Rhett McLaughlin - The Lost Causes of Bleak Creek

“Why not?” Janine asked, the hair on her neck rising to attention.

“Just…don’t.”

Janine had the sense she was on the verge of pulling back the curtain on the Whitewood School, if she could just keep Aunt Roberta talking. “Is there a reason,” she asked, with as much tenderness as she could, “that you never told the family Donna went to that school?”

Aunt Roberta covered her eyes. “I…We were embarrassed.” She began to sob. “We just wanted to help her…We didn’t think it would…” She sniffed and wiped her nose. “But I’m serious, Janine. You can’t make this movie. I won’t let you.”

Janine felt both compassion and rage. “But what happened to Donna? What did they do to her that made her change so much?”

Aunt Roberta just looked away, shaking her head.

“And what about the kids that have died?”

“Please,” she said, again covering her face with her hand.

“Aunt Roberta!” Janine couldn’t help but raise her voice. “Don’t you want to stop this from happening again?”

“We tried!” Aunt Roberta shouted, causing Janine to involuntarily take a half step back. “Your uncle and I tried to do…everything you’re saying. And it wasn’t worth it. I don’t want to see you get—I just can’t let you do that to yourself.”

“But if you knew something happened,” Janine said, “why didn’t you at least go to the police?”

Aunt Roberta’s eyes went cold.

“Jim did,” she said, staring past Janine. “He told Sheriff Lawson there was somethin’ wrong with that place.”

“And what did he say?” Janine asked, realizing she was finally getting somewhere.

Aunt Roberta lowered her head, her eyes welling up with tears. “I don’t think it was an accident, Janine. You understand what I’m saying? What happened to Jim…So that’s why you need to stop all this. You understand me? You just can’t—”

There were three loud knocks at the front door. Aunt Roberta’s head snapped toward the sound, looking panicked, as if ready to escape through a window if necessary.

“Are you expecting anybody?” Janine asked.

“Helloooo!” a woman’s voice chirped from the other side of the door.

Aunt Roberta stared into space, the gears in her brain spinning.

“Do you know who that is?”

“Mary Hattaway,” she said, more to herself than to Janine.

Mary Hattaway…where do I know that name from? Janine thought.

Aunt Roberta wiped her eyes and took a deep breath. “Let me do the talking,” she whispered.

“Um. Okay.” Janine watched as her aunt crossed the room and opened the door.

“Hi, Mary!” Aunt Roberta said, suddenly back to her sunny self, a way more convincing performance than her earlier one. “What a nice surprise—come on in.”

“Thank you, Roberta,” Mary Hattaway said as she stepped into the house. She was tall and blond, in her forties, wearing a blue suit with giant gold buttons and shoulder pads that rivaled an NFL linebacker’s. She looked like a real estate agent that ate other real estate agents for breakfast. Janine instantly disliked her. “I was just in the neighborhood and thought, You know who I haven’t seen in a while? Roberta! I hope you don’t mind me poppin’ in like this.”

“Not at all,” Aunt Roberta said.

“Oh darlin’, your makeup,” Mary said, slightly horrified. “You been cryin’?”

Aunt Roberta froze for a moment before making a quick recovery. “Well, yes. We were just watchin’ Steel Magnolias. Probably my tenth time seein’ the thing, but it still gets me.”

“Hmm,” Mary said, her attempt at being sympathetic. “Dolly Parton should’ve never gotten mixed up in Hollywood, if you ask me.” She flashed her white teeth at Janine. “And who might you be?”

“I’m Roberta’s niece, Janine,” she said, still trying to recover from the whiplash of greeting a guest moments after learning her uncle had likely been murdered.

“Hi, Janine. I’m Mary Hattaway.” She extended a bony hand, which Janine had no choice but to shake.

“Mary’s the secretary over at our church,” Aunt Roberta said.

Oh, right. The secretary at Second Baptist. The one in that Gazette article who said that kids were being…what was it? Oh yeah, “bombarded by sex.”

“You bet I am,” Mary said. “What brings you to town, Janine?” The woman’s piercing eyes made the conversation feel unnecessarily intense.

“Just visiting,” Janine said, knowing it was what her aunt wanted her to say.

“Would you like to join us in the kitchen, Mary?” Roberta asked. “I was just about to make some coffee.”

“Oh, that’s sweet, but I only have a minute before I have to get back to work. Is that your camera, Janine?” She pointed into the kitchen, where the camcorder still sat on the table.

“You bet it is,” Janine said.

Mary smiled coldly, picking up on the echo of her own words. “How cute,” she said. “My daughter Tammy likes playing around with cameras too. Just got her a Polaroid for her birthday. She’s been havin’ a ball with it.”

Janine wished she could keep her mouth shut and go with the flow for her aunt’s sake, but she knew it wasn’t happening. “Oh,” she said, “I don’t play around with my camera.”

“No?” Mary cocked her head to the side like an inquisitive spaniel.

“Not at all,” Janine said. “I’m making a documentary.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay for some coffee, Mary?” Aunt Roberta said as she went ahead and loaded up the Mr. Coffee machine, her veneer of sunniness again starting to feel manufactured. “It should only take a minute.”

“What’s it about?” Mary asked, ignoring the question and taking a step closer to Janine, who held her ground even though she wanted nothing more than to leave the room.

“Well,” Janine said. She could feel Aunt Roberta looking at her, desperately hoping Janine would say the right thing. But Janine was pretty sure Mary already knew what the movie was about—that it was, in fact, why she’d stopped by in the first place—so she felt fine throwing her off the scent a bit. “It’s about architecture.”

“Oh. How interesting.” Janine could tell Mary wasn’t expecting that. “In our town?”

“In lots of towns,” Janine said. “I’ve been filming buildings and structures all over the country.” The word structures seemed like an odd choice once she’d said it, but Mary didn’t seem to notice.

“Hmm. Fascinating.” Mary kept holding eye contact with Janine, as if she were scrutinizing her soul. “I bet my daughter would love to see this little movie when it’s finished.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Janine said coldly.

After a few moments, Mary finally looked away. “Well, guess I should be gettin’ back to work!” she said. “Roberta, I hope you’ll be bringin’ Janine with you on Sunday. We’d love to see you there.”

“I’m Jewish,” Janine said to Mary, knowing full well she could have just nodded and smiled. “We don’t really do Sundays.”

“Oh, gosh,” Mary said, genuinely surprised for the second time that visit. “That’s…just fine.” She shook her head. That’s too bad is what she’d been about to say. Janine was sure of it. She’d forgotten about this aspect of her Bleak Creek visits—how people never really knew how to hide their mix of fascination, prejudice, and sympathy for those unlike themselves—but it all came flooding back to her.

“My sister married a Jewish man,” Aunt Roberta explained.

“Well, Janine, you’re still welcome to come by anyway.” Mary looked very proud of her own benevolence. “If you’d like.”