Embers (26 page)

The first thing Allie did was fall into her older sister
'
s arms. Allie
'
s hair smelled like stale smoke
—
Lisa
'
s cigarettes
— but her breath was alcohol-free. Meg felt her spirits soar, the way they did in the old days whenever her sister emerged sober through an especially trying time.

"
I think Lisa
'
s going to be all right,
"
Allie said after Meg
'
s long and reassuring hug.
"
Mary talked her into going back to see their high school volleyball coach. They both used to think she was really cool—
you know, tuned in to their problems. She may be just the kick in the pants Lisa needs right now.
"

"
That
'
s good news,
"
Meg said, glad that the event wasn
'
t turning out as depressingly as she
'
d feared.

Allie hiked herself up onto the kitchen counter in a fluid motion that Meg had seen a thousand times before. She gave Meg a thoughtful look, sighed, and said,
"
You know what I realized? It
'
s not the same between Lisa and me as it is between you and me. On the one hand, Lisa and I share this
— let
'
s face it
—
heavy-duty problem. We should be really close, and in that way we are.

"
But on the other hand,
"
she said,
"
I just can
'
t be there for her the way you are for me. I can do a certain amount, but I just can
'
t give her the same
—
I don
'
t
know
—
guarantee
,
that you give me. You know?
"
she asked plaintively.
"
You
'
re just so
...
there
when I need you. So rock solid. There
'
s no one I could ever trust as much as I trust you. I hope it always stays this way between us.
"

She looked so terribly young, kicking her heels absently into the cabinet doors, so terribly open and earnest. Meg had the sense that she was looking through her sister
'
s violet eyes and seeing straight into her soul.

"
If you need me to be there, I will be, Allie,
"
Meg said, her voice a little unsteady in her throat.
"
You know that.
"

Allie cocked her head and studied her older sister.
"
You
'
ve never really screwed up, you know that? I drank, and now I have to go through life looking over my shoulder. But you never gave in to your emotions, you never gave up, even after Paul died.
"

"
I am woman; hear me roar,
"
Meg said lightly. She felt like a complete hypocrite.

"
I mean it, Meg. You
'
re just so
...
indominatable.
"

Meg shrugged, embarrassed.
"
You could argue that it
'
s an obnoxious character flaw.
"

Allie laughed.
"
Uncle Billy
'
s always said so.
"

"
I rest my case,
"
said Meg, opening the fridge and digging through the fruit drawer for the most bruised apple.
"
So what
'
re you up to now?
"
she asked casually over her shoulder. Meg hadn
'
t seen Tom
'
s car all day
—
and she
'
d been keeping track.

"
Nothing much. I think we
'
re going to a movie,
"
Allie said, assuming that her sister knew who the
"
we
"
were.
"
What about last night? What happened? You sounded so weird on the phone.
"

Meg threw her sister a good apple, then took a paring knife and with surgical precision began cutting out the brown spots in her own.
"
Promise not to laugh. And
promise
not to tell. Not that it matters,
"
she said, feeling the color rise in her cheeks.
"
It
'
ll be all over town anyway once Millie recovers from her fainting fit.
"

"
Fit? What fit?
"
Allie asked, chomping down on the glossy red fruit.
"
Millie was fine when I left,
"
she said through a mouthful of apple.

Meg turned to her sister and said in a taut, deadly serious voice:
"
Promise.
And then don
'
t interrupt. I mean it.
"

Allie nodded solemnly and took another bite of apple, and Meg told her what had happened with as little drama as possible, trying without success to make it seem like just another gathering over tea. Her sister never once interrupted, which itself was a little scary. Allie was famous for jumping into the middle of other people
'
s sentences, more often than not making them lose their train of thought. It drove their father especially nuts.

But now, not a word. Meg was managing only too well to frighten her sister into silence.

"
As soon as I could stand up, Tom escorted me back here,
"
Meg said, wrapping up her tale.
"
It was so embarrassing; I felt like when the police brought Terry home last fall for skipping school,
"
she said jokingly. She skipped the part about the near-kiss; wild horses couldn
'
t have dragged
that
bit out of her.

