A/N: Onward and upward…
XXX
It had become inconceivable for Mary to believe there could be any sort of bright spot in what had fast-become an extremely lackluster Saturday. She was hankering for some more sleep by five o'clock in the evening, which made her feel even more pitiful and gutless than she already did. Nonetheless, glorious wonders didn't always stay hidden in the shadows, and it was Holly who became the unexpected lightheartedness that Mary so desperately needed.
With Ben and Lizzie out for some afternoon fun with their grandparents, it was only Mary and Marshall in the house when Peter and Jinx came knocking. The inspector was even willing to forgo being suspicious of why her mother had tagged along – all she cared about was that Brandi was not with them, expertly ignoring Jinx's puffy, reddened eyes that were highlighted when she stepped into the living room.
"Better late than never, right?" Peter mused, trundling Holly over the threshold while Jinx pushed an empty wheelchair. The child's leg stuck out at an odd angle in its cast from where she was supported in Peter's arms, but it was plain that Holly didn't care. "Sorry; the folks at the hospital wanted to run a few more tests before they set her free…"
"Not at all, not at all!" Marshall's disposition was improved by the little girl's appearance as well. "Come right in! Ben and Lizzie and Delia did an excellent job sprucing up the living quarters yesterday; it's all squared away!"
"Really?" Peter didn't sound convinced, especially once he spotted Mary lingering the background, purposely keeping her distance as though he were hiding Brandi in a coat pocket. "Because honestly; there won't be any hard feelings if you back out now…"
"Nonsense," Marshall waved an airy hand without even consulting his wife, though she felt the same. "We are all set to have a bash for the holidays. Sound good to you, Miss Jolly Holly?" swooping in to lay a kiss on her cheek.
She giggled, tickled pink at being out of the pediatric ward and back on her feet, if not literally.
"Unc' Mar-sh-all – Gramma buy me bracelet," jingling the wrist on her right hand, Holly displayed a chain-link band full of sparkling charms. "See, pretty?"
Marshall fingered the jewelry appropriately, "Beautiful. Just like you," a sly simper. "What's the occasion, Gramma?" running all the letters together just like Holly did.
Jinx, in transpired, seemed involved in the way Mary continued to prowl out of the way, and Marshall would make a pretty safe bet that she was waiting for the moment they could have a moment alone to discuss Brandi. He had to admit he was rather curious about Jinx's opinion on her youngest daughter, considering how forceful she'd been with her that morning.
"Oh, just a little coming-home-present," Jinx was blasé, if not absentminded when she finally answered. "It was no trouble."
"I see," the more jubilant of the men left it at that. "Jinx, if you want to roll that baby into the alcove, there's a space blocked out next to the sofa in there – unless this girl's going to be needing it?" he appealed to Peter, referring to the wheelchair.
"Nah, she can rest on the sofa out here," Peter was lenient. "So long as her leg's elevated," they were lucky Holly was still so young and small, as her cast was not quite so cumbersome when she was being carried around.
"I think we can manage that," Marshall was spreading enough good cheer for everyone, but it didn't seem to be reaching Mary or Jinx. "Let's get our guest of honor all set up…"
From her post, Mary watched as her husband carefully slipped his niece out of Peter's grasp with the most gentle of touches; her broken bones were never in any danger of being bent awkwardly; he really was quite something when he turned on the charm. In the back of her mind, she was glad for once that Lizzie was not present while her father was putting on such a show for Holly, because she was likely to turn jealous in a hurry.
"You will be up and running before we know it…" Marshall predicted, settling Holly up against some throw pillows before propping a few beneath the casing. "Won't be able to stop you from healing."
All this earned him was another bashful bat of her eyelashes, but it could not have been clearer that Holly was nothing short of overjoyed that she was well on her way to living a more standard existence. A week in the hospital had felt like an eternity, both to her and to her family. If it weren't for James and Brandi, they would've been right up against normalcy but as it was, that was not the case.
And, as though she were reading the woman's mind, Holly piped up from her station, Marshall taking a seat at the opposite end of the couch.
"Aun' Mary, guess what?"
The mention of her ill-mannered old aunt seemed to alert Peter to the fact that Mary was there; he hadn't seemed to notice her before the fact, what with Jinx boring into her with an obstinate stare. But, as the older woman was out of the room putting the wheelchair in its place, that gave Peter plenty of time to direct his focus onto his sister-in-law, and he immediately looked apprehensive.
To the innocent passerby, there was nothing to fear, for Holly looked alive and bright with glee, but he wasn't to be deceived.
