lord.” Bernadette shook her head.
“It were my job to clean up after Ma’s parties. There was always butts in the ashtrays and booze left in the glasses. Pills, too, sometimes.”
“Your mother didn’t know?”
Raelynn shrugged. “She gave me junk herself.” Then she frowned and looked into Bernadette’s eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, Mrs. Baker. None of that don’t excuse me for what I did.”
“I’m not saying Veronica was perfect. But she knew there were consequences for her behavior. So did Annamaria and Fin. I can’t count the number of times I had to ground one of them or take away their privileges.”
“That’s what good mothers are s’posed to do,” Raelynn said, “I wish…” She brought her hands up and covered her mouth as if holding back forbidden words.
Bernadette bit her bottom lip. Regis smiled at her. He looked satisfied. She heard the ticking of the clock on the wall and looked up at it, wondering where the time had gone.
“I know I should forgive you,” she said.
“I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”
“It’s not about what you deserve or don’t deserve. It’s about what I need.”
***
Still sitting on the edge of the bed, Bernadette rolled her shoulders and then stretched her arms above her head. When she had left Gatesville that day, she was convinced that things would never be the same again, that she had forgiven Raelynn Blackwell. But had she really? Right now, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure about anything.
“Is it even possible,” she said aloud, “when someone does something so brutal, so cruel? Is it even possible?”
“Who are you talking to?” It was Marty, coming into the room with a tray of food.
“Just thinking out loud.”
He put the tray down on the bed and rested his hand on her forehead as if checking for a fever.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Breakfast time for you. Dinnertime for the rest of the world.”
The smell of scrambled eggs and two pieces of buttered whole-wheat toast made her realize how famished she was. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten anything.
“Freshly brewed,” Marty said as he handed her a pottery mug shaped like a troll, her favorite, the one he bought her when they were first married. She cupped it in both hands, ran her fingers over the rough texture of the troll’s silly face on one side and its behind on the other. She ran her tongue over its rim before taking a sip of coffee.
“You had me worried, Bernie.”
“I was terrible to Fin,” she said.
“He understands. Eat. Before it gets cold.”
The eggs, tasting of goat cheese and fresh ground pepper, melted in her mouth. Smile lines crept across Marty’s face, and his shoulders relaxed a bit as he watched her take a bite of toast and a gulp of coffee.
“I keep going over it all in my head. Was it a sham, Marty? The way Raelynn Blackwell cried? Was all that an act? Wouldn’t Regis have known if it was?”
“Do you still think she knew what the governor was going to do?”
“What else would make her smile in the face of death like that? You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“Let’s just say it isn’t like you.” Marty smiled as he picked up the newspaper from the tray. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “It’s on the front page.”
She read the article in silence, stopping every once in a while to shake her head. When she was finished, she laid the newspaper down on her lap.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why didn’t Raelynn Blackwell tell me her lawyer sent a letter to the governor? Why would she keep that from me?”
TWELVE
It had only been a few days since the governor postponed the execution. Marty had warned Bernadette that it might be too soon, that she might not be ready just yet, but she couldn’t wait. She had to find out. From the passenger seat, she stared out the window and imagined herself dancing among the wild mustard and bluebonnets; soaring with a flock of indigenous
“It were my job to clean up after Ma’s parties. There was always butts in the ashtrays and booze left in the glasses. Pills, too, sometimes.”
“Your mother didn’t know?”
Raelynn shrugged. “She gave me junk herself.” Then she frowned and looked into Bernadette’s eyes. “Don’t get me wrong, Mrs. Baker. None of that don’t excuse me for what I did.”
“I’m not saying Veronica was perfect. But she knew there were consequences for her behavior. So did Annamaria and Fin. I can’t count the number of times I had to ground one of them or take away their privileges.”
“That’s what good mothers are s’posed to do,” Raelynn said, “I wish…” She brought her hands up and covered her mouth as if holding back forbidden words.
Bernadette bit her bottom lip. Regis smiled at her. He looked satisfied. She heard the ticking of the clock on the wall and looked up at it, wondering where the time had gone.
“I know I should forgive you,” she said.
“I don’t deserve your forgiveness.”
“It’s not about what you deserve or don’t deserve. It’s about what I need.”
***
Still sitting on the edge of the bed, Bernadette rolled her shoulders and then stretched her arms above her head. When she had left Gatesville that day, she was convinced that things would never be the same again, that she had forgiven Raelynn Blackwell. But had she really? Right now, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure about anything.
“Is it even possible,” she said aloud, “when someone does something so brutal, so cruel? Is it even possible?”
“Who are you talking to?” It was Marty, coming into the room with a tray of food.
“Just thinking out loud.”
He put the tray down on the bed and rested his hand on her forehead as if checking for a fever.
“What time is it?” she asked.
“Breakfast time for you. Dinnertime for the rest of the world.”
The smell of scrambled eggs and two pieces of buttered whole-wheat toast made her realize how famished she was. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten anything.
“Freshly brewed,” Marty said as he handed her a pottery mug shaped like a troll, her favorite, the one he bought her when they were first married. She cupped it in both hands, ran her fingers over the rough texture of the troll’s silly face on one side and its behind on the other. She ran her tongue over its rim before taking a sip of coffee.
“You had me worried, Bernie.”
“I was terrible to Fin,” she said.
“He understands. Eat. Before it gets cold.”
The eggs, tasting of goat cheese and fresh ground pepper, melted in her mouth. Smile lines crept across Marty’s face, and his shoulders relaxed a bit as he watched her take a bite of toast and a gulp of coffee.
“I keep going over it all in my head. Was it a sham, Marty? The way Raelynn Blackwell cried? Was all that an act? Wouldn’t Regis have known if it was?”
“Do you still think she knew what the governor was going to do?”
“What else would make her smile in the face of death like that? You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“Let’s just say it isn’t like you.” Marty smiled as he picked up the newspaper from the tray. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “It’s on the front page.”
She read the article in silence, stopping every once in a while to shake her head. When she was finished, she laid the newspaper down on her lap.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “Why didn’t Raelynn Blackwell tell me her lawyer sent a letter to the governor? Why would she keep that from me?”
TWELVE
It had only been a few days since the governor postponed the execution. Marty had warned Bernadette that it might be too soon, that she might not be ready just yet, but she couldn’t wait. She had to find out. From the passenger seat, she stared out the window and imagined herself dancing among the wild mustard and bluebonnets; soaring with a flock of indigenous
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