Natasha, family navigator, checked her phone. “Yes. It’s the next left.”
They turned into a mobile home community. Timberland Village’s freshly paved roads took them by neat, modest homes set between towering trees.
“Just here.” Natasha pointed. “That’s the one.”
Dad pulled onto a concrete slab behind a Buick and a Kia. Alice’s white rectangular house loomed alongside them. Spiky plants dotted the mulch at its base. The dark green stair rail leading to the front door’s landing matched the home’s green shutters.
After extracting his keys from the ignition, Dad simply sat,staring out the windshield at the house. Mom, who was far too pale, watched Dad.
Her father had been the one who’d advocated for this meeting. Yet wanting to do this in the abstract didn’t mean he was looking forward to this in actuality.
Would their family be the same after this? Or would this fracture everything? Dread boxed Genevieve in on every side.
Dad led the way to the door and, soon after, a woman near her parents’ age answered their knock. She wore a blue sweater and short blond hair. “I’m Dawn.” Russell’s youngest sister. Russell had been the eldest sibling. Followed two years later by Sandra, the one who’d sent the letters, then two years later by Dawn.
“It’s been a long time.” Mom made an attempt at a smile.
“It has.” Dawn’s manner communicated politeness. “Come in.”
They followed Dawn into a living area adjoining a kitchen. Dawn indicated the elderly woman occupying the sofa. “My mother, Alice.” Then she lifted her hand toward the figure standing straight and hostile near the sofa’s end. “My sister, Sandra.”
Mom introduced her family members to the Atwells.
“Caroline, dear,” Alice said, extending both arms, “let me hug you.”
Mom bent to hug Alice while Sandra remained motionless. She’d crossed her arms over a long-sleeved T-shirt with a faded picture of a hot air balloon on the front. Even in belted jeans and Nikes, Sandra had the demeanor of a judge about to hand down a prison sentence.
Genevieve, Natasha, and Dad helped Dawn bring over chairs while Mom and Alice murmured about how fast time flies.
Russell’s two sisters resembled each other strongly. Both were thin, with sharp chins and noses. Sandra’s hair was highlighted like Dawn’s, though Sandra’s was longer. It fell in a no-nonsense style to her shoulders.
Alice Atwell, eighty-three, had a sturdier build than either of her daughters, yet appeared frail of health. A walker waited nearher, as did an oxygen tank on wheels. The older woman had secured her long white-gray hair into a twist using a double-pointed wooden hair prong. The dusky pink housedress she wore matched the shades of her decor.
Walls of stark white hemmed gray carpeting and gray furniture that smelled of baby powder. Throw pillows integrated bursts of pink and teal.
Dawn took a seat on the sofa next to her mother. Sandra perched on the armrest on her mother’s other side.
Bile climbed Genevieve’s throat as she sat, facing them.
“I’ve thought of you many times,” Alice said to Mom. She dispensed her words carefully, as if each one required effort.
“And I you.”
“You left Camden so shortly after Russell’s death.”
“I did, yes.”
“After a time, we found that we couldn’t stay in Camden, either, and we moved to Atlanta. I’ve often regretted that I lost touch with you.”
Genevieve suspected that Mom had made a concerted effort to distance herself from everything connected to her Russell Atwell years. Alice may not have been able to keep in touch with Mom even if she’d tried hard to do so.
“It’s wonderful to see you,” Alice continued, “and your new husband and your grown daughters. You’re all so beautiful.”
We’re all so guilty!Genevieve wanted to say. She really didn’t know how she’d be able to watch Alice’s current graciousness turn into anger and then condemnation.
“Thank you very much for inviting us to visit,” Mom said.
“When Natasha explained over the phone that she’d been looking for me, I asked her to bring you all over straightaway. Didn’t I, Natasha?”
