I frowned at her, hoping I didn’t understand. “What do you mean?”
“Billy Wayne went to the hospital this morning to make arrangements for her body,” Iris said.
Sweet Jesus.
The shock of the truth left me speechless as I wrestled with the poor woman’s tragic fate. That she had been so hopeless, so despondent… And as much as I detested Billy Wayne and how he’d treated his wife, I still hated that anyone would ever experience such heartbreaking loss.
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked. “Is there anything he needs? I know he’s not my biggest fan, but I would never wish that on anyone.”
Iris gave me a kind smile. “I’ll let you know,” she promised. “I’m sure he could use consoling from all of us.”
That evening before picking up Henry from June’s, I took the elevator to the third floor, intending to offer my condolences to Billy Wayne. I had no idea what I could say. There were no words that seemed adequate.
When I reached his apartment door, I lifted my fist to knock but a sudden cry in the apartment brought me up short. Then came muffled moans and gasps—a woman and a man who I assumed was Billy Wayne.
“That son of a bitch,” I spat under my breath, seething for poor Kitty and her baby, not even in their graves yet. Grieving husband, my ass. He’d probably had a mistress all along. Hadn’t Whit told me Billy Wayne’s wandering eye was behind their screaming matches and Kitty’s uncontrollable sobs?
Disgusted that the man could be such an unfeeling bastard, I marched down the stairs, needing the extra time before picking up Henry. I’d managed to tampdown my contempt by the time I reached June’s door, but the woman was far too perceptive.
“What’s wrong, darlin’?” she asked, taking my arm and pulling me inside. “You look like you could spit nails.”
“Hi, Mama!” Henry cried, running to me and giving me a tight hug when I scooped him up and kissed his cheek. “We helped Mamaw June dig up one of the flowerbeds to get it ready for new plants!”
“Did you find any squiggly worms?” I asked, tickling his ribs.
“No!” he laughed. “But I found a treasure!”
I gasped with excitement. “You did? No way!”
“Why don’t you go play with Addie for a few more minutes,” June said. “Then you can show your mama what you found.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Henry said, squirming to be put down.
As soon as he was out of earshot, June led me into her kitchen and put on the tea kettle. It was way too hot and humid for anything warm to drink, but I wasn’t going to refuse her hospitality.
I glanced around her kitchen, taking in the countless plants that filled the room, many of them hanging upside down from several lines strung across the room, drying until ready for…whatever she used them for.
“Now, tell me what’s wrong,” she insisted, pulling out the chair across from me and setting a teacup of pale-yellow liquid on the well-worn top of the heavy wooden farm table.
I took a sip of the tea, surprised by the spiciness but finding it unexpectedly soothing. “Iris told me about Kitty and her baby.”
She nodded. “A terrible loss.”
“I thought so, too,” I said. “So, I went upstairs a little bit ago to offer my condolences. But…” I hesitated, cleared my throat, took another sip of the tea. “When I reached the apartment, I heard Billy Wayne having sex with someone. Loudly.”
“Ah,” June said, straightening in her chair.
I shook my head. “Don’t you think it’s suspicious? Billy Wayne and Kitty had such horrible fights they’d leave her sobbing so loudly I could hear her from the floor above. Then their baby dies, and Kitty takes her own life. And now I hear him with another woman?”
“Don’t get involved, Zellie,” June warned. “It’s not your business.”
“But what if Billy Wayne did something to Kitty and the baby?” I pressed. “What if the complications were because ofhim?”
“Zellie,” June said firmly, “don’t you think the doctors would’ve reached out to the police if they’d found anything suspicious?”
She had a point, of course. But the nagging wriggle of unease at the base of my spine told me something was off. The whole situation wasn’t right. There was more to the story, I was certain. But June’s tone told me our little heart-to-heart was over.
“Now,” she said, assuming her usual pleasant tone, “drink your tea, darlin’. It’ll help you feel better.”
