I was glad when we left the church. So many things had depressed, overwhelmed, and stunned me today, I didn’t think there’d be any more. I was wrong. There was another one when we got to the cemetery. The gravediggers had dug a hole for Odell right next to Yvonne’s. Milton’s was on her other side. It was so ironic, but appropriate. The three devils were going to spend eternity together.

* * *

I slept less than two hours Wednesday night. When I got out of bed Thursday morning at seven, I tiptoed through the house so I wouldn’t wake up Mama and Daddy. I had buried my painful past, but there was one more loose end I had to tie up: Betty Jean. I caught the first bus to Hartville.

I didn’t have any trouble finding her house. I was glad it was only about half a mile from the bus stop. That waitress had told me Betty Jean rarely left the house unless she was with Odell. I hoped she was home today because I didn’t want to make another trip. I was afraid if I had to put it off, I’d lose my nerve and never come back.

As I dragged my feet up her walkway, I prayed her kids wouldn’t be present. I didn’t want them to hear what I had to say, or even see me. Those babies were just as innocent as I was in this mess. They would be hurt enough when they heard the news about Odell’s death.

A tricycle that looked new, stuffed animals, building blocks, and other toys were scattered all over the front porch floor. This was how my porch should have looked. Just thinking about that, made me feel even more cheated for not having the children I deserved. A fishing pole that looked exactly like the one Odell had at home, was propped up in a corner behind a glider. And the same exact Christmas wreath he had put on our door was also on Betty Jean’s. If everything I’d seen so far wasn’t bad enough, there was a plaque on the wall with big black capital letters next to the street address that read: THE WATSONS. Just like the one he had nailed up on our front wall.

I had to take a long, deep breath and count to ten in my head to compose myself before I could get up enough nerve to knock. While I was still knocking, Betty Jean cracked the door open just wide enough for me to see one side of her face. I felt like a giant standing in front of such a petite woman. She was much prettier up close, and at least ten or twelve years younger than me. “Can I help you, ma’am?” She had a husky voice for a woman her size.

“I’m Odell’s wife,” I blurted out.