Read Online Scrapbook of Secrets by Mollie Cox Bryan - Free Book Online Page B

scary.” She took a sip of wine.
    “I wish I’d known her better,” Vera said. “She just wasn’t an easy person to get to know.”
    “She’d never come to our crops,” Sheila said. “I invited her all the time.”
    “She probably just couldn’t get away from the kids,” Annie offered. “It’s not easy when they are little. And if her husband was gone a lot ...”
    “Yeah,” DeeAnn said after a while. “I forget what it was like to have little ones. I have two in college. But that was tough.”
    “There’s plenty of wine and soda and things in the fridge over there, ladies, and have some of that spinach dip. It’s so good,” Sheila said. “Be careful if you bring it to the table. You don’t want to ruin these photos.”
    Annie got up to get herself a drink. “Can I get anybody anything?”
    Vera gingerly set out all of the dance photos—from the time Grace was four until now, age nine. One fell out of the pile. She picked it up and was surprised to see herself, holding Grace when she was four, posing for the camera. She wondered how many girls she had held in her arms like this, how many pictures were floating around of her and other people’s children? Butterflies of jealousy danced in her stomach.
    In the picture, she was a brunette, with blond stripes going down either side of her face. She had thought she looked good at the time—but her face, despite the piles of makeup that she wore—looked worn and drawn. She looked like a big sad Kewpie doll. The lines around her eyes were deep, even then. The makeup just wasn’t hiding it. And there was a look in her eyes—oh, she didn’t know what to call it—but maybe a look of regret. It gave her pause. What was she so regretful about? Could she even remember?
    It struck her at that moment that she wasn’t happy—and hadn’t been for years. Just the expression on her face, the pain in her eyes, all of a sudden, it was too much to bear. It was overwhelming to see this happy little girl, with her mother behind the camera, so proud taking pictures—being held by this sad old woman who would never have children of her own. Now the child, the girl, the little dancer in her class, had lost her mother. Such a loss would never heal completely.
    Vera caught her breath as a tear formed in her eye. She took a sip of her wine and thought she would need something stronger than wine ... soon.
    “Well, my goodness, Vera,” Paige said to her from across the table as Vera felt the first tear slip down her face. “Are you okay?”
    “It’s just so damn sad,” Vera said. “I mean, this young woman, with these beautiful children. She killed herself, and now they will have to live with that for the rest of their lives. No mother.”
    “I’m sorry, but it doesn’t add up to me,” Sheila said.
    “Me neither,” Annie said from the corner.
    “What do you mean?” DeeAnn questioned her.
    “It’s all just a bit too tidy. Look at this—all of this stuff, out on the sidewalk. I mean, what’s that all about?”
    The room filled with silence as the scrapbookers dug through their pictures, trying to formulate design and pattern to the children’s lives. Annie dropped a scrapbook onto the table; her face was drained of its warm tones. Her hand went to her mouth.
    “What is it, Annie?” Sheila asked.
    “I found this postcard from a fan of Maggie Rae’s.”
    “Fan?”
    “Turns out she did a little writing on the side.” Annie grinned. “This was in an envelope addressed to her. Inside is a letter from her publisher. Her pen name was Juicy X.”
    “Well, now, isn’t that something?” DeeAnn remarked.
    “Listen to this. ‘Dear Ms. Juicy X, I have been a fan for so many years I’ve lost count. My wife and I love your erotic writing. It helps to keep some spice in our marriage.’”
    “What? Obviously they have the wrong person,” DeeAnn responded.
    “No. It was in this envelope full of letters and cards.” Annie held up a huge brown envelope.