Before Mary could respond, he jumped in, "Holly…pumpkin, I don't think Aunt Mary wants to guess…"
Well, she didn't really have to, so the point was moot.
"No…never mind…" she waved a half-hearted hand in Peter's direction before walking over and sitting upon the coffee table, Marshall shooting her covert looks the entire time. "Tell me. What?" all of her attention was for Holly.
The answer was exactly the one she'd estimated, "I see mommy! She come to see me before I leave! Mommy came and gave me big-big hugs!"
Swallowing hard in order to get past the massive lump in her throat, Mary shot Holly a smile not so different from the phony one she'd used with Ben when he'd helped her pick up her aging letters. Fortunately, it worked better on her niece than it had on her son, though Marshall and Peter saw through the whole thing.
"Good…" it was all she could think of to say that wouldn't make her start bawling or screeching. "Good. I'm so glad mommy came to visit."
A few days before, this still would've been true, but not anymore. Now, Mary couldn't help thinking that all of Brandi's fears that she was a bad influence on Holly were right on the money. She really was better off without her, and Mary was just glad the child was going to be under her roof for awhile so she could keep an eye on her.
"I miss her!" Holly informed everyone. "I miss her, but she said she never going away ever again! I see her all the time!"
Now it was Peter who made a show of grazing his shoes on the floor so he could pretend he hadn't heard the unwavering belief in his daughter's voice. Much as she had earlier in the day, Mary felt faint just thinking about what Peter had endured for Brandi. His head to be spinning five different directions and, clunky though it might be, Mary was even more positive of her decision to keep Holly now that Brandi had returned. She and Peter would have many things to hash out, and Holly didn't need to be present for the battle that was about to begin.
"Not before you see me, I hope," Mary gave a flighty chuckle to show the little girl she was jesting, if only on the outside. "I'd miss you if you weren't around too, Holls."
She smiled, "You write on my leg?"
"Huh?" Mary wasn't following.
"You write name on my leg – draw name!"
"She wants you to sign her cast," Peter chimed in. "She's gonna be her own walking yearbook before long."
Penning her name with lots of loops and drawings really wasn't Mary's style, although it sounded like this was what Holly expected. The plaster had already been decorated by two signatures, which looked like Peter's and Brandi's. Mary felt ill seeing the word 'mommy' there with several hearts and other decorations; the autograph took up most of Holly's knee. Peter's was more understated; a sprawl with a tiny handwritten note meant to provide encouragement, Mary guessed.
Knowing her niece was waiting and trying not to let the sight of Brandi's marks distract her, Mary gave a nod.
"Who's got a pen?"
Peter was quick on his feet, rummaging in a little pink satchel he'd carried inside along with Holly. From within, he pulled an entire package of Sharpies in varying colors.
"Mommy made a stop on her way to the hospital," he informed Mary as he handed over the markers. "Or, so I hear."
Less than thrilled that she would be writing her own John Hancock with a set of pens that Brandi had picked up; Mary still opened the parcel to select her color before deciding it was probably best to leave the decision to the patient.
"Which one, Holls?"
"Pink!" she squealed at once, at which point Mary could not help herself from making a face, though Holly didn't seem offended.
"Let's leave pink for Lizzie," the aunt suggested. "Why don't you pick another one?"
"Red!" Holly was fast. "Or yellow! Or green!"
"So basically, any other shade in the rainbow will do," Mary cut across her as she pulled forth a tint of crimson and plucked the cap off, the smell of the felt tip wafting up her nose almost immediately. "I can't promise anything fancy here…"
"We'll just leave that up to Uncle Marshall," the man had no shame when it came to embellishing with drawings and beautification; he would make Holly's cast a work of art.
"Maybe we should call you Aunt Marshall," Mary muttered under her breath, causing Holly to giggle feverishly as the woman pressed deep lines into the cast so the color would show up; the coating on the casing was rough and woven tightly together. "And I can be Uncle Mary. It would be more accurate, don't you think?"
Marshall chortled as he selected an array of colors, shaking his head, but saying nothing.
"Aun' Mary, you silly," Holly declared.
"Uh-huh…" a bit of sarcasm leaked through. "Silly is my middle name."
Following this commentary which no one, not even a three year old would buy, Mary and Marshall both set to work bedazzling the ornament that would be affixed to Holly's leg in the upcoming months. She sat very still and very properly, relishing the attention she was garnering and not about to ruin in by complaining or wiggling in her seat.
