Little Bitty Lies

by Mary Kay Andrews

  The ground was littered with the balls. Mary Bliss sat on the hood of her daughter’s car and watched.

  After half an hour, Erin gathered up all the balls. She was breathing hard as she approached the car, kicking one errant ball in the direction of the Honda.

  She stopped short five yards away.

  “Mama?”

  “Hey there,” Mary Bliss said.

  “Hey,” Erin said. Her voice was expressionless. She walked past her mother, unlocked the trunk of the car, and dropped the basket in, then closed the trunk.

  “What are you doing here?” Erin asked, standing by the car door. Her hair was bound up in a ponytail, her face was red and beaded with perspiration.

  “Looking for you,” Mary Bliss said. “I was worried.”

  “Don’t be worried,” Erin said. “I’m all right.”

  “No,” Mary Bliss said. “I don’t think you’re all right. I’m not all right either.”

  “Is this about Daddy?” Erin mopped her face with the tail of her T-shirt.

  “Honey, of course it’s about Daddy. I’m sorry you had to hear about the accident from a stranger. I wanted to tell you myself, but they wouldn’t let me talk on the telephone at the hospital. The doctor didn’t want to upset me.”

  Erin cocked her head. “So are you all right?”

  “I had a concussion,” Mary Bliss said, touching her hand to the bandage on the back of her head. “They think a piece of the boat hit me when it happened.”

  “But you were all right.”

  “I was wearing a life jacket,” Mary Bliss said. “They think the tide swept me in.”

  “But not Daddy.” Erin’s fists were balled up, perched on her hips.

  “He wasn’t wearing a life jacket,” Mary Bliss whispered. “The boat hit a big wave, head-on. Before I knew it, I was being thrown clear. It was an old boat. Probably not even safe, although we didn’t realize it at the time. They found pieces of the boat all over the beach.”

  “But not Daddy.”

  “No,” Mary Bliss said. “Not Daddy.”

  “Meemaw says he’s not really dead,” Erin said.

  Mary Bliss winced. “I just came from the nursing home. Honey, your grandmother is old, and she’s heartbroken. And she’s not real clear on a lot of things these days.”

  “You’re saying she’s crazy, right? Senile old Meemaw.”

  “Not crazy. But the doctors have told us she has the beginnings of Alzheimer’s disease, and that’s a form of senility. Some days, she’s fine. Other times, she can’t remember her name, can’t remember mine. She says awful things. Does awful things. She claims the nurses are stealing from her. Tonight she got so agitated, she slugged me.”

  Mary Bliss rubbed the knot forming on her cheekbone. “It’s not her. It’s the disease. We have to keep remembering that.”

  Erin scooped up the last soccer ball. She bounced it against the door of the car.

  “So, what happens now?”

  Mary Bliss caught the ball in midair and hugged it against her chest.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted.

  “But you think Daddy’s dead, right?”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. They searched the waters all around where the accident happened. The police tell me, they said it’s unlikely he could have survived the accident.”

  Erin bit her lip. “Did he drown? Or do they think he got eaten by, like, a shark, or what?”

  “God, Erin,” Mary Bliss cried. “Don’t talk like that.”

  “I want to know, dammit,” Erin said. “He’s my dad. I need to know what happened to him. You might not care, but I do. I have a right to know.”

  “I can’t tell you anything else,” Mary Bliss said. Her heart was beating wildly. She was sure she could hear her veins pounding blood into her head. “I don’t have any answers. And you’re wrong about that, you know.”

  “What?” Erin pushed past Mary Bliss and got in the car. The key was already in the ignition. She started the engine.

  “I do care,” Mary Bliss said, holding the door open so that Erin couldn’t close it. Couldn’t shut her out. “I care that he’s gone. I loved your daddy.”

  “Yeah, right.” Erin wrenched the door shut and the car jerked forward, leaving Mary Bliss standing alone at the soccer park. She watched the red taillights until they’d disappeared from sight. Then she picked up the soccer ball and walked back to her own car, alone.

