traffic overhead on the Interstate. Cars exceeding the fifty- mile-an-hour limit, whistling by at sixty-five and seventy, literally shook the little two-flat tenement rental home.
After their initial meeting, Lauralie took her time getting to know Mother Katherine Croombs and her lifestyle. She worked hard and patiently to win the older woman's trust. Lauralie provided her with money and stockpiled her with what seemed most important to Katherine-alcohol.
Later, when {Catherine died, no one questioned the woman's death by alcoholic poisoning, certainly not the authorities. No one ever knew or guessed the truth, that on the night of her death, Katherine Croombs Blodgett had learned the full extent of Lauralie's wrath.
Lauralie had tied her down to the bedposts, and she had force-fed whiskey into Katherine until it was coming out her pores. Officially, she drank herself to death. Unofficially, Lauralie had seen to it.
Lauralie had fulfilled her desire to kill her mother, but not before weeks of working her mother around to explain it all, to tell Lauralie how she could possibly have given away her own flesh and blood daughter. 'Me, me, Lauralie, Mother. How could you give me away like I wasn't worth your time?'
After Lauralie's visits had become somewhat routine, Katherine, having had enough drink to loosen her tongue, finally tried to explain her actions, prefacing her words with, 'Now…this isn't any excuse. I–I-I can't offer no excuse,' she stuttered, 'but-but-but it kinda explains where I–I was at, at the time, where my head was at…how bad it got. You see…sweetheart…I…I…I had a mental disorder, and a drug habit on top of that.'
'You coulda gotten help!'
'Damn it, honey, I pleaded for help! I wanted help. I–I-I sought help, but they took you away from me because…because…I don't know the reason why, because I was so out of it, I–I-I couldn't follow what was going on, and so I–I put my trust in a woman working for the child welfare people.'
'You were unwed too, and you didn't know who the father was, did you? You still can't tell me who my father is, can you?'
'He died a few years ago of a brain tumor.'
'You lived together? As man and wife?'
'John and me, we ran into one 'nother on the street seven or eight years after I gave you up. He was limping badly, crippled from a construction accident. He was in bad shape, and I–I felt sorry for him and took him in. We lived together for the last ten years, helping one 'nother out. I guess you could say we loved one 'nother.'
'John what? What was his name?' she pressed, even though she already knew the answer.
'Blodgett, I gave you his name, Blodgett.'
'Tell me about Daddy.'
'He was three-quarter Indian, Native American, part Mexican.'
'What was his excuse for never coming for me? All the days and nights of my life, believing that one day one or both of you would come and take me home!'
Katherine turned her gaze away and walked off. She wrung her hands and shook her head, unable to find words.
'He never knew? You never told John Blodgett, did you, ever?' Lauralie asked. 'You gave me his name on my birth certificate, but you never told him, did you?'
'No…no, I never told him. Not even on his deathbed.'
'But why?' Lauralie pleaded. 'Were you ashamed of me, your half-breed daughter? Was that another nail in my coffin, another reason to keep me your dirty little secret?'
'No, it was never like that. I–I-I was ashamed of myself, of what I'd become and for…for having to give you up, and too afraid of John's reaction by then, that he might leave me. He could have a violent temper at times too.'
'I want a picture of dear old Dad then.'
Katherine found a wallet-sized photo of a dashing, young man with a roguish smile below a full mustache. He had dark skin and black eyes, and the eyes looked mischievous and bold. Lauralie put the picture into her purse.
'I want to know more about this woman with Child and Family Services, the one who helped you out so much when you needed it. The one who took me away from you.'
'But why do you want to dwell on that awful time, Lauralie? We have the here and now to make up for all those years.'
'I want to know all about her, Katherine, Mother, please.' Lauralie kept her drinking.
'She was a young woman, younger than me, but very smart about the law and legal aid, all that. In fact, she was a young medical intern, I think.'
'Medical intern? Studying to be a doctor?'
'A psychologist, I think.'
'Her name, Mother. In case I want to look her up, you know, thank her for all she did for you when you were completely alone.'
'It's been so many years, dear. She most likely doesn't even live in Houston anymore.'
'Her name, Mother, her name!'
'Mary or Merl or something; I can't recall the last name. Anyway, she led me into court, and next thing I know, you were being put in an orphanage, and me…I–I- I got so down on myself after that, well, I–I-I thought you'd be better off once you were adopted, once they found a good home and a loving family for you.'
'I understand all that. I know you put your trust in this woman.'
'I put my trust in the court, Harris County, the system, all these people telling me what I should be doing next. It was their job to…to find you a good home, something I couldn't've given you in a hundred years, baby.'
'But you never checked to find out whatever became of me, did you, Mom? If you did, you'd've known I was never adopted. I've spent my entire life in that prison you condemned me to, that convent school.'
'I'm sorry…so, so sorry.'
'Tell me more about the woman who took me away from you! I want to know everything, every word she said to you.'
'She came to the house, picked me up in a nice car, brought me down to the county courthouse, and she spoke up for me. She made out like she would see to it I got off drugs, away from the booze, that I'd get me a job, you know, and get better, rehabbed, and that someday…someday I could get you back…someday, but that day just never came, honey.'
'How old was I then, Katherine…Mommie? How old?'
'Six months.'
'Six months into the year of my birth.' Lauralie calculated the month in 1984 of her mother's court appearance, and since Katherine hadn't changed cities in all these years, Lauralie knew where the court records would be housed for her case.
After killing her biological mother that night and sleeping alongside her for the first time in her life, Lauralie, the following morning, went searching for this Mary or Merl who had taken her away from the life she should have enjoyed with Mother. The chief cause of all Lauralie's grief, her Lifelong agony, the woman who had lied to her mother. The woman who'd stolen Lauralie's childhood.
Going out the door, waving to Mother's corpse that morning, Lauralie had felt a great sense of accomplishment. She had amassed a lot of information in a short amount of time without setting off the powder keg of emotions that might easily have led to an explosion between her mother and herself, which would have accomplished nothing. This way, Lauralie had gleaned all she needed to know; she had garnered useful stuff, ranging from her father's having died of a brain tumor and her mother's bipolar disorder-explaining much of Lauralie to herself- to Mother's drug problem, and how a separation in Lauralie's sixth month of life had been pushed through the courts by a court-appointed welfare worker with connections to the convent and the Houston medical community. An intern working her way up the ladder whom Lauralie meant to find and destroy.
The people at the shelter where her mother had gone for help had called in assistance from the Child and Family Services, and they'd sent someone to assist Katherine and her newborn, a child Katherine had only called Baby, a child Katherine hadn't even given a name to six months after Lauralie's birth. The sisters at the convent orphanage held a contest to name Baby Blodgett, and the winner was Mother Orleans with Lauralie.
Katherine had not acted alone in her decision to give up Baby for adoption. Somebody with a name and a life of her own had strongly influenced and encouraged Katherine. Mother could not be held completely responsible for
