Page 31 of The Killer Cupcake (Poison Cherry #3)

JANEY’S ATONES

T he house didn’t just welcome them—it swallowed them whole.

Kathy stepped across the threshold into a silence so thick it pressed against her eardrums. No creak of floorboards. No distant clatter from the kitchen. Only the frantic drumming of her own heart.

Carmine walked stiffly through the gloom, his cane humping dully as he veered left toward his study—and the bourbon that waited there.

In the span of the drive, he’d aged. Streaks of silver threaded his temples, Kathy hadn’t noticed before; his shoulders sagged under an invisible weight.

Every step seemed labored, pain radiating from him in waves.

"It drains him," Pinkie whispered, watching him disappear.

She set her purse on the hall table with deliberate calm, then peeled off her gloves, finger by trembling finger.

"When Janey shatters… he shatters too. When she disappears, he becomes a ghost in life. It’s just torture.

Getting her well is the only way to mend him. "

She turned to Kathy, eyes dark with exhaustion. " Here’s how this visit goes. Mama gave Janey laudanum in her tea. Pa…" Pinkie’s voice hitched. "Pa tied her wrists to the bedposts. They’re too old to wrestle her demons anymore. I made them do it for their safety when we decided to come for you."

Kathy was shocked. "You tied her up? Like some?—"

"Like someone who tried to claw her own eyes out last night!" Pinkie’s composure snapped. She turned on Kathy. “ She was screaming about spiders under her skin. About blood in the walls. Would you rather we let her break her hands on the window trying to fly?"

There was a beat of horrified silence.

"We go in, united,” Pinkie whispered. "When the laudanum fades… she’ll need us. Both of us."

Kathy’s gaze slowly moved to the staircase looming like a dark spine in the hall. “Will she… try to hurt us?" The question felt small, childish. "Has she ever hurt you ?"

“Never meaning to. Even at her worst, the harm’s never aimed outward.” Pinkie paused, the memory tightening her voice. “And I never tell her when it happens that she does hurt one of us. Truth would shatter what’s left of her. You don’t know how fragile she is beneath all that fire.”

She turned, facing Kathy fully.

“I had just turned eleven when I found them. Carmine on their bedroom floor, drowning in his own blood—vomiting it, choking on it. Janey was naked, fresh bruises from their sex games, kneeling beside him, covered in his blood, rocking back and forth like a child asking him to please and hurry and die. She’d baked him a pie days ago, and nothing.

She then slipped poison little candies into his whiskey and convinced him to drink. All to avenge me.”

“I didn’t run for a doctor. I ran to the train station, sent a telegram to your mother: ‘JANEY DYING COME NOW.’ Your mama came on the first train south.

She walked into that nightmare… and pulled them both back from the edge.

Stopped the bleeding. Flushed the poison.

Sat with Janey for three days straight, singing hymns while Janey raved about devils in the wallpaper and the Tinsel man. ”

A tear traced Pinkie’s cheek.

“Wait? Mama has a cure? Knows a cure?” Kathy asked.

“She knows a lot about the poison. I think their mother spent the most time with your mother, teaching her how to use and care for the person. I seen it with my own eyes. Carmine is alive because of your Mama.”

“I don’t know my family at all,” Kathy said.

“Your mother is a good woman. But she doesn’t have any faith in Janey.

She didn’t see the broken girl who poisoned the man she loved because she thought love was the sickness that needed to be cured.

She didn’t understand—Janey’s pain doesn’t lash out.

It turns inward.” Pinkie pressed a fist to her own chest, mirroring the old wound.

"Why is she like this ?" Kathy asked.

Pinkie extended her hand. “Help me bring her back. Just this once.”

Kathy took her hand in solidarity. They ascended the stairs, hands clenched like lifelines.

“Untie her,” Pinkie said.

Elmer limped to the bedside. With practiced care, he and his wife loosened the restraints binding Janey. Elmer pressed a kiss to Janey’s feverish brow—a gesture of such patient devotion that Kathy’s throat tightened.

Mama needs to see this, she thought. How they love her. Kathy thought.

As the elderly couple retreated, Pinkie stripped away the heavy blankets Janey’s other mother had insisted on.

Pinkie tossed aside the cold cloth. “Mama’s stuck in the old ways,” she murmured, smoothing Janey’s sweat-soaked nightgown. “Thinks she’s possessed. That we need an exorcism.” Her eyes met Kathy’s, weary. “It’s not that simple.”

