She was overthinking things. She'd been about to change outfits for the third time when Sheldon walked by and asked: "Weren't you just wearing your pink floral cardigan?" and she'd decided to leave it like this. A respectable skirt and blouse, some light make-up, her crucifix necklace. She looked nice, but not too nice. Didn't want Jeanie to get the wrong idea.

"Look who's finally decided to join the land of the living."

Of course. Usually, Mary'd welcome her mother's friendly face at the breakfast table, but today, she'd hoped for a smaller audience. Especially since the badly toned down smirk she tried to hide behind her cup of coffee didn't bode well for her. And yes: "Trouble sleepin' last night?"

She sent her a look. The last thing she needed was her mother making this into some sort of inappropriate joke.

Sheldon and Missy were sitting across from her, him working on his homework and her reading a magazine. He glanced up, his pencil still on the paper. "She was awake. She just changed her clothes at least two times this morning."

While he went back to his mathematic formulas, Missy's interest was piqued, as was George's, who'd been reading his newspaper, and Georgie's, who'd seemed to have been dozing off above his bowl of cereal.

"Is that right?" her mother asked, and suddenly, she wished she'd chosen the boring brown skirt after all. "What, you and George goin' on a hot date today?"

She snatched up the cup of coffee she'd made earlier and took a sip. It was supposed to look natural, and it probably would've, hadn't the brew gone stone-cold. "No," she said, coughing. Quickly, she poured the rest of it down the drain. "If you've got to know, I had a bit of a mishap with the toothpaste."

"Twice?" George questioned, like he never stained his shirts with barbecue sauce and ketchup.

"It happens." Her eldest nodded, and she felt a rush of love for him.

Apparently, the story satisfied most of them: they went back to whatever they were doing, though Mary felt her mother's eyes following her. She busied herself clearing up the countertop and filling the dishwasher, wondering how on earth she was going to bring up her plan for the day. She hadn't counted on the whole family being there, to be honest.

Her heart was beating frantically — maybe she'd lost her mind. She hadn't done anything wrong. She wasn't going to do anything wrong. So, why did it feel like she was?

The countertop all empty, she looked up, hoping one of the people in the room would start a conversation. Nobody even as much seemed to notice her. "Anyway," she started, forcing one of her usual bright smiles on her face, "Sheldon, Missy... I promised Jeanie I'd come over to help her clean out her Uncle's place today, and I thought it might be fun if you both came with me."

Missy was the first one to look up. "And with Jeanie you mean the one who isn't your friend?" She grinned, and strangely, Mary had to fight the urge not to do the same.

"Yes, that one," she admitted, a tiny smile slipping through her defenses.

"Sure. Heather M. canceled on me anyway."

Sheldon pulled a face. "No, thank you," he said. "I'll pass."

"There might be some interesting science books you could keep," Mary said. "Uncle Carl used to hoard everything within sight."

It worked, just like she'd expected: immediately, he perked up, closing his books and arranging them in a neat pile. "Let me get my notebook," he said, and he was off to his bedroom.

"Hold up, hold up." George folded his newspaper, a large crease in his forehead. "Are we talking about Jean Lucas here?"

"Yes."

"The one you told us to stay away from?"

She knew how it must've sounded to him. Only a few days ago, she'd cut off any discussion about the woman, and now she casually suggested going over to Uncle Carl's house and spend the day with her. She'd told herself the same thing, and still, here she was.

"Oh, come on, George, take the win," her mother interrupted. "That girl's good for her, y'know."

"Yeah," Missy said, her eyes sparkling. "Sheldon said you even forgot to pray before dinner last night."

She hadn't, had she? She opened her mouth to protest, only to shut it again. She remembered sitting down at the booth, Jeanie in a discussion with Sheldon about the nutritional value of certain foods, Jeanie's scent of fresh rain as they poured over the menu together — oh no. She was right. "That's not true," she lied. "I did, just... very quickly. It was fast food, after all." She'd make it up to Him later.

"Wait — y' all had dinner with the lesbian?" Georgie pulled a face. "How come I wasn't invited?"

"Would you mind not using that word?" This was a mistake. She should've taken the twins aside, not blurt out the whole thing in front of her gross teenager and her smirking mother.

"Frankly, I was wondering the same," George said. "I thought y'all went over to pick up Sheldon."

"Yeah, and I invited Jean to come along," her mother answered for her. For some reason, she was gloating, looking at George in that special way that annoyed him greatly. "We had fun. You weren't there. Get over it."

"Man," Missy said. "Wish I was there. I'll go get my bag. Maybe there's some cool cd's."

And the other twin was off too. Georgie opened his mouth — "No," Mary said, before he could even ask. "Absolutely not." He sagged back in his chair, mumbling something that sounded like 'not fair'. "And when you meet her, I don't want to hear you asking her anything inappropriate, do you understand?"

"Hold on," George said. The crease in his forehead had doubled in length. "When he meets her? Are we suddenly friendly with the town lesbian after all?"

"George!"

"I just don't understand — what, are you going to try and bring her closer to Jesus?"

His mocking tone irritated her, and part of her wanted to tell him she'd done it for herself, so why shouldn't she be able to do it for Jeanie too? But that was a can of worms better left untouched; she flushed at the idea of him knowing about any of it. "I'm just trying to be neighborly to an old friend. Love the sinner, hate the sin, remember?"

