Lillie heard the need, the plaintive question in his voice, but she ignored it. “Pink,” she said, “you can calm down. I did not come here to persecute you. I have been trying to tell you that I think that I understand what you did. For whatever reasons, you felt that you couldn’t trust me with the truth—”
“It wasn’t that,” Pink bleated. “I wanted to spare you, Lillie. And I had to think of Grayson. Of his future.”
“Well, believe it or not, I love my son too. I don’t want to hurt him. Or you.”
Pink emitted a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. “But…” he said, as if prompting her next remark.
“But nothing,” she said quietly. “No buts. I’ve come back home to stay and we’ll keep this only to ourselves. Jordan has given me his word that he will not interfere. Or tell anyone.”
Pink looked at her in amazement and then his eyes narrowed. “I don’t buy that, Lillie. Why should he keep quiet? He’d love to get me.”
Lillie looked at him steadily. “Because I asked him to, and because he felt that he owed that to me. For past grievances, you might say.”
Pink looked at her skeptically, but she could see that he was starting to believe it.
“He’s on his way back to New York,” she said, and she was embarrassed by the note of regret in her own voice. “He’s probably already gone,” she added as briskly as she could.
“How do we know we can trust him?” Pink asked.
Lillie looked at him, her eyebrows raised as if in mild amazement at his question. “How do we know we can trust anybody really? We’ll just have to.”
Pink shook his head. “Oh, God, Lillie. I don’t know what to think.”
“What else can we do?” said Lillie. “We’ll go on.”
Pink looked up at her and for the first time there was a wisp of hope in his expression. “You’re not going to change your mind about this?”
“I already told you,” she said.
“I know,” Pink said hurriedly. “I know you did. I kind of wish I had told you everything in the first place. Then Jordan wouldn’t have gotten involved in this thing.” He tried his best not to put a sarcastic spin on Jordan’s name.
“Well,” Lillie said with a sigh. “I think we should make an effort to tell each other the truth from now on. I’ve had enough lies to last me a lifetime.”
“We will,” Pink said eagerly. “From now on.” He came over and crouched awkwardly beside her chair, resting a puffy hand on her knee. “And I’m sorry I did that to you,” he said, eyeing her bruised face. “I’ll never do that again. I swear it. Life is going to be better for us. For all of us, from now on.”
Lillie studied his earnest face sadly for a moment and then looked up as she heard the front door opening. Grayson walked in, his cheeks pink, his eyes almost feverishly bright. At the sight of his parents, he drew back tensely, like a cat in a corner. Pink clambered to his feet and beamed at him. “Grayson,” he called out. “Look who’s home!”
“Mom,” said Grayson, at once surprised and a little wary.
“Your mother finally sees that we did the right thing, son. About, you know, Tyler and so forth. So, she’s come back to us. The whole thing is settled.”
“Well, great,” said Grayson.
Lillie felt herself recoil from the way Pink had expressed it, but she did not correct him. Pink was cheerful and full of hope.
“What about Jordan Hill?” Grayson asked.
“He’s out of our lives,” Pink exulted. Then he added, more soberly, “He’s agreed that it’s none of his business and he is going to keep quiet about it. In fact, he’s gone back to New York.”
“Better late than never,” Grayson said brightly, the tension in his shoulders relaxing at Pink’s announcement. “Good going, Mom.”
Lillie tried to smile, but inside she was offended by their pleasure and approval. “I don’t think this is really something to be happy about,” she said stiffly. “Jordan didn’t want to let the matter drop. He just felt that our family had suffered enough.”
“Well, that was right decent of him, considering all the suffering he caused in this family in the first place.” Pink snorted.
“Pink, if you start again, I swear…” said Lillie.
“Oh, come on, you two,” Grayson said cheerfully. “Let’s just be glad he’s gone.”
“Amen to that,” said Pink. “The important thing is that Mom is home and everything is going to be all right again.”
“Yeah,” said Gray. “We can just forget this whole thing ever happened.”
