Chapter 31 Lorna Now
Grief work.
She had never wanted to rip out someone’s ribbons like she did the moment Micah said that.
Just when she was wondering how she’d carry on without Micah’s help, he had to go say that.
Who did he think he was kidding? Lorna had been to therapists, she had talked about her mother’s death, she was versed in the basic tenets of depression and grief and so on and on and on.
Grief was not her problem. Grief implied she had lost something, but really, she was getting herself back.
Then why did his proclamation make her so angry? Was that proof she was grieving? Why else would she fill with rage?
She shook her head. She was going to get Nana’s house back, and when she did, she would be whole again.
She would be the Lorna she was supposed to be, the Lorna she was before everything went so terribly wrong.
She was not grieving. And she would simply ignore the alarming feeling that even having Nana’s house back wouldn’t be the right panacea for what was ailing her.
She would not entertain the idea that her plan wasn’t the right one.
Nope, she was not going to change her mind. It had been made up for too long.
Bean dragged a bucket of plastic building blocks to Lorna’s apartment that afternoon. “I’m building some houses for the villages,” he announced. He set up his construction zone on the living room floor, admonishing Aggie when she picked up pieces and chewed on them.
Perhaps Lorna should have been more concerned about Aggie eating small plastic pieces, but she was engrossed in the search for Mrs. Tracy.
Unfortunately, her memory was failing her.
She couldn’t remember Mrs. Tracy’s first name anymore.
There were several people with the Tracy surname scattered around town.
What she could recall was that Nicole was from somewhere near Central Austin.
She remembered driving by Nicole’s family house in those nights after the accident, tears clouding her vision.
It was possible the family had moved, but that didn’t stop her. She made a list of the Tracy addresses, putting the ones in Central Austin at the top. “Hey, Bean. Grab your explorer gear.”
He looked up from his construction. “Where are we going?”
“To find a family I used to know.”
“Will there be dessert? I still haven’t decided what I’m going to bake.”
She smiled with great fondness at the kid. “We’ll find one.”
Lorna fed Aggie while Bean picked up his building pieces. They left the dog with a Nylabone and headed out. Bean had his map, his compass, his explorer hat, and, today, a watch. “Dad got it for me,” he explained. “It has the temperature, and also you can see how many steps you take.”
The first address they drove to was a house with white siding and a green metal roof, surrounded by an overgrown lawn that sported some overturned lawn chairs. Lorna remembered a brick house and a neatly kept lawn. “This isn’t it.”
Bean pulled out a pair of child’s binoculars from his backpack and surveyed the house and yard. “There are papers stuck in the door.”
“Flyers,” Lorna said. “I don’t think anyone is home.”
“No,” Bean agreed. He took out his disposable camera and snapped a picture of the house. “I’ll put this in our field notes,” he said.
They headed to the second address. This one was in East Austin, in a modest neighborhood marked by redbrick houses and neatly trimmed yards. It had a porch swing, and something about that swing niggled Lorna’s memory. She vaguely recalled—
“ Stop! ” Bean shrieked.
Lorna hit the brakes. “What?” she cried.
“There’s a puppy !”
“I hit a puppy ?” Horror sluiced through Lorna, but Bean didn’t answer—he’d flung open the door and was out before she could stop him.
“Bean! Wait!” she said, but Bean was at the fence. “Can I pet your puppy?” he shouted.
Lorna got out of the car to stop him from accosting anyone and saw the woman sitting on a blanket under an oak tree. A black Lab puppy was on the edge of the blanket, gnawing on a stick.
There was Mrs. Tracy. She was probably in her seventies now, but she hopped to her feet without a problem and gestured for Bean to come through the gate.
Bean eagerly went in, careful to shut the gate behind him.
He spoke to Mrs. Tracy, then dipped down to meet the excited puppy.
It instantly abandoned its stick in favor of the boy.
Mrs. Tracy smiled down at the pair, then looked across the yard to Lorna, whose gut turned over on itself. She tried to smile back, tried not to look like she would vomit at any moment as she walked up to the fence. “Hi,” she said.
“Hello,” Mrs. Tracy said. “Your son must love dogs.”
“Oh, he’s...” She didn’t need to explain Bean. “Umm... could I come in?” she asked.
“I beg your pardon, I should have invited you,” Mrs. Tracy said, and opened the gate. She was hardly looking at Lorna; her gaze was fixed on Bean and the puppy. Bean was running in circles, and the puppy was nipping at his heels, barking. Bean laughed.
“I should... I should introduce myself,” Lorna said. How did one go about meeting the mother of the woman your sister killed? She realized she wasn’t quite prepared.
Mrs. Tracy turned back. She had deep lines around her eyes and mouth. But she was still smiling.
“I’m Lorna Lott.”
The name apparently didn’t register, because Mrs. Tracy said, “I’m Karen Tracy. Do you live nearby?”
“No. Umm...” Her heart was racing. “I know who you are, Mrs. Tracy.”
Mrs. Tracy’s smile faltered. She looked at Bean, as if she suspected some nefarious plot to kidnap her dog.
“We’re fine— he’s fine. He’s innocent. I’m Kristen Lott’s sister. She was... with Nicole...”
She couldn’t say it, but she didn’t have to. Mrs. Tracy’s expression morphed into instant grief. That was grief, Micah. Pure, unadulterated grief.
“I don’t understand,” Mrs. Tracy said.
“I would like to apologize.”
“For what?”
“For my sister.”
Behind Mrs. Tracy, Bean squealed with delight. He was on his back, and the wiggling, excited puppy was crawling all over him.
Mrs. Tracy was staring hard at Lorna. “What is this all about? My daughter died years ago, and I would rather not relive it. I don’t know anything about your sister.”
