or one or the other. She’s referred you to someone else in her office who deals with substance-abuse issues more regularly.”
Her mother looked back and forth between them. “Nancy, do you hear this?”
Her sister exhaled and slumped down onto the couch. “She really drank bourbon at breakfast in front of Chris?”
A little afraid to be heartened by her sister’s response just yet, Lily walked over to the pantry and pulled out a drawer, removing it entirely. “Here’s one of her favorite spots.” She produced the bottle she knew was hidden there. “I found this one when I slammed the drawer too hard and it made a funny sound. There are others back here. I pour them out. Sometimes I water them down. She can’t say anything to me of course, because if she admits she’s hiding liquor bottles she has to admit she’s got a problem. I found a bottle in the linen closet yesterday. A few in her car. She’s in trouble, Nancy. I could really use your help.”
Nancy pulled out a cigarette and instead of chiding her, Lily let her have it. God knew she felt like a smoke just then and she’d never been a smoker. Her sister sat and drew the smoke into her lungs, not saying anything. She looked around the room, her gaze flitting from space to space.
Lily continued to think on her options.
“Lily, why don’t you clean up in here more? Or make Chris.” The tone wasn’t as hostile, but the wary way she sized everything up had gone. She was paying attention now.
Lily saw the room from her sister’s perspective. Pamela Travis’s curtains had always been open during the day. But it’d been a while since she’d started telling Lily the light was too much and bothered her eyes.
Dim and cluttered.
“I come in every day after I take Chris to school. I make sure the kitchen is clean and do laundry. Even put it away. But she won’t let me vacuum or dust or touch any of the paperwork and magazines on the coffee table. Insists she do it herself.”
Lily didn’t need to say how ineffective that effort had been.
“Mom, the woman who raised us was proud of her home. She was proud of herself and her appearance.”
Nancy’s gaze honed in on their mother as Lily pointed that out. All Lily could do was hope Nancy saw what she did.
“You used to get your hair done once a week. You wore pretty clothes. You had lunch with your friends and ran the cakewalk every carnival. You rarely leave the house now. You sit here in the dark all day and with the television on. Staring and drinking. Watching you do this to yourself is breaking my heart.”
Pamela, shaking, pointed a finger at Lily. “I don’t need any help! I’m just fine. Nancy, you said you’d back me. She’s trying to take Christopher. Turn him against me. Those aren’t my bottles. She put them there. She wants to control me.”
It hit hard. She knew her mother was desperate and in pain and didn’t mean what she was saying. But she said it nonetheless. Lily turned herself away from her mother to face Nancy. “Help me. You have to see it. She needs help.”
Nancy shook her head and blew out a long puff of smoke. Looking around Lily to their mother, she said, “She’s uppity and thinks she’s better’n everyone else. But she wouldn’t do that. She’s right. You’re in trouble. You can’t do this to Chris.”
Chapter Twelve
He’d paced all morning. He’d hit his limit of patience. There would be no more distance. He’d do whatever he needed to do to prove to her they were meant to be together. She was meant to be with him, surely she felt that too. He refused to even entertain that she didn’t love him. They’d shared that intensity of connection again.
He’d kept an eye on Chris there at school as best he could. He hadn’t slipped back into his previous lazy patterns, but Nathan knew she worried he would.
The boy had brought himself up to a C minus. He’d done a huge amount of work in the time since his sister had come back home. He’d had the lowest grade in the class and now he’d pass. All due to Lily. What an amazing woman she was. She’d dug in and made a difference when most people would have given up.
Things would still be rough. Beth had called him and told him a very sparse account