“No. He would never say anything hurtful, but I caught him watching me a couple of times.” She turned to Vera. “He had this look on his face that made me worry that he was thinking that I had killed his mother.” Her lips trembled, and tears streamed down her face. “No matter what happens, Vee, he will always wonder if I was somehow involved in what happened. He will never feel certain that I’ve told him everything that happened.”
Vera wished she could assure her little sister that she needn’t worry, but she was right. Jerome would always have questions. No matter how much he loved Luna and trusted her. Wanted to believe her. Deep down he would consider if his Aunt Geneva knew something he didn’t.
“He might wonder for a while,” Vera admitted. “But you didn’t do anything wrong, so he’ll move on eventually.” She squeezed her sister’s hand. “He loves you. You’re the mother of his child. This will all be okay in time.”
Luna shifted in the seat but had to power it back from the steering wheel to face Vera fully. Vera couldn’t help herself. She giggled. “That baby is getting bigger all the time.”
“Vee.”
The fact that Luna’s expression registered absolutely no sign of humor or happiness sharpened Vera’s instincts to a razor edge. “What, sweetie?”
“Before ... when you came to the house when Jackie had fallen ... I didn’t tell you the whole truth.”
Holy shit. The barrage of swear words that paraded through Vera’s brain just then would have made the proverbial sailor blush. “How so?” That her voice sounded so calm despite her sister’s revelation stunned her.
“Jackie came over around eight like I told you.” Luna cleared her throat, stared at her hands for a moment, her fingers twiddling with the fabric of her enormous tentlike top. “We put up the wallpaper. The whole time she made little snide comments about how she hated the color and design. That it was the ugliest wallpaper she had ever seen.”
“Oh, honey, that’s not true. It’s beautiful wallpaper. The birds are perfect for a boy or a girl. And that big old tree on the focal wall is just incredible. It’s amazing that Jerome could create a bookshelf shaped like a tree.” Vera wanted to cry herself. How dare that hateful woman say those things.
“She brought up again that I should name the baby—if it’s a boy—after her husband. She said Leonard Jerome II would be perfect.” Luna’s face puckered with emotion again. “But I don’t want my child being called LJ, and that’s what would happen. I like Leonard Ray. That way Jerome and both grandfathers are acknowledged, and we can call him Leo. I like Leo.”
“This is your baby,” Vera reminded her. “You can name him or her anything you want. I love Leonard Ray and Leo. Whatever you name him—or her—this is going to be the cutest, most loved kid in town.”
“She just hates me.” Luna stared out at the trees again. “Hated, I mean.”
Vera didn’t push for her to get to the scary part. Frankly she was in no hurry for that whole truth. The thought terrified her.
Luna blew out a big breath. “So we finished the wallpaper with her complaining the whole time, and I got ready to paint the trim like I told you before. Jerome really didn’t want me to be in the room when the trim was painted, even though it’s the paint without the odor and all the really bad chemicals. His mama had promised him she would do the painting. When I saw that I needed more paint, she went off on another tangent. She said I was stupid for not realizing we needed more, and now we’d have to waste time going to get it, and it was all my fault.”
Vera gritted her teeth to hold back what she wanted to say to that. It involved wishing Jackie Andrews were still alive so she could push her down the stairs herself.
“I said I’d go get more paint, and she could stay and put furniture back in place if she wanted to. She followed me out of the room, ranting and raving like a person gone over some edge. Really, Vee, I can’t even begin to tell you how bizarre it was.”
Vera nodded, reached for her hand again. “I can just imagine.” At the same time she braced herself for the rest of the story.
“When we were almost to the top of the stairs”—Luna moistened her lips—“she suddenly ran up behind me and pushed me.”
Vera felt the blood drain from her face. The world went utterly silent. For one long moment she could only stare at her sister. “She pushedyou.” It wasn’t a question. It was a confirmation of a statement so horrifying ... so heinous that it took every ounce of strength she possessed to utter the words.
Luna nodded. “Somehow I twisted as I was going down. I grabbed at anything I could, and one thing was Jackie. We both tumbled downward and twisted again. The only thing”—she swallowed hard—“that stopped me from landing on my belly was that I was able to grab on to the railing after that second twist, and the bottom of my foot hit a spindle, slowing me down. I hung on for a second before I could move. When I got up, Jackie was about halfway down the staircase. She’d hit her head against the wall. She was wailing about how her head hurt. Iwas shaking so badly, I could hardly stand. All I could think was,I’m okay. The baby’s okay.”
“Your foot hit the spindle?” A new kind of tension crashed into Vera.
“I’m convinced that’s the only reason I wasn’t injured beyond a bruised foot. It was like a brake—a brake that helped stop my fall.” Luna scrubbed at her damp cheeks. “I swear it’s a miracle the baby and I weren’t hurt. I mean really hurt. It was the scariest thing ... I can’t even adequately convey just how scary.”
Vera drew in a slow, deep breath. Steadied herself before speaking. “Okay. So you’re telling me Jackie was alive and complaining of having hit her head.”
Luna nodded, her lips pressed tightly together.
“What happened next?”
“I ... I think I was so rattled and so ... I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t think straight. It felt almost surreal. I don’t know if I was in shock or denial. Maybe both. I just walked on down the stairs, right past her. I grabbed my purse and left to get the paint. It was like I couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t speak to her. I just had to get out of the house.”
Vera ordered her heart to slow its pounding. “You’re certain she was alive when you left?”
“Yes. She was calling after me, saying she was hurt and needed help.”
At this point only an autopsy could determine if her head injury was sufficient to have killed her.
