Bless Her Dead Little Heart

CHAPTER 16

The string of profanities with which Wade responded to his half sister’s ill-considered remark sent An’gel’s blood pressure skyward. She gripped the arms of her chair to stop herself from picking up the remains of her orange juice and pitching them in the man’s face.

Bernice shrank in her chair, and for a moment An’gel thought the poor woman was going to hide under the table.

“Wade Thurmond,” Rosabelle said, her face suffused with blood, “is this true? Were you plotting behind my back to have me committed to a mental hospital?”

An’gel feared Rosabelle might have a stroke. She had never seen the woman in such a rage.

Wade didn’t shrink from his mother’s fury. “No, Mother, we weren’t going to try having you committed. We do think you need to be evaluated by a psychiatrist, however. We all agreed that you may no longer be competent enough to care for yourself.”

“You all agreed?” Rosabelle glanced at each member of her family in turn. “Maudine, Bernice, are you part of this attempt? Juanita, Junior, you two as well?”

“No, Grandmother, I wasn’t part of it.” Juanita shook her head. “You know I don’t think you’re incompetent. I tried to argue with Aunt Maudie and Uncle Wade, but they wouldn’t listen to me.”

“Viper.” Maudine stared at her niece. “Weak, just like my sister. Bernice doesn’t want to admit the truth about Mother, and neither do you.”

“Now, Maudine,” Bernice said softly. “I told you I thought you and Wade were jumping the gun. Mother has some strange notions, but that doesn’t mean she needs to be put in a mental hospital.”

“Thank you for that heartfelt testimonial, Bernice,” Rosabelle said. She turned to An’gel. “Now do you understand what I’ve been trying to tell you about my family? You see how they are plotting to destroy me. First it’s a loony bin, and then one of them decided on a more permanent solution.”

An’gel felt shell-shocked. Had she and Dickce been dropped somehow into the middle of an episode of All My Children? She had never heard such goings-on in her life outside of a soap opera. She didn’t feel capable of answering.

Instead she glanced down the table at Dickce and Benjy. The boy had lowered his head, evidently fascinated by the pattern of the china. Dickce rolled her eyes and shrugged. An’gel had a sneaking suspicion that her sister was, in some odd way, enjoying the melodrama.

Rosabelle didn’t appear to need a response. “How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is to have a thankless child.” She closed her eyes, leaned back in her chair, and in a moment tears trickled down. Then her eyes popped open, and Rosabelle dabbed away the tears with a linen napkin. “You all should be ashamed of your treatment of me, your own mother.”

She declaimed that quotation with all the drama of a Sarah Bernhardt wannabe, An’gel thought cynically.

“Come off it, Mother,” Wade said, obviously disgusted. “When we were children, we saw our nannies more often than we saw you. If we’d been left to your tender mercies, we’d all have been naked and starving to death. You were too busy living the high life and spending your husband’s money.” He stood, dropped his napkin on the table, and walked out of the room.

“He’s right,” Maudine said. “You’re a vicious old cow, and I for one am sorry it wasn’t you who fell down those stairs. Marla was a horrible woman, but you make her seem like Miss Congeniality.” She pushed her chair back and lumbered to her feet. “When we get back to California, we’re going to get you put away where you should have been years ago.” She cast her mother a glance of loathing as she headed from the room.

“Maudie, no,” Bernice whimpered as she scurried after her sister.

“And so ends the latest episode of As the Stomach Turns.” Junior shook his head. “Grandmother, I’m sorry you had to endure all that. But you bring it on yourself. Juanita and I know you aren’t crazy or incompetent, but you act like a five-year-old brat sometimes.” He came around the table and kissed Rosabelle’s cheek. “Don’t pay any attention to them. Juanita and I won’t let them put you away.”

Rosabelle did not appear mollified by her grandson’s words, An’gel thought. Privately she couldn’t help but agree with Junior’s assessment of her. She could have told him Rosabelle had been a brat all her life, but now didn’t seem to be the time, she thought wryly.

“Newton Aloysius Pittman Junior, you’ve never spoken to me like that in your life.” Rosabelle sounded hurt, and An’gel wondered if, for once, real emotion was coming through.

Junior patted her hand. Juanita leaned in her chair to slip an arm around Rosabelle’s shoulder. Her head close to her grandmother’s, Juanita said, “Junior is right, Gran. You can’t treat Mother and the others so harshly and not expect them to make a fuss.” She sighed. “Junior and I will talk to them again and see if we can calm them down. But you might try being nicer to them.”

