Chapter 3
Briar and Tate were in the backyard of the Bandy home, sitting on an old quilt beneath the outspread branches of an ancient oak.
Abel had just finished mowing the backyard and moved to the front of the house.
The buzz of the engine was a steady drone, like the constant song of cicadas buzzing in the tree above their head.
The day was hot and humid, and the faint morning breeze had disappeared.
Earlier in the day, Tate and Briar had gone through the gamut of things to do, from taking turns swinging in the tire swing, to playing chase, then hide-and-seek, while Lilith sat in the shade of the back porch, keeping watch.
It was the first time she’d witnessed the depth of the bond between them, and she was a little shocked.
It was almost as if they were reading each other’s minds.
They finished each other’s sentences. Laughed at the same things, and when they got quiet and put their heads together, she could almost guess at the conversation—likely about what was happening to Mariah Lowe today.
She knew Briar was afraid of what was going to happen to her mother, and clearly, Tate knew something the rest of them didn’t. Lilith didn’t care what happened to Mariah Lowe, as long as she left her and her family alone.
Then the moment she thought that Tate’s head came up. He turned and looked at her, as if sensing her uncertainty.
“Tate, would you and Briar like a cookie and a juice box?” she asked.
“Yes!” he shouted, then turned a somersault on the quilt, landed flat on his back, and laughed.
The screen door banged behind Lilith as she went into the house.
The solemn expression on Briar’s face shifted, and soon, she was giggling too.
The screen door banged again as Lilith came out with two big cookies in one hand and two juice boxes in the other, and walked off the porch to the edge of the quilt.
“Here you go. Snickerdoodles and cold apple juice,” she said.
“Thank you, Mama. You make the best cookies,” Tate said, and handed one to Briar.
Briar looked up at Tate’s mother. “Thank you. I like snickerdoodles.”
Lilith smiled and brushed back a loose curl from the corner of Briar’s eye.
“So do I, sugar. Do you need me to help open your juice box?” Lilith asked.
“No, Mama, I will do it for her. I’m keepin’ my eye on you for Daddy. You go rest. I always open Briar’s milk and juice boxes for her,” Tate said, and brushed off a spot on the quilt for Briar to sit.
Briar nodded. “Always,” she said.
Lilith sighed. Yet another thing she didn’t know about the utter trust they had in each other.
Tate sat down beside Briar, and as soon as both juice boxes were open and the straws inserted, Tate gave Briar her box and then lifted his own in the air. “Now we need to make some toast,” he said.
“But we already have a cookie. I don’t need any toast,” Briar said.
Tate frowned. “No, we have to bump our juice boxes together and make a wish. That’s how grown-ups make toast.”
“Oh…okay,” Briar said. “I wish you were always my best friend.”
“I already am. It’s a rule,” Tate said.
The juice boxes thumped.
Lilith didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as she walked back to the porch and resumed her seat.
Their idea of making toast and forever friends was a funny, precious thing to have witnessed.
* * *
Abel had just made the last lap around the yard and was putting up his mower when Roger Lowe arrived.
Abel waved at him from the garage and then came out to greet him.
“Come inside where it’s cool,” Abel said. “The kids are out back playing. Lilith is watching them.”
Roger swiped a shaky hand across his face as they entered the house. Without asking, Abel got a cold root beer from the fridge and gave it to Roger.
He took a quick drink and then sat, cradling the cold bottle between his hands.
“Well, it’s over. My wife officially has a rap sheet.
She was convicted of assault and sentenced to a year on parole, and the judge issued a restraining order against her on Lilith’s behalf.
One false move and she finishes out her sentence in prison,” he said.
“I can’t thank you enough for watching Briar for me.
You are good people, and I am ashamed of the damage my wife has caused you all.
” He dropped his head. “I had no idea it was happening. None.”
Abel nodded. “Neither did I, until it was too late. I think Lilith is going to be okay. The doctor was cautious. She had one last visit. They ran some cognitive tests. I hope that will be that.”
Roger nodded and took another drink. “Again, bless you both for looking after my little girl. If you’ll let her know I’m here, we’ll get out of your hair.”
“They’re out back. Follow me,” Abel said.
