She wasn’t wrong. I was completely relaxed after a few more sips. “What’s in this?”
“Herbs and flowers and a few other ingredients,” she said with a smile. “Old family recipe.”
“So, tell me about Henry’s treasure,” I said, changing the subject before I made myself completely unwelcome.
“Oh, yes!” June said, her face lighting up. “Henry, my little prince, come show your mama what you found!”
“Why do you call him ‘little prince’?” I asked.
June turned to me, her smile somewhat condescending. “Well, Henry’s rather a royal name, isn’t it? It suits him, even though he obviously hasn’t been raised in wealth.”
I leveled my gaze at her, narrowing my eyes. “So, what? It’s a snide joke making fun of the fact that we’re poor?”
“Now, Zellie,” June replied, waving off my indignation as if it were a pestering fly. “You’re being too literal. And, besides, just because you’re poor doesn’t mean Henry always will be. Humble beginnings and all that.”
I blinked at her a few times, trying to figure out what the hell she was implying. But before I could press her, Henry bounded in, Addie at his heels, her blond curls bouncing.
“We found pirate treasure!” Addie announced.
“Addie, I want to tell her!” Henry protested.
I set my tea aside and pulled Henry onto my lap. “I still don’t know what it is, baby,” I told him. “No need to get upset with Addie.”
“Mamaw June,” Henry said, his voice eager once more, “could you please show Mama?”
June rose from the table and picked up an object wrapped in a very dirty burlap cloth. Grinning, she set it on the table in front of me. “Go ahead.”
Henry looked at me expectantly, his eyes shining with barely restrained excitement. “Open it, Mama!”
With a slight shake of my head, I pinched a bit of fabric and unfolded one side, then the other. I gasped when I saw Henry’s “treasure.”
A very old, very dirty dagger lay on the cloth, its sheath caked with mud, obscuring the designs engraved in the metal. The hilt was simple, reminding me of the pieces I’d seen in a museum display case on a school field trip, but I didn’t know enough to guess how old it was or where it came from.
“Isn’t that cool?” Henry asked. “Mamaw said I could have it if you were okay with it, but that you’d have to keep it put up for me until I was old enough.”
All I could think of as I sat there staring down at the antique weapon was the dagger inMacbeth.“Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward myhand?”In the infamous play, it had foreshadowed murder—and the beginning of the end.
When we arrived back at our apartment, I placed the dagger, still wrapped in its cloth, on top of one of the bookshelves in the living room where Henry couldn’t reach it, my fingertips lingering on the bundle. Part of me wanted to examine it more closely, try to determine its origin, why it would be buried in the garden. But there was something just outside my knowing that nagged at me, an impression I couldn’t quite grasp that made me shy away from thinking about it more.
Despite June’s warning not to get involved, I decided to stop by Billy Wayne’s apartment the next morning to tell him how sorry I was about Kitty and their son and see if I could sense anything about what had happened. But as I stepped out of the stairwell and into the third-floor hallway, Billy Wayne’s apartment door opened. And Iris stepped out. Her hair was a tangled mess, her stiletto heels in her hand.
She threw her lovely head back and laughed as Billy Wayne grabbed her around the waist and pulled her roughly to him with a hungry growl. And then he grabbed her by the back of the neck and kissed her hard, making her moan.
I swallowed the bile rising in my throat, disgusted and heartbroken by the truth. How could they betray Kitty that way? Had Iris always been the other woman, or had she just moved in as soon as Kitty was out of the picture?
Furious, I hurried back to the stairwell before they could see me. I’d never liked Billy Wayne. And I wasn’t a huge fan of Iris, either. Yet I somehow felt betrayed. I reminded myself that I hadn’t been wronged in any way, that June was right, and it wasn’t any of my business. But my image of the perfect harmony among the residents of Dawes House was tarnished. And if that had been a lie, what elsewasn’t as it seemed? Wasanyof it true? The friendship? The love they’d shown me and Henry?
I shook my head, forcing all the doubts away. It didn’t matter. My stay at Dawes House was temporary, just a couple of months more. It was probably just as well that I’d found out about Billy Wayne and Iris. That was just two fewer people I’d miss when I was gone. Really, it was only Pearlie and Junior I’d really miss. And quirky little Addie with her unruly curls and frank, matter-of-fact way of talking. June and Earl had been kind, but I would be glad to have some distance, remind June that she wasn’t Henry’s grandmother, no matter what she told him to call her.
At least there was Whit. Whatever happened, whatever lies and drama lay beneath the overtures of kindness and the empty promises of “family,” at least I knew what we were building was real.
When Thursday finally arrived, I was so nervous about my date with Whit, that I’d barely eaten anything and was so distracted I burned Henry’s toast at breakfast, setting off the fire alarm again, much to my son’s amusement.
“Are you sure you don’t mind spending the night with Ms. June and Mr. Earl again?” I asked as I packed Henry’s backpack for the night. “I can tell Mr. Whit that we need to be home sooner. You’re more important than any fancy dinners.”
Henry came to me and gave me a tight hug around my neck and kissed my cheek. “It’s okay, Mama. I don’t want you to be sad anymore.”
“Sad?” I repeated, frowning. “What do you man, baby? I’m not sad.” I gave him a playful little shake. “You make me happy every single day!”
