Grave Secret

by Charlaine Harris

Page 4

  "How are you two doing?" he asked me. "Find any good bodies lately?" Hank had always talked about our livelihood as if it were a big joke.

  I smiled back faintly. "A few," I said. Evidently, Hank didn't read the newspapers or watch the news on television. I'd been mentioned more often than I wanted to be in the past month.

  "Where you traveled to?" Hank also thought it was amusing that Tolliver and I were always on the road, pursuing this strange living of ours. Hank had been out of Texas when he was in the army, but that was the extent of his traveling experience.

  "We were in the mountains of North Carolina," Tolliver said. He paused to see if either Iona or Hank would pick up on the reference to our last, most notorious, case.

  Nope.

  "Then we went to another job between here and Texarkana, in Clear Creek. Now here we are in Garland to see you-all. "

  "Any big news in the corpse-finding business?" Again with the teasing smile.

  "We have other news," Tolliver said, irritated by Hank's facetiousness. This happened every time. Every damn time. I looked at Tolliver, saw the intent way his eyes were focused on Hank.

  Uh-oh, I thought.

  "You found you a girlfriend and you're going to settle down!" Hank said jocularly, since Tolliver's lack of a steady girlfriend had long been the subject of many pointed jokes from both Iona and her husband.

  "As a matter of fact, I have," Tolliver said, and the smile on his face made me close my eyes. It was bright and hard.

  "Well, listen to that, girls! Your uncle Tolliver has got himself a girl! Who is she, Tol?"

  My brother hated it when someone abbreviated his name.

  "Harper," Tolliver said. He reached across the table and took my hand. And we waited.

  "Your. . . " Iona almost said "sister," but recalled the word in time. "But. . . you two?" She looked from me to Tolliver. "That's just not right," she said hesitantly. "You two. . . "

  "Are not related," I said, smiling brightly at my aunt.

  The girls were looking from one adult to another, confused.

  "You're my sister," Mariella said suddenly.

  "Yep," I said, smiling at her.

  "Tolliver is my brother," she said clearly.

  "Also true. But we're not related to each other. You understand that, right? I had a different mom and dad from Tolliver. "

  "So," said Gracie, "you gonna get married?" She looked pleased. Confused, but pleased.

  Tolliver looked across the table at me. His smile gentled. "I hope so," he said.

  "Oh, boy! Can I be in the wedding?" Mariella said. "My friend Brianna was in her sister's wedding. Can I wear a long dress? Can I get my hair done? Brianna's mom let her wear lipstick. Can I wear lipstick, Mom?"

  "Mariella, we may not have a big wedding," I said, since I could guarantee that wasn't going to happen. "We may just go to a justice of the peace. So it might not be in a church, and I wouldn't wear a long white dress. "

  "But whatever we do, you can be there, and you can wear whatever you want," Tolliver said.

  "Oh, for goodness' sake!" Iona said, sounding thoroughly disgusted. "You two got no business getting married! And if you do, which God forbid, Mariella and Gracie sure wouldn't be there!"

  "Why not?" Tolliver asked, in that dangerous voice. "They're our family. "

  "It just ain't right," Hank said, his face serious, giving us the correct and final verdict on our relationship. "You two was raised too close for comfort. "

  "We're not related by blood," I said, "and we'll get married when we want to. " Then I realized I'd been sucked into the argument much further than I'd counted on. Tolliver was grinning at me. I closed my eyes.

  Apparently Tolliver had just proposed and I had just accepted.

  "Well," said Iona, her lips pursed in the old Iona way, "we got us some news, too. "

  "Oh, what is it?" I was willing to be interested. I was willing to dispel the angry atmosphere that had made my sisters so unhappy. I made myself smile at my aunt to show a decent anticipation.

  "Hank and I are gonna have a baby," Iona said. "The girls will have a little brother or sister. "

  After a long moment of intense struggle not to blurt out, "After all these years?" I managed to say, "Oh, what great news! Girls, aren't you excited?"

