“I won’t.”
“Do it.”
“No!” I screamed.
The door to my room swung open, against the wind. More ghosts, I thought. I can’t fight any more than this.
“Lacey? Angela? I’m here.” Aunt Linda’s voice.
Just a shadow of her in the darkness. But there she was. Real and in my doorway, my Aunt Linda, back home again.
XVI
Aunt Linda made me wait in the living room for the police. I was almost glad to go, seeing Momma crumple up at the sight of her sister. The dark all around them, except for that old flashlight—Granddaddy’s old light—that Momma had saved all this time.
Then there was Aunt Linda pulling Momma onto her lap, like she wasn’t the baby in the family, but the older, stronger sister.
I went down the stairs, hanging on to the rail like it led to salvation.
Inside I was a storm of confusion. Like, how was Aunt Linda able to calm my momma down, but not me? And why hadn’t Aunt Linda just stuck around, living closer? Why couldn’t she have seen what Momma and me needed?
I stood near the front door, waiting, wondering. My knees shaking something awful. My stomach just sick. All those whys. So many whys.
Like why Momma wanted me to die.
At last I saw the police drive up to our house, from where I peeked out past the frilly curtains. Saw the flashing lights on their cars, their guns, their faces that seemed to change from red to blue to gray in less than seconds.
“It’s going to be all right,” Aunt Linda had said, before I came downstairs. She put her warm hands on my shoulders. “This is the way it has to be. Your momma’s worse than I imagined she could be.”
“I know that,” I said. “She wanted to kill me.” My voice was ragged and harsh. I shrugged her hands away. Anger filled me up. “I know she’s bad off.”
Now the policemen were on the porch. I could hear their heavy shoes. And I knew Momma could, too. Hidden back in my room. Afraid. The two of them upstairs together with Granddaddy’s ghost.
A policeman knocked. The sound seemed loud and empty. I moved to open the door. Upstairs I heard a scuttling sound. Momma maybe?
“You shouldn’t have gone,” I had said to Aunt Linda. I stood, staring down at the two of them. Momma all wrapped up in Aunt Linda’s arms. And that rope right there. “Never.”
In the darkness I saw Aunt Linda look up at me, her eyes wide, her face pale as the thin moon. Behind her the old flashlight burned, making my flashlight beam puny.
“I been doing this alone. All alone, all along.” Something close to pain and the feeling of being completely by myself filled me from toes to my hair’s roots.
“I know it,” Aunt Linda said. “I didn’t want to go. I just…”
“You left me to do it all single-handed. You took the easy way out.” I was so angry I could have spit flaming arrows. “It was hard the whole time.”
“I’m sorry, Lacey,” she had said. Her voice was a soft wail. “I’m so sorry. Honest to God, I’m sorry. I tried to see you. But she wouldn’t let me. And a few times I even came and checked on you when I knew you were home, hoping she’d be gone.”
“You didn’t have to go,” I said, my voice rising.
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Granddaddy’s been watching over us, Linda,” Momma said, soft as a pat. “Hasn’t he, Lacey?”
“Yeah, right,” I had said, then come down the stairs to wait.
Someone knocked again.
Weird how I couldn’t quite open the door.
Another knock sounded and one of the officers called, “Anyone home?”
My hand reached for the knob. I pulled back the curtains and glanced out at the men in raincoats, their hats protected by plastic.
“Did you call for help?” One of the policemen shined his flashlight in the house through the glass and I raised my hand to shield my eyes from the brightness. “Are you alone?”
I shook my head no and opened the door. “It’ll be okay,” I said.
Another patrol car pulled up, then an ambulance. All those lights flashing.
“Momma and Aunt Linda are upstairs,” I said. And I moved to let them inside.
* * *
MOMMA FOUGHT LIKE a wildcat. I heard it all. Once I tried to get up and see what was happening, but the ambulance lady wouldn’t let me. So I sat in the living room and listened. Listened to the crashing of furniture, to the breaking of glass things, and to my momma’s screams.
Outside, the neighbors stood on their own porches. Stood in the street. A few even braved coming into our yard. I looked for Aaron, but I didn’t see him, and I was glad for that, at least. A part of me wanted to yell to the watchers, “Get away.” But I didn’t. Momma and me didn’t share anything with our neighbors before. There was no need for me to share anything more than what they would see tonight.
Things calmed down at last, upstairs. After a few minutes, I heard clomping feet and voices. Flashlight beams bounced around. “Be careful of her on this turn.” “Watch the railing, it’s loose.” And “We’ll need some signatures before we take her.”
Take her? Take her? Take my mother?
I jumped to my feet. Without meaning to, I smashed into the old coffee table and upset an empty candy dish. It hit the floor and split into two perfect pieces. I just found Momma. No one could take her away now.
“My aunt’s here to help,” I said, rushing forward. “We can take over now. We can do it … together.”
Everyone, Aunt Linda included, stood stock-still in the living room. Momma lay on a stretcher, covered in a blanket and bound up tight with dark belts that crossed her chest and stomach and legs.
Only one paramedic glanced my way, then behind him as he let the legs of the stretcher down to the floor.
“Where you going? Where you going