  35

  Standing on Mary Bliss’s doorstep on a white-hot Wednesday morning, Charlie Weidman looked miserable. He wore a stylish dark-blue double-breasted suit, bright-blue dress shirt with white collar and cuffs, and pointy-toed Italian-looking shoes. Clearly, somebody else was making his fashion decisions these days. He shifted from one foot to the other, tugged at his shirt collar and blinked rapidly.

  “Uh, Mary Bliss?” His face reddened.

  “Hey, Charlie,” Mary Bliss said. She reached out instinctively and hugged his neck. “Aren’t you sweet to come by and see me.”

  He brightened. “You don’t mind?”

  “Katharine’s the one who’s divorcing you, Charlie, not me,” she said. “Come on in and get out of this heat.”

  He followed her through the hall to the living room, loosening his tie as he went.

  She seated him on the sofa. “Let me fix you some iced tea. I know you like my tea.”

  “Oh no,” he said quickly. “I just dropped by to see if I could help you out with things. I don’t want you going to any trouble for me.”

  “It’s no trouble at all,” she said. “I’ve got a pitcher made and in the fridge. I’ll be right back.”

  In the kitchen she speed-dialed Katharine’s number.

  When she answered, Mary Bliss didn’t give her time to talk. “Charlie’s here,” she whispered. “Did you call him and send him over?”

  “Hell, no,” Katharine said. “I haven’t talked to him in a couple weeks. I just left a message on his machine at the office about Parker, that’s all.”

  “He says he wants to help with some things,” Mary Bliss said.

  “Hmm,” Katharine said.

  “You think he suspects anything?”

  “God, no,” Katharine said. “He’s totally clueless. You know he’s always had a soft spot for you. So he probably does want to help out. I’d say let him. No use in us doing all the heavy lifting.”

  “All right,” Mary Bliss said, putting ice in a tall glass and pouring the cold tea over it.

  After she hung up the phone, she added a slice of lemon to the tea, cut a slice from Marifae Jones’s chocolate pound cake, and put it on a plate.

  Charlie was unloading a set of documents from his briefcase when Mary Bliss got back to the living room.

  “Here,” Mary Bliss said, handing him the plate of cake. “Help me get rid of some of this food people have been dropping by. There’s enough cake and cookies in my kitchen right now to feed Pharaoh’s army.”

  “Oh no,” Charlie said, waving away the cake like it was a case of the plague. “I’m doing the Atkins Diet. Carbs are like poison to me.”

  “This isn’t carbs, it’s Marifae Jones’s chocolate cake,” Mary Bliss said. “She only makes it when somebody dies.”

  Charlie looked shocked.

  “Well, it’s no use pretending somebody hasn’t,” Mary Bliss said, sitting down in the chair opposite him. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, that’s about the size of it,” Charlie said. He broke off a chunk of cake and chewed it appreciatively. “That Jones woman can bake a damned cake, can’t she?”

  Mary Bliss got a glimpse of his hands. He was wearing a pinky ring with a large diamond on his left hand. The wedding ring was gone. She had to look away to keep from staring.

  “She certainly can,” Mary Bliss said, taking a sip of tea.

  “Well,” Charlie said. “Let’s get down to business, then. You know I was Parker’s attorney in a lot of matters. I handled y’all’s wil
ls and things like that. So I thought I’d go ahead and start the ball rolling on getting that probated. Then, if you’d like, I’ll file for your death benefits and all. That sound all right?”

  “Fine,” Mary Bliss said. “Do you have copies of everything you need? I’m kinda dumb about all this stuff, Charlie. So having you help me out will be a godsend.”

  “Not a problem,” he said, beaming. “I’ll need copies of his insurance policies. Do you have ’em here at the house?”

  Mary Bliss thought quickly. Should she tell him Parker had already cashed in his life insurance, or let him find out for himself? She decided it would look better if it were a complete surprise to her.

  “I’ll have to get them out of the lockbox at the bank,” she said. “I can do that this morning and drop them off at your office. Is there anything else you need?”

  He bit his lip. “I hate to ask, but the insurance company is going to want to know about the body. That could be a problem. Do you have copies of police reports from Mexico, anything like that?”

