a beautiful person? If the expansion of The Evans School could help one teenager, bipolar or with other challenges, then Layla would keep donating her time and money.
Layla shivered as she recalled the day she found Marissa in her room next to a bottle of pills from Layla’s medicine cabinet.
She put Marissa’s picture down, got out of her gown, then crawled back into bed. She couldn’t bear to have the pictures out in the open, so she kept everything boxed up but nearby, for when she needed to feel Marissa close to her, to remember, no matter how painful.
Despite her feelings about God, Layla knew exactly whose fault it was that Marissa was gone.
And for that, she hated God. And herself.
Darlene served up the last of the pancakes, her mind on two things. Grace and Layla. She planned to talk to Grace after they were done eating, even though she was sure Grace would have an explanation for what Brad had found in her room. As for Layla . . . she kept glancing out the window, hoping maybe she would show up. By twelve thirty, she’d given up hope.
Earlier that morning, while she and Brad were dressing for church, Darlene had told him all about the evening, about Marissa, and about the way Layla begged her to stay for a while after the gala. Brad was understanding and sympathetic, but he’d asked her again why she didn’t call.
She’d asked herself that same question.
“I thought you said Layla might come over.” Ansley reached for the last piece of bacon.
Darlene glanced out the window again. “I invited her, but I guess she decided not to.” She assumed Layla might not be feeling well this morning.
“I can’t believe a movie star lives next door.” Chad shook his head, grinning.
Darlene put her hands on her hips and looked down at Brad, who had his chin tucked.
“You told? I thought we talked about that.”
Brad’s puppy-dog eyes grew wide. “They saw her on television last night.”
Darlene stifled a grin. Brad’s boyish looks never seemed to diminish, and it was hard to stay angry at him. “I’m sure you were looking for one of her movies.”
Chad stood up, pushed his chair in. “See, I said she was hot. And go figure . . . she’s a movie star.”
“I think it’s neat how she still rides horses.” Grace stood up, then carried her plate to the sink. “And she takes care of that big place all by herself.”
Darlene had been discreetly watching Grace all morning for any signs that something might be up, but she saw nothing out of the ordinary. “Ansley, it’s your turn for kitchen cleanup.” After Ansley grunted, Darlene turned to Grace. “Let’s go sit on the porch swing. I want to talk to you about something.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” Ansley said, shaking her head.
“You just clean the kitchen and don’t worry about it.” Darlene gave a gentle yank on Ansley’s short ponytail, then headed out of the kitchen, Grace following. Once they were settled on the swing, Darlene decided to play good cop, bad cop. She’d always been close to all her children, especially the girls, and she knew Brad was wrong.
“Listen . . .” She pushed with her foot until the two-seater gently began to glide back and forth. “Your dad found some razor blades and straws in your drawer, in your room.”
“Why was Dad going through my stuff?” Grace twisted in the swing to face Darlene, scowling.
“He wasn’t going through your stuff. He was putting your iPod away. But now he’s worried that you’re doing drugs.”
“No way, Mom!” Grace’s eyes watered up, and Darlene reached for her hand, but she jerked away from her. “I can’t believe Dad would think that.”
“Now, honey, just listen. I know you wouldn’t do anything that stupid, but I am wondering why you have razor blades in your room.” The straws seemed logical to Darlene. Grace used to have braces, and she often kept straws in her room to drink through, especially after her braces had been tightened. Even after her braces came off a year ago, her teeth were sensitive to cold temperatures, so she continued to use straws.
“I can’t believe Dad was in my room, in my things.” Grace hung her head and sighed.
“Well, what do you want me to tell him? Are they his razor blades? Where’d you get them?”
“I don’t know, Mom. They’ve probably been left in there from some school project when I needed a straightedge. I have no idea. But