Sister Dear (11 page)

“No. It was a pretty tough breakup.” Emma sighed.

“You grew apart? Or was it about something else?”

“He wanted kids.” Emma shrugged. “I didn't.”

Allie's forehead creased. “You know? I don't get it. You're so good with . . . Caroline.” Her voice faltered.

Emma hemmed, examining her salad plate. “I didn't feel like I could handle a baby. Caroline was at such a tender age.” She looked up at her sister pointedly. “We were all so worried about her. Dividing my attention wouldn't have been fair.”

Allie's face lost color.

“And . . .” Emma said the next words softly and carefully, knowing they'd cut deep and fast. “And you were . . . gone. For so long from Caroline. From all of us.”

Allie inhaled sharply and winced. “I know.” She hesitated. “I'm so grateful she had you. I-I never meant for her to be a burden.”

“Never,” Emma said as something fierce and raw tugged at her heart. “I love her. I always will. She's blood. There's nothing that will come between that.”

“Of course,” Allie murmured, her words barely audible.

Emma took a sip of water, gathering her thoughts. Nothing would come between her and Caroline. Ever. But Allie, Allie had let her down. The tie was broken; the blood was tainted.

“Anyway, it just didn't work out,” Emma added. “I'd rushed into it, thrown myself into the wedding planning. Mom was reviewing catering menus like her life depended on it.” She ran a finger around the rim of the glass. “I think I loved the idea of being married. But then it seemed like we were being Barbie and Ken in one of those pink plastic playhouses.”

The truth was that none of it—and no guy, no matter how perfect and kind—would ever compare to the only man she had ever truly loved.

April 2006

The headline stirred the already-hungry Brunswick fans into a feeding frenzy.
Star Coach Lands in Wolverine Country.
A small crowd had already gathered for the first day of spring training, everyone eager to catch a glimpse of the new hire.

Allie's dog, Molly, stopped in her tracks, sniffing the air. “Come on, girl,” Emma urged, shivering as Allie guided her puppy back toward the football stadium.

Rain drizzled as gray clouds hung low over the playing field, scraped raw in places, more clay than grass. Every cleat was caked in red brown; spatters of dirt patterned every shin. Between plays, the ball was wiped clean and handed back.

While Allie made the social rounds, Emma surveyed the crowd. Most notably, Sheriff Lee Gaines stood on the edge of the field. He'd been a school booster since the beginning of time, with a passion for the game said to rival the University of Alabama's Bear Bryant.

The whistle blew again; players gulped water from plastic cups. Two hulking linebackers took turns drinking from a Gatorade jug, swapping trash talk between mouthfuls.

The new coach, Boyd Thomas, stalked to the end zone. His staff, in matching windbreakers, parted as if a jetliner had taxied onto the field. The coach stopped and spoke to the quarterback, emphasizing the conversation with crisp gestures. He grabbed at the headphones around his neck and spun a finger in the air, signaling the players to resume the drill.

He was a University of Georgia graduate, Emma had noted
from the article in the newspaper. And below a long section, the story noted that Thomas had risen from a foster kid to a head coach with one of the winningest records in the state. The last paragraph mentioned his family would be taking over the pharmacy and old-fashioned soda shop downtown. The coach's wife was a pharmacist, and the current owner was retiring and happy to leave the place in capable hands.

As Emma watched, the players huddled, clapped hard, and got into formation. The quarterback called his play, leaning in to catch the snap. Feet shuffled, bodies collided.

Coach Thomas caught the edge of his ball cap and pulled it out straight, peering toward his players. A perfect spiral landed into the arms of a waiting wide receiver.

After several more plays, another whistle blew. Practice was over, and Emma felt a tug on her arm. Her sister was ready to leave. She ignored Allie and stared, lips parted, as the new coach ambled over and shook hands with Sheriff Gaines and the athletic director.

As a sudden breeze cut across the field, Molly began to bounce and tugged at her leash. At a sharp yelp, Allie shushed her pet, causing Emma to glance up, expecting annoyed glances at the commotion.

