Frowning, looking around for Marcie, Juliet set her satchel on the counter. “Hi, imp, what’s up? I thought you and Aunt Marcie were going to the pool.”
Since Marcie’s schedule allowed her to be home fairly often during the afternoon, Juliet had bought a family membership to a community center with an outdoor pool.
“We were.” Juliet couldn’t tell if Mary Jane was hurt or angry, but something was obviously wrong.
“So what happened?”
“I didn’t want to go.”
Heart sinking, Juliet sat down opposite her daughter, reaching over to brush the curls behind her ears and watching as they sprang right back. Would Blake’s hair be as curly if he allowed it to grow?
“How come?” she asked gently. “You love to swim.”
“Because.”
Mary Jane stared glumly at the table.
“Where’s Aunt Marcie?”
“In her room.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to see her ever again.”
Juliet drew in a deep breath. Let it out slowly. She’d made it through almost a whole month without the constant panic and tension that had been riding her since Mary Jane had begged not to return to school number two after the Christmas holidays.
She’d complained that the school had had too many dumb rules. And Juliet had had to agree with her. But still…
“Why are you mad at Aunt Marcie?”
Please let this be something simple. Like Marcie eating the last chocolate snack cake.
Not that Mary Jane had ever let something like that upset her.
“She lied.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
OKAY, SO IT WAS a miscommunication. That was relatively easy to fix. As soon as her daughter told her the whole story, she could bridge the gap in her understanding.
“To you?” Juliet waited for the nod.
Mary Jane looked up, her eyes filled with anger. “To you.”
“Sweetie, Marcie didn’t lie to me. We made a pact when we were young that we’d never lie to each other and we never have. Even when telling the truth has been hard and we’ve hurt each other’s feelings.”
Mary Jane’s chin jutted forward. “She lied to you, Mom. I know she did. I heard her.”
She’d never seen Mary Jane so angry and hurt and scared all at once.
“When?”
The little girl’s eyes glistened. “When she told you she wasn’t talking to Hank. He calls here.”
Smiling gently, Juliet breathed a sigh of relief. “He calls, sweetie, but Aunt Marcie doesn’t talk to him.”
Marcie had told Hank that she’d call him when the baby was born and that she didn’t want to talk to him until then. Juliet suspected that her sister was afraid she’d give in and go home to Maple Grove if Hank pressured her hard enough. Hank, who was turning out to be surprisingly determined, still called.
Where had all that determination been for the past fifteen years when Marce had sat home night after night, unhappy and going nowhere?
She watched for the doubt to enter her daughter’s eyes, indicating that Mary Jane was considering another view than the one she’d held, followed by tentative hope and peace. She’d seen it happen many, many times in the little girl’s life.
Mary Jane’s arms were still clutched tightly to her chest, and her eyes remained hard, her expression adamant. “That’s what she’s telling you, Mom, that she’s not talking to him, but she’s lying.”
Juliet didn’t understand. Mary Jane had always been such a reasonable child. Even during her twos, when there were supposed to have been horrible tantrums, she’d usually been able to reason with the little girl.
“Did you hear Hank on the answering machine? Did he say something that makes you think Marcie’s talked to him?” Words to which Mary Jane had given wrong meaning?
It’s not that she doubted her sister for a second. She just wanted to fix whatever misconception Mary Jane was operating under.
The little girl shook her head, her full, angelic cheeks thinned with displeasure. “I heard her talking to him. And it wasn’t the first time, either, because she asked about something he’d told her a few days ago.”
It hadn’t been Hank. Marcie would have told Juliet about that. “Maybe it was Tammy. Or one of the other ladies she knew in Maple Grove.”
“She said our baby, Mom.” Mary Jane’s voice dripped with unfamiliar condescension.
The little girl was positive she was right and growing more frustrated with Juliet by the second, giving Juliet her first doubts.
“You shouldn’t have been listening to Aunt Marcie’s private conversations, honey.”
“She said that she was thinking about his questions,” the little girl continued, ignoring her mother’s admonition.
Questions?
“And that she really liked her job, but that it wasn’t like the shop. She missed her ladies and all the talk. And she asked about his mom and the hardware store and then—”
“Okay,” Juliet cut her off. Marcie had been talking to Hank. The rest of this she’d handle with her twin. “Enough. This isn’t any of your business.”
“Yes it is. She saw me.”
“She caught you eavesdropping?”
“No.” Mary Jane’s legs swung harder under the table. “She thought I was outside on the beach and she was hiding in the pantry talking really soft and I came in to get some bread to feed the seagulls and when I pulled open the door she saw me.”
“Does she know you’re mad at her?”
Mary Jane nodded.
Something else occurred to Juliet. “You heard all that just when you pulled open the pantry door?”
Mary Jane turned her head.
“Look at me, young lady.”
It took a long second before the child moved her head around, her eyes worried as they met her mother’s gaze.
Juliet didn’t say anything. She just waited.
“I got kinda scared when I came in and Aunt Marcie was talking in the pantry. I was afraid she was talking about me. Maybe to you. So I listened.”
“Eavesdropping is wrong.”
“I know.” Mary Jane’s full lower lip started to tremble.
Some pretty strong motivation must have propelled the little girl across that line.
“What on earth would Marcie and I have to talk about that would be so secret?”
“I don’t know.”
With a slight tilt of her head, Juliet silently gave the child a second chance to tell the truth.
“Blake.”
Oh. So all wasn’t as merry as she’d let herself think. On some level, she’d probably known that. Juliet never had been much of a Pollyanna.
“Mary Jane, you know I don’t keep things from you, especially when they’re about you. I’ve always been open with you.”
The child’s chin softened and sank to her chest. “I