Twist (25 page)

“We are here today.” He moved around that small stage, added extra syllables to each word. “Paying tribute to a life lived to the fullest. Lydia Bishop, known as Constance Holiday to the world, but also a daughter . . .” He stopped in front of Mama, squeezed her knee. “. . . sister, wife, mother, and philanthropist. On behalf of her beloved family, I want to thank you for being here today to help us celebrate Lydia's life.”

He spoke about Lydia like she lived here, went to his church. Shoot, coming here is the last thing she would have done.

He stepped behind a podium, read from the Bible. Sounded so good, I actually wanted the Lord God to take away the tears from my face, from Mama's face, too. By the time he finished I thought I needed to be saved. I said
amen
and
hallelujah
with the entire room. I got so swept up, I forgot about Lydia.

When everyone bowed their heads in a prayer, I caught the mayor touching Mama's shoulder again. Good thing Mrs. Hallman had her eyes shut that time.

The ushers motioned to the congregation to come up front. Mama and Rainey clung to each other while a whole bunch of strangers walked by for a final look at Lydia.

I wanted to punch the old guy who waited in line to see her. He didn't know how to whisper. Everyone heard him. “She married for money. Rich lucky bastard.”

I glared at him until he saw me. He got pink cheeked, embarrassed, I guess. Finally, he scooted away.

A perfumey woman dragged a young boy toward Lydia. The kid patted my arm until she jerked him along.

Where did these people come from?

When the church finally emptied, the pastor gestured for me to take my turn with my sister. Tears flowed down my face. I soaked that darned hanky Mama gave me—couldn't move.

Mama, Rainey, and the preacher stared at me—waited.

Like that old guy, I scooted toward Lydia. Froze in front of her casket, my insides split apart. Her hair dyed blond. Her cheeks sunk in. She looked so different from when I saw her last Christmas. I remembered excitement on her face—which made me sadder, because I'd never see my sister's beautiful eyes dancing again.

Rainey moved to my side, mumbled words that sounded like a prayer. She dabbed her runny mascara with a torn-up tissue. “I can't believe this. Lydia seemed so invincible.”

“It really doesn't look like her, does it?” I said.

Rainey wrapped her arms around me. “Sweetie, they had to rebuild her face.”

We moved out of the way so that Mama could be alone with Lydia. My cracked pieces crumbled when Mama kissed her dead daughter good-bye and let out the loudest sob. I wanted to run to her but Rainey held me back.

“You need to let her be for a few minutes,” she whispered in my ear.

Mama bent over the casket, reached inside, placed a cross or something in Lydia's hand. Didn't seem like anything Mama would ever do. Then she motioned with her other hand, like she took something out of the coffin. But maybe I saw wrong with the tears blurring my vision.

By the time we finished our farewells and drove behind the hearse to the graveyard, the cold seeped into my bones. “How come we never go to church?” I asked.

Mama's skin turned two shades brighter. “Some people are spiritual, Molly, don't like organized religion. The Bishop girls have an understanding with God.”

“Spiritual, us?”

She put her hand on mine, half-smiled. “You're still my baby, fifteen-years old and—”

Rainey butted in. “Are we having people over to the house afterward?”

“Of course,” Mama said. “Wouldn't be a proper funeral without a gathering.”

My sister jerked her head toward the window.

Mama reached across me, put her hand on Rainey's chin, and pulled her face around. “Why can't you take time away from that man?” She shook her hands out as if she flicked something off. “You should've been more like your sister. God rest her soul.”

The limousine parked at the curb, far enough behind the death wagon so the pallbearers could remove Lydia's coffin. I glanced up the hill.

Mama said, “I'm having Lydia placed on the top so she can have a view.”

“Don't be ridiculous. She can't see. She's dead,” Rainey snapped.

“This isn't a day to be mean to your mother.” Mama's eyes bugged out when she reached across me again. This time, she grabbed Rainey so hard her knuckles turned white. Shook her. “You disappoint me, Lorraine. Your sister did so much for this family and that—” Mama caught me staring and let go of Rainey.

