The Silver Star(22)

“Maybe we could stay here for a while,” I told Liz.

“Maybe,” she said. “It’s sort of Mom’s house, too.”


Ever since we’d arrived, we’d been straightening up Uncle Tinsley’s stuff, but with a place like Mayfield, there was always more to do. Two days after Mom called, we were putting away jars and boxes when we heard the sound of the Dart coming up the driveway.

Liz and I rushed through the door, across the big porch, and down the steps just as Mom got out of the car, which was pulling a little white-and-orange trailer. She had on her red velvet jacket even though it was summer, and her hair was teased up the way she did it when she was going to an audition. We had a three-way hug in the middle of the driveway, laughing and whooping, with Mom going on about “my darlings,” “my babies,” and “my precious girls.”

Uncle Tinsley came out of the house and leaned against one of the porch columns, watching us with his arms crossed. “Nice of you to finally drop in, Char,” he said.

“Nice to see you, too, Tin,” Mom said.

Mom and Uncle Tinsley stood there looking at each other, so I started jabbering on about all the fun things we’d been doing, staying in her old rooms in the bird wing, clearing the koi pond, riding the Farmall, eating peaches, and gathering blackberries.

Uncle Tinsley cut me off. “Where have you been, Char?” he asked. “How could you go off and leave these kids alone?”

“Don’t pass judgment on me,” Mom told him.

“Now, please, no fighting,” Liz said.

“Yes, let’s be civil,” Mom said.

We all went into the house, and Mom looked around at the clutter. “Jesus, Tin. What would Mother say?”

“What would she say about someone abandoning her children? But as you said, let’s be civil.”

Uncle Tinsley went into the kitchen to make a pot of tea. Mom started walking around the living room, picking up her mother’s crystal vases and porcelain figurines, her father’s old leather-covered binoculars, the family photographs in their sterling frames. She’d tried so hard to put this place and her past out of her life, she said, and now she was back in the middle of it again. She laughed and shook her head.

Uncle Tinsley came in with the tea service on the silver tray.

“Being back here is all too dark and strange,” Mom said. “I feel the old chill. Mother was always so cold and distant. She never truly loved me. All she cared about were appearances and being proper. And Father loved me for the wrong reasons. It was all very inappropriate.”

“Charlotte, that’s nonsense,” Uncle Tinsley said. “This was always a warm house. You were Daddy’s little girl—at least until your divorce—and you loved it. Nothing inappropriate ever happened under this roof.”

“That’s what we had to pretend. We had to pretend it was perfect. We were all experts at pretending.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Uncle Tinsley said. “You’ve always exaggerated everything. You’ve always had to create your little dramas.”

Mom turned to us. “See what I mean, girls? See what happens around here when you try to speak the truth? You get attacked.”

“Let’s just have tea,” Uncle Tinsley said.

We all sat down. Liz poured and passed the cups around.

Mom stared into her tea. “Byler,” she said. “Everyone in this town lives in the past. All they ever talk about is the weather and the Bulldogs. It’s like they don’t know or care about what’s happening in the outside world. Are they even aware that their president is a war criminal?”

“The weather’s important if you live off what you grow,” Uncle Tinsley said. “And some people think President Nixon’s doing a pretty good job trying to wind up a war he didn’t start. First Republican I ever voted for.” He stirred sugar into his tea and cleared his throat. “What is the plan for you and the girls?”

“I don’t like plans,” Mom said. “I like options. We have several options, and we’re going to consider them all.”

“What are the options?” Liz asked.

“You could stay here,” Uncle Tinsley said. He took a sip of tea. “For a while.”

“I don’t consider that an option,” Mom said.

Uncle Tinsley set down his teacup. “Char, you need to give these girls some stability.”

“What do you know about looking after children?” Mom asked with a tight smile.

“That’s not fair,” Uncle Tinsley said. “I do know if Martha and I had been blessed enough to have children, we never would have gone off and left them.”