What had Ashworth’s goal been, anyway? Alna wondered, not for the first time. One did not wake up one morning and decide to kill random strangers. More often than not, there was a reason behind it. A mental disorder, a perceived wrongdoing––something.
From what Alna had seen, Ashworth seemed to enjoy what she did. There had been nothing in her demeanor that showed she’d been lying when she’d expressed her glee over her little project. A mental disorder seemed likely, given the circumstances. But there was something about Ashworth that suggested to Alna that it went deeper than a simple disorder of the mind. Ashworth clearly found it entertaining when the police had been unable to identify the murders as such. Did she hold a grudge against the police force or a specific person in their midst? That seemed like a distinct possibility to Alna.
It was too bad she was trapped inside her own mind and thus, unable to research any of her theories.
Alna glowered and found herself, for the upteempth time, worrying for Marianna’s health.
She just hoped Marianna was brought to the hospital in time. Anything else was unacceptable.
***
Marianna was watching the news for signs of what she dubbed the “Ashworth Case” when the doorbell rang. She turned toward the sound, staring at the door, and briefly thought about getting up to answer it. However, her father walking over to the front door dissuaded her from the notion, and Marianna went back to the news. She watched the proceedings out of the corner of her eye, only vaguely interested in who was at the door.
Her little mental bubble was broken when her mind registered her grandmother’s voice. Marianna blinked a few times at nothing in particular and shut off the television. She pushed herself off the couch before going to greet the newcomer.
“Mary,” her grandma breathed out, her elegantly aged face filled with relief. In three strides, she pulled her granddaughter into her arms for a brief hug. Marianna wrapped her good arm around Jenita, not knowing what to feel. She stared over Grandma’s shoulder.
None too soon, Grandma pulled back to get a better look at Marianna’s face. She tucked a blonde strand of hair behind Marianna’s ear.
Grandma wore her hair in a way that seemed typical of older ladies these days. It was short, curly and grey, with no hint of dye. Unlike some women sixty-five and over, Grandma did not go searching for products that would help her look younger, nor did she ever lie about her age. Instead, at almost seventy-five years old, Grandma embraced her old age and everything that came with it.
As her grandma cupped her face between rough, leathery hands, Marianna felt the first stirrings of affection breaking through the haze she had fallen in today. She mustered a slight upturn of her lips.
“Hey, Grandma,” Marianna said.
Grandma looked as if she was thinking of pulling Marianna into another embrace but seemed to change her mind and dropped her hands.
“What am I doing?” she muttered. She flapped her hands at Marianna in an urging manner. “You should be resting; go sit down.”
Bemused, Marianna obeyed. She watched with some curiosity as Grandma turned on her parents and started to, almost literally, interrogate them. The elderly woman asked what Dad and Mom had been doing to take care of their daughter. Grandma nodded her head in a clear sign of approval when Mom mentioned the tea Marianna had earlier.
Marianna’s parents were doing the best they could in a situation they were wholly unprepared for; she was well aware of this. What she was also aware of was the fact that Marianna herself wasn’t making their job all that easier, what with her running off to see Alna at the drop of a hat, and her occasional outbursts when Marianna became frustrated with everything and everyone. They never stopped trying to help her, though.
When Marianna wasn’t fretting about Alna or having minor freakouts, she found herself wishing––hoping––this ceasefire would last.
Dad and Grandma disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Mom hovering in the living room. She took a few steps toward the couch.
“Do you need anything, hon?” Mom asked, her eyes drifting to the blue hoodie that Marianna was wearing. “A blanket?”
Yes, Marianna needed something, but visiting Alna at the moment wasn’t possible. Yet again.
“No, I’m fine,” Marianna said for the upteempth time. She wasn’t freaking out about something at the moment, anyway. She hesitated for a moment before inquiring, “Actually, could I get away with something chocolate?”
“Of course,” Mom agreed immediately, already turning toward the kitchen. “I’ll make some cookies or something.”