Lillie was about to protest when the phone rang and everybody started. Then Grayson, who was closest to the telephone table, walked over and picked it up. He spoke for a second and then held the receiver out to Pink. “It’s for you. It’s Miz Nunley.”
“What does she want, for chrissakes?” said Pink. He walked over and took the phone from Grayson and started to speak to Reba.
Grayson and Lillie exchanged a glance, serene on Grayson’s side and grim on Lillie’s. Then the boy looked away.
“Oh, all right,” Pink said angrily. “But they better be serious. Calling me out this late on a Sunday…I was there half the day. They should have come by then. All right. All right.”
Pink slammed down the phone and went to the hall closet. He pulled out his sports jacket and shrugged it on over the velour shirt he was wearing.
“What is it?” Lillie asked.
“Oh, there’s this couple I showed a piece of property to a while back. They just showed up at the office wanting to look at it again. It’s practically dark. I don’t know how they expect to see anything. I wouldn’t even bother to go, but usually when they want to look a second time it means they’re serious. And we’re gonna need the money to send this kid to Harvard, right? I’ll be back soon.”
“Take your time,” said Lillie.
“Well, I hate to break up our reunion like this,” said Pink.
“I’ll be here when you get back,” Lillie replied.
“Attagirl,” Pink said. “Grayson, you help your mother get supper. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”
The door slammed behind him, and Lillie could hear Pink whistling as he trundled off to his car. She turned to Grayson. “I have something to say to you,” she announced brusquely.
Grayson looked at her with a boyish, bewildered look on his face. She could not deny to herself that she felt a desire to punish him. He can’t go around weeping forever, she thought. But she wondered how long it would be before she could look at him and not feel a lingering resentment toward him. “Look, Grayson,” she began calmly, “a lot has happened. I haven’t absorbed it all yet.”
Grayson studied the cuff of his shirt and tucked it back neatly into the rolled-up sleeve. “I know,” he said seriously.
“Just because I have decided to keep this within our family does not mean that this is all going to be forgotten and swept under the rug. Do you understand me?”
Grayson frowned and looked at her quizzically. “I thought you said everything was settled.”
“Well, yes. I suppose you could say…officially, it is settled. I mean, as far as the law is concerned with it. But that doesn’t change the fact that your sister was murdered. This is not something you just accept in a day. This family will never be the same after this.”
Grayson lifted his chin and brushed his blond hair back off his forehead. “I know that,” he said.
“Grayson, come here and sit down. I want to talk to you.”
Lillie sat down on the couch and Grayson, after a moment’s hesitation, sat down on the edge of the couch cushion. Lillie patted his knee and then clasped her hands together.
“Do you know that Tyler ran away from the Sentinel?” she asked.
Grayson combed through his hair with his fingers. “Yeah,” he said. “The sheriff called this morning.”
“Does that bother you?” she asked.
Grayson looked at her blankly. “No. Why should it?
”
Lillie tried to choose her words carefully. “Son, I know these last few months have been hard on you. Maybe harder on you than on anybody in a way. You had to keep a lot of things inside. I think you’ve probably got a lot of grief bottled up in there. Probably a lot of guilt over what happened. That would only be natural. And it does no good to pretend you don’t care. You can’t just ignore something like this. None of us can. It can just eat away at you after a while.”
Grayson shifted his weight and stared thoughtfully ahead of him. Lillie studied his face and wondered what was going on behind his eyes. It amazed her sometimes how little she knew him.
“Well, it seems like a long time ago that it happened,” he said at last. “I try not to think about it too much.”
“That’s what I’m saying, Gray. I think it’s better if we do think about it. And talk about it. Here, at home, I mean.”
Grayson looked at her a little suspiciously. “Well, we all know what happened. It doesn’t change anything to keep going over it. I thought we were going to start fresh around here.”
“We are,” Lillie said wearily. “That’s right.”
“Mom, I don’t mind talking about it if you want to,” he said in a conciliatory tone. “But I have some homework right now. Is it okay…?”
Lillie nodded and looked away from him. “Go ahead,” she said.
