“That’s why you wanted to come,” she said, suddenly understanding. “You wanted to be here in case he showed up and tried to pull something. But how did you know he would?”

Wade shrugged. “I didn’t. But guys like that don’t change their stripes. I wasn’t about to let you to get blindsided.”

For a moment, Christy-Lynn wasn’t sure she could speak, the lump in her throat suddenly threatening to cut off her words. He had done this for her. Not for Iris, who until today he had never met, but for her, because he knew how much it mattered. “I honestly don’t know what to say. Except thank you, of course. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been here. I might have actually paid him. The thought of Iris living with that—” She broke off, not wanting to finish the thought. “I guess we’d better go back in and let Rhetta know no one’s dead.”

FORTY-TWO

Rhetta was weeping quietly when they walked back into the house, cradling Iris and crooning some indecipherable tune. She glanced up, blinking to clear her vision. “Where’s Ray?”

“I don’t think he’ll be around for a while,” Wade said gently. “We had a conversation. I think he understands that Iris is better off here with you.”

Rhetta nodded, though she was clearly bewildered. She closed her eyes briefly, heaving a shaky breath. “I need to smoke. Can you look after her while I’m outside?”

Christy-Lynn turned to Wade. “Can you? I’d like to talk to Rhetta a minute.”

Rhetta planted a kiss on Iris’s pale head. “Nonny needs to go out on the porch for a few minutes. Can you stay and color with the nice man?”

Iris turned wide eyes toward Wade.

The hard angles disappeared from Wade’s face as he bent down to meet Iris’s gaze. “Christy-Lynn showed me the fish you colored for her. She has it on her refrigerator so all her friends can see it. Do you think you could color one for me? Maybe a blue one?”

Iris eyed him warily but took his hand when he extended it. Christy-Lynn watched as he led her to the coloring books scattered in the corner and settled down beside her on the rug, as if it coloring with a three-year-old was something he did every day.

Rhetta struggled up out of her chair, already patting her pockets for her cigarettes. She moved slowly, almost brokenly, as she stepped out onto the porch and groped her way to her chair. Her hands trembled as she plucked a cigarette from the crumpled packet. It took three tries to light it.

She was quiet for a time, pulling in smoke, pushing it out. Finally, she turned to Christy-Lynn. “I’m sorry about my grandson. He’s . . . not a nice man.”

“You knew, didn’t you? That’s why you didn’t want to show him the papers. Because you were afraid he’d try something like this.”

Rhetta nodded wearily as she blew out a lung full of smoke. “I knew he’d get his hands on the money if he found out, so I kept it quiet. But he showed up one day, and the papers were on the kitchen table. He doesn’t give a damn about that girl. Neither does Ellen. They just see dollar signs.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“He told me not to.” She closed her eyes, her lids blue-veined and paper-thin. “He’s got an awful temper.”

“Are you afraid of him, Rhetta?” Christy-Lynn asked, already knowing the answer.

“It isn’t just that. He and Ellen are the only family I have—the only help I have. They do my shopping and my errands, run me to the doctor when I need to go, pick up my medicine. I don’t know what I’d do if they quit. But that isn’t the worst of it.” She paused, crushed out her cigarette, then fumbled to light another. “One day I’ll be gone. And then what? They were my only hope for Iris, which is why I’ve been so torn. Part of me hoped the money might bring them around. But then today, when I heard him saying those things and saw the look on Iris’s little face, I knew I couldn’t let him anywhere near her. I’d rather let the county have her. At least she’ll have a chance.”

Christy-Lynn felt the words like a physical shock. They had been Missy’s words too. But they weren’t true. She of all people knew that. “You don’t mean that. You can’t. There must be some local family who’d be willing to take her—a decent family. My lawyer could help arrange the adoption.”

“With who?” Rhetta countered, near tears now. “There’s no one. Unless . . .”

Christy-Lynn lifted her eyes, waiting.

“You could take her.” She’d said it softly but quickly, like the snick of a trap springing shut. “You could take her away from here, give her a better life—a real life.”

There was a dull buzzing in Christy-Lynn’s head, a sudden weight at the center of her chest. “Rhetta, I can’t.”

“She needs you, Christy-Lynn. I’ve thought so for a while, but I knew it for sure when I saw the two of you at Honey’s grave. And you need her.”

Christy-Lynn pushed to her feet and moved to the railing, as far from Rhetta as she could get on the tiny porch. “It isn’t possible, Rhetta. I can’t say why, it just . . . isn’t.”

“Because of Honey?”

“Because of me. There are a million reasons I can’t do what you’re asking, but none of them have to do with Iris—or with Honey. Iris needs a mother, and I’m not mother material. It’s why I never had children of my own.”