But Coach Boyd Thomas was walking straight toward her, a brilliant smile on his face, causing Emma to go weak all over. He was rugged and handsome, broad-shouldered and strong. His eyes, though, dealt the final blow. Dark. Passionate. More than a little dangerous.

Emma didn't believe in love at first sight. Sure, she'd kissed her share of guys; she'd had brief crushes. But the spark never tripped like this, fireworks didn't explode, the earth and trees never melted away.

Now it was all happening at once.

“Wolverine fan already, eh?” he said, walking over and bending
to scratch the puppy's head behind her ears. His college ring—gold signet—glinted against the dark parts of Molly's thick coat. “We're looking for a mascot.” He grinned. “I think she'd be perfect.”

It was the start and end of everything.

2016

“I know you aren't telling me the whole story.” Allie frowned.

Emma waved a hand, glad the restaurant's noise and clatter drowned out her sister's words to anyone farther than one foot from their table. She heaved a sigh. The reaction was typical Allie, always the bleeding heart. Her sister still wanted to save the world, even when she couldn't save herself.

“Don't shut me out.” Allie leaned in, bending her head to get Emma's attention. “What happened?”

Frowning, Emma looked away, pretending to study the dozens of lights strung along the pier. Allie's persistence, all of this concerned questioning, was grating on her nerves.

Emma's breath caught. She realized what was happening. Why Allie agreed so quickly to come to dinner. Her sister was trying to soften her up, get Emma to drop her guard. And at just the right moment, Allie would try to steal her daughter away.

Emma tightened her fists under the table. She took a deep breath. Emma would give Allie a taste of how hard she would fight to keep Caroline.

“That night . . . the night I went into the hospital.” Emma lowered her chin and made herself sniff. “Th-they had to do surgery.”

“Surgery?” Allie echoed.

Emma plucked the napkin from her lap and wiped at her eyes. “I should have told you. I just couldn't . . . before. But I-I can't have children. Not my own.”

An incredulous look washed over Allie's face. “What? Oh, Emma . . .”

A sudden breeze ruffled the palm trees nearby, and the waves crashed harder in the distance. The sun had all but disappeared, causing the horizon to darken to a midnight blue.

The sky had been that exact shade the evening Emma tearfully told the police about a drifter passing through town, a grungy man in a Rolling Stones T-shirt who'd jumped in her car at the corner of Parkwood and Kemble. She said the man had pressed what she thought was a gun to her head, dragged her to Goodyear Park, and tried to rape her across from the Lutheran church. She'd fought him off until someone had driven by, scared him, and the man had taken off into the sparse woods.

The police officers nodded grimly as Emma told them she was barely able to get herself to the ER, only a block away. A day later, she sat with a sketch artist and reimagined the drifter's face. The police had searched Brunswick and St. Simons Island, coming up empty.

Allie shivered and broke the silence. “Emma . . . I-I don't know what to say. That's awful. I'm so sorry.”

“It's been—” Emma brushed away an imaginary tear and sniffed, reaching for her napkin. “Difficult, to say the least.”

“I can't believe you didn't tell me,” Allie said. “You've always been better than I am at keeping secrets.”

“I made Mom and Dad promise. It would have only made you worry.” Emma lowered her voice until it was barely audible, thinking quickly to make up a story that would play on Allie's sympathy. “They found a mass in my uterus and did a hysterectomy before I could blink.” Emma sipped her water, straightened, and cleared her throat. “It's all messed up down there. And I wanted my own baby, not someone else's.”

“Did you tell him?”

“Of course,” Emma replied in a soft voice and rubbed her temples. “And he suggested adopting. He brought me brochures he'd collected, showed me websites.”

“And?” Allie raised a brow.

“I knew it wouldn't make me happy.” Emma drew in a deep breath.

Allie seemed to absorb this. “At least you had a choice. And you didn't jump in and get stuck in a bad situation for years and years.”

“A bad situation?” Emma shifted and wrinkled her brow.

“An unhappy one.” Allie corrected herself. “I know that marriage is not the same as what I went through. You walked away . . . I lost a whole decade. It's just wasted and I can't get it back.” Allie looked out at the ocean and then back at Emma, her voice soft.

