All the Little Lights(48)

“You do your ’sponsibilities before you go tellin’ me what to do, girl.”

“I’m . . . sorry. I should’ve come home to help Mama. Mama?” I called, trembling.

Uncle Toad sucked bits of dinner from his teeth and then released me, falling back against the chair.

I stood, taking a step back, then I dropped the rag and ran up the stairs to my room, closing the door behind me. The wood felt cold on my back, and I raised my hands to cover my eyes. A few short breaths came and went uncontrollably as my eyes welled up with tears that fell down my cheeks. When things outside were getting better, the inside was getting worse.

My hand smelled like vomit, and I held it away, disgusted. Hurrying into the bathroom, I scrambled for the soap and scrubbed my hands until they began to feel raw, and then my face.

A creak on the stairs froze my body in place for a moment. Once the adrenaline melted away, I clumsily yanked on the faucet knobs until the water stopped before rushing to my bed to push it against the door. The stairs creaked again, prompting me to back away and stand against the far wall, trying to stop my entire body from shaking as I stared at the door. I stood silent, waiting in the dark for Uncle Toad to pass by or try to force his way in.

He climbed another step, and then another, until he finally reached the top. Uncle Toad waddled when he walked, carrying the four hundred pounds he bragged about weighing. He wheezed a few times, and then I heard him burp again before tromping down the hall to his room.

I pulled my knees to my chest, closed my eyes, and fell over onto my side, not knowing if he would come back or if someone else would end up knocking on my door. I’d never wanted to see Mama so much in my life, but she didn’t want to see me. The Juniper was a mess. She was probably overwhelmed and holed up wherever she went when things were too hard.

I wanted to call for Mama but wasn’t sure who would hear me. I fantasized that Althea would be in the kitchen in the morning, cooking and cleaning, greeting me with a smile on her face. That was the only thing that could calm me down long enough to fall asleep. That, and knowing tomorrow was Saturday—driving lessons. I had an entire day with Elliott, safe from the Juniper and everyone in it.





Chapter Thirteen

Catherine

At first the voices seemed like part of a dream I couldn’t remember, but as they got louder, I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes as the voices argued in hushed anger like my parents use to do. They were all there, the guests, some panicked, some angry, some trying to regain order.

I pushed off my mattress and padded across the room, turning the doorknob slowly, trying not to alert anyone that I was awake. Once the door cracked open, I listened. The voices were still chattering excitedly, even Uncle Toad and Cousin Imogen. I stepped out into the hallway, the cold floor burning my bare feet. The closer I came to the room where the guests had all gathered, the clearer the voices became.

“I’m not hearin’ this,” Althea said. “I said no, and I mean no. We’re not doing that to that poor baby. She’s been through enough.”

“Oh?” Duke snapped. “And what do you plan on doing when she leaves and this place goes to hell? It’s already headin’ in that direction at a hundred miles per hour. What about us? What about Poppy?”

“We aren’t her responsibility,” Willow said.

“What do you care?” Duke asked. “You’re barely here.”

“I’m here now,” Willow said. “My vote is no.”

“My vote is no,” Althea said. “Mavis, tell them.”

“I . . . I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Althea asked, her voice firmer than I’d heard her speak before. “How can you not know? She’s your daughter. Put an end to this madness.”

“I—” Mama began.

The door cracked open, Mama there in her robe, blocking my line of sight into the room. “What are you doing up, Catherine? Go to bed. Now.” She slammed the door in my face, and whispers filled the room on the other side.

I took a step back and then walked to my room, closing the door behind me. I stared at the light slipping in through the crack at the bottom, wondering why they were discussing me and what they were considering that Althea had so adamantly voted against. The music box chimed a few notes, spurring me into action. I pressed the dresser against the door, and then—feeling that wasn’t enough—pushed my bed against the dresser again, and sat. I stared at the door until I couldn’t keep my eyes open, begging for the sun to rise.

The second time my eyes blinked open, I wondered if the meeting down the hall had been a dream. When I dressed for the day and made my way downstairs, I wondered if I’d dreamed everything about the night before. Uncle Toad’s mess was gone. The living room, dining room, and kitchen were spotless, even as Mama cooked. The air was filled with the smells of baking biscuits and sausage grease, the meat popping in the skillet between the notes of whatever tune Mama was humming.

“Good morning,” Mama said, draining the sausage.

“Morning,” I said, cautious. It had been so long since Mama had been more like herself and in a good mood that I wasn’t sure how to react.

“Your uncle and cousin are checked out. I told him he’s not to come back for a while. What happened last night is inexcusable.”