They walked through the house and then out onto the porch. Lilith saw them, then put a finger to her lips to indicate quiet and pointed.
Briar had fallen asleep on the quilt and Tate was sitting beside her, calmly waving a giant leaf from Lilith’s elephant-ear plant back and forth over her to keep away the gnats and flies.
“Well, good lord,” Roger whispered.
Lilith nodded. “They’ve been playing hard. She’s such a sweetheart, and welcome here any time.”
Tate looked up, saw Briar’s father, and knew he’d come to take her home. He put the leaf aside and patted Briar’s shoulder.
“Briar, Briar…your daddy’s here.”
She opened her eyes and sat up. “You promise Mama isn’t in jail?”
“I promise,” Tate whispered.
When Roger stepped off the porch to walk toward them, Briar jumped up and ran toward him, talking all the way.
“Daddy! We played hide-and-seek, and I got to swing in the tire, and we had cookies and juice, and we made toast. It’s for making wishes. Tate is my best friend. It’s a rule.”
Roger scooped her up in his arms, listening to her rattle on about her visit. “You made toast?” he asked.
Lilith smiled as she explained. “They toasted each other with juice boxes, thus the ‘making toast’ reference. I don’t know where Tate got this. Lord knows Abel and I aren’t in the habit of such things.”
“On TV, Mama. Watching the Super Bowl with Daddy. The winners were taking a drink and laughing and bumping bottles and cups and I asked Daddy what they were doing, and he said they were making toast,” Tate said.
The adults burst out laughing. “You are so right,” Abel said. “I forgot about that.”
Tate leaned against his daddy’s leg and waved at Briar, sad that she was leaving.
Briar was looking over her daddy’s shoulder, waving goodbye to Tate.
Parting is such sweet sorrow, Lilith thought, and went to retrieve the quilt she’d put down for them to play as Abel and Tate walked them to the door.
The overhead sun was hot on the bald spot on the back of Roger’s head as he opened the door for Briar to get in the car. As soon as she climbed up into the back seat, he reached for the seat belt to buckle her in.
“You’ll be happy to know that Mama will be home when we get there. She didn’t have to go to jail after all.”
“I know. Tate told me this morning. I was sad and scared, and he told me as soon as I got there that they wouldn’t put her in jail, but they would put her on a roll.”
Roger’s heart skipped. This morning? Before the sentence had even been announced? Lord, I am glad that boy is not my child. If he’s the real deal, he’d always know when someone was lying too. Not that I lie…but still…
He patted Briar’s shoulder, then closed the car door and took a deep breath.
He wished with everything in him that the Bandy family would move away.
It would solve everything. They were nice people, and the little boy was quite sweet, but the bond between his daughter and their son was worrisome.
All he could do was hope that as Briar grew older, she’d find other friends, and different boys more suited to their way of life.
Briar was staring at the back of her daddy’s head as they drove through the streets toward home, wondering what mood her mama was going to be in when they got there.
When the car began slowing down and turned up into their driveway, she began to get anxious.
Mama was mean to everybody when she was angry.
She wished Mama was nice, like Mrs. Bandy.
“We’re here,” Roger said as he pulled up in the drive.
Briar unlocked her seat belt and got herself out of the car and ran up the porch steps, but when she got to the front door, it was locked. Mama never locked the door when she was home.
“The door’s locked,” she said.
Roger frowned as he used his key. The moment he opened the door, he could hear Mariah talking on the phone. From the tone of her voice, and the few words he could make out, she was already spinning a story to make herself look like the victim.
He shut the door behind them, then gave Briar a quick pat on the back. “Why don’t you go play in your room for a while? I’ll see about making us some lunch in a bit.”
Happy she wasn’t going to have to face her mother just yet, Briar ran up the stairs and down the hall to her room, while Roger went to the kitchen.
Mariah was leaning against the kitchen island with a glass of wine in one hand and their landline phone in the other. When she saw Roger enter the room, she turned her back on him and kept talking.
For Roger, it was the last straw. He opened a cabinet door and then slammed it so hard the dishes shook on the shelves. Mariah jumped like she’d been shot and, as she turned around, saw the rage on his face and ended her call. Before she could say a word, he pointed at her.