight but nowhere near our worst. After the whole abortion debacle plates got broken, we called each other every name in the book, and I spent two days living in my car. Paul wasn’t returning my calls after the news broke and everyone began giving him shit too. Mom and I eventually apologized to one another, but things were never the same. She made it so hard for me to empathize with people who played the victim. I’d met actual victims of the worst crimes imaginable who never used the label, never let it define them, but my own mother wore the badge with pride. Probably why I could never respect her. My grandpa lost his foot but he never, ever let it define him or stop him from a damn thing. He went hiking and hunting, and didn’t even use his handicap parking permit. When my grandmother got breast cancer she still made dinners, picked me up from school, and smiled while doing it. Grandma insisted. Of course I spent two years playing the victim, but I did my best to quarantine myself so I didn’t take my misery out on too many others. I loved my mother, or I thought I did, but I cannot say I ever liked her. On the drive to The Temple, I started to realize maybe the feeling was mutual. That was a blow.