Marshall went to town, depicting bright yellow stars next to his name and including a bite-sized drawing of himself and Holly side-by-side, he in a police uniform, she with a giant pink bow in her hair. Again, Mary had to be impressed at his artistic ability, which she'd already been surprised by when he'd sketched the characters on the do-it-yourself balloons at the hospital. He was a man of many talents.
Mary kept hers simple, feeling the stares of Peter and Jinx and knowing she was going to be expected to have some kind of serious talk, and sooner rather than later. The question was, who wanted to bend her ear? Jinx or Peter? Or both?
"All right, Holls…" Mary stuck the lid back on her marker and sat back to admire her handiwork. "I'm done. What do you think?"
She'd used red and green to color in a small Christmas tree, which she topped off with a Star of David as a homage to Peter. Beneath it, she'd written, 'Mary Christmas, Jolly Holly. XOXO.' Being a toddler, Holly wouldn't understand the play on words, but she would recognize the four letters that represented her aunt's name, and that was more than enough.
"Tree…" she pointed with her nail. "See tree Aun' Mary drew, daddy?"
Peter stepped over for a better look, Jinx at his side.
"Aunt Mary is awfully clever," he decided with a slow, steady nod. "That looks fantastic."
"You're overselling it," the blonde went for a modest shrug. "It's Picasso over here who would be able to sell this thing for money when he's through," casting her thumb Marshall's direction.
"Yeah…" the change in Peter's tone could not have been more evident. "I was wondering if I could talk to Picasso for a minute…"
And the minute he asked, Jinx leapt in with both feet, "Yes, darling…" her voice was raspy, but determined. "I wanted to speak to you too before the kids get back. Do you think we could…?" motioning toward the back hallway.
Marshall was agreeable as he overheard the discussion, and even took care of occupying Holly so they could confer without her being privy and losing her merriment over having seen Brandi. Slipping the markers he'd been using back into their package, he folded his arms over his chest and cast his niece a look of mock-seriousness – a look that was still ensured he would get whatever he needed, because pleasing Uncle Marshall was the be-all, end-all.
"If I illustrate anything else here, there won't be room for Ben and Lizzie to write their names," he theorized. "Tell you what. I hear that movie that you love – the Rupunzel one – is on TV tonight. What do you say I grab you some milk and cookies from the kitchen and we'll watch?" this gave him a chance to speak to Peter while the film was getting started.
Holly's tongue poked between her teeth in anticipation, but she wanted to make sure she wasn't hoarding anything meant for someone else.
"There enough for Santa?"
"Oh, yes," Marshall bobbed his head. "There will be more than enough milk and cookies for Santa. Don't you worry."
With that, he patted her good leg and stood up, accompanying Peter to the kitchen, but not before he flipped on the television to the proper channel, Holly looking perfectly relaxed right where she was. Despite how hesitant she was, Mary knew this was her cue to get moving as well, and she begrudgingly left her place on the coffee table and followed Jinx back to the twins' bedroom, figuring that if they were going to have some kind of heart-to-heart, she could at least finishing cleaning up the mess in there while they were at it.
At the refrigerator, Marshall almost tried to offer Peter a beer, knowing if it were him he would be needing one by now. Fortunately, he caught himself just in time to peruse the other beverage options while setting out the milk for Holly.
"Can I get you something?" the taller man asked, head still buried in the shelves.
"I think I'm good…" Peter didn't require sustenance, it seemed, and when Marshall turned around he was already emptying the cookie jar onto a plate.
"Those might be a little stale…" Marshall suddenly remembered, snatching one and biting off the corner; it was hard, but not unbreakable. "Jinx made them last week when we were decorating the house."
In his mind's eye, Marshall could see Ben slogging along on his stomach to capture the 'man eating bugs' and Lizzie helping him untangle the tree lights. Was it possible that had only been a week ago? So much had happened since then that Marshall felt the scene was one he had been present for many-many years earlier.
"I don't think Holly will mind," Peter speculated in reference to the treats. "She's really excited to be hanging out with you guys, which puts my mind at ease."
"We're happy to help," Marshall maintained his claim, pouring a glass of milk before screwing the cap back on the jug. "It's a good distracter for Mary. She needs that right now."
Taking the cup and palming the plate of cookies, Peter nodded and raised his eyebrows, "How is Mary?" his tone was stealthy, like he was going to be caught doing something indecent.