  Tolliver's hand found mine under the table and gripped it hard. We'd never considered that Iona and Hank might have a baby of their own, and, speaking for myself, I'd never been curious about why they didn't have any. In fact, I'd just regarded the two as inconvenient irritants who got in our way when we wanted to see our sisters. However, they were mighty convenient when it came to doing the day-to-day care for those two little girls, who were no walk in the park to deal with.

  In a flash of clarity, I realized all this, and I knew we couldn't possibly interfere with Iona and Hank's relationship with the girls now. I looked into Mariella's face and saw the uncertainty there. Neither she nor Gracie needed any other problems to handle at the moment. The girls were trying to feel happy about the baby, but they'd been thrown for a serious loop.

  I could sympathize.

  Chapter Two

  AT the Texas Roadhouse the next night, we'd already put our name on the list for a table when Mark arrived. Mark looks like he's Tolliver's brother, all right; they have the same cheekbones, the same chin, the same brown eyes. But Mark is shorter, thicker, and (an observation I have kept to myself) not nearly as smart as Tolliver.

  I had so many great memories of Mark, though, that I knew I'd always be fond of him. Mark had done his best to protect all of us from our parents. Not that our parents had always intended to hurt us. . . but they were addicts. Addicts forget to be parents. They forget to be married. They're only addicted.

  Mark had suffered a lot because he had more memories of his dad when his dad was a real person than Tolliver did. Mark remembered a father who'd taken him fishing and hunting, a father who'd gone to teacher conferences and football games and helped him with his arithmetic. Tolliver had told me that he remembered that passage in his own life a little, but the last few years in the trailer had overlaid most of that memory until the hurt had extinguished the flame that kept it alive.

  Mark had recently become a manager at JCPenney, and he was wearing navy slacks, a striped shirt, and a pinned-on name tag. When I spotted him entering the restaurant, he looked tired, but his face lit up when he noticed us. Mark had clipped his hair very short and shaved off his mustache, and the cleaner look made him seem older and more confident, somehow.

  Tolliver and his brother went through the guy greeting ritual, thumping each other on the back, saying "Hey, man!" a number of times. I got a more restrained hug. Just at the right moment, we got a buzz to tell us we could be seated. When we were in a booth and supplied with menus, I asked Mark how his job was going.

  "We didn't do as well as we should this Christmas," he said seriously. I noticed how white and even his teeth were, and I felt a stab of resentment on his brother's behalf. Mark had been old enough to get his teeth aligned, unlike Tolliver. By the time Tolliver should have been getting his middle-class-American-teen complement of braces and acne medicine, our parents had started their downward spiral together. I shook off that unworthy twinge of resentment. Mark had just been lucky, on that count. "Our sales weren't as high as they should've been, and we're going to have to scramble this spring," he said.

  "So what do you think happened?" Tolliver asked, as if he gave a rat's ass why the store wasn't performing as well as it ought to have.

  Mark rambled on about the store and his responsibilities, and I tried to show a decent interest. This was a better job than his previous position managing a restaurant; at least, the hours were better. Mark had put himself through two years of junior college, and he'd taken n
ight classes since then. Eventually, he'd earn a degree. I had to admire that dedication. Neither Tolliver nor I had done that much.

  The truth was that though I made sure I looked like I was listening, and I truly was fond of Mark, I was bored silly. I found myself remembering a day Mark had knocked down one of my mom's visitors, a tough guy in his thirties who'd made a blatant pass at Cameron. Mark hadn't known if the guy was armed (many of our parents' buddies were), and yet Mark hadn't hesitated a second in his defense of my sister. This memory made it easy for me to pretend I was hanging on Mark's every word.

  Tolliver was asking relevant questions. Maybe he was more into this than I'd thought. I wondered, for the hundredth time, if Tolliver would have enjoyed having a regular life, instead of the one we led.

  But I figured he'd pretty much set that fear to rest the day before.

