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“No worries, dear, we're family and that's what we do for each other. Oh, and your Uncle Henry got the spare room all cleaned out for y’all. Ella, why don’t you go inside and see what Henry’s making for lunch?”
Ella looks at me for reassurance and I squeeze her tiny hand before she sprints off up the concrete steps. I grab our bags as Aunt Suz approaches me again. “Darling, I must address the elephant in the room. What Julie did was wrong, and I hope you know we don't support her behavior. She may be our niece, but she’s always done things her own way.”
“I know, Aunt Suz, I know,” I say softly, hurt piercing my heart once again.
The old house is much the same with its pristine white picket fence and pale blue shutters that frame the windows, which are lined with colorful, fragrant flowers. I notice as I walk inside the house that it still smells like blueberries and whiskey.
“You really should go see your mama. She’s been all alone since your daddy died,” Uncle Henry says as he gives me a hug hello.
“What? When did he die?” I ask, shock in my voice.
“About two years ago. After a night of binge drinking, he was driving down by the river and lost control of his truck. They say he flipped at least eight times before landing in the river.”
“Ella, go clean up, ok?” She nods and skips off to the bathroom. “Why didn't anyone tell me,” I whisper.
“Well, darling, we thought we had. Ty answered your phone and said he'd let you know. When you didn't show up for the funeral, we just figured you just couldn’t handle another funeral. He’s buried on Peach near your brother.” A tear rolls down my cheek and I quickly wipe it away before Ella comes back.
“Mama, look how clean my hands are and they smell so good. Like strawberries!”
I smile and pull her in for a hug. “Great, let’s have some lunch!” I say. I can’t let her know how I feel. She’s my daughter, and I’ll protect her at all costs.
The next morning, I’m barely moving. I didn’t sleep at all, my head spinning with what I’ve missed while I was attached to Ty.
“Aunt Suz,” I begin after sitting down to breakfast.
“Yeah?”
“Would you mind watching Ella today so I can go look for a job?”
“Certainly, I wouldn't mind at all. Isn't that right, Miss Ella?”
Ella smiles a huge grin and runs over to Aunt Suz, wrapping her arms around her waist. “Aunt Suz says she's going to bake a cake today.”
I smile and roll my eyes. “Aunt Suz, you haven't changed a bit.”
She laughs and pats Ella lightly on the head. “Go finish your breakfast, my little love.”
I'm sitting at the table, perusing job listings on my phone, when one jumps out at me. The hospital in town is looking for an experienced department secretary. “I think this one has potential,” I say, excitedly waving my phone around. Aunt Suz smiles as I pass her, running to get dressed.
My nerves are thumping as I walk into the hospital to fill out the application. After twenty minutes and passing the developmental test, I walk out with an interview tomorrow morning. I’m on my way back to the house when I realize I missed my turn on the highway. Another hour will take me to my parents’ old house. Ella is being cared for, so what’s a short trip out of the way?
15
Cami
Drawing in a deep breath, I make that ever familiar turn. Slowly letting off the accelerator, I turn down that old washboard street.
As the old, run down cottage comes into view, I feel my insides buzzing with anticipation, but noticing that my father’s rusty old truck is missing out front makes bile rise. I missed his funeral. Ty did that to me. I’ll never forgive him for it. I put the car in park and step out onto the uneven ground. I watch as an aging face passes the window. Her graying hair is pulled back into a messy bun and there are circles under her eyes, deep and dark, but her eyes are still the same bright blue.
I make my way up rotting steps, the door creeps open, and my mother steps out, butcher knife in hand.
“Mama, it's me,” I say, holding my hands up in front of me.
“Cami,” she says as she looks at me, and suddenly throws the knife into the grass, slinging her arms around me. She sobs into my shoulder and I hold her tightly.
“Mama, I'm so sorry I left,” I say, fighting the tears in my eyes.
“No, don't be sorry, everything your father and I put you through…” she says, her eyes looking me over. “When he died, I was almost, for lack of a better word, relieved. When I didn't see you at his funeral, I figured that you would never be able to forgive us. We were wrong, I know that now.”
