Read Online Pleating for Mercy by Melissa Bourbon - Free Book Online
Authors: Melissa Bourbon
Ads: Link
“I, um . . . Josie . . . don’t know. I hope you don’t think—”
She looked at me, horrified. “Oh, God, no!” She wedged herself into the corner of the sofa, pulling her knees up. “It’s just . . . I mean . . . I can’t believe she’s dead.”
That made two of us. The deputy’s questions the night before had focused on why Nell would have been killed on my property. I had no answers to any of her questions. “I only met her today,” I’d told the officer, to which she’d replied, “Interesting.”
“You know, just when things were going really well for her. It’s not fair,” Josie said.
“I don’t think murder is ever fair.”
Josie ran her index fingers under her eyes, wiping away the tears pooling there. “But she had a tough childhood, you know? She was a foster kid. God, the things she told me.” She sniffed, dabbing her red-tipped nose with a tissue. “I had it pretty rough as a kid. No dad. My mom worked two jobs. That’s why I glommed on to you, you know? I felt like we were the same. Neither one of us had a dad around, but you had your mom, your grandmother, and, of course, Loretta Mae. I used to wish I was part of your family. There was something so special about all of you.”
Guilt wound through me. I hadn’t known then what Josie had needed from me. I’d just seen her as a shadow, a constant presence, and had never paid her any mind. “I’m sorry I wasn’t—”
She flung up her hand. “Don’t. There’s nothing to be sorry for, Harlow. You were there for me, even if you didn’t know it. I remember thinking to myself: She made it without her father. So can I . And now look.” She spread her arms wide. “I’m marrying into a good family and I’m in love. I’ve been lucky.” Her smile faded. “Nell wasn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Is it wrong to talk about her now?” The look she gave me sent me reeling back to when we were kids. Her big brown eyes would gaze up at me like I was her big sister. She’d thought I had all the answers back then, which I didn’t. And I sure didn’t have them now. I made it up as I went along, pulling pieces of wisdom from Mama, Nana, and Meemaw—my holy trinity. “Of course not. She died, but we aren’t going to forget her.”
She dropped her chin, shaking her head as if she was disappointed with herself. “I just . . . I wish I could have stopped her from making mistakes.”
I got up and moved in front of her, sitting on the edge of the coffee table. “It’s not your fault.”
“I was running late last night, counting the RSVPs for the wedding. If I’d been on time . . .”
“We don’t know why she was killed. If you’d been on time, you might have been a victim, too.”
“She was hooking up with guys she met on the Internet. Exaggerdating, she called it. Not a single one of the guys she went out with was honest in his profile.”
“Why’d she keep doing it?”
Josie stared into space for a minute. “She never thought she was good enough, like being on her own for so long meant no one could really love her. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy, you know?”
Oh, yeah, I knew. I’d met dozens of people in the fashion world who were on collision courses of self-destruction and they all had their warped, twisted reasons. Not enough love. Too much love. Power. Money. Jealousy. Binging and purging. Drugs instead of food. All the dirt comes out in the wash, as Meemaw would say.
“She said she found Mr. Right, but I think he was just using her,” Josie continued.
“What makes you think that?” I asked.
“He just came and went as he pleased. She’d meet him every day for a few weeks, then nothing for a month. He couldn’t commit, but didn’t want to give up the fun.”
I’d met plenty of that kind of man. “Why buy the cow when you’re getting the milk for free?” Meemaw said when I complained to her about the guys I was dating.
“I’m not giving anybody any milk!” I’d been indignant, and
She looked at me, horrified. “Oh, God, no!” She wedged herself into the corner of the sofa, pulling her knees up. “It’s just . . . I mean . . . I can’t believe she’s dead.”
That made two of us. The deputy’s questions the night before had focused on why Nell would have been killed on my property. I had no answers to any of her questions. “I only met her today,” I’d told the officer, to which she’d replied, “Interesting.”
“You know, just when things were going really well for her. It’s not fair,” Josie said.
“I don’t think murder is ever fair.”
Josie ran her index fingers under her eyes, wiping away the tears pooling there. “But she had a tough childhood, you know? She was a foster kid. God, the things she told me.” She sniffed, dabbing her red-tipped nose with a tissue. “I had it pretty rough as a kid. No dad. My mom worked two jobs. That’s why I glommed on to you, you know? I felt like we were the same. Neither one of us had a dad around, but you had your mom, your grandmother, and, of course, Loretta Mae. I used to wish I was part of your family. There was something so special about all of you.”
Guilt wound through me. I hadn’t known then what Josie had needed from me. I’d just seen her as a shadow, a constant presence, and had never paid her any mind. “I’m sorry I wasn’t—”
She flung up her hand. “Don’t. There’s nothing to be sorry for, Harlow. You were there for me, even if you didn’t know it. I remember thinking to myself: She made it without her father. So can I . And now look.” She spread her arms wide. “I’m marrying into a good family and I’m in love. I’ve been lucky.” Her smile faded. “Nell wasn’t.”
“What do you mean?”
“Is it wrong to talk about her now?” The look she gave me sent me reeling back to when we were kids. Her big brown eyes would gaze up at me like I was her big sister. She’d thought I had all the answers back then, which I didn’t. And I sure didn’t have them now. I made it up as I went along, pulling pieces of wisdom from Mama, Nana, and Meemaw—my holy trinity. “Of course not. She died, but we aren’t going to forget her.”
She dropped her chin, shaking her head as if she was disappointed with herself. “I just . . . I wish I could have stopped her from making mistakes.”
I got up and moved in front of her, sitting on the edge of the coffee table. “It’s not your fault.”
“I was running late last night, counting the RSVPs for the wedding. If I’d been on time . . .”
“We don’t know why she was killed. If you’d been on time, you might have been a victim, too.”
“She was hooking up with guys she met on the Internet. Exaggerdating, she called it. Not a single one of the guys she went out with was honest in his profile.”
“Why’d she keep doing it?”
Josie stared into space for a minute. “She never thought she was good enough, like being on her own for so long meant no one could really love her. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy, you know?”
Oh, yeah, I knew. I’d met dozens of people in the fashion world who were on collision courses of self-destruction and they all had their warped, twisted reasons. Not enough love. Too much love. Power. Money. Jealousy. Binging and purging. Drugs instead of food. All the dirt comes out in the wash, as Meemaw would say.
“She said she found Mr. Right, but I think he was just using her,” Josie continued.
“What makes you think that?” I asked.
“He just came and went as he pleased. She’d meet him every day for a few weeks, then nothing for a month. He couldn’t commit, but didn’t want to give up the fun.”
I’d met plenty of that kind of man. “Why buy the cow when you’re getting the milk for free?” Meemaw said when I complained to her about the guys I was dating.
“I’m not giving anybody any milk!” I’d been indignant, and
Similar Books
