Jane

Sit down, son.” I can’t bear to look him in the eye. I should have told him the minute I came to this forsaken city.

“I don’t want to sit down, if you don’t mind. I just want the truth, and no more partial truths or half-truths or anything else resembling a lie. I want the truth. You even told Ron’s little trophy wife more of the truth than you told your own son.” He shakes his head, the treasonous thoughts on the tip of his tongue. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We were in Mexico, for one thing. I never married your father, and the Catholics didn’t take kindly to that back in the day. You went to Catholic school. It was bad enough you were a gringo from a broken home.”

“That explains why you didn’t tell others. It doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me.”

“Ron sent us money while we got on our feet. He always wanted us to come back, but we weren’t compatible, Ron and me. I had nothing but contempt for him, and every time I looked at him, I saw this pale shadow of your father. The man I did love. You shared Ron’s name, and I didn’t want to explain that you were his brother’s child. What would you have thought of me?”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have understood at eight, but at some point, I got old enough to understand the truth.”

“And by then, I’d been telling the lie so long, I was far more comfortable with it than the truth. I knew Ron would remember you in his will, so as far as I was concerned, I did what was best for you.”

“When did I ever care about money?”

“It was what I could do for you, Ronnie. I wanted to do what I could. I knew if I ever got into financial trouble, Ron would be there as long as the lie was there. But Ron lost heart in the end. He found God and wanted me to come clean about everything. He wanted me to bring you here to meet your father in jail. When you moved here, I thought certain he’d find you, but I guess his trophy wife kept him busy enough. That and the bouts with alcohol.”

“I want to know it all. From the beginning.” He’s still pacing, his brawny arms clasped together behind his back.

“Ron had a brother. He had two brothers. The younger one was killed by a police officer that night.”

“What night?”

“Let me finish. Ron and Mitch. They had a little brother. Tommy. He was always in some sort of trouble with the law. One night, he got high on something and took a gun. He said someone owed him money at the pawnshop, and he was going to get what was his. Well, a pawnshop is no place to take a gun, let me say that first. It wasn’t like it is today, where you just get money on credit so easily. If you didn’t have the money back then, it was all-encompassing; you didn’t gas up your car and you didn’t get to work.”

“Spare me the trip down American nostalgia lane and stick with the facts.”

His coldness hurts, but I want this over as quickly as possible. Like ripping off a band-aid. “The pawnshop owner didn’t unlock the door, so Tommy never made it inside. The police showed up, and Mitch—that’s Ron’s brother and your father—stayed to talk some sense into Tommy. He never thought his little brother had bullets in the gun or that he’d shoot. But he did. He shot a policeman dead. The policeman’s partner, in turn, shot Tommy dead. Mitch witnessed the whole thing.” Jane looks to me. “Ron ran before any of the shooting occurred, convinced that Mitch could talk Tommy down, and it would end well. He’d always done it before.”

“But he didn’t.”

“No, he didn’t. Tommy was killed, and Mitch was there for the death of a police officer. He’d known why Tommy had gone down to the pawnshop, and that was all it took to convict.”

“That doesn’t explain why you married his brother, Mom. You were supposedly in love with this guy.”

“Ron convinced me that we could raise you, and Mitch would be out soon when his conviction was overturned, and everything would be fine. Just without Tommy.”

“How long did we live with Ron?”

“Do you remember him?”

“Not at all,” he tells me.

“You were almost three when we left. I tried to stay for your sake, I really did, but the longer we were there, the more Ron seemed to forget that Mitch ever existed. The more he seemed to see you as his son and me as his wife. I’d already betrayed Mitch once. I couldn’t do it every single day of my life. Believe it or not, we left because I couldn’t pretend anymore.”

“So why not tell me the truth at some point?”

“Mitch never returned my letters. He never commented on the pictures I sent. I assumed at some point, he couldn’t forgive us, so we just went on with life. That’s what you do, Ronnie, you just go on with life. Ron obviously wanted to make it up to us. His will was his way of doing that. Bringing me back here was in a sense giving me back to his brother.”

He steels himself and crosses his arm. “Thanks for the truth. Goodnight, Mother.”

“Ronnie, don’t go just now!” I run behind him and grab his arm, but he shakes me off.

“I need some time.” He pulls open the door, and outside, the police officer and Mitch are still talking, shooting the breeze as if my whole life hasn’t unraveled in the last thirty minutes.

Mitch smiles and puts out his hand. “Ronnie.”

Ronnie takes his hand and the two of them embrace. The moment is not lost on me—that and the irony that I should be the one left out of the beautiful reunion. I slowly let the door close and leave father to son.

“My life is in ruins,” I tell Bette as she comes down the stairs.

“So is Lindsay’s. Maybe the two of you could help each other. I’m going to get home. Lindsay’s just found out her mother has lost her memory, and she’s pretty upset. I think this is a time for the two of you to come together.”

“You’re leaving?” I ask incredulously. “Isn’t this the sort of thing you do, Bette? Make people feel better when their lives fall apart?”

“I’ve found God puts us where He wants us. Sometimes that place is very uncomfortable, but until we change our behavior, we stay there. Sometimes, even after we change our behavior, there are consequences. You girls can work this out and be there for each other.”

“You’re saying this is some sort of divine grounding?”

“I’m saying that when we don’t let our kids be who they are, we’re the ones who suffer. I speak from experience. Your life isn’t in ruins, as you might think. It’s always darkest before the dawn.”

I need a cliché right now? “I signed my life away to get my son that money.”

“He never asked you to do that. I’ll call you in the morning.” Bette stops at the door when she sees Lindsay come out of the kitchen, her face red and puffy.

It’s clear she’s been crying, and I feel a pang of guilt at the sight of her. She has a pink suitcase in her hand. It’s clearly expensive leather, and it’s never been used. It’s as pristine as the day she brought it home from the store. “What are you doing with that?”

“I’m going on vacation. I need a vacation.”

“Lindsay, this is your house. You need a vacation from me, and I’m leaving.”

“I’ve already booked a cruise. I’m leaving in the morning from the Long Beach pier, sleeping at a little hole-in-the-wall hotel so I don’t have to get up too early. I need a little sunshine and buffet-style eating, and I’ll be fine. It’s what my mother might have done. I wish I’d given her the opportunity to come with me a few years back.”

“A cruise?” Bette says. “Lindsay, by yourself?”

“Why not? I never do anything by myself; it will be good practice. What trouble can I get into on a boat?”

“What trouble, indeed?”

Lindsay purses her lips. “Well, if I do get in trouble, you’ll never hear about it. Look at it that way. What happens on the boat, stays on the boat. I promise not to fall off. That’s the only trouble you usually hear about.”

“I’m sorry about your mother, Lindsay.”

“Thank you.”

Bette makes her way to the front door and holds her hand up in a wave good-bye.

“Tell Haley not to worry, Bette. I’ll call her. I have everything for the wedding shower under control. Promise!” She pulls her bag behind her and walks out the door before Bette has had a chance to leave.

“Father in Heaven, I will be in deep prayer for Lindsay.” Bette stands with her eyes closed.

“Why do you say that?”

“Trouble follows her. She’s going to have more than that pink bag tailing her.”

“Lindsay will be fine.” She’s a scrappy little thing, and the good news is she’s out of my son’s life for good now. I can only pray that I’m not.