Chapter 9: Old Hurts

Alice moved to follow her cousin, to go after the stolen necklace, only to have Aunt Christine step in her way. "How lovely of Claire to involve you," she said with the same false smile as her daughter. Before waving her hand in front of her face as though she'd caught the scent of something offensive. "A pity you won't be able to hold a party here prior to the dance."

Party? Alice almost laughed in her aunt's face. She didn't only because the unhappy frown Betty wore was much more interesting.

"Don't start again, please," Betty said, half turning to retreat after Claire, stopped by Aunt Christine's hand on her arm.

"Now, really," Alice's aunt said in a voice dripping honey, "wouldn't it just be easier to sell this old moldering wreck and move on with our lives?"

Anger returned in Alice's chest, but Betty was faster.

"That's enough." Maybe the house was affecting her mother, too. Alice almost hugged Betty for her sharp tone, sending Aunt Christine back a step with a soft gasp. "Momma took good care of this house." Alice bit her lower lip, refusing to correct her mother. Betty winced slightly, but her shoulders stayed straight, chin firm. "The structure of it anyway." Aunt Christine's face puckered into an unhappy mew while Betty went on. "She wanted it to stay in the family." Alice was startled to find her mother's fingers winding around her own and squeezed back. "So we're keeping it."

Alice almost grinned. Take that, auntie. Instead, she asked the question her mind had been working over since Betty told her they were moving to Louisiana.

"Why did Grandma leave the house to us?"

She might as well have stabbed them both with something sharp, the way they reacted. Aunt Christine hissed out a breath between her too-white teeth while Betty's hand twitched convulsively in Alice's.

"I surely don't know," Aunt Christine said, words sharp edged and crisp. "After all, I was the one here for her. Not Bets. Your momma left years ago and never came back." Aunt Christine's face hardened, a Barbie doll with attitude. "Isn't that right, sissy?"

Betty stiffened, pulling her hand free from Alice's before turning away from Aunt Christine. "You know perfectly well why I left this house," she said.

"Why?" Alice hadn't meant to ask the question, a breathless witness to the bitterness between the sisters. She was sure she'd only said the word in her head, but when both heraunt and her mother glared at her, Alice felt the spell break and knew she'd learned as much as she was going to.

Aunt Christine clomped down the stairs, her heels digging grooves into the worn steps as she thudded out her anger through her feet. Betty followed her, shoulders hunching forward again, closing off, the strong woman she'd been only moments before disappearing into the mother Alice was familiar with.

The one who let her sister and niece and everyone else on the planet push her around.

Claire stood at the door, texting on her sparkly pink phone, tapping one foot impatiently. It was very clear to Alice neither her aunt nor her cousin had come over to help clean. Just another attempt by Aunt Christine to gain control of the house.

Which made Alice wonder as Aunt Christine stomped through the front door, Claire muttering, "finally," as she followed her out. Betty firmly slammed the door behind them before turning to press her back against it while Alice silently mourned the loss of the necklace.

"Mom?" Alice reached for Betty, longing for the return of the woman she'd only glimpsed for a few minutes, knowing it was the mother she'd always longed for. "Why did you leave?"

Instead of answering, Betty shoved off and stormed down the hall into her office.

Alice followed, compelled despite knowing this wouldn't end well, needing information. To know her mother. Maybe if she understood better the woman who raised her, she could understand herself, too.

Alice paused at the office door, willing herself small as she watched her mother stare out the window, the light of the sun pouring in the window casting Betty in shadow.

She should have left it alone. Should have. But couldn't. "Mom?"

Betty spun around at the sound of Alice's voice. "I never want to hear you ask me that question again." Alice's heart slowed in despair. "Do you hear me?" Thud. Thud. "Do you, Alice Marie Blunt?" Betty was suddenly before her, gripping Alice's upper arms in her hands, shaking her. "Do you?"

The anger came back, pin pricks of temper, searing her flesh where her mother squeezed so tightly. Alice wrenched herself free, heart pounding now, the quiet of her hopelessness gone in a surge of rage. "You never tell me anything." Alice threw venom at her mother, the acid of it eating away at Betty visibly as Alice's anger boiled over. "Not about Dad, not about my grandmother. Nothing. Just shut up and be quiet, Alice. Don't ask questions, Alice. No one cares what you want or think, Alice." Black closed in around Alice's vision, tightening her focus on her mother who stepped back, mouth an "O" of shock. "Fine. If that's what you want, I'm done asking you for anything."

Alice turned, felt her mother's fingers brush over her sleeve, heard the intake of Betty's breath. Knew an apology was coming, blocked it out as she ran for the stairs. Betty called her name, mournful, tears in her voice, but Alice didn't care. She raced all the way down the dusty hall, threw open the door to her room and slammed it behind her, turning the small metal key to keep Betty out.

Alice threw herself on the bed, shaking and near to tears from her outburst. She'd never talked back to her mother before. It was easier to just keep her mouth shut and stay small and silent.

What was happening to her?

A part of her fumed Betty didn't come to her door, demand she come out and talk it over. Instead, silence. Alice curled up on her side, tears finally leaking from the corners of her eyes to wet the musty pillow case.

***