She spoke to me in a soft tone. “Love doesn't work out too good, dear—remember that. One day Rainey will tell you more.” She looked at Rainey. “Let's bury your sister. We'll talk about your situation later.”

They nodded in agreement like two BFFs. Left me hanging.

What situation?

Mr. Greggs, a widower who met Mama online a while back, opened the door, took her arm. Led all of us to the curb. He jogged over to the casket for his pallbearer duties along with some other guys from town, including Sam Farthington, a new addition to our lives and I think one of Mama's many boyfriends.

By the graveside, the preacher said a few more words. Mama and I dropped some dirt on the casket. Later, at our house she gave him a stack of money.

“Pastor Jacob, my donation for the church. Thank you for handling my daughter's service so respectfully.”

He put the money in his coat pocket. “When will we see you at church?”

Mama chuckled. “This soul's already saved.” She handed the pastor a drink. “A touch of bourbon, the way you like it.”

“Viola. You're something special,” Pastor Jacob said.

More people filled the kitchen until the room became wall-to-wall bodies. Rainey got real close to that preacher. Her hand slipped into his pocket, I thought she lifted that stack of money Mama just gave him. I must have been real tired, because the next thing I saw—Mama's prideful eyes, aimed right at Rainey.

2
Liars

The moment I woke up, I ran downstairs barefooted. Rainey'd leave the minute she could sneak away, even if it meant not saying good-bye to me.

After the funeral gathering the night before, our house seemed empty, real quiet, until I heard Mama's voice coming from her office. Nothing got by her elephant ears. I tiptoed to the door, leaned as close as I could, held my breath. Eavesdropping's a rule breaker to Mama.

“We'll be on a plane later today, Rainey.”

“I can't.”

“You heard the lawyer. Besides, I need you.”

“When will you tell Molly?”

“We're telling her—right now.”

Thank goodness my feet moved before my brain. I pushed away from the wall, turned toward the kitchen right when the door flew open.

“Good, you're awake.” Mama followed me. “We need to talk to you.”

I fixed a bowl of Lucky Charms. Wondered why a lawyer got involved in whatever Mama wanted to tell me. Bad enough that Lydia died, now what? But Mama and Rainey took their time. Both of them fixed their coffee, la de da, while my insides bounced on a trampoline.

Tell me!

I sat at the breakfast counter with my bowl of cereal. Rainey's coffee smelled good when she set her cup next to me. On her way around the counter, she touched Mama's arms in a gentle way.

Oh lord, this wouldn't be good
.

Mama leaned in front of us, hesitated. “Duke died before Lydia.”

I maneuvered my spoon under a star, scooped it into my mouth—anything to keep my jaws from yapping. Listening didn't come easy to me.

“She adopted his sons. Duke wanted it that way after their mother passed.”

When I looked up from the cereal Mama looked away. Rainey studied the inside of her cup like she looked for an escape route or something.

“The way this works in Florida, the money goes to the descendants,” Mama said.

“That's good, isn't it? The boys gotta have something to live on,” I said.

Rainey cleared her throat, glared at mama. I waited for her to ask Mama to go on. But nobody said a word.

“What? Tell me,” I said.

“I can't just blurt it out,” Mama said to Rainey.

I looked from Mama to Rainey. “Well?”

“What Mama wants to tell you,” Rainey said. “Is—“

“Your grandfather didn't leave me a trust fund. We've been living off the money Lydia provides—well, provided,” Mama said.

“Why did you tell me your daddy left you money?”

“Because, I'm ashamed I didn't know him.”

“I don't know mine,” I said.

Rainey started to say something, but Mama waved her hand. “Let me do it,” she said. “Molly . . . Lydia was
not
your sister.”

I stared at her, didn't understand. “So Lydia's not your daughter? Just me and Rainey?”

Mama walked around the counter, made Rainey move so she could sit next to me.

“Molly,” Rainy said. “Lydia was your mother.”

Mama's hand shot out like a
Wack-a-Mole
, smacked Rainey right in the head. “I wanted to tell her!”

Rainey barely flinched, even sat up taller. “You take too long. She needs to know. The whole thing's a mess.”