“Of course.”

“I've had so much time to think,” Allie continued. “And I have some ideas . . . some theories about everything that happened.”

Wrinkling her brow, Emma leaned forward to get a better look at her sister's face. She recognized that expression, the stubborn and determined one. “What do you mean?” Emma asked. “Theories?”

Allie licked her lips. “I know that we couldn't ever talk about it, back at Arrendale,” she murmured, “but I've always thought that Sheriff Gaines had
everything
to do with the coach's death.”

Blinking at her sister, Emma's jaw fell open. “What?”

“I'm serious.”

“Stop,” Emma hissed, glancing around. Now that the restaurant had filled up, no one, thank goodness, was paying them any attention. “Do you realize what you're saying?”

“I do.”

“This isn't the time or the place.” Emma frowned, keeping her voice low. “Don't you want to put the past in the past? Let it go?” She paused and held her sister's gaze. “You're finally free.”

Allie blinked, bit her lip, and looked away.

Managing to conjure a sympathetic look, Emma continued, “I'm so sorry. I know it's been hard for you. But you are out of that awful place. And that's a blessing.”

Her sister didn't reply.

Emma unfolded the napkin over her lap. “Listen, good comes out of bad sometimes. Like all of these years—all of this time having Caroline—it's been a blessing to me.” She watched as her sister stiffened.

As Allie stared out at the waves crashing on the shore, Emma's lips curved into a smile. She pressed her fingertips to the center of her chest, setting her jaw as if daring her sister to look up and defy her. “I love her so much. Caroline is my whole world.”

FOURTEEN

ALLIE

2016

Emma's words sent a jolt through Allie's body, like a rush of adrenaline after a lightning strike. The words hung in the evening air, daring, almost taunting her, as if Allie were somehow a threat.

Allie bristled, ready to defend her rightful place as her daughter's mother. But when she opened her mouth to argue, Emma withdrew from her, crossing her arms across her chest. This was the Emma she knew. Oversensitive, quick to react. The first to have hurt feelings.

Perhaps, Allie thought, up until that minute, she hadn't realized the depth of Emma's love for Caroline. Her ten years behind bars had sheltered her from real life. In the few moments during those very first years when Allie let herself dwell on everything she was missing, the regret only hollowed out her soul.

Inhaling deeply, Allie thought long and hard as the silence built between them. As a gust of wind made the napkins flutter, she bit her lip. Emma was her flesh and blood. Family. Allie could—and would—take the high road, soothing Emma's feelings until her sister accepted that things were going to change.

And change, they would.

“I owe you so much,” Allie said, swallowing her pride. “Thank you for taking care of my daughter.”

Emma raised a brow, ready to mount a challenge.

“Really. Thank you for everything,” Allie repeated. “I mean it.”

“You're welcome,” her sister said softly, the tension melting away from her face.

Allie blinked back tears. “I used to think I had everything all figured out, that my life was pretty close to perfect.” She caught her breath, swallowed hard. “I was so stupid. I buried myself in books, studied all the time, even after Caroline was born, like I had something to prove to the world. And all for what?” Allie said. “No one at Arrendale cared that I had a college education, that I was going to med school or wanted to be a surgeon.”

Emma hesitated. “Why?”

“Inside that place? It didn't matter. I was nothing. Nobody.” Allie cut her hands through the air with a slashing motion. “The end.” Her words weren't hollow. The statement was solid and true, full of regret, as if she had only a day more to live and Dr. Jack Kevorkian were waiting in the hallway, syringe in hand.

The server appeared, refilled their water glasses, and lit the candle in the middle of the table. Allie watched as the wick caught fire, staring into the red-orange flame.

If time travel existed, she would go back. In half a second, she'd climb in the contraption, however rickety, plug in the year, the month, the day. Allie would send the machine back to the precise place and moment everything changed. She'd memorized the time, the smell of the air, the sound of her dog, Molly, panting in the backseat. She could picture the open door of the pharmacy, the light spilling out onto the pavement.