time coming. The children will not be attending the service. Caleb has to work, and Joanie will stay with Mother."
Then she hung up in his ear.
He laid the phone down on the bed beside him and stared at the floor. So, Darlene knew more about Gracie than he did. And his nineteen-year-old son had a job he didn't know about. And Joanie, his daughter, had hated his guts ever since the summer she'd turned thirteen, when he'd forgotten to pick her up after a soccer game. She'd had to call her mother to come get her, and by the time Darlene had arrived, Joanie had been the only kid left at the field. Neither one had talked to him for a year afterward.
He'd cheated on his wife with her best friend and lost his family. Then he hadn't called home since the Christmas his mother hadn't known who he was. He'd been so stricken and so shocked that he no longer existed in her cognizant world, that he'd balled himself up in grief, bemoaning how sad it was for him not to be remembered, when all along, he was the one who'd forgotten both of them.
He hated himself.
He hated what he had become.
He got up and went to get another beer from the refrigerator, only to realize there weren't any more.
As the eldest child and only son, he kept thinking there were things he needed to do and preparations to be made. But then he would remember he'd abdicated his throne and his rights for his personal freedom. So, he staggered back to the bedroom and passed out on the bed, fully clothed.
Chapter Three
A storm was blowing up from the south, jacking up the wind coming through the open window by Gracie's bed and rattling the old blinds above it.
In her sleep, the rattle triggered a memory. She moaned and rolled over onto her back in a subconscious move to protect herself, but it was too late. The memory had downloaded the event into nightmare form, and once again, she was caught up in the matrix of the past.
* * *
Gracie stood at the kitchen sink, washing up their breakfast dishes. The radio was on Delia's favorite country station, and she could hear her mama humming along and mumbling a word of a song now and then.
It was a day just like all the others she'd had in the four years she'd been here, and she was thinking about making a grocery list. As soon as she gave Mama her medicine and put her down for a nap, she could make a flying run to Sweetwater for groceries, because it was no longer possible to take Delia with her.
Delia scared people with her loud voice and belligerent behavior. However, one of the medicines the doctor had her on now made her sleepy, and when she finally laid down to rest, she always slept for at least two hours, which gave Gracie plenty of time to get to town and back.
Gracie heard the chair scoot back from the table, and then the sound of feet shuffling around on the old wood floor. Mama was dancing. She often danced when music was playing.
Gracie turned around and smiled. Mama was dancing with her eyes closed, probably dreaming of Daddy. Gracie picked up a handful of flatware and carried it to the table for mama to put away. Delia liked to feel useful, and she still remembered how to sort the flatware into the sideboard.
Delia stopped dancing and snatched them up.
"Here you go, Mama," Gracie said, and pulled open the drawer where they stored the flatware then turned around to go back to the sink.
She didn't see the light go out in Delia's eyes, nor the panic that ensued.
Gracie was halfway to the sink when she heard footsteps behind her. Before she could turn around, Delia was screaming, "Get out of my house! Get out of my house!" and stabbing her in the back, over and over.
At first, Gracie was in shock and barely registering the pain. But blood was flying, and she was begging, "No, Mama, no!" and trying to take the knife away. Then as Gracie turned, Delia began stabbing at her chest, too.
It was Gracie's instinct for survival that saved her. With her last bit of strength, she knocked the knife out of her mother's hand, and then doubled up her fist and hit her square on the jaw.
Delia reeled backward, dropped down onto the floor in her daughter's blood, and