As he left the room she sank back against the sofa cushions. She was overcome again with that feeling of being alone. Stop it, she chided herself. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You have your second chance. Now make the best of it. Things are not going to change overnight. You’ll have to be patient and draw Grayson out. Earn his trust. Get him to tell you about it in time. He went through a great trauma, and he’s not used to confiding in you.
But at the moment, she did not feel strong or purposeful. She felt as if she’d been flayed, and everything stung. Guiltily, she thought again of Jordan, his grave eyes studying her, his dry hand hot on her own. Forget the past, she thought. Only the future matters. But a few tears escaped from her tired eyes as she sat there. For a minute she let them run down her face and then, when one drop made its way down her neck and beneath her collar, she reached down into her purse on the floor beside her and rummaged for a Kleenex.
As she sought the tissue her fingers fell on something cold, metallic, and unfamiliar in the depths of the leather satchel. Lillie reached in and pulled out a small pistol.
She stared at it for a second, completely baffled at how it might have gotten into her purse. Then, all at once, she remembered. Brenda had been telling her how she needed a gun. That was yesterday. It seemed like a year ago.
Lillie wiped off her tears with her fingers and smiled grimly. There was no need for this. Pink was contrite. It was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Still, for an instant she felt warmed, and a little less lonely, thinking about Brenda pigheadedly going ahead and stuffing that pistol in her purse, determined to protect her from afar. Maybe finding the gun was a little sign, through her sorrow, that she was cared for, that she was important to the ones who loved her.
With a sigh, Lillie stood up and carried the gun over to the mantelpiece, where she laid it down among the framed photographs. It was almost as if she wanted to keep it out of the reach of children, even though there were no little ones around to be endangered by it. I’ll return it to her tomorrow, Lillie thought. I’m sure she’ll give me a right good scolding for bringing it back. Lillie smiled. What else were friends for?
Chapter 26
“YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THAT, SON,” Bessie Hill protested as Jordan picked up a dishtowel and began to dry the dishes from their supper. “You just relax. You’ve had a long day.”
“We’ll do these up quick and we can both relax,” he said. He had told his mother very little about his unexpected visit here. He had said only that Lillie had asked him to come and look into something for her but that it had not amounted to anything. Bessie could tell that he was keeping things to himself, but she did not ask him too many questions, for which he was grateful.
Bessie put a hand, damp from the dishwater, on his forearm and squeezed it. “I wish you didn’t have to go back tonight,” she said. “Couldn’t you wait and go in the morning?’
Jordan smiled at her. “I wish I could,” he said, “but I’ve got an early call.”
Bessie resumed her dishes quietly for a moment while Jordan moved around the kitchen, putting up the plates and bowls he had dried. “Don’t look so glum,” he said to her. “I’ll be back before long.”
“Well, your idea of long and mine are two different things,” she said a little reproachfully.
He knew what she said was true. He had not always been the most reliable of visitors. It was not until the last few years, when he began to realize how much he looked forward to his own child’s visits, that he had revised his ways and become a bit more attentive as a son. “I know, Mama,” he said. “But my intentions are always good.”
“Well, you’re mighty busy with the show,” she said. “I know that.”
“Don’t be so understanding,” Jordan teased her.
“I know you mean well,” Bessie said, lifting up a plate to rinse it.
Jordan wiped up a spot on the counter with the dishtowel and gave his mother a sidelong glance. “You always gave me the benefit of the doubt.”
“Well, I tried to,” she said.
“It mustn’t have been easy sometimes,” he murmured.
Bessie nodded. “There were times…”
“Like when I left Lillie and the baby,” said Jordan.
Bessie stopped her rinsing and cocked her head to one side, remembering. “I guess that was the time I was the most upset with you. Yes. I don’t mind saying that it hurt me quite a lot. I was deeply disappointed in you.”
“Yeah,” he said, “but when I got to New York you sent me little checks, and socks and care packages. And you called me.”
