Page 89 of We Already Dug the Grave

Chapter 33

Now

My aunt and great-aunt stared at each other across the table, a silent conversation playing between them. Finally, Ruth spoke. “Lilibet’s been released on good behavior to a halfway house in Alabama. Been there for about a week.” Her voice softened. “She’s wanted us to come and see her.”

Wanted them to come and see her…

The beginnings of a headache throbbed in my temples. “Mama’s out of prison, and no one was going to tell us?” I hadn’t seen Mama since the day I’d ran away, when she’d warned me to leave my old life behind.

“It’s not like that,” Ruth insisted. “The terms of her parole are intense. She wants to see you and Frances, but she wants to make sure everything’s perfect first.” Aunt Ruth leaned forward, her arms on the table, her voice growing soft. “She’s been gone a long time. The world’s not the same place it was when she was arrested. She’s not the same person.”

“Okay.” I massaged my temples in small circles. “Okay…”

Frances frowned. “What you’re saying is, when we were kids, Mama never let us visit her, not once, but she wants to see us now? Now. Not when I was a little girl sending her letter after letter, begging her to let me visit? Not when I secretly tried calling her over and over?” My sister inhaled sharply. “When I found myself tied to an abusive prick and thought maybe, just maybe, my mother could understand.”

“Oh child,” Hattie-May said tenderly. “She was doing what she thought was right. She—”

“Stop.” Ruth held up her hand, cutting off Aunt Hattie. She spoke calmly. “I’ll say this once. I know you’re hurting, Frances, and you have every right to that hurt, but watch your tone. That’s your mama, but Lilibet is my little sister.”

Bunny walked around the table and slid an arm over Ruth’s shoulder.

The wooden legs of my chair screeched against the floor as I stood, doing my best to ignore the dull throbbing behind my eyes. Frances didn’t know I’d visited Mama the day I ran, and I wasn’t sure if my aunts did or not. The thing I did know was that feelings are complicated and when it came to Mama, mine were a minefield.

“I want to see her.” Frances let out a deep breath, her shoulder’s slumping. “When all of this is done.”

“Of course,” Hattie-May said.

“Frances, did you post the photo?” I asked, pointedly changing the subject. “Let’s stay on task here. The sun will be up soon, and we have a lot to do.”

“Yeah. It’s posted.” Frances nodded and held up Bunny’s phone. I held out my hand, and she passed it to me.

The picture of shoreline she’d grabbed from the internet and captioned A little r&r with my big sis! already had sixty-five hearts and a few comments demanding to know where the photo was taken so the posters could plan their own vacations. I refreshed the screen and there were a hundred hearts.

And a direct message notification.

Burt had taken the bait.

I scrolled through the DMs.

Where are you?

Baby?

Call me.

Answer your phone.

Dammit, Frances, this isn’t funny—you can’t do this to me.

You won’t get away with this. No one will believe you.

There’s no way you’ll get away with this. Baby go home and I’ll forgive you. We’ll talk when I get back.

You’ll pay for this.

You won’t get away with this.

Baby?