"
Meggie. Oh, Meggie,
"
said her sister, her face pale with anxiety.
"
You know what this means, don
'
t you?
"

"
Yeah. Never eat chili for an afternoon snack.
"

Allie jumped down from the counter and grabbed her sister by the arm.
"
Don
'
t
do
that,
"
she said angrily.
"
Don
'
t make fun. Not now. This isn
'
t about Zenobia and her band of merry men. This is about
you,
Meg. Don
'
t you see? Grandmother is communicating to us through you. She
'
s been trapped in the dollhouse for half a century
—
"

"
Let
'
s say I humor you. Why the dollhouse?
"

"
How do I know? And now that the house has passed to you, she
'
s
...
she
'
s
..."

"
Moving out?
"
asked Meg wryly.

"
Stop it!
"
cried Allie, visibly cringing.
"
Speak with more
...
more
...
reverence,
for pity
'
s sake. God. I can hear you and Tom now, having a big snicker over this. You
'
re both so strong, aren
'
t you? Two of a kind. The homicide cop and the family boss. I suppose it goes with the territory, not being afraid of
—
"

"
Ghosts?
"
Meg jumped in with the dread word before her sister could, saying it out loud, doing exactly what Allie claimed she was doing: being a big, brave sister. The truth was, Meg had spent the night in a state of disengaged terror and was doing her best to own up to it.

"
Allie, if you think this hasn
'
t affected me, you
'
re nuttier than an airline snack. Trust me, I
'
m bringing more than enough reverence to this affair. The truth is, I
'
m frightened.
I
don
'
t know what to do. It
'
s not like Miss Manners has written Rules of Etiquette for being possessed or entranced or whatever I was. I mean, am I supposed to just
...
let Grandmother settle in, and try to make her comfortable? Would it be rude to ask how long she plans to stay? And how exactly would I go about doing that, anyway?
"

"
You
'
re
still
making fun. You can
'
t
not
make fun,
"
said Allie, slamming her hand on the counter.

Meg lifted the core of Allie
'
s apple and tossed it in the garbage can, then took a sponge and began wiping down everything in sight. She didn
'
t know why; it was something to do.

"
What do you want me to do?
"
she asked, scrubbing furiously.
"
Get exorcised?
Then
where
would
she go?
If
she exists. It exists. Whatever. And the worst thing is, I can explain this all rationally. Tom is right, it can all be explained rationally. A couple of visits to Orel T
remblay ... a little research,
a little imagination
...
and bingo! I
'
m a channel!
"

She picked up a dirty glass from the sink and plunged her
soapy sponge into it, taking ou
t her frustration on the dried-
out milk inside.

The glass broke
—
exploded, really
—
in Meg
'
s hand, cutting her and releasing a stream of blood down the side of the porcelain sink.

"
Shit,
"
she said, dropping the broken glass like a hot coal. Allie zoomed in on the cut, holding her sister
'
s hand under running water so that they could survey the damage: a triangular tear, not so bad that it needed stitches.

"
How did I
do
that?
"
asked Meg blankly.

Allie ripped off a paper towel and wrapped it around her sister
'
s finger.
"
Who says
you
did it? Maybe Grandmother didn
'
t like your snotty attitude. Can you blame her?
"
She reached inside the corner cupboard for the bandages and took out three.

"
This is out of control,
"
Meg muttered as Allie peeled away the wrappers.

"
Take off the towel. That
'
s the thing about the spirit world,
"
Allie said, wrapping the bandage quickly around the cut.
"
You can
'
t prove it is. You can
'
t prove it isn
'
t. I say let
'
s play it safe.
"
She wrapped another bandage around Meg
'
s index finger, and then another.

Meg snorted.
"
The only way to play it safe is to buy stock in a pharmaceutical company,
"
she said, flexing her thoroughly splinted finger.
"
Too tight,
"
she decided.

"
Too bad.
"
Allie scooped up the wrappers and tossed them, then began rinsing down the bloody sink.
"
Obviously we
'
ve got to do something about Gordon Camplin. Anything. Maybe if we just flat-out accuse him
—
in private; that would be the safest thing
—
that might be enough to satisfy Grandmother. You think?
"