  We'd left Iona and Hank's in a very subdued state. We'd been stunned equally by Iona's news. Though we'd tried to congratulate her and Hank with enthusiasm, maybe we hadn't sounded excited enough. We'd been a little shaken by their reaction to our relationship, and it had been hard to be delighted for their good news since they'd been so aghast at ours.

  Of course the girls had picked up on all the stress and anger. In the course of a few minutes, they'd gone from being happy for us to being confused and resentful about all the emotions swirling around. Hank had retreated to his tiny "office" to call his pastor and consult with this unknown man about our relationship, which had made something tiny in my head explode. He'd taken Tolliver with him, and Tolliver had emerged looking indignant and amused.

  Since we'd left Hank and Iona's, we hadn't said another word to each other about the marriage issue, which had popped up like a jack-in-the-box.

  Oddly, not talking about it felt. . . okay. We'd gone to the workout room for some treadmill time and then watched a Law and Order rerun. We'd been comfortable with each other and relieved to be by ourselves. While we'd been walking on the treadmills, I'd realized that every time we visited our sisters, it was the same emotional wringer. After a short time in that cramped house, we needed to retreat, regroup, and refresh ourselves.

  I worried about the bad feelings between my aunt and myself until I reflected that all was well between Tolliver and me, and that was the only relationship I really cared about. . . well, other than the one I was trying to form with my little sisters.

  Still, at odd moments during the past evening, I admit that the uncomfortable situation occupied my thoughts. I know it was naïve of me, but I was shocked every time I thought about Iona's pregnancy. I'd lived through my mother's two pregnancies with my sisters, and it still seemed amazing to me that Gracie had been born with all the correct physical attributes and no apparent mental or neurological problems, considering my mother's extensive drug use. She'd had enough will left to restrain herself somewhat during the time she was carrying Mariella, but with Gracie. . . Gracie had been awfully sick when she was born, and many times after that.

  I was thinking about those bad days after our treadmill workout the night before. After I'd had a break, I'd taken our hand vacuum out to the car to give the trunk a once-over. I'd taken a shopping bag with me for the trash. When you're in your car as much as we are, it tends to get pretty junky in a short time. While I tossed old receipts and empty cups into the bag, and got all the corners with the vacuum, I worried about my aunt. Iona was healthy, as far as I knew, and she never drank or used drugs. But she was definitely on the older side to be experiencing a first venture into motherhood.

  While part of my brain had been trying to remember if I'd seen an oil-change place down the access road, the other part tried to pooh-pooh my own fears. I told myself that lots of women were waiting until later in their lives to start their families. And more power to them, waiting for financial security or a good relationship to form a foundation for child rearing. The problem was, I knew from personal experience how exhausting caring for an infant was. Maybe Iona would be able to quit work.

  While I pretended to listen to Mark and sipped the drink our waitress had brought me, I was reliving our little sit-down at Iona's kitchen table. Something I'd seen had troubled me, something I hadn't been able to recall after the hubbub over our family revelations.

  As Mark and Tolliver spent way too long discussing retail, I mentally examined every person who'd been sitting around the table. Then I reviewed my memory of the objects on the table. Finally, I succeeded in tracking down the source of my unease. I waited until the brothers fell silent before I obliquely introduced the subject.

  "Mark, do you go over to see the girls very often?" I asked.

  "No," he said, ducking his head in a guilty way. "It's a long drive from my house, and I work horrible hours. Plus, Iona always makes me feel bad about something. " He shrugged. "To be honest, the girls just aren't that interested in me. "

  Mark had left the trailer and started living on his own as soon as he could, which we'd all agreed was the best thing for him to do. He came by when our parents weren't there-or when they were out cold-and he'd (God bless him) brought us supplies whenever he could. But that meant he hadn't been present like we had when the girls were babies, and he hadn't had as much opportunity to bond with them. Cameron and Tolliver and I had taken care of Mariella and Gracie. On the nights when bad memories woke me up and wouldn't let me sleep, I got scared all over again when I thought of what might have happened to the girls if we hadn't been there. That wasn't the girls' concern, though-and it shouldn't be.