“Nothing about Janey is simple,” Kathy murmured.

Pinkie nodded. “ Complicated doesn’t begin to cover it.”

“Will she wake up soon?”

“Should fade soon—we’ve been gone two hours.” Pinkie gestured to the window seat. “Sit. She’ll talk when she’s ready.”

“You mean wake up? ” Kathy slid into the chair, leaning toward the breeze.

“No. Talk . You’ll see.” Pinkie picked up her magazine. “We wait.”

Another hour bled past.

Janey’s eyes opened—lucid, and fixed solely on Kathy.

Kathy glanced at Pinkie, still absorbed in her reading, then back at her aunt. Frozen, wordless. Janey lay perfectly still, her gaze unbroken, dark hair stark against the pillow, and partially in her face.

“She’s awake,” Kathy said softly.

Pinkie's head snapped up at the sound. She blinked rapidly, then nodded with sudden understanding. Closing her magazine with deliberate care, no fast actions. She stood. Kathy started to follow suit, uncertain of the protocol, but Pinkie gestured gently for her to remain seated.

Kathy heard Pixie speak to Janey in French, and immediately, Janey's eyes fluttered closed. Tears began streaming down her face like a dam had finally burst. Only then did Pinkie approach the bed with careful steps.

Janey reached for Pinkie with the urgency of a lost child seeking her mother's embrace.

Pinkie gathered her close without hesitation, cradling Janey's trembling form against her breasts.

Janey wept openly now, her words tumbling out in broken French while Pinkie murmured soothing responses and stroked her hair with tenderness.

Kathy sat frozen in her chair, wishing that she could understand the words that caused such profound anguish.

Part of her longed to cross the room and offer comfort, but something held her back—uncertainty, old hurt, or perhaps the recognition that this moment belonged to Pinkie and Janey alone.

So she remained still and silent, bearing witness to her aunt's breakdown while her own heart ached with conflicted emotions.

Soon, Janey’s tears subsided, and she calmed down. Pinkie leaned closer, speaking gently to her. Janey opened her eyes, meeting Kathy’s gaze, and gave a slow, hesitant nod.

Pinkie carefully helped Janey sit up.

“You came here to apologize to me?” Janey asked Kathy.

Kathy blinked in surprise, glancing briefly at Pinkie, who was smoothing the tangles out of Janey’s hair. Pinkie gave her a reassuring wink.

“Yes, I came to say sorry,” Kathy replied softly.

Janey sniffled slightly, nodding again. “Okay, okay. We can talk. But we need to hurry—Pinkie says Carmine has a surprise for me.”

“Yes, he does,” Pinkie affirmed gently. “You talk with Kathy, hear her out, and then explain your side of things. Everyone is fine. I’ll tell Carmine you’ll be ready soon. Ma is upset you missed her breakfast. You know how she loves to feed you.”

“Alright, stop fussing,” Janey said, gently pushing Pinkie’s hands away with a slight smile.

Pinkie chuckled softly. “I’ll be back soon, ladies.” She stood and walked to the door and then closed it quietly behind her.

Kathy swallowed nervously; her heart lodged in her throat as Janey slowly eased herself out of bed.

“You said some awful things to me, Kathy,” Janey said, moving to her vanity and beginning to pin up her hair.

“I know, Auntie. I was upset. Willa left, and it seemed like you didn’t care.”

“That’s not my fault!” Janey spun around sharply, eyes blazing.

“I always get blamed for everything! Mama died, and all the sisters blamed me. If Elliot Wynn hadn’t kicked me, Mama wouldn’t have poisoned him and gotten herself hanged.

I took all the blame. Only Brenda believed me, and she left me with Mae. ”

“Mae? Who’s Mae?” Kathy asked cautiously.

“Mae! The oldest sister!” Janey exclaimed, turning back to the mirror.

Kathy stood up. She stared at her aunt’s reflection in the mirror, and Janey noticed the fear on Kathy’s face.

She steadied herself, calming slightly. “Mae is the oldest. Then came Izzy, Pearl, Lizzie, Everlene, Betsie, Brenda—and then me.

We're sisters. Mae was in charge. Mae told us what to do, who to go with, and who to marry. Mae told Brenda to leave me behind. Brenda obeyed, and Mae took me with Izzy back to Jackson.”

Kathy nodded gently. “What happened in Jackson, Auntie?”