Juanita followed her cousin from the room, and now An’gel, Dickce, Benjy, and Rosabelle were the only ones still at the table.

“Can you believe how they talked to me? My own grandchildren.” Rosabelle appeared stunned, and again An’gel wondered whether she was acting or if she truly was upset.

An’gel took a deep breath. She might regret this later, but now was probably the time for Rosabelle to hear a few home truths from a person who had known her for much of her life.

She patted Rosabelle’s hand and shot Dickce a warning glance. “Honey, I know this is upsetting, but your grandchildren are right. There’s only one thing you’ve ever wanted to be, besides a rich man’s wife, and that’s the Center of Attention. It’s usually a lonely place, because to get there and stay there, you have to care more about yourself and what you want than about what others want. You were that way when I met you during rush week at Athena College all those years ago, and you’ve never changed.”

An’gel sat back and waited for the explosion. She glanced at Dickce and was not much surprised to see her giving a thumbs-up. Poor Benjy looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. An’gel realized she should probably have sent him out of the room before she said what she had to Rosabelle.

One look at Rosabelle’s face, and An’gel could tell her words hadn’t sat well with her old sorority sister. An’gel had hoped that, given the seriousness of the situation, Rosabelle might finally take responsibility for her own behavior.

Evidently those hopes were not to be realized. Rosabelle stared at An’gel—as she remarked to Dickce later—like Hercules seeing the Aegean stables for the first time.

Rosabelle stood. “I seem to have made many mistakes in my life, and one of the biggest ones was thinking you were my friend. I didn’t realize you despised me so much.”

Before she could continue, Dickce spoke. “We don’t despise you. We don’t always like you very much, but despise is too strong a word. Stop acting like a brat and grow up.”

Rosabelle’s head turned, and she looked at Dickce, eyebrows raised. “That’s the peanut gallery heard from.” She sat. “Well, if I have to choose between my family and the Ducote sisters, I guess I’m better off with you.” She glanced toward the sideboard. “Is there any more coffee?”

An’gel couldn’t help herself. She laughed, and she heard Dickce giggle. When she looked down the table, she saw her sister and Benjy with their heads together. Perhaps Dickce was attempting to explain Rosabelle’s mercurial behavior to the boy. An’gel wished someone would explain it to her.

She got up and refilled Rosabelle’s coffee. Seated once again, she waited to hear what her friend would say next.

After a couple of long sips, Rosabelle set her mug down. “My first husband had to entertain a lot. That’s how it is in Hollywood. Luncheons, dinners, premieres, and all sorts of public appearances. He wanted me with him at every single one. That’s why we hired a nanny for Maudine. I didn’t have a lot of time to spend with her, and when I was home, I was so exhausted from the socializing, I didn’t have much left over for a child.”

She frowned. “Maudine was not a pleasant child either. Always cross and fussy. Then Bernice came along. She was much more biddable, rather sweet actually, but I didn’t have much time for her either.”

“How old were they when your first husband died?” An’gel asked.

Rosabelle thought for a moment. “Maudine was almost seven, and Bernice had just turned five.”

“What exactly happened to him?” Dickce asked.

“He was producing a film on location in Africa. He either drank water that was bad or washed in it. Or maybe it was a mosquito bite. They never really did know how, but he came down with dysentery. A violent case, apparently, and he died before they could get him to a hospital.”

“That’s awful,” An’gel said. “I know you were devastated.”

Rosabelle nodded. “Jack Carson was the love of my life. I tried to talk him out of producing that film, but he was bull-headed. It ended up costing him his life, and I thought I would die from grief myself.”

After a moment, Dickce spoke. “When did you meet your second husband?”

Rosabelle glanced at her, then away. When she spoke, her tone was cool. “I’d known him all along. He was our banker. Tom Thurmond and Jack had been friends before Jack and I married. I always knew he was in love with me, but of course as long as Jack was alive, I ignored that.” She fiddled with a spoon, drawing invisible patterns on the tablecloth. “I married him, after a decent interval. Eleven months later, Wade was born. We hired another nanny, and I kept up the kind of life I’d had before, but this time as the wife of a financier-turned-producer.”

An’gel was about to ask about the third husband when Rosabelle stood again after glancing at her watch. “It’s nearly nine thirty. The deputy should be here.” She smiled, and that smile made An’gel uneasy. “I intend to talk to her before my loving children fill her head with the idea that I’m off my rocker.”