“Could you add some sort of spice, too?” Marianna called before she could disappear. Sweet and spicy had been a mixture she’d heard of on a television show once. After trying it out herself for kicks, she’d become addicted to the combination. “Like, cinnamon or something?
The look Mom gave her was so warm that it made Marianna’s heart ache. She couldn’t recall seeing that look on her mother’s face since she’d come out. Not before “the accident.”
“Of course, honey,” Mom responded, her voice just as sincere. She gave Marianna one last look before following her husband and mother to the kitchen.
Marianna stared after her for a moment, wondering once again how long this stalemate would last.
Minutes later, as light bangs came from the kitchen, Grandma reappeared in the living room with a large mug of tea, which she handed to Marianna. She accepted it eagerly, taking a grateful sip, allowing the lavender tea with milk and honey to slide down her throat. It was a bit too sweet for Marianna’s tastes, but she could handle that.
“Good?” Grandma asked, watching her in a way that made Marianna want to squirm. It wasn’t the same as Alna’s gaze, which always seemed to search for something. Granted, Alna’s borderline all-knowing look could make Marianna uncomfortable, too, but Jenita’s piercing grey eyes were making her feel too much like a bug under a microscope.
For reasons unclear to even herself, Marianna took another sip to forestall answering, staring intently at the rug beneath her feet.
“Very. Thanks, Grandma.”
Without thinking about it, Marianna’s left hand released the mug and slid over the couch cushions until it came into contact with the house phone. Lifting it up, Marianna checked for any missed calls. Nothing. She didn’t even know why she bothered checking. It wasn’t like Marianna would miss its shrill ring.
When she placed the phone back down with a sigh, Grandma was watching her with a slight frown.
“Are you expecting a call from someone?”
“Kind of,” Marianna admitted, sighing again.
The tea warmed her throat as Marianna took another small drink. As they always did these days, Marianna’s thoughts once circled back to Alna, wondering again if anything had changed since she’d last seen her. Although Mr. and Mrs. Holt had been trying to keep Marianna informed of when she could visit Alna, she hadn’t been receiving any regular updates of her girlfriend’s condition. She understood that, on some level. Alna’s parents were, without a doubt, overwhelmed with everything as it was. The last thing they needed was to worry about keeping Marianna in the loop twenty-four-seven. That didn’t stop her from worrying, though.
Marianna didn’t even realize her hands were shaking until tea splashed onto her pant leg and Jenita’s soft, wrinkled hand appeared on her wrist, the silver bracelet on her thin wrist clinking.
“Mary, are you all right?” her grandmother asked with obvious concern. As Marianna turned toward the woman, she caught sight of her mother peering at her from the kitchen, expression pinched.
“Yeah, Grandma, I’m fine,” Marianna assured her. Honestly, how many times in one day could she freak out like that? Marianna was beginning to miss her earlier detached state.
“It’s just…” Marianna trailed off and bit her lip. She tore her eyes away from Jenita’s and looked at the now black television screen. More tea slid down her throat as she debated whether or not she should continue. “My girlfriend’s in the hospital, and I’m really worried about her.” She gave Grandma a sidelong look, waiting for her reaction.
And there it was––that flash of disapproval, the slight tightening of Jenita’s lips. Marianna’s stomach roiled. She was getting sick of this.
“I see,” Grandma said, her voice cold. Marianna held back a wince, resisting the urge to defend herself. Grandma seemed to shake herself, as the warmth from earlier returned. “Well, don’t worry about it too much. Focus on getting yourself better.”
I’m not the one that needs to get better, Marianna didn’t say out loud. Although she could see why people thought she did, what with her arm still being in a sling. Her lips pursed in annoyance.
“Okay, Grandma,” she agreed, hearing the snappish edge in her own voice.
Grandma must have missed her granddaughter’s irritation, or chose to ignore it, because she patted Marianna’s wrist and took the mug away from her. Marianna couldn’t help but think her smile looked condescending.
