know how half of this is Jude speaking through her. He puts on that therapist face and pretty much convinces her the sky is green. Heâs taking over the house, Addy.â
Addy peeked up and whispered, âI donât want to talk about this again.â
Crow glanced at the door and lowered her voice. âBut we have to. Jude isnât right.â
âHeâs friendly enough.â
âTo you. Do you notice? Only to you. Touchy, waiting, watching.â
Addy rubbed her arms, âI donât know what youâre saying.â
âWhy did Dad leave? I know I made it tough. I get that, so Iâm not innocent.â Crow peeked at me, her face softening. âBut Iâve been thinking lately: there must have been another reason. That reason is Jude.â
Keep talking, Crow.
âDadâs probably happy, wherever he is. Adele, we donât have to stay either. You and I couldââ
âIâm not leaving Mom. She needs us. I need her.â
How many times Iâd danced around the issue:
Run away with me! We could do it.
Each time it came back to the same thing. This curious, unreasonable connection between Adele and Mom. Though Mom was little more than an extension of Jude, Addy would not let her go.
The sisters fell silent.
âThe main thing is that you two stay together,â I said. âAnd more than together, trust each other, trust that you have each otherâs best interests in mind.â They glanced at me, and at each other. Then they hugged.
I should have been a therapist.
âSo youâre the daughter of my ex-husband.â Mom strutted in. âGiven your age, my ex would have likely rushed from Regions Hospital, where I had Crow, to the bedside of his mistress, who would have been busy producing you.â She paused. âThen again, Crowâs entrance into the world would make almost any man do that.â
Her face darkened, the face that blamed Crow for Dadâs departure. âYes, Crow would make any man hungry for a different home.â
âNo, Mom,â Addy grabbed Crowâs wrist. âYou need to stop saying that. He loved us both.â
Crow stormed out of the room, and my gaze followed. Those digs had been so common, so everyday; I never felt their cruelty, not from the inside. But now, I saw the sickness of the words, the disease that spread through the house.
âMaybe Dad was a polygamist,â I said. âOr a sperm donor. Or maybe you just forgot that you had a third child, ever thought of that?â
Adele burst out laughing, and the dark shadow passed from Momâs face. She chuckled. âI declare, you are something.â Her eyes narrowed. âYou are something. You know, you do look like Cameron. Itâs in the eyes.â She sighed. âSo the school wanted to know if I claimed you. I told them that depended on whether you tilted toward Crow or Adele.â
âTwo fine choices, if you ask me. What do you think?â I asked.
âTime will tell. I donât know where you rightfully belong, so I wonât sign anything legal, but if you can keep Crow on the straight and narrow, you can stay here for life.â
â¢Â â¢Â â¢
Straight and narrow. I hated those words, and they kicked me into a memory.
Confession time. Aside from my little thirteen-year-old flirtation with an empty garage and Judeâs Winstons, the only place I ever drank or smoked was at Doveâs. I did no other drug, and committed no crime other than those against my own body. I couldnât afford toâI had to be coherent for the nights.
Despite my reasonably responsible attitude toward substance abuse, I found myself in juvenile detention four times, four of the most terrifying nights of my life. I was never there for more than a night, and never for an instant was I frightened for myself. Though Judeâs nighttime visits to our room had long since ended, fear for Addyâs safety