Aunt Elizabeth put fingertips to her brow. “I’d forgotten you overheard that conversation.” She lowered her hand and raised her head. “I said lots of things I shouldn’t have said. I was so angry. It started long before Leanne died, though that exacerbated things. My anger goes back to childhood.” She put her hands on her legs as though bracing herself. “One of my first memories is seeing my father kick my mother in the ribs when she was on her knees scrubbing the floor.” She closed her eyes. “I must have been only four or five, because Leanne hadn’t been born yet.”
Grace felt the hot rush of tears and didn’t say anything.
“My mother never argued with my father. She never said a word against him. She taught us to obey, too. We learned early to discern his moods and stay out of his way. Mama had another baby a few years after Leanne. A little boy. He was blue. Something about his blood not being oxygenated. Cyanosis, I think they call it. I looked it up once.”
She took up her teacup and saucer, sipping slowly, eyes dull. Her hand shook when she put them down again, calmer. “My father blamed my mother when the baby died, of course. The sad part is she believed him. She felt she deserved the beatings.” Aunt Elizabeth fisted her hands, her voice lowering, tight and strained. “I tried to stop him once, and he almost killed me.”
She shook her head. “Back in those days, people didn’t talk about abuse. It was a family matter, best kept secret. I got a job as soon as I was old enough, just to get out, just to save enough to leave home. Of course, my father expected the lion’s share of my earnings, but I found ways to squirrel money away. I stayed away so much, I didn’t know what else was going on when I wasn’t there.”
She closed her eyes for a moment before going on. “Mama was sick. We never knew what was wrong with her because she wouldn’t go to the doctor. I think she saw an end to her misery and welcomed it. Who would blame her?” She sat for a long time, silent.
“And my mother?”
Aunt Elizabeth pressed her lips together, face pale. “I came back for her after Mama died, hoping she’d come with me. She insisted Daddy needed her. He hadn’t been well. I could see he wasn’t. Maybe he was sorry for the way he treated our mother. Maybe he was looking hell in the face. I don’t know. I didn’t care.” She rested her head against the back of the chair. “I went to see her as often as I could. Leanne would call, and we’d talk. Dad didn’t make her life easy. Everything that ever went wrong in his life was always someone else’s fault.” She gave Grace a sad smile. “Your mother was a good caregiver.” The curve of her mouth turned bitter. “As for me, I stood over him once, near the end, and said if it was up to me, I’d leave him in his chair and let him rot in his own feces.”
A cold chill prickled Grace’s skin.
Aunt Elizabeth’s expression wavered between shame and guilt, anger and regret. “Leanne became like our mother. I became like Dad.” She looked at Grace, her eyes growing moist. “I just didn’t use my fists.”
Grace moved to the sofa and sat on the edge so she could take her aunt’s hand. “I love you, Aunt Elizabeth.”
“I know you do. God knows why. You are like your mother. She could forgive anything.” She turned slightly, her hands around Grace’s, holding on firmly, expression intent. “We need to talk about your parents. What do you remember about that night?”
“I didn’t see anything that happened. Mom said we were going to play hide-and-seek. I heard Mom talking fast. Daddy shouted at her. Something crashed, and I heard Daddy sobbing and saying, ‘Leanne’ over and over. Then I heard him coming. I thought he was looking for me, so I didn’t dare move. He opened the closet door and threw boxes off the high shelf and then found a gun. He saw me then. He pushed the clothes aside and stared at me. He didn’t say a word. He closed the closet door. I just huddled there, waiting in the dark. And then . . . I heard the shot.”
She shook her head, remembering bits and pieces of that awful night.
“Everything was confusion after that. I was too scared to move. I heard a loud crash and men’s voices. The lights came on and a policeman found me. I ended up with the nice couple who kept me a few days.” When Grace had first met the Garcias, she’d thought of that kindly couple. “And then you came.”
Aunt Elizabeth’s hands loosened. “I’m so sorry all that happened to you, Grace. I didn’t make things any easier by talking about your father the way I did. Life was hard enough on you without having me play jury and judge. Whatever happened that night caused your father to take his own life. He could have taken yours as well, but he didn’t.”