He opened his mouth to protest, then closed it again and picked up his newspaper. "You know what," he said, getting up. "Go ahead. Bet I'll like her more than that pastor of yours."

She blushed. If only he knew.

Jeanie had been talking a lot once they'd made up. She'd told them Uncle Carl's house seemed to be multiplying its contents every night while she slept, the mess bigger every day, and Mary'd assumed she was exaggerating.

The minute she stepped inside, it became clear she hadn't been. In fact, Mary had flashbacks to that one church event for a tornado outbreak in 85'. People had treated it as an opportunity to get rid of their old trash — she'd ended up sorting through bags of run-down shirts for weeks.

Piles and piles of books filled up the hallways, not only inside of the bookcases but also on the floor. Boxes with yellowing newspapers, records without covers, an array of broken TVs, VRs and phones, plant pots, puzzle boxes, plugs, picture frames, lamps — the living room was the only spot they could move around in without knocking something over. Jeanie had cleaned it thoroughly and set up camp there: there was a mattress on the floor, the sheets crumpled, an open suitcase next to it. Mary spotted a black bra hanging over the side of the couch and quickly averted her eyes.

"Told you it was total chaos," Jeanie said, her hands on her hips. She was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt again, the best look on her, and had attempted to braid her curls back to keep them out of her face. "You can still back out, Mare. Wouldn't hold it against you."

"No, no," she said, though Missy lifted an eyebrow questioningly. "It's all good. We agreed to pitch in, so we'll see it through."

Missy pulled a face. "Why didn't you just hire a company to dump it all?"

Jeanie rubbed the back of her neck — a tell-tale sign Mary recognized even now. Her childhood friend didn't want to discuss that at all. She used to do the same thing whenever someone brought up her father. "Alright," Mary interrupted, clapping her hands, "why don't you both get a garbage bag and pick a place to start?"

The twins both seemed apprehensive, Sheldon regarding his bag with a crease in his forehead. They shared a look, then went their own ways.

Jeanie, lost in thought, jerked awake and followed them, stopping in the doorway. "Let me know if you find anything that looks like it could've belonged to a teenage girl. Or a small red box."

For a moment, the world slowed down, and Mary could swear she heard the rush of her blood being pumped through her body. She could still see Jeanie in her tree, ripping leaves to shreds — the tears in her eyes, how Mary'd known instantly her whole family had forgotten her birthday. She wasn't generally good at reading people, yet with Jeanie she'd never had any trouble. Her gift, the flashy red box with a lock, had seemed insufficient then, but Jeanie had acted like she'd never received anything more precious.

And under no circumstances should it ever be found, especially not by her kids. "The box is here?" she hissed, trying to keep her voice down.

Jeanie shrugged. "Probably not. But you never know."

"Jeanie, they can't find that box — if they see—"

"Relax." She put her hand down her own shirt, and Mary's breath caught, but all she did was dig up the necklace she'd hidden there. A tiny key with a heart-shaped handle dangled from it. "Even if it was here, they wouldn't be able to open it."

Mary stepped closer. Something in her had to touch it, fingers brushing past Jeanie's. She'd recognize it anywhere. The keeper of their secrets. How they'd ever felt secure locking them away behind a dollar-store lock, she had no idea. It didn't matter anyway. God saw everything, knew it all.

She swallowed, closing her hand around the key, so tight that it'd surely leave a mark in her skin. Part of her wanted to snatch it from Jeanie's neck, drive out of town and throw it in a lake.

She looked up, Jeanie's face dangerously close. There was a heaviness to her brown eyes she'd never seen before, and it shook her. "Mare," she whispered, even though Missy and Sheldon were chattering noisily across the hall. "I'm never telling anyone. I wouldn't do that to my worst enemy."

There were a lot of things Mary'd thought she'd never do, and she'd all done them by taking off without as little as a goodbye. Still, she believed this. She dropped the key, stumbling back to create some distance between the two of them.

At that moment, Missy came running into the room, hopping up and down in excitement. "Mom, mom, we saw a mouse! Can I keep it if I catch it? It was so cute."

She was too shaken to answer, the imprint of the key still burning her hand. Luckily, Jeanie's face broke into a smile, all the weariness gone. "Ooh, a mouse? Show me. I think I know a way to get it." They hurried off together, matching excitement. "Good thing I didn't bring my cat."

"You have a cat?"

Their voices mixed in with Sheldon's. Mary stayed where she was, nailed to the floor. Was she really doing this again, knowing what Jeanie was? Yes, she was stronger now. Yes, she was wiser, older. She could resist temptation — scratch that, she'd never be tempted, because she wasn't like that. Maybe she could be of use and nudge Jeanie into the direction of salvation.

Maybe.

But maybe someone would open a little red box and find pictures and letters of two young girls who were convinced they belonged together, and her whole world would crumble.

All women would rather marry their best girlfriends if they had the choice. There was no doubt in that. God shaped marriage as a battle, an exercise in compromise: love between a wife and her husband would always be hard-won — but it was worth it in the end. Could she make Jeanie see that?

"Mare!" Jeanie called, beckoning to her from the hallway. Her eyes were shining, her cheeks tinged with red. Somewhere beneath her shirt, the key rested against her bare skin, and the idea made her heart skip a beat. "Come see. There's baby mice."

Taking a deep breath, she followed them into the study.