Not One of Us(88)

“You could have declared bankruptcy.”

“And then I had to raise you and Zach,” she continued, as though she hadn’t heard me. “If Buddy hadn’t paid our bills for a time, I couldn’t have done it. The state would have taken custody of you both and put you in foster care.”

“You’d have found a way to make it work,” I insisted. If there was only one thing left I knew for sure about my grandmother, it was that she was a survivor. A woman who did what she believed necessary for herself and her family. “You can’t justify covering up all these murders. When I remember all the times you welcomed Buddy into our house, knowing what he did.” I stopped and swallowed hard, blinking back tears. “All the times he ate dinner with us. When he came to my high school graduation and gave me a set of diamond earrings.” I shuddered. “The man was a monster, and you helped him. That makes you a monster too.”

A single tear rolled unchecked down Mimi’s paper-thin cheek.

I reached across the table and laid my hands over her frail, thin ones. The same hands that had cooked and cleaned for me and my brother when we had no one else. How could I not still love her? No, she wasn’t a monster with no feelings or conscience. Mimi hadn’t asked for forgiveness, but she needed to hear the words anyway. “I forgive you because of all you did for Mom. For Zach.” I drew a shaky breath. “And for me.”

Mimi nodded, her lips trembling. “Are you going to tell the cops?”

I’d wrestled with that very question nonstop. Where, exactly, did the bounds of family loyalty lie? What was the right thing to do for Zach, for my grandmother, and for Deacon and his parents? My deathbed promise to Mom haunted me. I’d told her I’d take care of Mimi and Zach. How could I have known the twisty, dark depths that rash promise would lead to? In the end, I’d made my decision. Good or bad, it was done.

From the window, I spotted a familiar car rounding the bend near our home. She was right on time.

“I’ve already packed your bags, Mimi,” I said wearily, my energy spent. The anger was gone, and only sadness remained. “All the arrangements have been made.”

Her faced whitened. “Wh-what? Are you sending me to jail, then?”

“No. Not that. I can’t afford Magnolia Oaks, but there’s a bed available at a home in Mobile. It’s not posh, but it’s clean and comfortable. The staff seems nice.”

She didn’t speak for a full minute, and I held her gaze, steady and resolute. Finally, she nodded, accepting my decision.

“I wouldn’t want to live in the same building as Tressie anyway.” She attempted a weak smile, slowly rising from the table. “I had enough of Tressie and Buddy growing up.”

It was the first time I could remember her voluntarily even mentioning her childhood.

I also rose. An apology formed on my tongue, but I didn’t speak the words. Yes, this was hard, but it was a necessary thing. The right thing. And it hurt like hell to send her away. But what was love without trust? Without respect? She’d refused to discuss her past, but over the years I’d gathered bits and pieces that wove together a tale of brutality. They’d had an alcoholic, violent father and a mother who cowered in fear of him rather than trying to protect their children. All three siblings—Buddy, Tressie, and Mimi—had grown twisted, their emotional maturity forever stunted. An unholy trio of damaged minds and hearts.

No doubt Buddy was the worst of the bunch. Tressie had grown selfish and coldhearted. She’d focused all her love on a child who didn’t love her in return. According to Ardy, she’d never been an easy person to live with because of her hair-trigger temper, but Jackson’s death had completely broken her.

And then there was my Mimi.

She had so much goodness in her. Nothing would ever shake my faith in that. It was hard to reconcile an image of her at the Cormier home, mopping up Deacon’s and Clotille’s blood while their lifeless bodies lay on the floor.

And yet, she was guilty. Her culpability in the crime was undeniable. A warped sense of family obligation must have driven her to help Uncle Buddy. If she’d turned in her brother, Uncle Buddy would be in prison, and Raymond Strickland would be enjoying a long-overdue freedom.

A rap sounded at the front door, and Mimi shot me a questioning look.

“Door,” Zach announced unnecessarily. “Get door.”

“It’s Rose. I thought it’d be easier this way.”

“Seems you’ve thought of everything.”

I pulled Mimi’s packed suitcase from the broom closet and followed her into the den. Mimi sat beside Zach on the couch and pulled him to her for a hug. He leaned out of her grasp, avoiding physical contact. I wished for just this once he’d surrender to a giant bear hug, but that was not his way.

“Bye, Zachary. I’ll miss you. Be a good boy, you hear?” Her voice warbled, and she swallowed hard. “Jori will take good care of you.”

“Bye-bye,” he said, scooting away. Of course, he had no idea the goodbye was permanent. My heart ached for the pain I knew Zach would feel in the days and weeks ahead.

“I’ll bring him to visit on Sundays,” I promised Mimi.

“Only if he wants to come and it comforts him instead of confusing him.”

Rose tapped on the door again and then opened it, taking in our sad little tableau. “You ready, Oatha?” she asked softly.