  She nodded and let a small tear roll down her cheek. It was no act. She was scared witless and was getting used to crying at the drop of a hat. “They gave me copies of everything,” she said. “And I have a death certificate. Will that help?”

  “They issued a death certificate? Even though they never found Parker’s body?”

  She muffled a sob and simply shook her head yes.

  “All right, then,” Charlie said. “Yeah, sure. The death certificate should speed matters up considerably. In the meantime, I hate to ask, but since we’re old friends, I’m gonna. Are you all right for money?”

  Mary Bliss sobbed again and gulped. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “Parker handled all that. And he’s been gone so much lately, consulting and all, I just haven’t kept up with things like I probably should have.”

  “All right,” he said, patting her back awkwardly. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t want you worrying about one little thing, you hear me, Mary Bliss? You get me those insurance papers first thing, and I’ll put a bee in their bonnets about a quick payout.”

  “All right,” she agreed.

  “One more thing,” Charlie said. “What about a funeral? Have you given any thought to that?”

  “A little,” Mary Bliss admitted. “Dr. Neely sent over a flower arrangement. I’ve been thinking I should call him, but I just haven’t been able to get around to it.”

  “I’ll take care of that too,” Charlie said. “What kind of a thing did you have in mind?”

  “Well,” Mary Bliss said, hesitating. “We don’t have a body, so I don’t think it’s appropriate to have an actual funeral. I guess, I was thinking maybe a nice memorial service? At Fair Oaks First United Methodist. And afterwards, I suppose, we could have lunch over here.”

  “Absolutely not,” Charlie said emphatically. “They can have a luncheon in the church parlor. You don’t want a lot of old biddies swarming around here, asking questions and poking and prodding and upsetting you, do you?”

  “Maybe not,” Mary Bliss admitted. God, Charlie was wonderful. How could Katharine just give up on him like this?

  “Don’t they have one of those church-lady thingies that takes care of stuff like this?” Charlie asked. “Who would I call?”

  “Kimberly Sheffield is president of the women’s circle,” Mary Bliss said. “I suppose she’d be the one to organize anything. But really, Charlie, I don’t want any fuss. It’s too awkward.”

  Charlie handed her a sheaf of papers. “These forms will authorize me to start probating the will and the other things we need to do. Fill ’em out, and drop ’em off with the other things. And you just leave it all to old Charlie, and don’t worry. Okay?”

  “Okay,” Mary Bliss said. She hugged his neck again. He smelled like strong, expensive perfume. The old Charlie smelled like cigars. She thought she would like to have the old Charlie back.

  When he was gone, she called Katharine back.

  “Tell me everything,” Katharine said.

  Mary Bliss sighed. “She’s got him on the Atkins Diet.”

  “Ha! That’s a laugh. This is a man who thinks Twinkies and Moonpies are one of the major food groups.”

  “And she’s dressing him funny too. He had on a two-tone dress shirt. With French cuffs! Obviously she doesn’t know his shirt size, because his neck looked like it was about to explode. And pointy-toed shoes. They looked like those Bruno Maglis O. J. Simpson was wearing when he killed Nicole.”

  “Gawd,” Katharine said. “And to think when he was married to me he never wore anything but Bass Weejuns.”

  “He’s gone uptown now,” Mary Bliss said. “And it doesn’t suit him. Not at all.”

  “What else?” Katharine asked. “You’re holding something back, I can tell.”

  “I wasn’t going to bring it up,” Mary Bliss said. “But he was wearing a diamond pinky ring. On his left hand. And the wedding band is gone.”

  “I took the damned wedding band away from him,” Katharine said, her voice unusually gravelly. “After I caught him with that slut. I damn near ripped his finger off with it. But this is the first I’ve heard of a pinky ring. Jesus! A pinky ring!”

  “You made me tell you,” Mary Bliss reminded her.

  “I know,” Katharine said, sighing. “What else? Is he gonna make all the arrangements?”

  “He said he will,” Mary Bliss said. “I’ve got to take all the insurance papers over to him. I’m gonna let him break the news to me that all but one has been cashed in. And he’ll file for the death benefits from the one insurance policy my aunt gave us.”

