Not One of Us(89)

Mimi stood, one hand on the sofa arm, supporting her weight as she straightened. She looked older, frailer. I silently handed Rose the suitcase, unable to speak. Rose patted my arm. “I’ll be right outside the door.”

I tried to harden my heart at this goodbye, but the damn thing was already broken and bleeding. I stood there shaking, feeling as vulnerable as a motherless child.

Mimi slowly walked to me. When she was within a foot, she raised both hands. I half thought she was going to shake me, but instead she cupped her weathered palms against my cheeks.

“We’re both going to be all right, Jori. You’ll see.”

And then she was gone. What was left of my family was reduced to only one.





Chapter 41


JORI


The shade provided no relief from the scorching sun. Its rays penetrated every tiny crevice of the trees’ canopy, contributing to humidity so thick it clogged my lungs with every breath. My sojourn would have been more pleasant even later in the day, but I wanted to return home before dark completely blanketed the bayou. I wouldn’t risk Zach stumbling on a tree root and twisting an ankle.

He lagged several paces behind me, frowning, his attention on the ground’s narrow path. Clearly, he was unhappy with this excursion. Ever since Mimi left last month, I’d taken him on daily late-afternoon walks, convinced that the exercise and fresh air were good for him. He’d spent too many years cooped up with Mimi in the house playing with LEGOs and watching TV. I’d also begun taking him to Saturday social events in Mobile, which he disliked even more than these walks. So far, my efforts had been an epic failure, but I still persisted, convinced that in the long run he’d benefit from being out in the world more.

Tegan Blackwell had been a real friend in this trying time. She’d provided me with names of counselors for Zach and me, respite care resources, and best of all, she’d suggested her twins as babysitters so I could have more free time. Zach surprisingly accepted and liked Luke and Linsey.

Dana and I still got together occasionally, but I’d never feel the same warmth toward her as before. Too much baggage in that relationship. And yet, I did respect Dana for playing a major role in bringing down the drug ring and corruption at the highest level in our bayou. At first, I was leery of her claim, but I’d checked it out with Tegan, and it was indeed true.

Zach and I had visited Mimi a couple of times at the nursing home. I’d sat in the lobby while Zach spent time with her in her room. Mimi and I had exchanged glances but not spoken. Maybe someday we would. Maybe not.

“Just a little farther, Zach,” I encouraged. “We’re almost there.”

His head rose. “Home?” he asked hopefully.

I couldn’t help laughing. “Not yet. Soon.”

I returned my attention to the sprawl of saw palmettos, pine, and cypress. It was all starting to blend together, indistinctive and unfamiliar. Never, ever would I have believed it possible to forget the way to my special spot. I’d seriously underestimated the power of time and distance to change the landscape and my memories.

Had I unknowingly passed by the smidgen of land I’d once claimed as special? Were my treasures forever lost?

I was ready to turn around, conceding defeat, when a particular cypress, several feet taller than the other trees, caught my eye. Could it be? I hurried forward, my heart zinging at the sight of the crooked creek winding near the cypress. Once a foot wide, the creek had dried almost to nothing. All that remained were a mere two inches of stagnant water that stained the ground and saturated clumps of pine needles, leaves, and twigs.

I wiggled the backpack straps from my shoulders.

“Want some water, Zach? Let’s sit down and rest.” I dropped to the ground and patted a spot beside me. Zach regarded it dubiously, tired but unwilling to get dirty. Anything gritty on his skin inflamed his texture issues. I handed him the canteen, and he leaned against a tree, drinking quickly. He’d be ready to return home, pronto. With or without me.

I’d better finish my business quick.

I pulled the trowel from the backpack and stood. Aligning heel to toe, I counted. One foot, two foot . . . seven foot. I was close to the creek. Hopefully, close enough that the dirt would be damp and uncompacted. The circle of heavy rocks I’d placed there remained, half-buried in the dirt.

Thirteen years ago I’d chosen this spot because it was far enough from the cypress that there was space among the intricacies of its root system to bury my small mementos—sprigs of baby’s breath from the prom corsage, the promise ring Deacon had given me only a week before he died, and melted candle wax from the memorial service I’d held right here, witnessed only by the silent trees and the scampering wildlife solely concerned with their relentless hunt for food.

My unborn baby.

Now as then, I whispered my truth. “I wish you had lived. I wish a part of Deacon had lived on.”

I placed a hand on my abdomen, remembering the terrible cramping and loss of blood that had accompanied the miscarriage less than a month after Deacon’s disappearance. I’d endured it alone, afraid to tell Mimi or anyone what was happening. With only two missed periods under my belt, no one besides Deacon knew of the pregnancy. I hadn’t even been sure about it myself until the last couple of weeks before the end.

Behind me, Zach coughed and announced, “All done.”