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Patricia went so pale I was afraid she was going to faint. “She can’t.”

“She is.”

“This is a nightmare,” she murmured, her hand shaking as she continued to pet Louella. “It started when I found out about Harris’s affair and I’ve yet to wake up thirty years later.”

“How exactly did you end up with Dylan?” I asked casually, hoping she’d tell me the whole story.

She eyed me for a moment, but finally said, “When I found out about Harris’s indiscretion, I gave him an ultimatum. Me or her. He chose me, and broke things off with Twilabeth. I forgave him.”

“I’m surprised you stayed.” In fact, I was shocked she hadn’t killed him dead on the spot.

“I loved him.” She lifted her shoulders in a gentle shrug. “Turns out you can compromise a lot in the name of love.”

So true.

“Shortly after their breakup, Twilabeth learned she was pregnant,” Patricia said. “That was the first time she tried to kill herself.”

I watched her carefully. She didn’t speak with any kind of hateful inflection. It was simply as though she was stating the facts.

“She was in a psychiatric hospital when Dylan was born and not yet ready to be released. The staff contacted Harris—she’d listed him as her spouse on her paperwork. She said she couldn’t raise the baby, that she couldn’t even care for herself properly. She told Harris he should take the baby and put him up for adoption. Harris couldn’t bring himself to do it, so he brought him home. To me. I’m not able to have children of my own, and as much as I resented the fact that Harris was bringing his bastard child into my house, I took one look at Dylan’s face and fell in love.”

I knew the feeling.

“I told friends we’d adopted privately. No one knew of the affair. Twilabeth was in and out of hospitals after that, and eventually found the right combination of medications. She never questioned Harris about what happened to Dylan, but I’d see her sometimes watching him from afar. She eventually married Haywood and seemed to be moving on with her life.”

“That’s when you turned on Haywood, isn’t it? When he married her?”

“I was afraid she’d told him the truth about Dylan, that he knew my darkest secret and was pitying me behind my back. Or worse, waiting to use the information against me.”

It almost made me feel sorry for her. “Do you know why she and Haywood broke up?”

“I only heard rumors of her mania starting up again and it causing issues between them. I had a private investigator keeping tabs on her when she moved, so I knew when she was with child again. This time when the baby was born, she didn’t let anyone know, and I assumed it was because she didn’t want Haywood to take the girl away from her in light of her mental instability. After Avery’s birth, however, I never learned of any other manic episodes, so Twilabeth must have found a good doctor down in Auburn.”

As I watched her talk, I realized this was the longest conversation I’d ever had with her in all the years I’d known her. The wind ruffled my hair, and I tucked strands behind my ears. “You must have panicked when Avery walked into that ball.”

“She may as well have been wearing a sandwich board proclaiming her relationship to Dylan. They look quite similar.”

They had the same jawline, the same smile, the same eyes. But it wasn’t quite as noticeable to a stranger as it might have been to someone who knew Dylan as well as I did.

A plea was in Patricia’s eyes as she looked at me. “You can’t tell him. I promise I won’t ever give the two of you a moment’s trouble ever again if you do this for me.
Please.
”

With a sigh, I clasped my hands and set them on the table. “What do you think would have happened if Gabriel Kirby had simply admitted he accidentally ran over Virgil Keane the day he did it?”

She tipped her head as though wondering where I was going with this but said, “I’m not certain. He probably would have been arrested for vehicular manslaughter, but with the cancer playing such a factor, I’m not sure he’d have ever been formally charged. If he had been, he’d probably have gotten off light.”

“Would you have thought any less of him if you’d known what happened that night?” I asked.

“Of course not. His eyes . . . It had been dark. It was an accident. They do happen.”

I leaned forward. “And if you knew of his and Idella’s money issues?”

“I’d have helped them, given them a loan.”

“How about Hyacinth? Would you have helped her if you knew how bad her drinking had become?”

“Of course.” The brim of her hat fluttered in the breeze. “What are you getting at, Carly?”

“If those people hadn’t been so intent on keeping secrets, protecting themselves instead of looking at the bigger picture, a lot of this heartache wouldn’t be happening. Doc wouldn’t be sitting in jail facing all kinds of charges, and Idella wouldn’t be facing the rest of her life without her husband. Think about that.”

I felt for Idella. Rumors were already swirling with news that she was planning to leave town as soon as possible, embarrassed and ashamed. I wished she’d stay and lean on her friends for support. If there was ever a time, it was now. But I had no say, and the choice was hers to make.

“It’s not that easy,” Patricia said sharply.

“But it is.” It was time to go. I stood up. “Here’s what I know. Dylan loves you. You raised him. You bandaged his scrapes, helped with his homework, and taught him how to drive. You fussed and lectured and loved. His knowing that you didn’t give birth to him isn’t going to change the fact that you’re his mama. It’s not always about blood. Sometimes it’s about love.”

“Carly . . .”

I took a deep breath and cut her off. “Is he going to be shocked at the secret you’ve kept? Absolutely. But the longer the secret is kept, the more painful it’s going to be to him. Which is why he needs to be told. The secrets need to end. I’d rather he hear them from you, but hand to God, I’ll tell him myself, because I cannot keep something like this between us. I’m giving you until Saturday.”

I walked away and didn’t look back.

Chapter Twenty-six

“W
hat did you do?” I exclaimed when I walked through my front door fifteen minutes later and came face-to-face with an item I’d never thought I’d see again. “What. Did. You. Do?”

