"That's right," Carrie answered. She pulled out her sock drawer, dumped the contents on the bed, and began to match the pairs. "Jilly was eighteen."

"But what did Peyton's mama mean? How come she should know better?"

"She meant that Jilly should have taken precautions."

The drawer fell on the floor. Carrie picked it up and slid it into the dresser, then went back to the chore of sorting through the

pile of socks.

"But what does that mean?" Avery asked. She was making faces at herself in the mirror as she put on the second necklace.

Carrie ignored the question. She didn't want to get into a long-winded discussion about sex and birth control. Avery was too

young to hear about all that now. Hoping to turn her niece's attention, she said, "You know, you're very lucky."

" 'Cause I have you and Grandma to look after me 'cause I'm a handful?"

"That's right," she agreed. "But you're also lucky because Jilly wasn't drinking like a fish or taking feel good pills by the fistful

when she was carrying you. If she had put all that garbage inside her, you would have been born with serious problems."

"Peyton says her mama says I'm lucky I got borned at all."

Exasperated, Carrie said, "Peyton's mother sure likes to talk about Jilly, doesn't she?"

"Uh-huh," she said. "Are 'feel-good pills' bad?"

"Yes, they are," Carrie said. "They'll kill you."

"Then how come people take them?"

"Because they're stupid. Put that jewelry away and come sit on this suitcase so I can get it closed."

Avery carefully put the earrings and the necklaces back in the shoe box. She climbed up on the canopy bed.

"Can I have this?" she asked as she picked up a small book with a blue vinyl cover.

"No, you can't. That's my diary," Carrie answered. She snatched the book from Avery's hand and tucked it into one of the side pockets. She closed the suitcase and Avery scooted on top. Leaning on it with all her weight, Carrie finally got the latches to lock.

She was helping Avery off the bed when her niece asked, "How come you're packing now and not next week? Grandma says you're doing it backwards."

"Packing before I paint the room for you isn't backwards. This way, my things will be out of the way, and we can get you all set up in your new room before I leave. Tomorrow, you and I will go to the paint store and pick out the color."

"I know. You already told me I could pick the color. Carrie?"

"Yes?" she asked as she set the suitcase by the door.

"Did my no-good mama hate me when she saw me?"

Carrie turned around, saw the worry in Avery's eyes, and was instantly furious. Even though Jilly wasn't there, she was still causing pain. Would it never end?

Carrie remembered, as though it had happened yesterday, the night she found out her sister was going to have a baby.

Jilly had graduated from high school on a balmy Friday evening in May. She then came home and ruined the celebration by announcing that she was almost six months pregnant. She was just barely showing.

Reeling from the shock, Lola at first thought about the embarrassment and shame the family would have to endure, then came

to her senses. "We're a family," she said. "We'll work this out. We'll figure a way to get through this. Isn't that right, Carrie?"

Standing at the dining room table, Carrie picked up the knife and cut herself a piece of the sheet cake Lola had spent all

morning decorating. "In this day and age you've got to be really dumb to get pregnant. Haven't you ever heard of birth control, Jilly, or are you a complete moron?"

Jilly was leaning against the wall, her arms folded, glaring at Carrie. Lola, hoping to avoid a screaming match between the two daughters, hastily interjected, "There isn't any need to be snide, Carrie. We don't want to get Jilly upset."

"You mean you don't want to get her upset," Carrie corrected.

"Carrie, you will not take that tone with me."

Contrite, she bowed her head and scooped the piece of cake onto a plate. "Yes, ma'am."

"I did think about birth control," Jilly snapped. "I went to the doctor over in Jacksonville to get rid of it, but he refused to do it because he said I was too far along."

Lola slumped into a chair and covered her face with one hand. "You went to a doctor…"

Jilly had already lost interest in the subject. She went into the living room, plopped down on the sofa, grabbed the channel changer, and turned on the television.

"She causes the trauma and then she walks away," Carrie muttered. "Leaving us to clean up the mess. How typical."

"Don't start, Carrie," Lola pleaded. She rubbed her brow as though to ease a headache and then said, "Jilly just doesn't always

take the time to think things through."

"Why should she? She has you to clean up her mistakes. You've let her get away with everything but murder just because you can't stand her fits. I think you're afraid of her."

"That's ridiculous," Lola blustered. She got up from the table and went into the kitchen to do the dishes. "We're a family and

we're going to get through this," she called out. "And you're going to help, Carrie. Your sister needs our moral support."

Carrie clenched her fists in frustration. What was it going to take to get her mother to open her eyes and see the selfish bitch

she'd raised? Why wouldn't she see the truth?

The rest of that summer was an awful memory. Jilly was her usual demanding nightmare, and their mother was run ragged waiting on her hand and foot. Fortunately, Carrie had a summer job at Sammy's Bar and Grille, and she did her best to get as much overtime as possible so she wouldn't have to go home.

Jilly went into labor at the end of August. After she gave birth in the county hospital, she took one look at the squirming, blotchy-faced infant who had caused her so much pain and decided that she didn't want to be a mother. Not now, not ever. If

the doctors had agreed, she would have had her uterus yanked out or her tubes tied that very day.

Lola dragged Carrie to the hospital to see her sister. They hadn't even walked into the room before Jilly announced that she was too young and pretty to be saddled with a baby. There was a big world outside of Sheldon Beach, Florida, just waiting to pay her some attention, but no man with any money would ever notice her if she was lugging a baby around on her hip. No, motherhood wasn't for her. Besides, she had her heart set on becoming a famous movie star. She would get her start by being crowned Miss America. She had it all figured out, she told them. Boasting that she was much prettier than those cows she had seen on television last year marching around the stage in their swimsuits, she was positive that, as soon as the judges got a good look at her, they would give her the crown.

"God, you're ignorant," Carrie muttered. "They don't give the crown to girls who have had babies."

"You're the ignorant one, Carrie."

"Hush, you two," Lola ordered. "Do you want the nurses to hear you?"

"I don't care if they hear me or not," Jilly said.

"I told you to hush," Lola snapped. "Use your head, Jilly. You're a mother now."

"I don't want to be a mother. I want to be a star," Jilly screamed.

Mortified, Lola pulled Carrie into the room and told her to shut the door. Gripping the potted plant she'd brought Jilly in one hand, Lola held on to Carrie's arm with the other so she wouldn't bolt.

Carrie was annoyed that she was being forced to be supportive. She leaned against the door and glared at her sister.

"Now, Jilly, I don't care what you want," Lola said in a low, furious whisper.

Her mother didn't usually use that tone with Jilly. Carrie perked up and began to pay attention to the conversation.

"You're going to be responsible," Lola said. Her voice turned earnest as she moved toward the bed. "You will be a good mother, and Carrie and I will help you raise the baby. It will all work out. You'll see.