what?” I asked, licking my lips after another swallow of Dom, then setting aside my glass.
“Her mother died when she was ten, and her father practically abandoned her on the chicken farm. He’d go on benders, hit the road and not come back for weeks at a time. A few of the neighbors felt sorry for her, tried to help out. Gave her feed for the fowl, left her casseroles and hand-me-downs.”
Though I’d heard about the loss of her mother, the rest was certainly a chapter of Marilee’s life I hadn’t been privy to, and I wondered if growing up so quickly is what had turned the woman into such a control freak.
“Her father left her to fend for herself when she was ten?” I felt a lump in my throat just thinking about it. “Didn’t anyone bother to call in social services?”
Janet waved dismissively. “Oh, hell, Andy, that was back in the early sixties, and we’re talking a rural community. Stybr, Texas. A teensy-weensy bump in the road between Tyler and Longview. The kind of place that still had a one-room schoolhouse until about five years ago. Sometimes the village did raise the child in those days, or close to it. I found one of Marilee’s old teachers—and I mean old —and she told me the girl showed up for class like clockwork until she was sixteen. So she wasn’t truant. Though she did disappear for a spell before she was set to graduate. I’m still digging into that. By then, her daddy had lost the farm to taxes and no one’s sure where she went. I heard she lived with an aunt, taking care of the woman during an illness, before she went back to Stybr long enough to finish school so she could get into college and get out for good.”
I realized suddenly how little I really knew about Marilee Mabry, and I wondered if Mother was even privy to the whole sordid story.
The idea that Marilee had been left to raise herself—off and on—when she wasn’t yet a teenager, amazed me. I couldn’t imagine being alone at that age, not for a day much less for weeks at a time. I thought of how she must have felt, frightened and more than a little lost. Maybe even unloved.
“Her father’s long since passed away, and so have many of the neighboring farmers who’d known Marilee Haggerty when she was a kid. Most of her peers have taken off, too, but I’ve been able to dig up a few old-timers, and the one teacher who remembers her. But I’m not having much luck tracking down her aunt.”
“Why don’t you confront Marilee? Could be the reason no one knows about where she went is because no one’s ever asked her.”
Janet nearly spit out a mouthful of fish eggs. “Confront Marilee? Hmm. Maybe I’ll just douse myself in lighter fluid and throw myself on the grill at Burger King. It’d be a lot less painful.”
“She wouldn’t tell you, would she?”
Janet sighed. “No, dammit. I’d naively assumed she’d scratch my back since I’ve been scratching hers for the past few years, putting her name in my column until it became a household word, at least in this city. Oh, she’ll be sweet as pie to me if I ask about her show or her books, but if I try to dig too deep into her past, I’m hearing a dial tone just like that”—she snapped her fingers, the tips painted the same bright orange shade as her pants suit. “She could’ve made something up, and I wouldn’t have questioned her. Now she’s got me wondering what she’s hiding.”
“Hmm,” I said, because it did seem odd that Marilee would turn down free press, especially with The Sweet Life so soon to premiere in the national arena. “I’d imagine she’d like the ink, even if it had to do with her less-than-perfect childhood. Really, what could a teenaged girl have done thirty years ago that was such a big deal?”
“I have my theories, and I aim to find out if I’m on the money. Then she’ll be sorry for the kind of ink I’m gonna give her,” Janet murmured and turned away, becoming extremely interested in the
“Her mother died when she was ten, and her father practically abandoned her on the chicken farm. He’d go on benders, hit the road and not come back for weeks at a time. A few of the neighbors felt sorry for her, tried to help out. Gave her feed for the fowl, left her casseroles and hand-me-downs.”
Though I’d heard about the loss of her mother, the rest was certainly a chapter of Marilee’s life I hadn’t been privy to, and I wondered if growing up so quickly is what had turned the woman into such a control freak.
“Her father left her to fend for herself when she was ten?” I felt a lump in my throat just thinking about it. “Didn’t anyone bother to call in social services?”
Janet waved dismissively. “Oh, hell, Andy, that was back in the early sixties, and we’re talking a rural community. Stybr, Texas. A teensy-weensy bump in the road between Tyler and Longview. The kind of place that still had a one-room schoolhouse until about five years ago. Sometimes the village did raise the child in those days, or close to it. I found one of Marilee’s old teachers—and I mean old —and she told me the girl showed up for class like clockwork until she was sixteen. So she wasn’t truant. Though she did disappear for a spell before she was set to graduate. I’m still digging into that. By then, her daddy had lost the farm to taxes and no one’s sure where she went. I heard she lived with an aunt, taking care of the woman during an illness, before she went back to Stybr long enough to finish school so she could get into college and get out for good.”
I realized suddenly how little I really knew about Marilee Mabry, and I wondered if Mother was even privy to the whole sordid story.
The idea that Marilee had been left to raise herself—off and on—when she wasn’t yet a teenager, amazed me. I couldn’t imagine being alone at that age, not for a day much less for weeks at a time. I thought of how she must have felt, frightened and more than a little lost. Maybe even unloved.
“Her father’s long since passed away, and so have many of the neighboring farmers who’d known Marilee Haggerty when she was a kid. Most of her peers have taken off, too, but I’ve been able to dig up a few old-timers, and the one teacher who remembers her. But I’m not having much luck tracking down her aunt.”
“Why don’t you confront Marilee? Could be the reason no one knows about where she went is because no one’s ever asked her.”
Janet nearly spit out a mouthful of fish eggs. “Confront Marilee? Hmm. Maybe I’ll just douse myself in lighter fluid and throw myself on the grill at Burger King. It’d be a lot less painful.”
“She wouldn’t tell you, would she?”
Janet sighed. “No, dammit. I’d naively assumed she’d scratch my back since I’ve been scratching hers for the past few years, putting her name in my column until it became a household word, at least in this city. Oh, she’ll be sweet as pie to me if I ask about her show or her books, but if I try to dig too deep into her past, I’m hearing a dial tone just like that”—she snapped her fingers, the tips painted the same bright orange shade as her pants suit. “She could’ve made something up, and I wouldn’t have questioned her. Now she’s got me wondering what she’s hiding.”
“Hmm,” I said, because it did seem odd that Marilee would turn down free press, especially with The Sweet Life so soon to premiere in the national arena. “I’d imagine she’d like the ink, even if it had to do with her less-than-perfect childhood. Really, what could a teenaged girl have done thirty years ago that was such a big deal?”
“I have my theories, and I aim to find out if I’m on the money. Then she’ll be sorry for the kind of ink I’m gonna give her,” Janet murmured and turned away, becoming extremely interested in the
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