Daphne's 11th birthday was coming up in just a week. She was beyond excited as she relayed all the plans for the big slumber party to Lucy on the way to her ballet class. Lucy listened attentively, the way she always did, asking just the right questions.
"Come on now," Rayna said with an affectionate smile as she parked the truck. "You better scoot, or you'll be late. I have to run a few errands and we'll be back."
They both watched her hop out of the backseat and dash into the building between the raindrops.
"You have wonderful daughters, Rayna," Lucy said, her eyes looking a little teary.
"Yes I do," she agreed.
"Such a special age, to be young like that. I'm not so old that I don't remember it."
Rayna stared out the windshield as the raindrops fell harder.
She wasn't so old that she didn't remember it either. For her 11th birthday her mother had given her a present that held more significance than any she'd ever received before or after: an old guitar in a beat up black box. She never did quite learn to play it very well, but it wasn't the playing that was important. That guitar was what gave her the courage to sing. 17 months later, her mother was gone. It had been raining the night she died….
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"Are you singing tonight, mama?" Rayna asked as she wandered into the bedroom and sat on the window seat. Through the window pane she could see thunder and lightning cracked the sky, and she shivered.
Virginia gave her a lovely smile as she stood up from the vanity. "Yes, baby. Don't worry about the rain. I'll be fine."
"I wish I could come and watch you sing," she begged. "please? Just for a little while?"
It had been years since Lamar had allowed that.
"When you're older," Virginia promised. "Go off to bed now, I'll see you soon."
Rayna never really thought about the context of that conversation until later years. Virginia hadn't said "I'll see you in the morning". She said I'll see you soon."
It was a soon that never came. And she never did get to see her mother perform again.
The next morning there were uniformed men in the house. Her father was called to come home from his business trip in Louisville, and no one would tell her and Tandy anything. She was mad. And where was her mother anyway? She never stayed away more than a few hours, and was always there the next morning at breakfast.
"Something's wrong," she kept insisting to her sister as they hid in Tandy's room. "Just let me go out there and listen."
But Tandy refused to let her past the door.
It was hours before anyone came to check on them. Like they'd just been forgotten.
And then Lamar was there, his presence huge and looming in the door of Tandy's pink and white bedroom. His mouth in a straight line, and his dark eyes flashing.
His voice never cracked, though. Not once. "I'm sorry to tell you that your mother isn't with us anymore," he said. "There was an accident last night. She's dead."
She sat there on the bed and felt Tandy grab her hand. Neither of them spoke. She wanted to scream and cry. Bring her back! But nobody cried in front of Lamar.
He just turned and walked out.
That's what she would remember the most about that night. He was so unfeeling, and in an instant they were two teenage girls left motherless.
She felt the tears roll down her face and looked over at her sister. "I wanted to hear her sing."
Tandy's face was like a stone. It scared her. Because it looked a lot like the face of their father.
"Can you go, please?" Tandy said quietly. "To your own room? I want to be alone."
Rayna didn't want to be alone. She wanted to scream and cry. She wanted someone to hug her and tell her that it was all a mistake and her mother would be home tomorrow.
But in this family, you didn't do that. You shoved it away and hoped it never came back to the surface. You sucked it up and did what had to be done. You put on a good show for people watching, and never, ever let them see you feel anything. That was the lesson her father taught her at 12 years old.
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"He was such a cold man, even before she died," Lucy said now. "Perhaps It was hard for your mother to live with him."
"Maybe. But she was going to leave us anyway," Rayna said, unable to hide the sadness in her voice. "Not just my father, but Tandy and I too. You know she was having an affair with Watty. For years and years."
"I did know. Many people did."
"I asked him once," she admitted. "Watty. I asked him what he would have done if she made it to his house with all her bags packed. He said he would have sent her home to me and Tandy where she belonged. But that she probably wouldn't have stayed. That she was like trying to hold the wind. You just can't."
"Do you think you ever really forgave her for that?"
Little girls needed their mothers. Especially at that age. Images of the accident from two years ago came to mind, and she pushed them away. It still terrified to think she'd almost done that to her own daughters.
"Do I get to ask you any questions?" Rayna said abruptly. "What's the pay-off in this anyway?"
Lucy's face slid into a wizened old smile. "One a day. That's it."
"Sounds like a deal I can live with," she said calmly. "How the hell old are you anyway?"
Lucy laughed and laughed. "Old enough to know better and too young to care, my dear. And that's all you need to know. Now if anyone asks about Roger Marten, well you just tell them he's about 45, with pretty blue eyes and dark hair, and looks like that fellow in all the movies…."