The second hunched his shoulders, "Struggling," everyone had shed insecurities in the past week, and as they'd all seen Peter not at his most sensational, Marshall at least owed him the truth when it came to Mary's attitude. "But, chinning up – trying to prepare herself for tomorrow."
"Is she going to say goodbye to James?" Peter guessed.
"I try not to call it that in front of her because it makes it sound too formal," the inspector was proud of his conjecture where this was concerned. "More like have a last word. Either way, I'm not exactly looking forward to it."
Peter gave a low whistle, "Sounds like I dodged a bullet on that one."
"From my perspective, you've been hit by hoards of firestorms this week, so you are due for dodging a bullet."
Smiling at being cut a little bit of slack, Peter held up the stack of sweets he was supposed to be taking to his daughter.
"Give me a second to give these to Holly," he requested. "Then I'll be back."
It was a few moments for Marshall to wait, listening to his brother-in-law equip the little girl with the yummy food she was now allowed to eat. After many warnings that she was not to try and get up, that she should yell if she needed anything, he finally left her content and munching on the couch, the desired movie blaring on the screen.
Returning to Marshall, he dusted his hands on his jeans after having handled so many crumbs at the bottom of the cookie jar and the other man decided he could take the hit for initiating what was clearly going to be an uncomfortable discussion.
"Judging by what Holly said, it sounds like Brandi paid you guys a visit too."
"Oh, yeah…" there was an animosity present that didn't usually manifest itself in Peter, but it wasn't hard to understand that he'd reached his limit. "She visited all right. About gave me heart failure when she walked through the door at the hospital. I had thought she might call first if she ever decided to rejoin us, but I guess that's not how Brandi does things…"
"Did you two have a chance to talk?"
"Some," Peter replied, leaning an elbow on the island and tipping his chin into his hand. "She was not happy that I decided to have Holly stay with you guys, which may have accounted for her showing up here all fired up after the fact, so I'm sorry about that…"
"I really doubt it would've made a substantial difference," Marshall shook his head. "Mary's been dying to get at Brandi since she disappeared; they were going to throw punches one way or another."
"Even so…" Peter's eyes were hard as well as disbelieving as he wagged his head side-to-side, copying Marshall's movements. "Sounds like Brandi got an earful from Mary."
"And from Ben," Marshall added as an afterthought without thinking. Not wanting to touch on that, he diverted to something else, "Did she offer you the same explanation she offered Mary?"
"Hard to say…" a grim smile appeared. "I admit I kind of quit listening once she got around to how James was involved in her scheme. Saying it was the death knell would be pretty dramatic, but…"
"Where does this leave you guys?" Marshall had wanted to leave this part of the dialogue for later in the evening, once Peter was a little more collected and once Holly was settled, but his mouth got ahead of him.
Knowing everything that Brandi had dished out for his wife, Marshall was hard-pressed not to assume she had tried using identical excuses on Peter. It sounded like Peter hadn't taken the news well either, but there was more to sort out on his end. Mary could turn her back at any time if she so desired, but Peter was in a far more intricate situation. Being married did that to a person.
"Or, if you're not there yet…" Marshall tried to backtrack when Peter didn't answer. "Expecting you to have figured out some kind of resolution is premature of me…"
But, the other man sliced the accepting nature right in half.
"We're separating."
The phrases came so quickly, so unexpectedly, that Marshall had a hard time indexing what they meant at first. Then, little by little, letter by letter, the three words formed a sentence, and the sentence formed its meaning. Even after he put two-and-two together, something didn't seem to add up. How had Peter had enough time to come to a decision? Brandi had only just shown her face that morning. It sounded like the idea had been ruminating in his brain during the days she had been missing, and he was determined to put his foot down now that she was back.
Still, it was essential that he not look hypercritical in spite of his shock. It was the last thing Peter needed.
"Wow…" still, a little bit of disbelief inched its way through. "That…that seems quick," it was just a fact; it was not disapproving. "You had time to tell Brandi, I guess?"
Saying it aloud seemed to have something of a negative effect on Peter. He began rubbing his temples between his thumb and index finger, eyes on the shiny linoleum floor.
"Maybe I will take you up on getting something to drink," a shaky chuckle. "Could I have some water?"
"Of course, absolutely…"
Saddened by the man's obvious disorientation, Marshall grabbed a second glass and filled it at the kitchen sink, passing it into Peter's hand within seconds. After a few gulps, which did seem to improve his clarity, he was ready to speak again.
