Ava Comes Home by Lesley Crewe Read Free Book Online

those.”
    Ava smiled at her. “I’ll lend her to you.”
    â€œDeal.”
    â€œLook, I appreciate the fact that you came to meet me, but I’m tired and I need to get myself sorted before I go and see Ma. Can we meet at the hospital in an hour?”
    Rose spoke first. “She’s not there anymore. She’s at home.”
    â€œBut I thought…”
    â€œShe wants to die at home, Libby. With her pain medication and the V.O.N. coming in, she’s much more comfortable in her own bed.” “I see. Well, I’ll meet you back at the house as soon as possible. Tell her I’m coming.” Before anyone could object, Ava pushed her way through the crowd of excited relatives. Then, to her horror, she real–ized the press was there, with another gang of on-lookers and fans. She turned back and looked to her sister. “I thought I told you not to tell anyone I was coming?”
    â€œI only told Myrtle Beaver at Bingo.”
    Ava couldn’t believe it. “Megaphone Myrtle?”
    â€œOh, get over yourself,” Rose frowned. “You know damn well you can’t keep a secret like this, so why try?”
    â€œFine. Never mind.” Ava pulled her cashmere shawl closer around her shoulders and made a dash for it. Lola was outside beside the limo’s open door. She waved Ava on, as if she were coaching third base. Ava jumped in the car, Lola right behind her. The adoring fans mobbed the vehicle, but at least the screaming was muffled.
    Ava sank back into the leather seat. “Oh my god. What am I go–ing to do? I’m trying to visit my dying mother and suddenly this has turned into a publicity tour.”
    â€œWho let the cat out of the bag?”
    â€œRose, of course. She never could keep her mouth shut.”
    â€œI hate to say it,” Lola smirked, “but it seems to run in your family.”
    â€œDon’t I know it,” Ava sighed.
    Elizabeth Ruby MacKinnon, a.k.a. Ava Harris, was the baby in a family of nine, with seven years between her and her next sister, Rose. She’d known from a very early age that she was “the change” baby. She used to lie awake at night and wonder what that meant, exactly. It didn’t sound very good and the fact that her mother was often im–patient and cross with her didn’t help matters. Rose would tell her not to worry, that of course their mother loved her. But there was always a niggling doubt that pulled at Ava’s thoughts. Try as she might to ignore it, it coloured everything.
    Things became worse when her father was killed in the mine when she was eight. He was the only one in the house who never said a word to her. Everything Libby did was okay by him. Not that she saw him much. For a few minutes after he’d scrubbed the coal dust off his body and had a hefty plateful of Ma’s homemade beans and corn bread. She’d sit on his lap in his rocking chair and inevitably, just as things got interesting and everyone was filling him in about their day, she’d be whisked off to bed.
    Despite her protests, her father would kiss the top of her head and tell her to listen to her Ma. “Goodnight, Peanut,” he’d say. Usually it was Rose who pulled her up the stairs and tucked her in.
    But Libby never stayed under the covers for long. She learned to move silently through the house, often hiding in closets if one of her siblings charged up the stairs or down the hall unexpectedly. Once she hid under the dining room table to listen in on a heated conversa–tion between her parents and one of her older brothers. She couldn’t believe they didn’t see her. They walked right by as if she were invis–ible. She made funny faces at her mother the next morning to see if she really was invisible. A quick cuff on the ear and a “smarten up” set her straight.
    The day their father died, she curled up in her father’s rocking chair and