Page 56 of Our Lips Are Sealed
“Thank you.” Evie returned the hug. “It’s lovely to meet you, finally.”
Judy ushered them into the living room, unsteady on her feet. The walls of the trailer were overrun with plaques reminding everyone who entered tolive, laugh, lovein various ways. And dispersed throughout the never-ending phrases of encouragement, Laura Jean’s face beamed back at them from dozens of photos throughout the small space.
“You have a lovely home,” Jamison gushed. “It’s so good seeing all these pictures of our mom.”
Evie examined a photo hanging by the front door of Laura Jean wearing a cheerleading uniform and a smile that would make any crowd cheer.
“She was such a beautiful thing,” Judy said, wheezing slightly as Jamison helped her sit on the couch. “I won’t lie. I thanked God when she left us and didn’t look back. We were dark souls then and would have destroyed the beauty in her.”
No one commented on the remark, not wanting to drag up the past yet. Evie pointed to an image of Laura Jean, around the age of five, with a fish in her hands. Her mother stood proudly, holding the scaly thing up to the camera with a grin so big her cheeks nearly covered her eyes. The resemblance to Jamison at that age was uncanny. “What was she like as a kid?”
“Wild.” Judy laughed, covering her mouth when it turned into a hacking cough for a minute. “Laura Jean loved nature and animals. Sometimes she would talk to every critter she came across, and I swear on all that’s holy, they talked back.” She nodded to a small watercolor next to where Cohen stood. “And, of course, she could create something beautiful out of nothing.”
Feeling a little more at ease, Evie sat next to Judy while Jamison took the spot on her other side, sandwiching their grandmother between them. Samuel settled into a recliner, the only thing large enough in the house to hold him, while Cohen went to the two-seater kitchen table off to the side. The agent scanned the place discreetly, his piercing gaze never resting long on any one thing.
Next to the couch where they sat were three metal oxygen cylinders. Judy asked Jamison to pass her the tubing hanging from one of the tanks.
“Tell me everything,” Judy said, adjusting the nasal cannula. She took two deep inhales and gave them a wobbly smile, tugging the frayed housecoat around her bony frame. “I want to know all about my granddaughters.”
Jamison took the lead—not to anyone’s surprise—chatting incessantly about their lives. Evie provided one or two things regarding herself, and Judy listened closely, taking it all in.
An hour passed, and when the conversation hit a lull, Judy worked up the nerve to ask about her daughter’s death. The lawyer who facilitated information to her while in prison had been short on the details.
Samuel spoke then, retelling a subdued version of the story. When he was finished, tears coated Judy’s cheeks. “But was my baby happy?” she asked, turning to Evie. “Did she have a good life?”
“Unbelievably so,” Evie replied, physically feeling this woman’s pain. All these years Judy had been in the dark about her daughter’s horrible fate. “Ben loved Mama very much, and they were the very definition of happy.”
Judy wiped at her eyes. “I’m sure that’s true, but she loved Albie, too,” she said. “Jamison, be a dear and get me those photo albums from the étagère. I had Nick gather them together when you all called to say you were coming.”
“And where is your son?” Cohen asked in a tone that made Evie stiffen. They had agreed on the ride over that he would pretend to be Jamison’s boyfriend, but he wasn’t playing the part very well. “I thought he would be joining us today.”
“Nick has the night shift at the gas station, but he had to work overtime because someone called in,” Judy replied, too excited to notice the shift in Cohen’s behavior. “He’ll be here soon.”
Taking the top album from the stack Jamison carried over, Judy opened the book, and the first picture was of Laura Jean and Albie on their wedding day.
Ben was there, too. He stood in the background on the courthouse steps, the three of them making quite the image together. Two unbelievably handsome men standing with a stunning woman wearing a gown of towering satin.
“A simple courthouse wedding, but Laura Jean just had to have that dress.” Judy caressed the photo affectionately. “Your mama fell in love with it on sight, just like she did Albie. I’m sorry you didn’t get to know him.”
“Me too,” Evie said, feeling her lungs growing tight. Seeing her mother with her heart and soul in one photo was almost too much to handle. “But Jamison didn’t know our mom. Would you mind talking about her more?”
The suggestion delighted Judy. “I would love to.”
Jamison hit the poor woman with a barrage of questions, and Evie sat back, quietly listening to the answers. They learned of their mother’s life in the Louisiana swamplands, and how the family moved to Metairie when Judy’s husband died in the war. “Your mama hated it here,” she said. “Laura Jean preferred living in the woods where she had the freedom to roam.”
“I think that’s why she loved Haven House,” Evie told her. “It’s a beautiful place, surrounded by forests and gardens.”
They talked a little longer, and after a while, the rumble of a motorcycle pulled up outside. Evie didn’t miss the look Cohen shot Samuel.
“That would be Nick,” Judy said, switching out the albums to show them more. “He’s excited to meet you girls.”
Heavy footsteps carried up the wood ramp, and a stocky bald man threw open the screen. Tattoos covered his neck. Tribals and markings etched in patterns that flowed downward until they disappeared under the collar of his brown leather jacket. Upon entering, his stern face softened at the sight of his mother enjoying herself, but his smile soon vanished when he laid eyes on Jamison.
“God, Almighty.”
Judy didn’t bother to glance over to see her son’s stunned expression. “It’s uncanny, isn’t it?”
“You look just like your mama,” Nick said, coming closer. Jamison stood to shake his hand, and he exploded into laughter. “But a good God damn bit taller!”
