Chapter 39

After cuddling for a long time, Deana was on her back with Cindy and her mother as flesh bookends. Candy’s breasts warmed Deana’s skin. Cindy lovingly ran her fingernails up and down Candy’s arm. Deana could feel them looking at each other, making her feel guilty. She had been hogging them. They were the lovers who hadn’t been able to see each other, so Deana said, “I’m going to go. I love you.”

Her mother kissed Deana’s cheek, and Cindy said, “We love you, too.”

Reluctantly, Deana moved from between them, sliding across Candy’s body. “See you later.”

“Honey, Sally found those pictures you were asking about. They’re on the dresser.” Candy pointed.

As if it had been years since she made Evan ask, Deana had forgotten. She looked back and forth from her mother to the box. “I guess Evan said I was the one who wanted them?”

Candy smiled. “No, but I figured.”

“Thank you.” She picked up the old shoebox and walked backward to the door, watching the most loving, tender kisses she’d ever seen.

“Honey, lock the door when you go.”

Her mother didn’t say anything about putting something on before she left, so Deana grinned and walked naked through the house, wondering if this was what life could be like.

The pictures reminded Deana of waking up on Christmas morning and rushing to see what was under the tree. She ran to her room and sat Indian-style on the bed with the box on her folded legs. Heart thumping against her ribs as Deana flipped the lid back on its tape hinge. On top, a five-by-seven photo confused Deana until she realized it wasn’t Cindy or herself in a few years. Her vision blurred with threatening tears. The long, flowing black hair and dark olive skin belonged to Sandra, their mother, the lady who carried them, spoke to them in her belly, and gave birth to all three of them. She was beautiful, and she was gone, never again to be the woman who held them. Deana dropped the picture and pressed her face into a pillow so nobody would hear the screams.

If not for Deana’s starving curiosity, she might have cried herself to sleep. Instead, she spread the photos out on the bed and went to work like a detective at a crime scene, searching for clues. A bundled baby filled Sandra’s arms, and Candy stood beside her. She’s younger than Gloria is now, Deana thought and held the picture to her heart. How terrifying it must have been for Candy to become a mother at that age.

No detective work was required when Deana saw a boy leaning toward the pretty, blonde babysitter with his lips puckered. Evan must have already been infatuated with the fairy princess. The joy in Candy’s hazel eyes matched her broad smile and dimples. She looked happier than Deana ever remembered her being, but Deana’s memories only went back so far.

As a child, your parents always seem older. They are the grown-ups, but in some of the pictures, Sandra doesn’t look like an adult. She was so young and already had three kids, except one she didn’t get to raise. How hard it must have been to pretend and easy to hate the man who took her baby.

After slowly examining a few photos, scouring them for details, Deana tore into the rest like a dog into a Thanksgiving trash bag. She tossed the varying sizes into general mental categories. Sandra often appeared with twins in her arms, but Evan showed up more than Deana, even when it was apparent he hadn’t been invited. Their mother was eyeing him with a squint and raised brow. It gave Deana a chill, even more so than when Cindy mimicked her. Or was she mimicking Cindy?

The family dynamics started to unfold. Her now mom, Candy, was clearly more than their babysitter. Deana could see the adoration and admiration in Candy’s eyes when she looked at Sandra. They appeared more like mother and daughter than boss and babysitter, especially when the pregnant version of Candy was in a picture.

There were some snapshots of Evan and her in the bathtub. He had a pile of soap suds on his head, and Deana laughed, knowing she had probably done that to him. There was another one with part of a finger in front of the lens. It was a profile shot of Candy and Evan, both with puckered lips just about to touch. Deana tried to find those memories in her brain, but there was nothing. When I see Sally, Deana thought, I’m going to hug and kiss her for saving these pieces of history.

Deana’s brain worked like the chemical process that turned a blank square into a vivid image, building a past from nothing. She identified Sally as the girl with Candy and a hunk of a blonde-haired boy. It had to be Bobby, the uncle Gloria had never met. Deana didn’t think she had ever met him, but she had heard Candy talking about her brother. Bobby had Gloria’s smile and piercing blue eyes. Sandra appeared a few times with a man who was not their father. Deana set those pictures off in a pile she had questions about.

Deana got so focused that she never heard Sally until her aunt said, “I see Candy finally turned those over to you.”

For a second, Deana reached for a pillow to hold in front of her but decided to act like it was reasonable to sit around naked with her door open. “Aunt Sally, I was just thinking about you. Thank you, thank you, thank you, for saving these.”

Sally stood beside the bed behind Deana and held her shoulders. “I’m glad I could find them for you,” she said.

“Look at you and Candy.” She lifted a picture. “Y’all were gorgeous. Every boy in school must have been knocking at your door.”

“Not nearly as beautiful as you, Dee.”