“Well, of course I did/’ said Bessie. “I love you. I was worried about you. What happened with Lillie didn’t change that. Besides, I felt like you must have had a good reason for what you did. I figured they were better off with you leaving than with you staying and resenting them both every minute of your life. People do sometimes have to fulfill their destiny or whatever.”
“What if I just did it to be rotten?” he said.
“But you wouldn’t do that,” she said simply. “I know you.”
Bessie took the towel from him and wiped her hands. “I just always thought it was sad because she was really the right girl for you. Very few people get a second chance to have a love like that.”
He met her eyes and acknowledged the truth of what she said. “That’s for sure.”
“Well, it’s chilly tonight,” she said. “I’m going to get me a sweater.”
“You want me to fetch it?” he asked.
“You don’t know which one I want,” she said, gently moving him aside and heading for her bedroom.
Jordan smiled at her and then walked over toward the porch. The night had fallen, quiet and starry, and he marveled at the peaceful self-absorption of his old hometown. He remembered how stifling it had once seemed here. He had imagined the world to be such a beautiful place away from here. And it had been beautiful, he thought. But not better.
Bessie came back into the living room, sat down at her end of the couch, and picked up her half-glasses from the end table. She opened the newspaper and began to look it over.
Jordan turned away from the door. “There’s somebody I have to see before I leave.”
Bessie looked at him questioningly, but he just bent over and kissed her cheek. “I won’t be long,” he said. “I want to leave here for Nashville by eight o’clock.”
Jordan was surprised at how easy it was for him to find Royce Ansley’s house. It was eighteen years since he had been there last, and then it was only a couple of visits. But those visits had made a deep impression on him. It was here, in this house, that h
e had first gotten the idea that he was special, talented, and that he might find fame and fortune in the world. He had walked out of the door of this house with stars in his eyes. Now he pounded on the dry wood of the door and a splinter gouged his fist.
No one answered, and the house was dark inside. Royce’s car was not even in the driveway. Jordan stood on the step for a minute but there was no sign of life. He got back into his rental car and drove to the center of town, parking in the square. It didn’t seem likely that Royce would be at work on a Sunday night, but then again, criminals didn’t confine their activities to weekday, nine-to-five hours, he reasoned. Jordan ran up the courthouse steps and tried the massive double doors, but they were locked. There were a couple of side doors to the building and Jordan went around to each of them, figuring Royce would have his own set of keys, but the whole building appeared to be closed up tight.
He decided that his best bet was to head over to the county jail. That was never closed for business, and they would surely know where to locate the sheriff. Jordan crossed the quiet square toward the jailhouse building. Bomar Flood was just locking up the dark pharmacy while a woman customer thanked the old druggist profusely for opening up on a Sunday night.
“A person’s got to have their insulin,” said Bomar, dismissing her gratitude.
“Hello, Bomar,” Jordan said.
The old pharmacist looked around and could barely conceal his surprise. “Well, hello there, Jordan. What brings you back to town?”
“I’m looking for Royce Ansley,” Jordan said. “He’s not home and he’s not in his office. I thought I’d head over to the jail and check there.”
Bomar tried not to appear too curious, although he seemed to be mulling over more than Royce’s whereabouts. “Let’s see,” he said. “Well, it’s Sunday night. He’s probably over at the Winchester Hotel. He has supper over there every Sunday night. He has done for years.”
“Thanks,” said Jordan.
“You know where that is?”
“Sure do. Much obliged.”
Bomar watched him intently as he got back in his car and pulled out. Jordan figured this would give Bomar and his wife, Charlotte, fodder for a whole evening’s conversation. Jordan drove through town, across the railroad tracks, and up the hill to the Winchester Hotel. It was a grand old Southern hotel, once the pride of the county, that had endured some lean years. A three-story brick building with a white balcony and a columned porch, the old hotel had limped along through Jordan’s boyhood, but then a young couple from Atlanta had bought it several years back and had slowly restored it to its former genteel charm. Jordan had never eaten there under the new ownership, but his mother always asserted that it had the finest green beans and squash pie in the county.
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