Light as a Feather, Silent as the Grave

Chapter 33

Mrs. Emory practically leapt from the car, leaving its engine running. "Whatever you're about to do - don't go in there!" she yelled, presumably at me and Trey. "You can't trust those men!"

Father Fahey nervously eyeballed the windows of the nearby school. Mrs. Emory's wild voice had caught the attention of school children, who peered at the scene unfolding in the parking lot with curiosity from their desks. It was a damp, cool spring morning. "Mary Jo, please. Let's take this inside the rectory and keep it a private matter."

"Not a chance," Trey's mother fired back, her voice trembling with either fear or anger. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides, although she stood beside her car and came no closer to us. "That's my son. He's a minor. Trey, I forbid you from entering that building with those men. If you do, there's no telling what they're going to do to you-and no one will be able to help you."

My teeth sank into my lower lip. We already knew that we couldn't trust Father Fahey or Mr. Simmons, but what Mrs. Emory didn't know was that Mr. Simmons had a gun tucked into the waistband of his pants. Not that he'd shoot us in plain view of St. Monica's school... but still. We were already within the town limits of Weeping Willow, Wisconsin, where to say that the police were pursuing Trey and I was a gross understatement.

"You're making this more complicated than it needs to be, Mary Jo," Mr. Simmons called out to her over the parking lot in a threatening tone. He then added, presumably to humiliate her, "As always."

Mrs. Emory dared to take two steps toward us. She looked even frailer than she had when I'd last seen her in our kitchen. "Complicated? You think I don't know what you've brought these kids here to do? Well, it won't work, Michael. Not the way you think it will."

Father Fahey held the screen door of the rectory open for us and motioned again for us to enter. "Come on, children. We don't have much time."

"Trey!" Mrs. Emory called out desperately, and although Trey was infuriated with his mother, he couldn't ignore her anguished cry. After all, boys are always their mother's sons, no matter what unthinkably cruel things their mothers have done to shape their lives. He hesitated on the doorstep, his body twisted awkwardly as he looked over his shoulder at his mother. "Please," she continued. "At least let me explain."

Defying Mr. Simmons, Trey backtracked a step to permit his mother an opportunity to do exactly what she'd requested: explain. When her lips parted, suggesting that she understood that we were all waiting for her to speak, her eyes filled with panic. She hadn't prepared for this moment, obviously. How does anyone ever prepare to unload a secret they've kept for seventeen years?

"If you've got something to say, you'd better make it quick," Trey told her.

Mrs. Emory knotted her hands together as she struggled to decide where to begin. "I was young when you were born, Trey," she said, carefully avoiding eye contact with Mr. Simmons. "And things were different then. Kids who grew up in this town were more naïve when we left home for college than you are today. And I had been made promises that turned out to be lies by someone who hid behind lawyers because he didn't have the courage to tell me the truth to my face."

Inches from me, Mr. Simmons crossed his arms over his chest impatiently. "You were stubborn and ignorant, Mary Jo. You believed what you wanted to believe."

Refusing to acknowledge him but tightening her shoulders in response, Trey's mother seemed to be addressing only her son. "Michael told me that he was unhappy and would leave his wife to take care of me. But then he stopped answering my phone calls abruptly and a man I'd never seen before hand-delivered a letter from the Simmons family's law firm to me on campus, detailing terms for some kind of an agreement proposed by his family. It was then that I realized he never had any intention of leaving Vanessa. In fact, they were trying to have children of their own. They moved back here to Weeping Willow the summer you were born to take a break from city life. As if it wasn't hard enough for me to hear gossip all over town about the prestigious Simmons family, by the end of the summer, rumor had it that Michael Simmons' lovely wife was expecting a baby."