“Where do you suggest we take her?” Violet argued back. “The motel?”
We all knew we weren’t taking her there. Lisette looked even more confused. “I want to stay,” she said, her tone as stubborn as Violet’s ever was.
“It isn’t ideal,” I said. All three women turned to look at me—I hadn’t spoken in a while. I shrugged. “We didn’t plan it, but she’s here now. Night is falling, and none of us is leaving. We can keep arguing, or we can make a plan. I know which one I’m game for.”
The silence was heavy. The only sound was the rain, which was falling harder outside. My niece, more perceptive than I gave her credit for, shouted into the pregnant air between us, “Someone tell me out loud. I want to know what’s going on.”
Violet pressed her fingertips into her eye sockets, as if trying to massage the worry out of her brain. “Vail is right,” she said. “Let’s regroup. I’ll pull together something to eat. Dodie, take Lisette upstairs and help her get changed and washed up. Vail, you can either help me or just stand there being useless, like you usually do. We regroup in half an hour.”
Dodie still looked worried, but resigned. Lisette’s brows drew down, probably because she was being assigned a guard, as if she was a prisoner. But when Dodie motioned to her imperiously, she pushed her chair back and stood. She picked up her backpack and followed her aunt up the stairs.
“Dodie will tell her everything,” I said to Violet when they had gone, their footsteps banging down the upstairs hall. “Are you ready for that?”
Violet took a carton of eggs from the fridge and put them on the counter. “Not in the least,” she said.
“It’s an untenable situation,” I said. “What did you say to her on the phone?”
“Nothing.” Violet pulled an old pot out from the cupboard and ran water into it. “I swear it, Vail. I told her where I was and why. I told her that Ben died a long time ago. I’d never told her that before. I thought it was time she knew the truth, or part of it. I didn’t ask her to come. I didn’t make it sound like an adventure. The last thing I want is for her to be here.” Her hand shook as she reached for the tap, and she twisted the water off with force it didn’t need.
I ran a hand through my hair, thinking. Violet was probably a bad parent—it would be surprising if she wasn’t. We hadn’t exactly had good role models. But she would never have asked Lisette to come here, to this house. Never.
“All right,” I said, not willing to dig any deeper into what might be happening in Lisette’s psychology. “But it’s an untenable situation, like I said. What do you plan to do?”
Violet’s voice was low, her gaze on the stovetop as she turned on the gas. “I’ll take her home tomorrow. I have to.”
“No,” I said.
“I have to,” she said again.
We were here for Ben. Was Ben more important than Lisette? Was Lisette more important than Ben? Neither sounded right.
“If you go,” I said, speaking the truth, “you won’t be back.”
“Yes, I will. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Which won’t be soon enough.”
She slammed the lid onto the pot and glared at me. “What do you want from me, Vail?”
“You can’t leave here tomorrow,” I said, “and Lisette can’t stay here a second night.”
“God, no. No. I won’t risk it.”
I looked at the fear in my sister’s eyes and nodded. “So we rest up tonight, and we finish this tomorrow. Before night falls again.”
She shook her head, but I saw the thoughts behind her eyes, fighting with the fear. “If I don’t get Lisette back to Clay tomorrow, he’ll call his lawyer. He probably already has. I’ll lose all the visitation I have. I’ll lose—”
“Violet.” My voice was ice. “This ends. Do you understand? We waited too long already, all of us. He had to call us home because we failed him, and then we ran. This ends. We end it.”
My big sister searched my gaze, took a breath, and then she nodded.
38
Dodie
I hadn’t seen my niece in—how long? A while. She’d been Terri’s age or so. Now she was almost as tall as me, though not as tall as Violet, and she would never be as tall as Vail. She had Violet’s thick, unruly hair, though it wasn’t quite as dark and had chestnut in it. She had Violet’s cheeks and her sulky mouth, but her eyes were her father’s. At least, I assumed so, since I could barely remember what Clay looked like. I had only met him once, and he hated me.
“Take a shower,” I told her when we were in Violet’s room, her backpack deposited on the bed.