After taking Jenita’s suggestion to go change to heart, Marianna declined the offers of help, and headed to her room. She swapped out her loose pajama pants for a pink pair of loose fitting yoga pants, examining her leg for a burn. Jeans were something she had given up on wearing on day one, after discovering how impossible it was to put them on one-handed. Doing anything one-handed was borderline impossible. But Marianna possessed some pride, despite her bashful nature, and had been attempting to do everything she could for herself. The more she could do without help, the better.
The fact that the one-handed struggles were successful in diverting her panicked thoughts was a happy bonus.
Soon enough, Marianna wandered back into the living room, reclaiming her seat on the couch. She checked the phone once more for any calls. Still nothing. Grandma placed a blanket over Marianna’s legs.
“Do you need anything for your arm?” Grandma asked, nodding toward Marianna’s sling. The homey smell of chocolate chip cookies wafted in from the kitchen.
“No, I’m okay, Grandma. Really,” Marianna reaffirmed when Grandma looked sceptical. “But thank you.”
“Anytime, sweetie,” Grandma said, reaching up to brush some hair over her shoulder.
More and more relatives continued to show up throughout the day, making Marianna wonder if the constant concern would get irritating at some point. Marianna’s aunt from her mother’s side, Candace, swooped in with her fruity perfume, clothes stained from baking mishaps, and overall comforting personality. Unlike most of Marianna’s relatives, she didn’t barrage Marianna with a million and one questions or ask her if she was all right. Instead, she settled for sitting next to Marianna, making idle chit chat and sharing cookies with her. Uncle Will, her dad’s brother, was more stressed out than some. It seemed as if any time Marianna so much as breathed, he was preparing for something to happen.
Needless to say, it got old fast.
The Whitlock house was filled with enough relatives that Marianna, for one hysterical moment, wondered if they had gathered for a family reunion she hadn’t heard of.
“Now, Mary,” Aunt Poppy scolded later on, eyes narrowed as Marianna turned down Jenita’s offer of another snack, “you know you need to tell someone if you need anything. We can’t help if you don’t let us.”
Marianna suddenly remembered why she had never liked Poppy, why she made no real effort to talk to her. The woman was about as comforting as a cactus, with her constant disapproving attitude. It was as though her face was made for frowning or scowling, as that was all she ever seemed to do. Her eyes were dark, too dark to be called brown but not quite black, always holding judgement for someone. The worst part was Aunt Poppy had next to no filter. Whatever insulting thought she had, people would hear it.
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Marianna could scarcely remember a time when she’d seen Aunt Poppy get along with anyone.
“I know, Aunt Poppy,” Marianna said, holding back her sigh. “But I’m fine.”
Poppy eyed her, face taut with disapproval, lips pursed into a thin line. “Fine,” she relented before getting off the couch and storming toward the kitchen. That seemed to be where the adults had set up their base.
“Don’t let her get to you, Mary,” Aunt Candace told her. When Marianna turned toward her, she added, “She’s a mean old witch.”
Marianna cracked an exhausted smile at that. Sometimes she found it difficult to believe those two were related. They were such polar opposites; it was amazing they could even exist in the same room without creating a nuclear explosion.
“Thanks, Aunt Candace.”
Aunt Candace gave her a gentle pat on the knee before turning back to the television and turning the volume up on the comedy show she had selected.
And that was when the phone finally rang.
***
It was Wednesday when Marianna found herself back at the Holt house for the first time since “the accident.” In all honesty, Marianna had thought about coming on more than one occasion, if for no other reason than it had become a haven of sorts. However, Marianna resisted the urge, not wanting to push the limits of the Holts’ kindness. This was why when Mrs. Holt, in an off-hand manner, invited her over, Marianna found herself pleasantly surprised.
Colton and Evan––who Marianna still couldn’t tell apart––were sullen when Marianna arrived, although they seemed happy to see her. They’d bombarded her with question after question until Mr. Holt told them to give her some breathing room.
The “breathing room” was one reason Marianna had come here in the first place. Marianna loved her family, but having so many relatives around was beginning to get overwhelming.