I dropped my pocketbook and Louella’s dog bed on the floor. I’d forgotten to leave the bed with Patricia, but figured there was time enough to drop it off later. Until then, the cats would make good use of it.

Ainsley bounced on the balls of her feet, her big chest bobbing. “Do you love it? I love it. Do you love it?”

“
I
love it,” Delia said from her spot on the couch. She sat with both legs tucked beneath her. Her hair had been pulled back in a ponytail, and she was making the most of hibernation day by still being in her pajamas at noon. Boo sat on her lap, and he yipped. “Boo does too.”

“Don’t forget about me,” Dylan called from the kitchen.

I laughed. “I do love it!”

Ainsley’s amethyst eyes were bright with happiness. “Delia helped. She got me in touch with the woman who had originally made the dress so I could buy the notions I needed. Isn’t it pretty?”

Tears came to my eyes, and I threw my arms around her. “So pretty!”

I picked up the dress, gently touching the golden trim, and held it up to myself. Ainsley had taken my ball gown and turned it into a cocktail dress. The top half remained the same, but the ivory silk now fell to just below my knees. She’d replicated the intricate design along its hem and also added a touch of gold at the waist as well. I spun around, watching the silk flare out. “I like it even better now.”

Ainsley slapped my arm. “I love you for saying that, even if it’s not true.”

“It’s true!” I protested.

Dylan came into the living room carrying a tray of snacks. He stopped and gave me a kiss before setting the tray on the table. “How’d it go?”

“It went,” I said, giving love and attention to Roly and Poly, who were eyeing the snacks.

“You’re not bleeding.” Delia grabbed a chip, dipped it in salsa. “That’s saying something.”

“I don’t see Louella,” Ainsley said, looking around. “Does that mean Patricia agreed to adopt her?”

“She did,” I said. “I think they will be very happy together.”

Dylan glanced at me, a look in his eyes I couldn’t quite decipher. I had the feeling he knew I was keeping something from him.

“Did she not want the bed?” Delia asked.

“I forgot to give it to her,” I explained with a shrug. “There’s time enough.”

The phone rang, and I dashed into the kitchen to answer it. My mama.

“Hot diggety, Baby Girl! Your daddy just received word that he’s the newest member of the Harpies!”

“Help me!” my daddy yelled in the background.

My mama hushed him and said to me, “Got a registered letter all fancy this morning. It had been postmarked last Friday, so I guess you didn’t have to do all that investigating on Patricia’s behalf after all.”

“That’s okay,” I said. “Well, you know, except for almost getting killed. Twice. It was a small price to pay for Daddy’s Harpies membership,” I added sarcastically.

“You’re a good girl, Carly Bell,” Mama said, and I wasn’t sure she understood I’d been kidding.

“In light of all that’s happened lately,” she went on, “I think it might be wise for me to postpone that lunche—”

“Praise be!” my daddy yelled.

“—that luncheon,” my mama went on, her voice tight, “until a more suitable time. You’re invited, of course. Dylan, too, on account that his mama will be there.”

I wasn’t sure that was an enticement for him any longer. “I think I’m busy that day,” I said.

“You don’t even know wha— Hell’s bells! The pair of you. It’s a wonder I love either of you so much.” She hung up.

Smiling, I hung up, too.

I walked back into the living room. “Seems my daddy is the newest member of the Harpies.”

Dylan looked ill.

Delia started laughing.

Ainsley said, “I’ll pray for him,” then glanced at the clock. “Shoot. I can’t stay, but before I go will you please try on the dress?”

I wrinkled my nose. “Really?”

“Yes, yes,” she said. “I want to see you in it.”

“Me, too,” Delia said.

Dylan smiled and nodded.

It seemed like such a Eulalie thing to do in the middle of the afternoon that the thought made me smile. “Okay, then. I think I will.”

“Need help with it?” Delia asked, already passing Boo off to Dylan.

“Sure,” I said. “The zipper up the side isn’t the easiest to manage on my own.”

Dylan raised an eyebrow. “I could have helped.”

“Too late,” Delia said, pushing me up the steps.

When we reached my room, she closed the door, and said, “Tell me everything. Talk quick.”

As I changed, I told her of my conversation with Patricia, and how I’d left things with her.

“Do you think she’ll tell him?” she whispered.

“I don’t know. I hope so. She’s been essentially lying to him for thirty years. That’s going to be a hard thing for her to admit.”

She zipped me up. “Especially for Patricia. In her mind telling him the truth now means admitting to herself that she might have been wrong keeping it from him all these years.”

“Yes,” I said softly, thinking of how Mr. Dunwoody had thought the same thing.

Patricia can’t abide being wrong.

“Wow,” Delia breathed when she walked in front of me. “Ainsley did an incredible job.”

“I want to see,” I said, brushing past her to look in my full-length mirror. My breath caught when I saw my reflection. The dress was perfection, but there was something else I noticed. It was as though Patricia telling me why she’d been so terrible to me had released a heavy burden. Knowing so brought me peace and that shone in my eyes.

“You’re so
pur-ty
,” Delia sang, nudging me with her elbow. She grabbed a brush and a hair clip, and in no time flat had my hair whipped into some semblance of an updo.

I smiled at our reflections, at how far we’d come in our lives, at the friendship we’d forged.

Choices.

She smiled back.

“Carly!” Ainsley yelled up the stairs. “I ain’t got all day.”