"It…it's not as if I want to…" he was defending his actions, something he didn't have to do when it came to Marshall. "I never wanted this at all, but what I did want was to be Brandi's husband, and I don't think that's who I am anymore. I'm her baby-sitter or her caretaker, and I'm certainly more Holly's father than anything else. She always has to take precedence, and if I'm busy running after Brandi every day to make sure she isn't in trouble, Holly isn't getting my full attention…"
This was all very logical, and Marshall nodded his head in order to encourage Peter to continue.
"I'm not giving up hope. It's way too early to be thinking about divorce…"
Marshall would never say so in front of Mary, but he was glad to hear this.
"But, we need time apart. I wouldn't dream of keeping her from Holly, and I set her up with a place to stay so she doesn't have to worry about that…"
"That's very benevolent of you," Marshall couldn't resist pointing this out, knowing it was Peter's decency guiding him to guarantee that Brandi would not be living on the street. "She threw you for a loop, man; it's been a tribulation," it was important to note that Peter was the injured party here. "Whatever you need to do, Mary and I are going to be behind you."
A relieved exhale broke from Peter's chest at Marshall's affirmation of loyalty, and the taller of the two couldn't comprehend where it came from until the soon-to-be-separated went on.
"That's…great to know," he started. "For Holly, especially. I mean, these situations get tricky when it comes to divided families, and Mary being Brandi's sister…" he trailed off, but then finished his thought. "I'm just saying…I'd get it if you sided with her – even if I didn't agree."
"I'm trying to avoid the whole mentality of 'sides,'" Marshall informed him coolly. "But, between you and me, Mary's lucky I haven't hunted Brandi down myself for a good lecture. Between you and me," he reiterated.
There was no reply from Peter, but it was clear from his lightened eyes that he felt extremely propitious to be able to bank on Mary's and Marshall's support. Just to seal the deal, Marshall threw in another two cents in case Peter needed extra reassurance.
"You were family long before Holly," he promised. "And you will be long after Brandi, if that day arrives. Family's about more than blood and DNA and all the technical jargon."
"Forgive me for it, but my uncertainty on that front was why I wanted to talk to you and not Mary," Peter confessed, a little bit of redness seeping into his bristled cheeks. "Just in case…you know, there was a snag, and I needed to rethink my decision to have Holly stay here…"
"Of course not," Marshall would swear his allegiance as many times as he needed to. "I think Mary will be disappointed about you and Brandi, but far from critical. I would advise against repeating this, but she really stuck her neck out for you when Brandi was here, so I gather." When Peter looked bewildered, he continued, "Told her how you've hung with her and that dragging you along by a string won't fly anymore."
Looking humbled and slightly pleased, Peter stole a cautionary glance to the living room to see to it that Holly was occupied. She was chewing her cookies and petting a purring Beatrix with her crumbly hands, happy and whole, parents together or apart.
"No cookies for Bee-Bee…" she sang, unaware she was being watched and using the nickname she had adopted for the cat when she'd first learned to talk. "Cookies for Holly…"
"That's a comfort to hear…" Peter stated once he tuned back in. "Because I am definitely not the only one Brandi has been dragging by a string."
Back in the bedroom, Mary was doing her best to keep busy by finally tossing Ben's action figurines into the red plastic crate where they were usually kept. She didn't have much interest in what Jinx had to say – she was sitting on Lizzie's bed and twisting her hands in her lap – but at least she was calm enough to be able to clean without turning into a psycho.
"Ben must've asked for fifty more of these for Christmas…" Mary mumbled as she worked, trying to keep the topic neutral. "Why the hell he needs so many I'll never know…"
"He's at that age…" Jinx sighed vaguely. "The more, the better."
"Uh-huh…"
"I found another gift for him the other day that I think he'll like…" Jinx's voice was high-pitched and nervous. "It's a kite you can make yourself, and then of course you can fly it…"
"Great…" Mary didn't mean to sound ungrateful, but she was irritable and anxious for whatever was coming. "One more thing that can fly, whereas Ben still can't."
Jinx ignored this, seeing that they weren't going to get any small talk accomplished if Mary was going to be surly and keep her distance. The older woman went quiet for a moment as she tried to figure out her next move, eyes scanning what the room had become over the years since its inception as the soldier's palace. The little men still marched in their border around the ceiling, and the lettering decals were still present, though all had been remounted into a pyramid shape beside the door to make room for Ben's superhero posters.
The same string of photos was plastered beneath the window, though the contents of the frames had changed. The few original sonogram pictures lingered – Jamie and the twins alike – but faces of Ben and Lizzie growing up had replaced those of the young Mary and Marshall. Except for one.