“One, two, three, four, five,” one of the twins (who’d reminded Marianna he was Evan) counted with obvious concentration as he moved his crab across the board.
As the board said, Evan picked up a surprise card from the pile. “‘You are attacked by pirates; pay a hundred sand dollars,’” he recited.
His brother, who had been noticeably more quiet than Evan since Marianna had shown up, cracked a weak grin. Evan placed the card on the coffee table and started to grudgingly count up some money. Marianna’s gaze slid to the mute television.
She had taken to watching the news whenever she could, watching out for any signs of Ms. Ashworth or Mr. Cope being mentioned. So far, she knew that they had been arrested and that Ms. Ashworth pleaded guilty to the charges pressed against her.
“Mary,” one of the twins’ called, dragging Marianna’s eyes away from the television. Evan was holding the dice out to her. “It’s your turn.”
“Oh, right,” Marianna said, sending Evan an apologetic look. She snatched up the two dice and shook them a few times in her closed palm before allowing them to roll onto the board, which had cartoonish fish and bubbles printed on it. One die landed on a large orange fish with puffy lips, while the other landed on a bubble in the blue “water.” The dice read six. Marianna moved her small silver octopus six spaces forward.
“‘Go back three spaces,’” she read out a moment later. Colton gave her a sympathetic look.
“Annie?” Evan asked tentatively as his brother tossed the dice onto the board.
“Yes?” Marianna replied, once again tearing her gaze from the television to look at the twin.
Evan seemed nervous. His eyes flicked away from Marianna, instead settling on the coffee table in front of him. He hesitated a moment, chewing his bottom lip. “When will Alna wake up?”
Colton stilled at his brother’s question, turning his intent eyes on Marianna.
A lump formed in Marianna’s throat and she could almost hear her heart tearing in two. Evan’s question had her looking back toward the television, checking again for anything related to Mr. Cope or Ms. Ashworth.
Or maybe she was trying to avoid looking at Alna’s brothers.
She wanted nothing more than to give them a solid answer. Evan’s innocent question made her starkly aware that she wasn’t the only one who was worried sick about Alna. The looks on both boys’ faces almost undid her.
“I don’t know,” she replied, her voice coming out in a mere whisper. More loudly, she repeated, “I really don’t know.”
“Everyone all right in here?” Mr. Holt asked, not quite breaking the tension in the room, but at least diverting attention from it. She twisted around to face Mr. Holt, who was standing outside the kitchen, towel in hand. He looked worried.
“I miss Alna,” the twin said gloomily. Mr. Holt’s dark brown eyes softened at his son’s statement and he walked further into the room, resting a hand on the boy’s head.
“I know you do, bud, but she’ll be fine. You know how your sister is,” he consoled.
Marianna shifted from her place on the floor, feeling like she was intruding. She directed her gaze to the television, straightening up a bit when she saw a picture of Ms. Ashworth.
Only vaguely aware of the other occupants now, Marianna’s eyes scanned the subtitles on the bottom of the screen with near feverish need.
“Recently arrested Harlow Ashworth has been reported to have admitted to yet more crimes––some going back as much as three years.”
That was news to Marianna. How long had she been going on a murdering spree? Without thinking, Marianna pulled out her phone and started to take notes, knowing this would be something Alna would want to know when she woke up, even if the case was now solved.
She typed clumsily, not bothering to fix any errors that spellcheck couldn’t deal with. Instead, she focused on getting as much information as she could.
Some years ago, Ms. Ashworth staged the death of a young boy, making it look like a drunk driver had hit him when in reality she had drugged the woman before she got in the vehicle.
Reading the words made Marianna shudder. Killing adults was one thing, but a boy... That was unspeakable.
Ms. Ashworth truly hadn’t cared about the people she killed in the slightest.
As Marianna paused her typing, feeling sick to her stomach, the television turned off. Startled, Marianna’s eyes flew to the culprit. Mr. Holt was staring at the television, his jaw locked, his eyes two swirling pits of fury. He gripped the remote so hard that Marinna wondered if it would break.
