I, Gracie - Sharon Sala Page 0,10

hair done, and then make a reservation for a Thursday arrival at the La Quinta Inn and Suites by Wyndham in Sweetwater. It had a pool.

It was going to be dicey, explaining to him why they were no longer welcome at the old house, but one lie at a time was how Mamie rolled.

Being a realtor, Daphne had the freedom to take time off when she needed, although she rarely did, because living as a single woman meant she was also the only one bringing in a paycheck.

She did well for herself, and her fancy Dallas townhouse was evidence of that. She'd notified the other realtors in the office about the death of her mother to make them aware of her upcoming absence for a couple of days. They were instantly sympathetic and loving, which made her guilt about Gracie even worse. She had a horrible feeling that no one was hugging and loving on her baby sister in her time of grief, and that made Daphne feel like throwing up.

She couldn't believe it was only this morning when Gracie had called. It felt like forever. After she'd heard her sister's voice and the news she'd imparted, a part of her had kept trying to turn back time.

She needed a do-over, but God wasn't about that. What He did teach was redemption, but she didn't know how to go about redeeming herself in her sister's eyes. What she'd done from the free will He had given her had turned into selfish choices, a horrific level of betrayal with a huge dose of shame to go with it.

She kept thinking about the times right after that Easter revelation when Mama had told them of her diagnosis. It had been a shock, but the reality of it had not set in until Christmas. That first one had been strange. Mama kept calling her by the wrong name, and then hadn't known what the foods were she’d been eating. She hadn't remembered she had grandchildren and kept asking who they were. But it was the second Christmas that had ended it for Daphne.

Mama had picked up food with her fingers. Told Mamie she looked fat and hadn't remember James's name. It had devastated him. And then she’d scared the grandchildren, and that had been the last time they'd set foot in that house.

She'd called home after that, but she'd always talked to Mama. Never to Gracie. And when Mama had finally forgotten who Daphne was, she'd quit calling altogether and had consoled herself with the thought that Delia couldn't miss talking to someone she didn't know.

Never once, had she let herself go there and wonder how Mama treated Gracie now that she didn't know her, either. She couldn't imagine Mama being mean, but she'd suspected she would be a handful. Still, Gracie is the one who’d offered to stay, and that's how Daphne had shelved her guilt, until now—when it was too late to matter.

She'd made a list of things to do tomorrow.

Book a room at the La Quinta.

Send flowers to the funeral home.

Buy a new dress for the service and get her hair done.

It would be hot as hell out at the cemetery, but she wore her blonde curly hair up, so a little heat and wind wouldn't ruin the style. And there was always hairspray to keep everything in place.

She finally went to bed because she couldn't focus on TV and was dreading the moment she closed her eyes, fearing she would see the people she had betrayed, wearing stern, solemn expressions.

And she did.

But in her dream, they turned their backs on her and walked away, leaving her the one abandoned, as she had done to them.

James had been home all afternoon and was a six-pack of beer into the wind, trying to get up the courage to call his ex-wife, Darlene. She needed to know what had happened.

He cleared his throat, pulled up her number, and then waited. It rang and rang, and he sighed. They didn't talk anymore. He just sent alimony and child support, and he'd messed up so many times on visitation days that his kids no longer wanted anything to do with him. She might not even answer.

When she finally picked up, and the sound of her voice brought tears to his eyes.

"What do you want?" she snapped.

"Uh...I called to tell you that Mama passed this morning, and to give you the day and time for the services."

"I already know. This has been a long, damned