Mama made a snapping noise with her tongue. “Rainey, you're walking a fine line.”

“Wait.” A siren went off in my head. “Lydia had a baby? Me?”

Rainey stood behind me and rubbed my back. “Yes.”

I shoved the bowl away, spilled milk on the counter. Couldn't look at Mama or Rainey. Shook her hands off me. “This is messed up.”

Mama stood, hugged me. Her tears spilled on my pajamas. “I'm sorry, honey. So many years went by. . .”

I pushed her away. “Don't touch me.”

“Lydia wanted a good life for you,” she said.

“Why. Why, why!?” My spit hit Mama's forehead. “Why didn't I know?”

“Molly,” Rainey said. “Hold on—”

“No, you lied to me, too.” Tears streamed down my cheeks. I backed away. Glared at Mama. “My whole life, I thought you were my mother!”

“I am your mom. I raised you as my own.” She crossed her arms. “We did the best we could, considering the situation.”

“
Situation
again, your stupid word. Liars!” I wanted to run away forever, but where would I go? Besides I couldn't even catch my breath.

Mama and Rainey kept their distance, stared at me.

A salty taste filled my mouth from snot dripping down. I wiped my nose with the back of my sleeve. “Why didn't she keep me?”

Mama let out another long sigh. “She was fifteen years old, way too young.”

“So I'm not supposed to be here. I am a mistake?”

“Nonsense,” Mama said. “You're God's plan.”

“Are we getting religion now?” I said.

“No.” Rainey looked at Mama like she wanted to tell her to shut up but her mouth didn't have the strength. She shifted her focus toward me. Seemed to relax. “Molly Bishop, you're meant to be.”

Patches of red splashed across Mama's chest. She inched closer. “I love you, Molly. You're my daughter.”

“What would you do if you got pregnant?” Rainey put her face right up to mine. “Mama raised you as her own because she didn't want you to go anywhere else.”

“We had several discussions, Lydia and me,” Mama said. “She wanted to take you away every time she found a new husband. Would've defeated the purpose.”

“Purpose?” I said.

“Lydia wanted a normal life for you,” Rainey said.

“I couldn't let her take you to live with . . . strangers,” Mama said.

How could this be? I wanted to leap up to heaven and find Lydia. If she were there, I'd yell at her—
I'd keep my baby! Why didn't you tell me!?

“Why bother now? You should have let the lies die with Lydia,” I said.

Mama's cheeks sunk in, like lemonade without the sugar. “Secrets, Molly. Not lies. We need to get what's rightfully ours or the boys will get everything.”

“What are you talking about?” I said.

“I told you, Lydia died a millionaire several times over and she didn't have a will.” Mama's hand rested flat across her forehead. For the first time in my life, I thought about hitting her, hurting her, knocking that hand off her arm into another world.

“I barely knew her. How could anything of hers be mine? I don't want her money,” I said.

“You're her only natural child. The Holiday fortune belongs to you. Not those . . . stepsons,” Mama said.

“So it's all about the money?” I grabbed my cereal bowl and flung it into the sink. Shattered, like my whole life. “I'm going to my room.”

Mama blocked my way. Her bloodshot eyes blinked back more tears. “In a minute Molly, you can be alone. Listen, we could've done this different, but here we are.”

Before Lydia died, Mama didn't look old enough to be a grandma. Showed on her face now. I stared at a whole bunch of fine lines around Mama's mouth, dark circles under her eyes.

“Rainey's going with us to Florida.” She spoke in her calm voice, the way she did when she wanted something from Marcus or Sam. “We have a plane to catch.” She lifted my chin. “Molly, look at me. This is important.”

“Don't touch me.” I pushed Mama's hand away. “Don't tell me what to do.”

“We're going to Florida, you have no choice.” Mama went into commando mode. “Rainey call that man of yours, tell him you'll be back next week. Molly, use my suitcase. It's in the hall closet.”

I stared at her, frozen. She clapped her hands, stomped her foot. “Go! Pack your summer clothes. I'll call your school. We'll work this out. Everything will be back to normal in no time.”

Normal?
My insides twitched.