“You don’t need to be watching that,” Mr. Holt said, his voice taut with tension. With slow, precise movements, he placed the remote on the coffee table and seemed to pause, breathing heavily.
Guilt coursed through Marianna’s veins. She felt stupid, leaving the news on when she knew Alna’s family was still reeling from the events that had occurred six days ago. It’d been a thoughtless and selfish move. She bit her lip against the sudden sting of tears and reached out to place a hand on Colton’s shoulder. Both boys looked bewildered by the events of the last few moments, their eyes shifting between Mr. Holt and Marianna.
“Dad?” Evan asked, sounding uncertain. At the sound of his son’s voice, Mr. Holt seemed to compose himself somewhat. He knelt down and pulled the boy in for a gentle hug.
“Don’t worry about it, Evan. Everything’s going to be fine.”
To Marianna, it sounded as if Mr. Holt was trying to convince himself of this as much as Evan.
I’m such an idiot, Marianna thought. She stared hard at the game board, her hand still pressed to Colton’s shoulder.
“Are you okay, Mary?” Mr. Holt asked after a moment, and Marianna flinched a bit, expecting reprimand. She brought her gaze to meet Mr. Holt’s, surprised to find him looking at her with soft eyes.
“Um, yeah.” Once again, she cleared her throat before continuing. “I’m fine.” She wondered why he even cared.
“Do you need to go home?” Mr. Holt looked at her with worry. “I could call your parents.”
Even with the awkwardness hanging in the air, going home was the last thing she wanted; her parents had barely let her leave the house as it was. But if she was intruding…
“No, thank you,” she denied. “But I can leave if you want––”
“Not at all,” Mr. Holt said, shaking his head. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you like.” Standing up, Mr. Holt ruffled both of his sons’ hair before picking up the towel and walking back toward the kitchen. “Although,” he added, turning around. “You might have to put up with some of our relatives.”
Marianna only needed a few seconds to think about it. “I’ll stay,” she decided.
Mr. Holt nodded once in acceptance, told Marianna she was free to use the phone if needed, and disappeared into the kitchen.
Some of Alna’s apparent relatives showed up less than ten minutes later in the form of a blonde girl who looked to be around Marianna’s age, accompanied by their parents (who Marianna saw briefly in the hospital) and younger sister. All four people shot Marianna curious looks, although the parents seemed much more preoccupied than their children. Mr. Holt introduced them before the adults all headed to the kitchen.
Marianna wondered if adults, as a general whole, chose kitchens and living rooms as their meeting rooms. They seemed to spend a fair amount of time in them.
The younger sister of the two, Carol, seemed to take an interest in the game Marianna, Colton and Evan were playing. Marianna allowed her to take her place in the game and headed off in search of the landline. After calling her father’s cell phone and informing him of her dinner plans, she headed back to the living room, taking a seat on the couch. The blonde girl sat on the other end, alternating between playing on her phone and watching the kids play their board game.
Marianna hadn’t even realized she’d been staring until the other girl looked up and met her eyes. Telltale heat filled Marianna’s cheeks. She turned away, mumbling an apology.
“It’s no problem,” the girl said, seeming unbothered by Marianna’s rudeness. She could feel the girl’s eyes lingering.
Where had she seen this girl before? Marianna could have sworn she’d seen her somewhere. The near-perfect bun seemed familiar. She was a pretty girl, about sixteen years old, though she looked older. In fact, she could pass for twenty if she added a bit of makeup.
“You were visiting Alna the other day, right?” the girl asked, startling her a bit. Marianna turned to face her.
“Um, yeah,” she replied, a bit cautiously. “How did you know?”
The girl––what was her name again? It started with a “W”––shrugged, phone still in hand. “I saw you there.”
The girl examined Marianna for a moment, a thoughtful look on her face.
Marianna shifted a bit.