“That’s what—”
“Do you think that even after all these years, I can talk about it without feeling terrible pain? Because I can’t. I think about her every day. So whatever you think you need to say, I don’t want to hear it.”
Mrs. Tracy’s grief was rolling off her in waves that hit Lorna hard. She felt unsteady because she knew that sort of grief. She had felt it at her core. “My sister was with—”
“Then I am very sorry. But my daughter was driving and on drugs. I never knew she did drugs, not until the toxicology report came back and said she had meth in her blood! Nicole! On meth! That girl never did anything wrong in her life, but what do I know? What did I really know about my daughter? People don’t just do meth. ”
Bean had stopped playing with the puppy and was watching the two of them with concern while the puppy latched onto his pant leg and began to growl and pull in a tug-of-war.
“That’s what I’m trying to say, just very badly.
She didn’t do drugs, Mrs. Tracy; I feel confident she didn’t.
I knew her all through college and she never did anything like that.
But my sister did. My sister is an addict, and she was in that car, and I’m certain she talked them into taking the meth.
She probably talked them into driving her to get it.
She might have even talked them into paying for it, because she didn’t make a lot of money. ”
Mrs. Tracy’s mouth fell open.
“I am so sorry. For your unconscionable loss and my sister’s part in it. It’s been eating away at me since—”
“Why did no one tell me?” Mrs. Tracy cried angrily.
“I don’t... I don’t know,” Lorna lied. She hadn’t because both Mom and Kristen had told her to leave it alone, that nothing would bring Nicole back.
“But her family deserves to know,” Lorna had argued.
“Are you trying to get your sister arrested?” her mother had fired back.
“I’m trying to tell the truth,” Lorna had said weakly.
Mrs. Tracy suddenly burst into tears. Bean leaped to his feet and came forward. He grabbed Mrs. Tracy’s hand. “Don’t cry,” he said.
Mrs. Tracy swiped at her face. “Is that really true?” she asked Lorna. “Or is this some sick joke?”
“No!” Lorna shook her head. “It’s true. I wanted to tell you then, but my mother was worried about my sister. That she would be... held accountable.” She swallowed down a lump of shame.
Mrs. Tracy looked heavenward. “I’ve always resented the two girls who lived.
” She dipped down, picked up the chewed plastic piece of some toy, and threw it.
The puppy chased after it. “It wasn’t fair that they got to live but Nicole had to die.
And now you’re telling me one of them gave her the drugs? ”
“If it’s any consolation, my sister never really lived after that either,” Lorna said softly. It had been the beginning of the end, really. Kristen fell off her wagon and never got back on.
Mrs. Tracy snorted. “That is no consolation. It’s infuriating.
Because she is still alive.” Her tears started again.
“Why did you come here? Why did you have to bring this into my life today?” She began to sob.
Bean threw his arms around her waist and pressed the side of his face to her. She bent over him, crying.
“I wanted you to know the truth.”
Mrs. Tracy somehow got hold of herself and straightened up. Her face was red and puffy from sobbing. “You’re a very selfish woman. I don’t know what kicks you get out of this, but you’ve ruined my life all over again.”
Two tears slipped from the corners of Lorna’s eyes. She had never meant to cause such pain. She’d wanted to give Mrs. Tracy something to hold on to. “Nicole was not a drug user.”
“Don’t say her name,” Mrs. Tracy said bitterly. “You don’t deserve to say her name.” She dislodged Bean from her. “Pepper!” she called. She looked at Lorna. “Never come here again.” She turned, walking unevenly to her house.
The puppy raced by them, tripping over his big feet, then scrambling up the two steps to the porch behind Mrs. Tracy.
Lorna’s heart was racing so wildly that she thought she might pass out.
What had she done? The woman’s pain gripped Lorna like a vise, making her work for every breath.
What was it doing to Mrs. Tracy? Lorna had reignited a mother’s deep grief, and the only thing she could hope for was that one day, Mrs. Tracy would appreciate knowing what really happened.
She’d spent all those years thinking she didn’t know her own daughter.
Did it matter that she knew the truth now?
Did it matter that Lorna had always known the truth about the accident? It didn’t change anything.
None of this had changed anything.
There was no going back.
She bent down and picked up the chewed piece of plastic. “Come on, Bean,” she said quietly.
Bean slipped his hand into hers. They walked in silence to the car. In the car, Bean looked out the window to the house, as if expecting Mrs. Tracy or the puppy to come out the door. “Sometimes people just hurt too much,” he said.
“Yeah,” Lorna agreed. She hurt too much a lot of the time.
“I was really sad when my mom died,” Bean said. “It hurt really bad.”
“I was really sad when my mom died too.” And she’d hurt too much when Kristen went to Florida.
Bean turned toward her. “Your sister is bad, isn’t she?”
Lorna released a soft, shaky sigh. “She’s not bad. She’s...” Heaven help her if she could think of a word for what Kristen was. Broken. “She’s damaged, I guess.”
Bean looked out the window again.
Lorna wished she and her mother could have been truthful about Kristen when Nicole died, instead of being too fearful of consequences or too proud to say the truth out loud. Mom had been worried about Kristen, but it wasn’t fair that Mrs. Tracy had suffered because of Mom’s fear. It wasn’t right.
She started the car. “Let’s go get some dessert.”
“I’m not hungry,” Bean muttered, and he looked down at his lap.
Great. She’d reignited his grief too.
Well, Kristen, I saw Mrs. Tracy today. Don’t you dare ask me who that is.
I told her that you were the one who did meth.
That you had somehow convinced Nicole and Anna to give it a try.
You would never admit it, but I know you did.
Why did you, though? You couldn’t stay sober, okay, but did you have to take them down with you?
Because the pain you caused extended to people we didn’t even know.
Don’t say you’re sorry. It’s too late.