PROLOGUE
Twelve years earlier
Maggie—
“Maggie…” My mother’s voice was barely a rasp now.
I moved to sit on the bed with her and leaned close.
The sun was just beginning to rise and light the skies through the lace curtains. The window was open to let in some fresh air. It wasn’t as bad in the early morning hours, but here in Louisiana, it would be unbearable… even in April.
We lived in a house on the edge of Chalmette, just east of New Orleans.
Mama came from a good family—one that had been here for a hundred years. They had money. She left it all behind to marry my father, a man her family disapproved of. By disobeying her father, she was immediately cut off.
But she was in love, and that was all she cared about.
With her being so sick, perhaps that money would have given her better medical care. Perhaps something could have been done for her. Now it was too late. The doctor told us she didn’t have much longer.
She’d wanted to go home, so he’d conceded to her request and released her from the hospital to die on her terms.
Daddy took to drinking and had spent the last three nights crying into his glass.
My two older brothers couldn’t deal with seeing her like this, so that left me.
Last night was a particularly bad one.
“It’s okay, Mama. I’m here. Do you want some water?”
She grasped my hand, her grip surprisingly strong considering how weak she was.
“I need you to listen to me, Magpie.”
I wiped her brow with a cloth. “Yes, Mama.”
“After I’m gone,” she whispered, her eyes intent on mine. “You’ll get a letter. The attorney will explain… everything.” She gasped for air. “Take what you get and leave town. Do it before your father or brothers know what you have. It’s all I have to give you now. Find something better. Promise me, Marguerite. Promise me.”
She was delirious from all the medication the doctor had given us to keep her comfortable until the end. That had to be the cause of all this nonsense.
I had two brothers. Derek was the oldest. He and Remy were two years apart, though Remy always seemed to be the one who took charge, and Derek mostly went along with him.
Then there was me—the baby of the family.
“Yes, Mama. I promise,” I whispered. It seemed important to her, even though her words made no sense to me. Everything my parents had was contained in this old, rundown house and the garage next door, where my father fixed lawnmowers and dirt bikes. Her parents had cut her off. There was nothing she could give me.
My promise seemed to assure her, and she rested against the pillow, her grip weakening.
“I’ve always loved you, baby girl. I’m sorry if I let your brothers get all the attention. I’m sorry for so much. Maybe this will let you know how much I love you. How much I’ve always loved you.”
Her eyes closed, and I stared at her, then dropped my gaze to her chest. It still lifted and fell with her rasping, wheezing breaths.
“I love you, Mama,” I whispered, and she squeezed my hand once more. I stroked her forehead, and her hand went limp. The room fell silent.
“Mama?”
She was gone.
We buried her three days later.
