Every eye seemed to be on Sissy as she walked from the back of the chapel to the front and sat down in one of the three empty chairs. Gussie and Ina Mae took their places on either side of her, and the preacher stepped up to the lectern. Sissy stared up at him—black hair, clear blue eyes, a chiseled face that an artist would love—and waited for him to begin.
“We are gathered here today to pay our last respects to Blanche Ducaine, a pillar in our town and also in the Newton Community Church. Before we leave for the cemetery, I would like to read the obituary,” the preacher said, and then cleared his throat. “Blanche Elizabeth Ducaine was born May 13, 1951, to the Reverend Delford Ducaine and his wife, Eva Ducaine, who both preceded her in death, as did her brother, Ford Ducaine, and his wife, Katy. She is survived by her niece, Martina Ducaine, also known as Sissy. Blanche grew up right here in Newton, Texas, and graduated from the Newton High School. She went on to college at the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, and then returned home to work her way up to hospital administrator at our hospital in town until she retired five years ago. She is also survived by two lifetime friends, Gussie Sadler and Ina Mae Garber. The family has asked for a few last minutes with Miz Ducaine. We’ll give them their privacy, and then meet them outside.” He nodded toward the congregation and then led the way outside.
Martina Ducaine—a therapist in Beau Bridge, Louisiana, Sissy thought. A professional woman who keeps her past tucked away from public view. Sissy Ducaine, the daughter of two rock musicians, who grew up in an RV traveling from gig to gig with her parents—a dysfunctional lifestyle that only a handful of people in Newton, Texas, knew about. Two people in one body.
Sissy had loved her aunt Bee and had spent as much time as she could with her when she was a little girl. The fact that her aunt lived only two hours away was the reason she took the job in Beau Bridge, Louisiana, when she graduated from college—well, that, and the fact that Aunt Bee had paid for her to go to the University of Louisiana at Lafayette, the same university that she and her friends had attended. Aunt Bee had been the one who’d nicknamed her Sissy, and who loved her unconditionally.
Her aunt’s sudden death had come as a shock, but it wasn’t until that morning that it really sank in that she had no living relatives left. Knowing that and facing the massive job of getting her aunt’s affairs in order, as well as the house cleaned out and ready to sell, was both overwhelming and bewildering. The only roots Sissy’d ever had were at Aunt Bee’s place. She’d been homeschooled on the road and begged to go live with Aunt Bee when she reached high school age, but her parents wouldn’t hear of it.
“All right, chère,” Gussie said.
Sissy cocked her head to one side. “Are we ready to go to the cemetery?”
“No, darlin’, we are going to tell Blanche goodbye now.” Ina Mae stood and walked up to the open casket. “We decided to do things just a little different than a pure jazz funeral. We had some things to say, and we didn’t want to talk to a closed casket at the cemetery.”
Gussie stood up and patted Sissy on the shoulder. “You can go first, chère.”
Sissy pushed up out of the chair but didn’t go first as Gussie had suggested. She hung back for a few seconds before she went to stand between Ina Mae and Gussie. “Aunt Bee, I’m going to miss you so much. With your sass, I thought you’d still be kicking up your heels at your hundredth birthday party. I actually bought some paper plates a few weeks ago and stored them for your next birthday. I’ve always come to you for advice and to share good things with. Now where do I go? You’ve left me alone.” Tears streamed down her cheeks, leaving black mascara tracks in their wake.
Gussie draped an arm around Sissy’s shoulders and dabbed the tears away with a tissue. “Chère, you should have worn waterproof mascara today, but me and Ina Mae will take care of you, and don’t you worry about being alone in this world. We are your family, and we’ll always be here for you. Blanche was like a sister to me and Ina Mae, even if there wasn’t a bit of DNA between us. We’ll help you with anything you need.”
Ina Mae took a step closer to Sissy and made it a three-way hug. “Darlin’ girl, we’ll all get through this together, and Gussie is wrong. We three were even closer than sisters. We were like triplets, and that makes you our niece, too.”
Gussie focused on Blanche. “I’m too mad at you for dying to give you this last wish that you left in your letter, but I’m afraid if I don’t do what you want, you’ll haunt me the rest of my days.” She pulled a small bottle of Jack Daniel’s from her pocket and tucked it into the edge of the casket. “We made a pact when we were just teenagers that we would all go on the same day, and you’ve jumped the gun on me and Ina Mae. I may not forgive you, but we’ll talk more about this when I make it up to the pearly gates.”
Ina Mae pulled a .38-caliber bullet from her shoulder bag and slid it into Blanche’s hand. “I don’t like this one bit better than Gussie does. Who would have thought you’d go before us? You were the tall, skinny one that never had to take a pill for anything, and then you drop graveyard dead at the age of seventy with a heart attack. Well, here’s the bullet I promised to put in your casket. I expect that you are planning to shoot Walter with it if he’s in heaven, and then kick his sorry body out the pearly gates. I hope you do. This heart attack probably happened because you were married to that bastard for six weeks. It damaged your heart, didn’t it?”
“You should’ve never married that sumbitch, Walter,” Gussie whispered. “I’m not cussin,’ Lord. I’m just callin’ it like I see it. We should have kept to our promise to never let anyone but the three Js in our hearts.” Gussie wiped her cheeks with the same tissue that she’d used on Sissy and then handed it to Ina Mae.
“Three Js?” Sissy asked.
“Jack Daniel’s, Jim Beam, and Jesus,” Gussie explained. “We decided that when we were sixteen and got our first taste of whiskey and sex. Blanche was the only one of us that ever gave marriage a try. Maybe Ina Mae is right—that six weeks of marriage caused her heart to be weak.”
Ina Mae wiped away a tear with the tissue. “Or maybe Walter broke something inside her when he beat her so badly, and it didn’t really shatter until she was seventy.”
Sissy hadn’t brought anything to put in the casket, or even thought about what she would say in the way of goodbye. She stared down at her aunt Bee again, lying there in her bright-red dress and with her dyed-red hair. “Nobody should leave their loved ones behind at the holiday season.”
“Amen”—Ina Mae nodded and winked at Blanche—“and you’re welcome. Me and Gussie had the hairdresser come in and cover up your roots. Maybe it was all that dye you’ve kept on your hair since you found the first gray strand that gave you the heart attack.”
The three of them stood there for several more minutes, arms laced together. And then Sissy took the tissue from Ina Mae. “I’m putting this in your casket so you can take all of our tears with you. I’d tell you to rest in peace, but I’ve got a feeling you’re already causing some kind of mischief.”