“You’re Alna’s girlfriend?”
“Yes,” Marianna said, tensing. She almost added, “What’s it to you?” but knew she could never go through with that.
Instead of turning disapproving or judgemental, the other girl gave Marianna a sincere albeit tired smile and offered her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Marianna shook the offered hand, suddenly remembering where she’d first seen the other girl. She was right; they had seen each other in the hospital. Marianna passed her on the way to the nurse’s station.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” Marianna returned. “Um, I’m sorry, but I think I forgot your name,” she added.
The girl grinned, her eyes weary. “Fair enough; lots of people have a hard time with my name.” She brushed an errant strand of hair away from her face. “I’m Wisteria.”
Marianna’s face must have shown her bewilderment because Wisteria’s face lit up with another smile, this one amused. “I tell people to call me Winter, though, if that helps.”
Ducking her head a bit, Marianna told her, “It’s a nice name either way.”
Frankly, she didn’t see any real connection between Wisteria’s name and her nickname, if only the barely similar spelling.
Wisteria shrugged. “I never said I didn’t like my name. I love it, actually. But giving people an alternative seems to make everyone’s life easier. God forbid someone calls me something like Ria or Wish.”
Despite the dull ache in her shoulder, and the stress of the last six days, Marianna couldn’t resist smiling at that. She knew a thing or two about annoying nicknames.
“I know, right?” Marianna offered, raising her voice so she could be heard over the kids’ loud voices. “Where do people come up with some of those?”
“Who knows,” Wisteria remarked.
The two lapsed into silence for a moment, both watching the kids progress through the game. While not companionable, the silence wasn’t as uncomfortable as Marianna might have imagined it to be.
That did not, however, stop Wisteria from breaking it.
“I never really pictured Alna to be the dating type,” she mused, bringing Marianna’s eyes back to her. She felt herself tense, preparing to switch to defensive. “I mean, she always seemed to be”––Wisteria made a vague gesture with her hands––”withdrawn.”
She had a point there, Marianna admitted to herself.
Not sure what to say to that, Marianna shrugged, wincing as her stitches were pulled.
“She must like you a lot,” Wisteria said, seeming oblivious to Marianna’s brief show of discomfort.
“I hope so.” She paused for a moment, considering her next question before venturing, “Are you close? You and Alna?”
Wisteria looked startled at that question, her eyes widening almost comically. She let out a breathy, surprised chuckle, shaking her head.
“Close? No. I don’t think Alna’s close to anyone.” At that, the girl gave Marianna a brief once over. Her expression settled somewhere between confused and intrigued, as if she was wondering why Marianna was the exception. Or perhaps she was wondering if Marianna was the exception. “But I think she tolerates me more than others.” Wisteria shrugged, looking perplexed. “She doesn’t rip me to threads when she, you know, analyzes me. I mean, she does analyze me, but always in a way that’s less...harsh.” She cast Marianna an embarrassed glance. “If you know I mean.”
“I know exactly what you mean,” Marianna assured her, thinking of the way Alna had tossed deductions at her with the efficiency of a whip on their first date.
She wished Alna was here right, listing all the flaws she could see in people. Hear her explain how each miniscule detail could map out a story.
Just then, the twins and Carol broke out into an argument. Carol shoved Colton, causing him to fall back with a wince.
“Whoa, hey, calm down,” Wisteria tried to placate them. She got up off the couch, kneeling down next to the coffee table. “What’s wrong?”
“He cheated!” Carol raged, pointing an accusing finger at Colton. Both twins looked affronted.
“No, I didn’t,” Colton denied, glowering at his cousin.
“Did so!”
“Okay,” Marianna said, coming to Wisteria’s aid. “Can you explain exactly what happened, please?” She scooted forward so she was sitting on the edge of the couch.
As the three children launched into full-blown rants, Wisteria rubbed her forehead in a weary manner and shot Marianna an amused grin.
“Kids,” she said, eyes lit up.
“Yeah,” Marianna agreed, smiling wearily back.