Mary's Bones

TWENTY-FIVE

One week had gone by since Rosemary scared the living daylights out of us. I'd been recovering smoothly. I felt fine. But no one would listen to me.

"Tell me again why you're here, please." It took everything in me not to pull my hair from my scalp as I stared at my mother's blank expression.

"Shush and eat up." She pointed at the bowl of seasoned broccoli in my hands.

I had eaten everything but that. She knew how much I hated broccoli. I had always spat it out when I was a child. I avoided it like the plague nowadays. That was easier. But she claimed I needed all the greens I could to keep healthy during my pregnancy. I wanted to cry.

"Ma, this is so nasty. John!" I whined, sounding like a five-year-old rather than a grown woman.

"Don't call him. You better not harass that man. He won't save you," she said.

I glared at her with narrowed eyes, watching her crochet the yawn in her hands. I knew this would happen eventually. If I wasn't taking the best care of myself, I knew someone else would do it. I wished it could have been John rather than my mother, though.

"Oh, you pipe down! It's not that bad. When you finish that, have some juice. It'll wash the taste down." Bernice slid a cup of grape juice across the coffee table, then sat on the couch beside me. I didn't like being stuck in between them. These women were capable of anything.

"That is sad. Just so sad. A damn shame too." my mother shook her head, watching the TV screen. I didn't understand how she was watching the TV on mute. But she made do with it.

What the news channel was showing wasn't a surprise. After my dream, it was no secret that the remains scattered under the willow tree belonged to seven-year-old Shayla Byers. They were a perfect match.

I stabbed at my broccoli and sighed. "It is."

The fact that someone would go through all this trouble just to bury these girls in different locations irked my nerves. Everything was too perfect. I was starting to think this was a plan that had been manufactured beforehand. But it didn't make sense. The dates were too random. My fingernails dug into my knees at the thought. It wasn't like I could go out there on my own and get any answers, either.

Because of my situation, Dr. Welsh and John had made sure I didn't leave the house. I was to be on bed rest for the entire week, as they put it—that meant a week off from work—and classes were canceled for the rest of the week because I refused to let a substitute fill in for me.

My mother was posing as John's replacement at the moment since he, my father, and his father were working on something in the room. Something about putting together a crib for Rosemary. It was huge, so I couldn't blame him for asking for help.

The only exciting thing about my week was digging into the gifts Evelyn dropped by with a few days ago. Balloons, flowers, cards, and teddy bears, all bought by my lovely class. Thankfully, I could finally go back to work Monday. Now, if this weekend would just end faster. I was tired of having a babysitter.

"Hey ma, and Bernice, did you know any of these girls' families?" I placed my bowl on the coffee table, crossing my legs under me. Both women froze and turned, eyeing me from their position on the couch.

"No. I've seen that child's—Regina's—grandparents around a couple times. Mostly at the supermarket. Very nice people. But that was it," my mother said.

"Yeah, I didn't run into them often. Sometimes, I saw that woman, Lucinda, and her husband on bingo nights when Malcolm and I went, but that was before their daughter went missing. We didn't talk with them much." Bernice shrugged.