We watched as my mother approached, and I saw the way my father’s face brightened, the way his body turned toward hers. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, a second too long to be called perfunctory, and Jayne smiled. She had finally found the family she’d always longed for, and in a way she’d probably never expected. But she had a mother and sister, and even a father, two nieces, and a nephew. My dad had asked her to call him Dad if she was comfortable with it, and she’d taken to it surprisingly easily.
I felt a little ping around my heart as I watched my parents put their arms around Jayne, but it wasn’t jealousy, exactly. It was more like the feeling of loss. Like that of a firstborn on the day her parents bring a sibling home from the hospital, suddenly dethroned from the halcyon days of only-childom. I’d only just found my parents again, discovered new relationships I’d never had, and it was hard to give it up. As Jack said, I wasn’t giving up anything, and accepting the new changes would just take time. Like learning to stop labeling every blessed thing in the house (his words, not mine).
I liked Jayne, and even enjoyed admitting our resemblance to each other, especially since she’d dyed her hair back to brunette. And because people thought we were a lot closer in age than we were. She’d moved back into the house on Tradd Street while the renovations continued on her house—moving faster now that there weren’t any more “disturbances,” according to Rich Kobylt. He’d actually managed to hold on to the same crew for two weeks without anyone running from the house and not returning, even for their tools.
Jayne had promised to stay on as nanny as long as I needed her, or until I could find a replacement. Jack had made some comment about her blocking off her calendar for the next eighteen years, and they’d both laughed. I hadn’t.
Jack kissed the top of my head, and I snuggled into him, realizing anew how precious our relationship was, and how easily we almost let it go. There was no pointing fingers of blame—we were both culpable, each of us holding back the truth for fear of rippling the waters. And in so doing, almost creating waves big enough to capsize the boat.
“How’s the writing going?” I asked. It had been a subject I’d avoided, understanding now the precarious situation his career was in. He’d been disappearing into his study on a regular basis for the past week, and I figured that if we were going to keep everything in the open between us, I needed to ask.
“It’s going great, actually. And so is Nola’s music writing. Your mother thinks it had to do with Jayne putting on a mental block so spirits wouldn’t bug her. She’s apparently very strong-minded, and her block spilled over into other creative processes. Now that she’s aware of it, she’s using it more carefully.”
He kissed the top of my head. “They’ve agreed to let me write the book, by the way—both Jayne and your mother. All of it. I’m even allowed to use their names. I think Ginette is hoping for a movie deal so we can show up Marc Longo.”
I looked up at him in surprise. “I thought you’d decided not to ask—that we would find another way to get the money to remain solvent.”
“I did. And then your mother and Jayne approached me and told me not to be stupid. They both said that they’re too old to worry what people think, and they want Hasell’s story told. She had a short and tragic life and if it can be used as a lesson to help others, then it needs to be out there.
“And I promised them that I would be gentle with Anna’s story. Munchausen-by-proxy is a mental illness, borne out of her own personal abandonment issues brought about by her parents’ neglect. She knew it, too. And still blamed herself. I think that’s why she hanged herself.”
“Poor Anna. Despite what she did, it’s hard not to feel compassion for her. Even after she tried to scare the living daylights out of me.”
“You should have taken your labeling gun after her—now, that might have scared her away.”
I elbowed him in the ribs. “Very funny. Somehow I think it took my mother, Jayne, and me to make her see the light. Literally. She was such an unhappy soul. I hope she’s found peace. And poor Button. She must have suspected something. Enough to cause her to do something as drastic as faking a baby’s death just so she could keep the baby away from Anna. Knowing Anna as she did, she would have assumed that Anna would have tried to find a way to influence the baby’s care, perhaps even insinuating that my mother’s abandonment of me meant she was an unfit mother, and perhaps then Jayne’s raising would have gone to Anna by default.”
“Such a sad, sad story.” Jack kissed the top of my head. “Why do you think Anna stayed earthbound? Because she couldn’t forgive herself?”
“Partly. And also because she didn’t want anyone to know what she’d done—that’s why she repressed Hasell’s spirit, while Hasell stuck around to try to diminish her mother’s internal rage that she misdirected toward the rest of the world. And to let everyone know the truth about her death. Not to cast Anna in a bad light, but maybe shine some understanding instead of condemnation for mental illness. I don’t know if we would have found the evidence in the stairwell if it hadn’t been for Hasell. Or her cat.” I shuddered. “I can’t believe I didn’t know it was a ghost. But because Jayne saw it, it never occurred to me.”