Mary cradled on her father's lap at the age of five was still there, her toothy grin and snaggled ponytail exactly the way Jinx remembered it. No smile could beat the one that had presented itself whenever James was home – a smile the likes of which she had never received in Mary's youth.
A smile she certainly was not receiving right now. And if the atmosphere was going to be glum, Jinx might as well say what she needed to.
"Angel…"
"What, mom?" Mary wouldn't look up.
"Were you planning on going tomorrow?" she was tentative, but very resolute.
"Going where?" Mary played dumb, trying to screw in a missing arm on one of her son's toys.
"Well…" Jinx couldn't pretend she was fooled. "Well…to see your father…"
"Yes," Mary stated shortly, not wanting to go into further detail. "Are you?"
The blonde expected her mother to respond with the same answer as her daughter, but the shocking reveals just wouldn't quit.
"I don't think so, sweetie," she whispered. "I said my fill the other day. I really don't have any desire to see him again."
The soft, faltering quality of Jinx's voice indicated that she did not want Mary to feel substandard for making a different choice, but it didn't work. Mary became hot and prickly all over at the thought that Jinx had already moved on, while she still needed that one last blast to complete the circle – if she could complete the circle.
Pausing in her organizing quest, Mary turned over her shoulder to see Jinx looked more troubled than ever, like her daughter was a bomb ready to detonate.
"Maybe I shouldn't go either…" Mary's voice was stiff.
"No," and Jinx was equally solid in her intentions. "That is not what I meant at all. You do what's right for you, honey. Going to him one more time is not a sin. He's had forty years to come to you."
That was certainly true, Mary thought, but she was still afraid of what was going to go down when she attempted to delve into the true final farewell with her father. Would she cry? Would she just get angry again? Would he even want to see her; would she be able to hold it together at all, or would it be a mix of ranting and raving and sobbing, some theatrical production, the likes of which she longed to avoid?
What she wanted it to be – what she had always wanted her relationship with James to be – was normal. But, could she do normal? Could she pretend, just for an hour, that he was any old dad she was going to chew the fat with before journey's end?
"I suppose Brandi will show up…" Mary muttered in order to avoid speaking about her conflict.
"I have no idea," Jinx was straightforward. "But, don't let her influence your choice."
Mary snorted, "I wasn't planning to. I wasn't planning to let anything she does run my life ever again."
"I know you're furious, Mary," her mother declared. "I'm furious, too."
"You don't act like it," the younger was noting her collected, if shaky demeanor that had been present since Brandi's arrival.
"I am," Jinx nearly repeated. "I can't promise it'll last, darling. She's my daughter, just like you are, but it'll take awhile for me to forgive what she did – mostly that she left Holly. I swore to myself after your father flew the coop that no matter how else I screwed you up, I would never abandon you like he did. I can't wrap my head around Brandi having done it to her child."
"Well, you're in luck, mom…" a spontaneous joke occurred to Mary. "Here we are, forty years after he disappeared, and you still won't leave me alone. You can spread your wings whenever you're ready."
Jinx gave a bemused, tinkling laugh at hearing the woman lighten up, but the josh didn't meet Mary's eyes. She was chewing on her lip, rotating one of Ben's figurines in her hand, staring at something that was beyond her mother – something sure to appear tomorrow.
"I don't know what I'm gonna say to him, mom."
Surprisingly, Jinx had advice, "You say whatever comes to mind – whatever you need tomorrow to be, you can make it that. Don't let him call the shots."
"I don't want to let him do that anymore," Mary whispered, knowing her profession held deeper meaning than that of the impending jailhouse visit.
"You'll get there," Jinx sounded sure. "Take Marshall with you tomorrow," she implored softly. "He'll be a big help; he really will."
It was Laura's appeal all over again, one that Mary was still hesitant to act upon, but now two mothers were trying to show her the light. Could she ignore a sign that was shining so brightly, a sign that said her husband was her safeguard and that everything would come out in the wash so long as she took him by the hand and led him face first into the fire?
"I don't like involving him in this stuff, mom…"
"Mary, sweetheart…"
Her jade eyes inside her porcelain skin twinkled exactly like the woman's she was speaking to – exactly as they did when she sought to seize something she desperately wanted.
"Trust me…"
That wasn't a phrase that was usually in Mary's script, but she might have to listen to it this time.
"Take Marshall. He'll know what to do."
XXX
A/N: I am infinitely grateful for the little band of you that are still reading. I really do appreciate it.