Dust to Dust

hats.”
    Maybelle smiled. “Those hats. As a little girl, I used to traipse around the house in those hats.” She frowned. “Until Father came home. He was opposed to traipsing. My mother is dead. So is my father.”
    “We are very old,” said Lillian.
    “Yes. Very old,” she repeated. “Why have you come?” she asked again.
    “You asked us to,” said Diane. “You said if you ever disappeared, come find you. You wrote it on the bottom of a desk drawer. It took a long time, but we are here.”
    She didn’t say anything for a long time, just stared at Diane.
    “I did, didn’t I? I had forgotten. It was so long ago.”
    “Why did you leave your note on the bottom of a drawer?” asked Hanks.
    “I didn’t want my father to find it. He wouldn’t know to look there. I thought Mother would.”
    “How did you come to be here?” asked Diane. “Why aren’t you living in Pigeon Ridge? You did live there, didn’t you?”
    “Yes. My mother gave the house in Pigeon Ridge to me. It was hers to give. I came to be here because my father put me away. Mother came to see me, but she couldn’t rescue me like I thought she would. I have a brother somewhere. I don’t think he knows where I am. He was a good brother. He must be dead too. Maybe I shouldn’t tell you my story after all.” She turned her head away, dismissing them.
    “We know your brother,” said Diane.
    Gauthier jerked her head back around and looked at Diane.
    “Your younger brother, Everett. Isn’t that his name?” said Diane.
    “You know him?” she said. “Does he know where I am?”
    “We found you,” said Diane. “He could have too. You would be proud of him. He has several businesses. He married and has a son. He has a grandson. His son is a doctor and is going to run for Congress. His grandson is a law student at the University of Georgia. He’s going to be a lawyer.”
    Diane stopped and let it sink in. It didn’t take long. She saw the change come over her eyes. Gauthier had been indigent, living in dingy retirement homes for almost sixty years, and her brother had prospered. The whole family had prospered.
    “Is that the truth?” Gauthier said.
    Diane had found a photo on the Internet for the occasion. It was an award banquet for Everett’s son, Gordon Walters. The whole family was there, sitting around the table. Thank God for the Internet. She went over to Gauthier and handed her the photo.
    “This is your brother here. Beside him is your nephew, Gordon Walters, his wife, Wendy, and your grandnephew, Tyler Walters,” said Diane.
    “Walters?” said Maybelle Gauthier. “Why is his name Walters?”
    “Your father left Rosewood and changed his name,” Diane said.
    “Everett looks like Father,” she said. “He looks like Father.”
    “Does he?” said Diane.
    “He left me here and never looked for me.” She looked up at Diane and her eyes were hard, like jet coal. “You came here for my story. Okay, I’ll tell it. I’ll tell you my story, all of it. There’s not much they can do to me now.”

Chapter 54
    “Father was a hard man with no use for art, or daughters. But Mother was rich and she was strong willed. She protected me. I didn’t have any pets growing up. I knew better. Father couldn’t be trusted. He was mean and vindictive.” Maybelle Gauthier looked at Lillian. “If your father was alive, he would tell you. My father ruined many men with lies. Lies were sharper than swords.”
    “I seem to remember Papa saying something about Jonathan Gauthier,” said Lillian.
    “Mother divorced him and lived on her own. She owned property in Pigeon Ridge and told me I could live there. Father tried to marry me off to one of his friends. I wouldn’t have it. I was in love with someone else, an artist.”
    She shook her head and her eyes suddenly softened. She was quiet for a moment. When she spoke again, Diane almost jumped, her voice was so filled with venom.
    “Father ruined him, ruined his family, and told me it was my fault. I heard he died not long after. I think he killed himself. He was sensitive. Not like me. I was as strong as my mother. Like her, I lived by myself. I lived on the money from my trust fund and my portraits.”
    The light filtering through the windows was fading and a kind of darkness settled over the room, even with the overhead lights.
    “I didn’t make any more friends. It was dangerous, because of Father. And after a while I grew too old to marry off. Father found himself a