Maggie Lee (Book 10): The Hitwoman's Act of Contrition (16 page)

Gladys and I exchanged a look.

“Maybe we don’t have to say anything?” she suggested. “The publicity. I won’t get a moment’s peace.”

I nodded. “I’ve got enough drama in my life. I don’t need to add this to it.”

“Lucky break,” God opined from my chest, which made Gladys look at me strangely.

“My niece’s pet,” I said like that explained everything.

Gladys, bless her, nodded as though she understood.

The retreat sent us home without our personal belongings. Those who didn’t have the keys to their cars on them were shuttled away in police vehicles. The rest got to retrieve their cars and get out of there.

Gladys was one who hadn’t had her keys (to a rental car) or her wallet.

“Come with me,” I offered. “I’ve got my car and I live at a B&B. We’ll give you something to eat and a place to stay until you can get your stuff or get replacements.”

“I don’t want to impose,” she said slowly.

“You saved my life,” I told her, linking my arm through hers and leading her toward the parking lot. “The least I can do is put a roof over your head. Besides, my aunts will be thrilled I brought home a celebrity.” Then something else occurred to me. “You’re not allergic to dogs, are you?”

She shook her head.

“Or cats?”

She laughed. “You have both?”

“One of each.” We arrived at my car. “And the lizard.”

“You could open a zoo,” she decided.

“I am NOT a zoo creature,” God protested.

“Speak of the devil,” I muttered, pulling the lizard out of my bra and holding him up for Gladys to see. “Meet Godzilla. God for short.”

Gladys peered at him closely. “He’s so cute.”

“I am
not
cute,” the little guy bellowed.

“And the way he squeaks…” she marveled.

“I do not squeak!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, proving her squeaking point.

I climbed into the car, indicating Gladys should get in the passenger seat. I placed God in his cup holder, reached into the never-used ashtray, and pulled out a spare car key with a flourish.

“High-tech security,” Gladys said.

I shrugged. “Who’s going to want to steal this heap?” Feeling self-conscious about my lack of luxury wheels, I added apologetically, “Probably not the kind of transportation you’re accustomed to.”

Snapping on her seatbelt, Gladys said, “Life on the road isn’t all roses and caviar. There are times when I’d give anything to have what you’ve got.”

“An old car?”

“A home. A stable life. A big family.”

I snorted. “You just think that because you haven’t met them yet.”

As though to prove my point, my cellphone rang. Before I answered, I checked to make sure it wasn’t Patrick. Seeing that it was Aunt Susan, I pushed the car’s communication system so that her voice rang out through the speaker.

“Hello?”

“You’re alive?” Susan asked.

“That or you’ve figured out a way to talk to the dead,” I quipped.

Slapping a hand over her mouth, Gladys smothered a chuckle.

“It’s all over the news.”

“What is?”

“The fire at that horrid place Leslie insisted on sending you to,” Aunt Loretta piped in.

Imagining the grief they were probably giving their sister, I felt the urge to defend her. “It’s not like she set the fire.” I glanced over at my passenger. “And the place wasn’t that horrid.”

Gladys grinned.

“Thank goodness,” Leslie sniffled.

“In fact, I’m bringing a new friend home.”

“How many legs does it have?” Susan asked suspiciously.

Mortified that Gladys had heard that, I felt my cheeks begin to burn. “
She
has two. Two legs, two arms, two eyes.”

“Is it human?” Susan asked.

Gladys chuckled.

“Yes, she’s human. How else would she have two legs?” I hissed.

“Have you seen that cat of yours?” Susan replied mildly.

“She’s right about that,” God threw in from the cup holder.

“A guest!” Loretta trilled. “We’ll have to make up a room.”

“Now isn’t the best time,” Susan began.

“It’s the
perfect
time,” Aunt Leslie interjected. “We can’t know the grand plan of life, but maybe our Maggie bringing this friend here is part of her destiny.”

Susan made a noise that sounded like a cross between a sigh of exasperation and a groan of pain.

“We’ll be there in an hour,” I slid in quickly, before anyone else could say anything stupid or outrageous. “Bye.”  I disconnected the call before anyone else got a word in.

I glanced over at Gladys, who looked a little shell-shocked. “You were saying that you’re jealous of my”—I took my hands off the wheel to make air quotes—“stable family.”

“They obviously love you,” she replied weakly.

I just shook my head and drove.

After ten minutes she spoke again, “Mind if I ask you a question?”

I shrugged.

“Is the reason you’re so worried about screwing up with your niece is that your family is a little…” She paused, searching for an acceptable phrase. “Eccentric?”

I let out a harsh laugh. “Those are the sane ones. You should meet my mother. She’s insane.”

Gladys clucked her disapproval. “Don’t say that. She can’t be that bad.”

“She is. She actually lives in a mental health facility.”

Gladys let out a low whistle.

“Maybe I should drop you at a hotel?” I suggested.

“No way. I’ve got to meet this family of yours. Maybe that woman was right. Maybe we are fated to be part of one another’s destiny.”

I gave her a side-eyed look. “Aunt Leslie isn’t right about much.”

When we got to the B&B, the three witches were on the front porch awaiting our arrival. A fourth person sat with them.

“Brace yourself,” I warned Gladys as we climbed from the car. “My friend Armani, who’s kind of a psychic, is here too.”

“Priceless,” Gladys grinned.

I found myself smiling in return and that’s the expression I had on my face when my aunts rushed up to me.

“It worked,” Leslie crowed. “She’s happy.”

“She’s just relieved to be home,” Susan snapped.

“Tell me all about the spa treatments,” Loretta demanded.

“Everyone, this is Gladys.” I waved in the general direction of the frizzy-haired woman. “Gladys, these are my aunts. Susan, Leslie, and Loretta.” I pointed to them in turn.

