Chapter 18: Pray for Livia

"Mom," I said. "Put the banner down."

"I will not." She raised her chin for her audience. "Ladies, this is the girl who struck her sister in the church and then took her to this place."

Eight casseroles shifted in eight pairs of hands.

The woman holding the banner looked at Livia's belly, and then back at my mother.

"Mrs. Phelps," she said uncertainly. "You told us Livia had a cardiac event."

"She did. The stress of this family broke her heart."

"Mom," Livia said.

She had not raised her voice.

She stood next to me with her hand on my arm, and she was shaking, but she stayed on her feet.

"Livia, honey, get back in the chair. Let Mommy speak for you."

"No."

The lobby heard it.

A janitor stopped mopping, and two nurses came out from behind the desk.

"My heart has been healthy since I was twelve," Livia said. "I'm not sick, and I never was."

"Sweetheart, you're confused."

"Ladies, I'm five months pregnant. Ansel Drummond is the father, and you all went to the wedding."

Someone gasped, and a casserole lid rattled.

"You went to the wedding of my sister, and you watched me stand there in her gown. Every one of you."

She turned and looked at the banner.

"I'm not praying for anything. Please take that down."

The lead woman rolled it up slowly, with red coming into her cheeks.

"And the pills?" my mother said, with a bright, wild edge. "Ask her about the pills, ladies. She's been stealing from my purse!"

"I took them out of your purse," Livia said, "because they're not vitamins. They're propranolol."

"They protect your heart."

"I haven't got a heart condition. You told the pharmacy on Mill Street you were me, once a month, for twelve years."

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