Page 84 of We Already Dug the Grave

I looked to where her fingers gripped my arm like talons, and then to her eyes, which held something I wasn’t used to seeing on my aunt. There was always some bit of power simmering behind her irises, but now there was also fear. I sighed and started at the beginning. I told her everything except about Casey. I wasn’t ready to admit to it. Not to Ruth and Hattie-May.

“That Anderson family always gave me a weird feeling. Anyone who appears that damn perfect usually has secrets.” Ruth paused. “This is bad.”

“I know. He’s a piece of shit, but I’m telling you—I made a plan. Burt’s handled. He shouldn’t be a problem.” I hoped to hell it was true.

I needed it to be true.

Ruth went still. “What do you mean Burt’s handled? Milly, if you did, I need you to walk me through everyth—”

“No,” I interrupted, eyebrows shooting upward. “No, nothing like that. We just… We figured out how to get him out of the picture. Have you heard about that girl missing from South Alabama?”

She nodded. “I keep up with the news around where you girls live.”

“Burt’s who killed her, and we had proof. So we planted the evidence, we called the authorities. Any hour now, news will break that Burt is going away for a long time.”

Aunt Ruth’s brow furrowed.

“You think that fixed things?” She scoffed. “If that man ain’t dead, then he’s a problem. Men like that…” She shook her head and for a moment squeezed her eyes closed. When she opened them, she pointed at me. “You know that, or you wouldn’t be here.”

I couldn’t tell her that though the leaves ordered us home—it wasn’t because of Shane. That I believed they’d sent me here for another body.

Maybe it was silly to want to keep Casey a secret—maybe she would’ve helped me move him.

Frances insisted Casey’s death wasn’t my fault, but the idea of my aunts—of anyone—knowing about him, of knowing the horrible way I’d buried him and didn’t tell a soul, filled me with shame. Heart-wrenching shame. Being back here made it worse.

I couldn’t tell her any of that, so instead I said, “The leaves aren’t infallible. It’s one of the first things you taught me, that we can change our fate. When Burt is arrested—”

“If,” Ruth interrupted. “You mean if he’s arrested.”

I ignored her. “When he’s arrested, if you still think he’s a problem, we can hide Frances.”

Ruth tossed her hands up as she spoke. “Jesus.”

“What’s wrong with hiding? I did it.”

“It was easy for you, Milly. Your sister? No.”

“I made it work,” I said, not ready to give in. “How come being a waitress is good enough for me, but you can’t fathom Frances doing it?”

“You’re right,” Ruth said. “You made it work—but no one was looking for a teenage runaway from Puddle Creek. And honestly, it worked because in the end, no one went looking for Shane. If they had…” She shrugged. “If Frances were to disappear, her face would be plastered all over the place. And if your plan doesn’t work—if Burt isn’t arrested and was to go looking for her…” She sighed.

“It’s going to work. He’ll be in jail. Frances will be safe. Maybe it’s not perfect, but I can’t believe everyone is okay with us murdering someone.”

“No. Not someone.” Aunt Ruth’s eyes narrowed and she shook her finger. “Not murder. Don’t do that. It ain’t murder if you’re fighting for survival. Not if it’s him or you.”

“Tell that to the court who convicted Mama.”

Ruth began to respond when the door opened and Bunny stuck her head out.

“Y’all coming inside or what?”

Bunny looked the same, though her face was scrubbed clean, save for the thick lash extensions lining her eyes. The familiar scent of hairspray and menthol wafted off her.

“One minute, Bun,” Aunt Ruth said. “We’re finishing up.”

“Hurry it up—I want to see Milly too.” Bunny wiggled her manicured fingers at me. “How you doing, honey?”

“I’m good.” A sigh escaped from deep inside me at seeing her familiar face. As if this were a friendly visit. As if me and my estranged aunt weren’t arguing on what was the best way to save my sister’s life.