  “Good,” Katharine said. “And he didn’t act suspicious at all, did he?”

  “No,” Mary Bliss said. “He was really so sweet and thoughtful, Katharine. He even offered to take care of the funeral arrangements, which I was totally dreading. Honestly, sweetie, he’s too good a man to just throw away like this.”

  “He needs killing,” Katharine said. “He cheated on me, and he lied like a damn dog. He’s just lucky I didn’t tear his testicles off when I was taking back that wedding ring.”

  “But you’d take him back in a heartbeat, wouldn’t you? Tell the truth now.”

  “No effin’ way,” Katharine said. “Now could we please discuss your situation, and not mine? What did Charlie say about the funeral stuff?”

  “Fair Oaks First United Methodist. A small memorial service at the church, lunch afterwards in the church parlor.”

  “Very nice,” Katharine said. “I’m impressed. Did you come up with that?”

  “It was all his idea,” Mary Bliss said. “He’s gonna make some little gal a wonderful husband someday.”

  “I’m hanging up now,” Katharine said.

  And she did.

  36

  Organ music swelled sweetly around the flower-scented sanctuary. Fair Oaks First United Methodist Church was packed to the rafters. Mary Bliss sat in the front row, clasping Erin’s hand tight in hers. Erin stared straight ahead. On the other side of Erin, they’d placed Eula’s wheelchair in the aisle. She was half turned in the wheelchair, her head whipping back and forth as she watched people filing into the church, packing the old golden oak pews.

  Her eyes fixed on two teenaged girls in blue jeans and halter tops who seated themselves across the aisle. Mary Bliss recognized one of the girls as Erin’s friend Jessica.

  Eula glared at them with undisguised malice. “Well, I never,” the old lady said in a loud voice. “Pants at a church funeral. And titties flopping around for all the world to see. Right here in front of God and everybody.”

  “Meemaw,” Erin hissed. “Stop! They’ll hear you.”

  “Good,” Eula said, smacking her lips with satisfaction. “I’ve got a lot more they need to hear.”

  Katharine sat on the other side of Mary Bliss. “I thought you said she’d been sedated,” she whispered.

  Mary Bliss just shook her head. She’d spent most of the past two
days tussling and fussing with Eula and Erin, and she was so exhausted that her body ached. Up until an hour before the service was scheduled to begin, Erin had flatly refused to attend.

  “I’m not going,” she’d told her mother when informed of the arrangements. “I don’t believe in God. And Daddy hated funerals. You know he did. This whole thing’s a farce.”

  It had been Josh who’d changed Erin’s mind. He and Randy had come over to the house the night before. Josh had seen the desperation in Mary Bliss’s eyes as Erin held forth on the hypocrisy of organized religion, and how sick and twisted almost everybody in Fair Oaks was.

  “Look,” Josh had said, cleaning the lenses of his glasses on the hem of his shirt, “it’s something you do, okay? I mean, you know there’s no Santa Claus, but you still open presents on Christmas morning, right? And you know there’s no boogeyman hanging around on Halloween, but you still dress up and go to parties and trick-or-treat, right?”

  “I haven’t trick-or-treated since I was twelve,” Erin said, her lips pressed together in disapproval—or denial.

  “You know what I mean,” Josh said, persisting. “Like, when my granddad died, I didn’t want to go to that funeral. It was in this little church down in the boonies, and I didn’t know anybody, and it wasn’t even air-conditioned. But I went because my mom and my gramma wanted me to. And it wasn’t so bad.”

  Erin had rolled her eyes. “Not so bad? It’ll be a freak show!” But Friday morning, Erin had appeared in the kitchen, wearing makeup, a flowered sundress, and flip-flops.

  “I’m not changing my clothes,” she said defiantly when Mary Bliss greeted her.

  “I’m not asking you to,” Mary Bliss said. “I think you look very nice.” Secretly, she thought her daughter’s outfit more appropriate for a day at the beach, but at this point she was ready for any compromise that might keep the peace with her daughter.

  “And I’m not getting up and saying anything about Daddy,” Erin said. Her lower lip quivered. “It’s private. I won’t talk about him to all those freaky old people.”