Page 8 of They Say a Girl Died Here

“You’ll go because we want to fit in here and it makes Grandma happy, which makes my life easier, and you’ll dress appropriately precisely because you are an adult.”

Anna didn’t have an answer for that, and at least Mom hadn’t used the While you’re under my roof line that had been her go-to comment on everything during the angry months when Anna first came home. She washed quickly—there was no way she was showering while the workman was in the house—and pulled on some summer-blue cotton pants and a blouse before running a brush through her hair and pulling it into a tight ponytail.

With no makeup it made her look severe, but she was fine with that. She sometimes wore light makeup for her diner shifts, but that was only because Jeannie insisted on it—the customers like to look at a pretty face—and Anna didn’t want to lose her job, even though she also wanted to point out that it was a diner, not a strip club, and that maybe it was against employment regulations to insist on lip gloss.

Grandma was in the hall putting a ribbon in Caroline’s hair, but as Anna came downstairs, what got her attention was her mother’s laughter coming from the kitchen. It was almost a giggle. Mom barely smiled these days, and she sure as shit didn’t giggle.

From the doorway, she looked in. Lucas, recognizable from his thick sandy hair, was crouching by the sink, taking a look at the old pipework in the cupboard as he talked.

“If I’d known the house had been sold, I’d have got all this stuff mended before you moved in. But I’ve been working over in Grand Island for the past six months and no one told me. I was surprised. Figured this place would be empty forever.”

“Sorry for disappointing you.” Mom’s voice was light, with more humor in it than Anna was used to these days.

“Oh, I can live with it.” Lucas stood up and grinned at her, his T-shirt and battered jeans fitting him well, tanned arms showing hints of tattoos poking out from the sleeves. Mom flicked her hair and tucked a strand behind her ear. Jesus, was she flirting?

“Mom? We going?”

“Oh, you were quick.” Again with the hair-tucking. She was definitely flirting. Anna knew on some level that she should be happy for her, Mom had been on her own a long time, but instead she found it gross. Terrifying. Disgusting. Emotions attached to lost memories.

“We should get to church.” She grabbed her gray cardigan from the back of a kitchen chair and turned to go to the hall, but not before seeing Mom’s irritation.

“Don’t mind her,” Mom said quietly, but not so quietly Anna couldn’t hear her. “She’s had some problems. Mental health, you know how it is.”

Some problems. That was one way of putting it. And mental health had become the catchall way of dealing with what happened to Anna. She’s taking a break from college because of some mental health problems. How many times had she heard that now?

“It’s fine,” Lucas said, the amusement in his tone prickling Anna, no pretense at quiet from him. “And she’s right, if you want to get there in time for service, you should be making a move. Don’t want to make the great and beloved Pastor Ezekiel Keene mad. I’ll text you a price for each job and a total. Then you can decide.”

Pastor Ezekiel Keene. Had he followed her home last night just because she’d refused a lift? Maybe it was a nice gesture, but it was also creepy as hell. In the hallway, Caroline, in a neat summer dress, hair ribbon a perfect bow, did a twirl for Grandma. “Do I look okay?”

“Such a peach.” Grandma nodded approvingly. “Pretty and demure. Perfect.” She didn’t look at Anna or comment, which was comment enough. But then Caroline was still moldable into a good little Christian country girl like Grandma had been. Anna was a sullied lost cause.

“Let’s go.” She was already at the door. No reason for them to stand around for the handyman to leave, although Anna wondered what Grandma would make of Mom’s gushing over him. She must have sounded firm, because Grandma and Caroline followed her out and by the time Mom left the house a few minutes later, they were all three starting to sweat against the hot fabric of the car seats.

Anna watched as Lucas smiled his goodbyes and got into his van and Mom waved him off, her eyes lingering on him just a moment too long for comfort. Anna knew that feeling. She remembered it. A yearning to see someone again. A spark of attraction. Memories of another Anna from what felt like a long time ago. It was strange to see her mother looking at a man like that. It terrified Anna. Mom drove her mad, but she didn’t want her getting hurt. Still, Mom was decidedly more cheerful when she got into the car than she had been while telling Anna to drug her grandmother barely half an hour earlier.

“About time,” Grandma sniffed. Even though it was another endlessly hot day, she wore a high-neck dress, white gloves, and a hat, her handbag clutched tightly in front of her in the passenger seat. It was all a little too much, making her a caricature of a faded Southern belle. Her lipstick—too dark a shade—had already started to leak into the deep creases around her mouth, red-river trickles, like blood on an aging vampire. “Caroline should have been at Sunday school with the other children,” Grandma muttered, looking out at the empty fields bordering the road.

“Well, I didn’t get home until five this morning, Mom, and I’ve only had four hours’ sleep. I’m sure the good Lord will understand.” Mom’s momentary cheer from attractive male company had returned to irritation.

From the back seat, all Anna could see of her mother were her tense shoulders and her eyes glancing into the rearview mirror. She looked worn-out. And older than her forty-four years, more lines on her face than there had been even a year or so ago. Maybe that was Anna’s fault too. Mom had given birth to Anna at twenty-two, her own age now, and that felt weird enough. Married out of high school. Fat lot of good that had done her. No wonder she was ready to throw herself at the first half-good-looking man who paid her any attention.

What a household they were, Anna thought as they drove toward town, the bright sun burning the hard skin of the dead fields around them. Three screwed-up women and a little girl bound together by blood and each no doubt wondering how in hell they’d ended up like this.

11

As Anna reluctantly took her place in the pews between Caroline and Grandma, the warmth of the busy church made her ache with lingering tiredness. At least it was an hour or so when she could just zone out.

“I’ve got ten dollars for the plate,” Grandma said quietly. “Have you got yours, Claire?”

“No, Mom, not this week. And ten is too much anyway. We need every cent right now.”

“He helps us in our hours of need.”

“Yeah, well, I feel like I’m in my hour of need right now, so if he could work a lottery win, that would be great.”

Caroline’s sharp elbow nudged Anna, and when she looked across, her little sister rolled her eyes and grinned, finding it funny, Mom being treated like a kid again. Anna smiled back, a rare moment of sisterhood. Maybe they were getting closer, being in the house together again. This time Anna had no social life distractions, no eagerness to spend all her free time out in the world having fun, and Caroline was nearly a teenager herself.

As the organist began to play, the full congregation fell into an expectant hush, and then Pastor Keene appeared from the back of the church and took his place center stage, holding up his hands as if lifting something and greeting them all with a benevolent smile.