White Lies (Book 1)

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Today was the day of Jennifer Hockley and Robert Blight's memorial.

Mrs. Hockley herself had made a visit to our residence just a few weeks prior. And it hadn't been mere idle chatter she wanted.

As soon as my mother opened the door, a hand shot through the air to slap her across the cheek. "You're all scum! Both of you!"

Aurora was seething. She was practically vibrating with rage, her powdered face beet red. "How can you both live with what she's done to my daughter? I hear what they say about you," she pointed her pointy manicured fingers towards me "and all of it's true! You raised a murderer and have the nerve to show your face around my town!"

My mother was aghast. "I beg your pardon? How dare you show up to my house and make accusations against me? Against my daughter?"

"What the hell is going on?" I asked, trying my best to put myself between them.

Mrs. Hockley, one of the most prolific figures of my very small town, vindictive glare to me, and pointed that same shaking finger to my face. "You killed her," she raged. "You killed my baby!"

Her hand shot out to grab my hair—

Okay. That never actually happened. We still had yet to receive any contact from Jenny or Robert's families, which I found to be highly unusual. I almost wished that a confrontation would happen. With such powerful families, you'd think that they would have done something by now. The fact that they had remained quiet about the affair... it wasn't sitting right with me. Definitely a bad sign.

"Get dressed, Jesabel." I heard my mother call from the doorway. I had been blankly staring at my wardrobe, unable to process the sight of my clothes. Lost to my memories. I blinked them away.

"Do we have to go?" I pleaded. "Everyone in town hates our guts."

"If we don't go, you'll look even guiltier," she answered. "And that's not what I want. These people are crazy – this whole thing has gotten out of control. I don't know how you've managed to involve yourself in this mess so completely, but I'm trying to get you out of it."

I turned to face her. "So... you don't think I did it?"

She met my eyes evenly, green to blue. "No. I don't think my baby girl is capable of murder. "

I stared at her, shocked. Her baby girl. Those words haven't left her mouth since...

And yet she thinks... she knows I had nothing to do with it. My heart swelled with an unspoken sense of...

I don't know. Something good, or maybe bad.

I didn't want to admit it, but knowing that I had my mother's trust meant more to me than I thought it would.

It took a brief second, but I answered. "Thank you — Mom," a reluctant grin crept up on my face. I haven't said that in a very long time.

Mom. My Mom.

Her breath caught, her eyes shining with unspoken emotion. How did we get to be this way? Then she cleared her throat, pulling her face together. "You're welcome. Now get dressed. It begins at noon." She was awkward in her delivery. She patted my tense shoulder, hesitating, before retreating very quickly from my room.

I was left staring after her, wondering what the hell just happened. Had me and my mother just share an affectionate moment? Good Lord.

The memorial was, to say the least, extravagant.