This only made me laugh even harder. Mason glared at me as I covered my mouth, trying to stifle the laughter.

A familiar screech filled the air. Mason and I immediately looked at the front door. We both knew that sound all too well. The door still screamed in pain just like when we were kids.

I looked away as fear took over. I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. Little by little I forced myself to take her in. First the black strappy sandals, with perfectly polished red toenails. She was wearing a pair of black dress pants and a red blouse that clung to her tiny waist.

I bit my lip as I took it all in—my eyes fixed on her face. It was my mother. I was overcome with emotion. She looked the same as I remembered her, only now, it looked like she took better care of herself.

“Hi there,” she said when she saw us. “Have either of you seen a little bitty girl with pigtails?”

She started down the steps.

“She’s under the porch,” Mason spoke up. He was stunned at seeing my mother after all these years.

“Dixie Jean!” she yelled, getting down on all fours. “What did I tell you about crawling under there?”

The little girl came out quickly at the sound of her voice. She latched on to my mother, holding tight to her as she stood back up.

“Thank you,” she said, smiling at the two of us.

“No problem,” Mason said.

I felt like the life was being sucked out of me. I tried to form words, but the words wouldn’t come.

“Momma, if I promise to never go down there again can I have some cookies?” Little Dixie asked, playing with her hair.

This was my sister. My mother had another kid.

“Of course. Now off into the house. I’m sure there’s a reason these two are standing out here. Shoo,” she said, hurrying her off.

Dixie stopped on the stairs looking back at us. She nodded her head, a big smile on her face.

“He said his name is Mason. He said he used to live around here. And I spit on him because he said I was annoying,” Dixie said. She let out a giggle and ran inside.

I looked at my mother. Her expression shifted from pleasant to total confusion. She studied Mason closely. Her eyes widened and she brought her hands to her mouth as realization sunk in. She instantly looked at me next.

Mason grabbed me by the arm, sensing my hesitation. My legs felt like rubber.

She stepped closer to me. “Kendall?” All the color drained from her face and she screamed before dropping at my feet and covering her face with trembling hands.

Mason held on to me. Neither one of us knew what to do and I was in a daze. Alarmed by my mother’s scream, the neighbors came to their doors to see what was going on.

Little Dixie ran down the stairs to our mother to see what was wrong with her.

She looked back up at me, tears mixed with mascara streaming down her face.

There were no words to describe her reaction. It wasn’t what I expected.

She was hysterically sobbing at my feet.

“Say something,” Mason whispered, jabbing me in the side.

I couldn’t speak. I was dumbfounded.

“Joy-Ann?” Mason started with.

She nodded, getting back on her feet. Dixie climbed the stairs and took a seat. She was crying, too. The poor child was confused and scared for her mom. I watched her as she wiped away her tears. She reminded me of myself at her age.

By some miracle, my legs worked well enough to make my way to Dixie. I took her hand and sat down beside her.

“Don’t be scared. I’m sorry for upsetting your momma. I promise everything is okay,” I reassured her as I looked into her big blue eyes.

“I don’t like when she cries,” Dixie told me, huffing in misery as the tears flowed. Her tiny body shook as she tried to get the words out.

“That’s very sweet. You sound like a very caring daughter. And I love your name.” I fixed her glasses for her.

“I am all the time,” she agreed.

“Momma’s okay, Dixie,” my mother said, standing in front of us now. She wiped at her eyes, cleaning herself up for Dixie. Her hair brushed against my shoulder as she kissed the top of Dixie’s head.

“Everything all right?” a man asked in the doorway. He looked like he had just woken up from a nap.

“Everything is fine. Take Dixie inside and give her some cookies please,” she told him.

He was in his forties, well-groomed, and didn’t look drunk or high. He looked like a perfectly normal man.

“I can’t believe I’m looking at you,” she told me, taking a seat next to me on the steps.

“She’s grown, huh?” Mason said with a smile. “In my opinion she’s beautiful. More so than when we were just two scrappy kids.”

Momma laughed through her tears. Nodding her head in agreement. She touched my hair, turning me to look at her.

“You really are beautiful,” she said with a sigh. “Where’s Wanda?”

I wasn’t shocked she would ask that. Wanda had run off with her kid.

I just wasn’t sure how to answer.

“Wanda’s far away from here, that’s for sure,” Mason said.

Momma looked off. It was easy to see something was bothering her.

“She would be so lucky to be so far away,” she said.

JULY 26

TH

I HAD BEEN WAITING my entire life for the moment that was now before me. She was nothing like the way Aunt Wanda had made her out to be.

Or that I remembered.

She was nice enough to let Mason and me stay at her house. My old house. She told me to get rest and we could catch up in the morning.

Well, it was now morning and I was standing in her bathroom riddled with anxiety. I had played this moment over and over in my head. The moment I got to confront her for how my life had turned out because of her one mistake.

And now it was here.

I secured my hair in a ponytail and stared at my face in the mirror. I looked acceptable for the amount of stress I’d had the past week or so.

Mason was still asleep. I expected him to sleep for quite some time after the drinking binge he’d been on.

The house was quiet except for the old grandfather clock ticking away in the corner of the dining room.

Sunlight warmed the house as it poured in through the windows at the front of the house.

I looked around at the rich colors that decorated the walls and furniture. It was nice and cozy. It was a home.

“I can’t believe I’m here. Everything looks so…” I stopped talking when I laid eyes on my mother.

She was sitting at the dining room table, a big white coffee mug on one side of her. She was rifling through a box of pictures.

She furrowed her eyebrows, her expression was serious. She set pictures down in separate piles one after another, working hard at the task at hand.

“I wanted you to see these,” she said as I took a seat at the table next to her. She passed a picture to me. I stared at the ring on her finger.

“Your ring is beautiful,” I said, admiring the large diamond.

She pulled her hand back, touching the stone. Sadness rather than happiness filled her face.

“Kendall, I really want you to look at these pictures with me. This is very important,” she said, obviously not wanting to talk about anything else.

I nodded. I was a bit confused as I looked at the first picture. It was me. “What is this?”

I was sitting at a table surrounded by a dozen people I didn’t recognize, except for Mason—he was there, too.

Everyone, including me, was smiling and looked so happy. I was especially baffled at the smile on my face. I don’t remember ever smiling like that.

I watched her as she wiped at the tears silently falling from her eyes. I didn’t know what she wanted me to say.