Gladys managed to keep a straight face as she said a variation of “Nice to meet you” to each. An impressive feat considering Leslie looked like a tie-dyed hippie, Loretta seemed to have stepped out of a boudoir photo shoot, and Susan frowned at her unruly hair like it was an animal that needed house training.

“Come, come,” the twins said simultaneously. “We’ll show you to your room.” Leslie and Loretta each grabbed on of Gladys’s arms and hustled her away.

That left Susan to give me the once-over. “You’re okay?” she asked tightly.

I nodded.

“Mary called. She wants you to go see her.”

I blinked. That was a first. Mom didn’t usually call.

Susan mistook my surprise for hesitation. “I know your last visit didn’t go well.”

“She threw cherry gelatin at me.” I kept the detail that she’d slapped me so hard my ears had rung to myself.

“She begged, Margaret.”

Her cold tone felt like another slap and I took a step back.

Susan surprised me by quickly closing the distance between us and throwing her arms around me. Hugging tightly, she whispered, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Disentangling herself she looked back toward the house. “I’ll make some tea for you and your friend.”

“I’d like that,” I choked out. I actually had no desire for tea, but I knew that wasn’t what Susan was really offering.

“Good. Good. Splash some water on your face and then join us.” With that, she hurried away.

I slowly walked toward the porch where Armani still sat, her dark eyes flashing with curiosity.

“Glad you’re okay, chica,” she said with a smile when I grew close.

“I used the spoon.” I climbed the steps and sank onto the nearest chair, suddenly exhausted. “It made a pretty good impromptu shovel.”

She nodded as though she’d expected nothing less. “And did you forgive?”

I told her the story about pushing the rock four times and how it had finally given on the fourth push.

“Kind of stretching it,” she murmured when I was through.

“You don’t think that was it?” I asked, amazed.

She shrugged.

“Do you have a business card?” I blurted out.

She cocked an eyebrow. “Suddenly you’re a believer?”

I didn’t tell her I’d been a believer for a while. Instead, I said, “For your interior decorating gig.” I told her about Lani, my interview, and the fact I’d recommended her company.

“Just give her my cell number,” Armani said airily.  Then growing serious, she asked, “So? Are you going to take it?”

“I think I have to,” I said slowly.

“I think so too.” She eyed me thoughtfully for a long moment.

I braced myself for whatever outrageous thing was about to come out of her mouth.

“I never thanked you,” she said quietly.

That
wasn’t what I’d been expecting. “For what?”

“Searching for me when I’d been kidnapped. Trying to rescue me.”

I shrugged uncomfortably. While I was glad she was okay, I didn’t want to have to explain how I’d found her. I couldn’t afford for her to know I was anything other than an insurance clerk with a crazy family.

“I know we’re not supposed to talk about it,” she tried again, “because of the case and everything.”

I nodded vigorously, despite having no idea what case she was talking about.  There’d been no mention of her boyfriend’s murder, her abduction, or anything about the O’Hara family, who were responsible for both. I assumed that this was because of the influence of Ms. Whitehat and her mysterious organization. I also assumed it was safer for me to not ask questions.

“I just wanted to thank you,” Armani said again. “It was brave of you.” She reached out and patted my knee awkwardly.

I offered her a weak grin. “You’re my friend. What else could I do?”

“Maybe you need to tap into that bravery to forgive,” she suggested softly.

I blinked.

“It’s important, Maggie. Forgive her.”

“Who?”

She smiled sadly at me and shook her head. “You know.”

And I did. God kept telling me I had to forgive my mother.

That’s when I remembered I’d forgotten him in the cup holder of the car again.

He was never going to forgive me.

As soon as Gladys settled into the B&B, I went to see my mother, partially to please Aunt Susan, who kept giving me pointed looks, and partly to appease God, who’d decided to give me the silent treatment.

Don’t get me wrong, usually the lizard refusing to talk to me would be a good thing, but I didn’t like him mad at me.

I went straight to my mother’s room in the hopes of finding her there. She was sprawled out on her bed, eyes closed, breathing shallow.

Instead of waking her, I let her sleep. I sat on a chair and watched over her, watched her chest rise and fall and her eyelids twitch. I had a lot of practice sitting in hospital chairs and watching.

God climbed onto my shoulder and whispered in my ear, “She looks like Katie.”

I nodded. She did. Fragile. Weak. Guileless.

A vise tightened around my chest as I was struck by how similar the woman who should have raised me and the child I shouldn’t be raising were. My eyes filled with tears and I found myself struggling to get air into my lungs.

“Just breathe,” God urged quietly.

“How can I be enough for Katie when Mom was never enough for me?” I gasped, tears streaming down my face.

God patted my cheek. “She tried.”

“And I’m trying with Katie, but…” A sob escaped me before I could slap my hand over my mouth.

The sound woke my mother. Her eyes opened and she struggled to focus on me.

I tried to wipe away the tears, but failed.

Mom sat up and held out her arms to me.

Slowly, I stood and stepped closer so she could grab my hands. She tugged me closer, searching my face.

I half-expected her to attack again and found myself holding my breath as she stood up so we were eye level.

“I’m sorry, Maggie,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I slapped you. I’m sorry for everything.” Tears glistened in her eyes. “Can you forgive me?”

I nodded.

“Say it,” God suggested. “Say it.”

“You’re forgiven,” I whispered, unsure of whether I was saying it to make him or her happy.

But when I saw the gratitude shining from her eyes and felt a weight lift off me, I knew it made
me
happy.

“See?” God bragged. “Told you so.”

Impulsively, I threw my arms around my mother and hugged her tightly.

“I love you, Maggie,” she whispered.

“I know.”

And that was enough.

Feeling at peace with my mother, I went to see my niece in the best mood I’d been in for a long time.