Aunt Lulamae, arguably crazier and meaner than Mom. Double trouble.

I hadn’t seen them since I left home. I hadn’t seen them in nearly thirteen years.

God! What were they doing at my door after ten at night? In fact, why were they here at all?

“Open this goddamned, f**kin’ door!” Mom screeched.

“Fuck me,” Mitch muttered, his eyes looking over my shoulder at the door. He let me go and started moving that way.

I came unstuck, focused and sprung forward, grabbing his hand, tugging back hard and desperate. His neck twisted and he looked down at me.

“Don’t,” I begged on a whisper and my face must have expressed exactly the panic I was feeling because his fingers flexed around mine and his eyes narrowed on me.

“Marabelle!” Aunt Lulamae shrieked. “We’re not leavin’ until you open this door and give me my goddamned grandbabies.”

At her words, I instantly let Mitch go, retreated with quick steps, running into the coffee table and stopping as my terrified eyes shot to the door.

Bill. Bill had called them. Fucking, f**king Bill!

“Open the door!” Mom screamed but suddenly Mitch was in my space and in my face.

“Talk to me fast,” he whispered.

“My Mom and Bill’s Mom. Aunt Lulamae.”

“Bad news?” he asked.

I nodded. “The worst.”

“I thought you said you were the only relative local,” Mitch observed.

“They’re not local. They live in Iowa. I haven’t seen them since I left. It’s been thirteen years.”

His eyes flashed. “That assclown called them,” he muttered.

I nodded again.

“Marabelle!” Mom screeched.

“Seriously, keep it down or I’m callin’ the cops.” I heard Derek’s voice enter the cacophony.

“Fuck you!” Aunt Lulamae shot back.

“You’re not close,” Mitch noted, and my gaze went from his shoulder to him to see his eyes looking deep into mine.

“Things weren’t good at home,” I whispered and Mitch’s jaw went hard.

More pounding on the door then Aunt Lulamae, “Get your fat ass outta bed and open this door!”

“Stop shouting!” Derek shouted.

“The kids?” Mitch asked.

I shook my head. “Bill hates them just as much as me. The kids have never met either one of them.”

“Marabelle!” Mom shrieked.

“Get outta sight,” Mitch ordered and I blinked up at him.

“What?” I asked.

“Right, I’m callin’ the cops,” Derek stated.

“Go right ahead! I hope you do. You live next to a f**kin’ kidnapper!” Aunt Lulamae shouted.

“Mara, now,” Mitch clipped urgently, “outta sight.”

“I don’t –”

His hand came up to cup my cheek. “Now, baby.”

I nodded. Then I raced to the end of the hall where the door to the kids’ room was. I pressed against the side wall, prayed they slept deep and didn’t wake to hear this.

I knew this was wussy behavior but I didn’t care. There were reasons I left Iowa and both of them were standing at my door. Mitch was a big guy and he was a cop. I didn’t want him to be confronted with what he’d be confronted with but in that moment of sheer panic, all I could think was that it was better him than me. He could walk away from it. It was in my blood. It lived latent in me and I didn’t need that part of me waking up.

Therefore, I watched Mitch open the door just enough so he could stand in its frame but not enough for them to see me.

Then I heard my Mom say, “Well fina…who the f**k are you?”

“I’m Detective Mitch Lawson,” Mitch replied.

Silence then, Aunt Lulamae, “I thought Mara lived here.”

“Mara does live here,” Mitch stated very unwisely then, equally unwisely, he went on to lie. “We’re seein’ each other.”

“Mara’s seein’ a cop?” Mom asked, voice filled with shock, disbelief and revulsion like he’d said I was seeing a serial ra**st.

“Yeah, she is and she’s explained you’re estranged so I think maybe it’s best that you go,” Mitch explained.

“Estranged! Right. That’s good. Fuckin’ hilarious. Marabelle Jolene ‘My Shit Don’t Stink’ Hanover is estranged from her Momma. I’m laughin’ my ass off,” Mom stated.

Why this would be, I couldn’t fathom since we very much were. Not seeing or speaking to someone in over a decade had to be the definition of estranged. Except, of course, my Mom probably didn’t know what that word meant.

“Like I said, I think it’s best that you go,” Mitch repeated.

“You give me my grandbabies, I’ll go,” Aunt Lulamae entered the conversation.

There it was. The reason they were here. Just what I feared. Shit!

“Mara has temporary guardianship of your grandchildren so I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Mitch replied.

“Temporary guardianship, my ass. They need to be with their grandma, not some uppity bitch. You let me in and let me get my grandbabies,” Aunt Lulamae returned.

“I advise you not to force entry or I’ll need to call units to the scene,” Mitch warned, shifting to cop speak and I knew they were trying to push in.

Damn.

“You can’t keep me from my grandbabies!” Aunt Lulamae shrieked.

“I know your grandchildren pretty well, ma’am, they’ve not once mentioned you,” Mitch replied in a calm voice on a semi-lie then went on to flat out lie. “Their teachers and principal have not mentioned you.” Then he started to tell the truth. “The emergency contact on their school records is Mara. Bill Winchell is currently incarcerated. He was not offered bail because he’s a flight risk. He can’t afford representation and the evidence they have is substantial. Regardless, he’s not fit to raise those children and the evidence to support that is even more substantial. Mara’s temporary guardianship will likely be full guardianship soon and you don’t factor into that equation. I suggest if you’d like to see your grandchildren, you phone Mara at a decent time and arrange to have a meeting where you talk civilly about your wishes and she can decide when and how you’ll see your grandchildren. Now, if you wish to see them and not give Mara ammunition to keep you from them I suggest you quiet down, go to your car, leave the premises and phone Mara to set a time to talk about this amicably.”