My Sister's Husband

by Marsh, Nicola

  If I ever needed proof I didn’t matter in my family, this is it. Neither of them trusted me to tell me the truth. Even Amy knew before me.

  My sister has another child out there somewhere, a child she gave away.

  Cam’s child.

  That’s when the rage comes, flooding my veins, making red spots dance before my eyes. That sweet, supportive, incredible man doesn’t deserve to be lied to. He’s lost a baby too and he never even knew.

  It’s the last straw for me. Not only had Diana had sex with Cam the night she took him from me, she lied about it, then gave away her baby before waltzing back here, stealing him all over again, and having the audacity to marry him and have more kids when she’d abandoned her first.

  It’s wrong on so many levels.

  In that moment, as I struggle to deal with the fact my sister is lying to her husband, lying to us all, my dislike for her morphs into something akin to hatred.

  Fifteen

  Brooke

  I run into Riker the next morning.

  I heard his van pull in around dawn and interestingly, rather than slipping into the main house to be with Freya, he headed for his cottage. From what I’ve observed over the last week they have a weird relationship. They don’t spend a lot of time together and they’re rarely alone. When they hang out it’s usually with Hope. Their public displays of affection are minimal, especially for a couple only dating six months. And I don’t sense a strong bond between them; it’s more a comfortable melding of a contented couple. They seem happy enough but there’s a distinct lack of spark for two people about to get married.

  Freya seems her usual pragmatic self and isn’t at all dizzy over wedding cake or catering or dresses, and Riker never mentions the upcoming nuptials. I see them hold hands or gaze fondly at each other rarely, but Riker seems more enamored with Hope than his fiancée. We have that in common; she’s my favorite person too.

  He’s offhand around me, keeping his distance, and we’re never alone in the same room together, but we have to talk for no other reason than I want to gauge how much Freya knows about our past. I don’t want to slip up and cause problems for them unnecessarily, so I corner him as he slips into his work studio, a giant barn behind his cottage.

  “Hey, can we talk?”

  He jumps and whirls around to face me. “What are you doing in here?”

  “Saying hello to my soon-to-be brother-in-law,” I drawl, annoyed by his bristly personality. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  “It’s better that way.”

  He folds his arms and glares at me, like this is my fault. It’s not. There were two of us going at it that night eleven years ago and I’ve paid my dues. My guilt taints everything I do, but I can’t help that he’s engaged to my sister now.

  Technically, we mean nothing to each other. A random hook-up. But what happened with Riker had devastating consequences. I came clean to Eli about my indiscretion and I’ll never get over my guilt at causing Eli’s death.

  “What did you tell Freya about us? She hasn’t asked me anything about it yet, but just in case I want to make sure our stories are the same.”

  “Nothing.” His lips are thin, compressed, like he can’t bear talking to me. “No point dredging up the past. It was a blip, a one-night stand. She’ll go ballistic if she suspects anything happened between us. I told her we met at a party and barely spoke,” he says, dragging a hand through his shaggy hair. I’d done the same thing the night he took me up against the wall in that shed.

  “Well, you’re right about one thing, we did barely speak that night.”

  He barks out a laugh at my droll response. “When I came back to town, you were gone.”

  He’s given me the perfect opening to tell him.

  How I told Eli what had happened.

  How I broke up with him and then lost him forever.

  How I’m responsible for Eli’s death.

  I could tell him everything but what would be the point?

  “A lot happened and I always wanted to leave this place anyway.”

  His astute stare bores into me, coolly assessing. “Freya says you never went to college, that you hit the road and have been drifting since.”

  “Something like that,” I say, shrugging. “Surely you can understand that whim? No ties, moving from town to town.”

  That’s one snippet of information he’d shared with me before we’d kissed, how he’d left home at sixteen, using his art to fund his lifestyle, exploring as many towns within California as he could. Riker had intrigued me from the start and he’d fed my own subdued wanderlust with tales of adventure. It had made him irresistible and for that one hour at a party long ago, I’d lost my mind and had mind-blowing sex with a virtual stranger.

  He nods slowly, almost reluctantly. “Yeah, I get it.”

  I lock gazes with him and something indefinable, something forbidden, shimmers between us. Must be all this talk of the past and I give myself a little shake to break the invisible bond.

  “Anyway, I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page when it comes to Freya,” I say, backing toward the door. “Nice work, by the way. Maybe I can stop by some other time and take a look?”

  “Anytime,” he says, and this time I don’t imagine the warmth in his eyes, heating my skin like a physical caress.

  “See you later.”

  I push through the barn door and bump straight into Freya.

  Sixteen

  Brooke

  “What were you doing in there?”

  Freya’s accusatory tone catapults me back to the first time I brought Eli home. He’d barely left after we shared a pizza and watched a horror film before she’d whirled on me, bristling with indignation for not telling her I had a boyfriend. I knew what was behind her outrage; I’d been caught up in the throes of a new romance and not spending as much time with my sister and she resented it. I’d felt guilty and vowed to make it up to her. She’d been placated when I spent the next weekend with her—going to the movies, rollerblading, and having a camp out in our backyard like we used to when we were kids—but I always felt like she resented my relationship with Eli because it excluded her.

  Now, like then, her eyes glow with a peculiar, fanatical light and I scramble to appease her. “I haven’t seen inside Riker’s workshop yet so I stuck my head around the door,” I say, keeping my tone light. “But he’s in the middle of something, so I guess I’ll take a look another time.”

  “He’s a busy guy, you shouldn’t disturb him unless he invites you in.” She crosses her arms, disapproval radiating off her, and I’m relieved she hasn’t overheard our conversation because this situation could’ve been so much worse.

  “Got it. I guess I’m at a loose end and it’s weird being back here.”

  Freya studies me, like she’s still not convinced of my reason for popping in on Riker. “You’ve been away a long time, it’s to be expected.”

  “Is there anything I can do to help with the wedding preparations?”

  She shakes her head. “I’ve got it under control.”

  “But isn’t that why you wanted me to come home earlier, to help with the wedding plans?”

  She hesitates, as if searching for the right words, before shrugging. “I asked you to come back early so we could bond again. I used the wedding prep as an excuse.”

  I admire her honesty and want to set her mind at ease. “You never have to worry about Riker and me. We met briefly in the past, that’s it.”

  “I know.” She manages a rueful smile. “I sounded crazy jealous before, didn’t I?”

  I hold up my thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “Maybe a little?”

  Her expression is bashful, her gaze wistful as it fixes on the barn door. “Sometimes I wonder how I got so lucky…” she mumbles.

  I hear a hint of vulnerability and it gets to me. It’s the first time since I’ve returned home that she’s been completely unarmed, and it’s a much nicer side to my sister. The thing is, I get w
here she’s coming from. The night I fell for Riker’s charms had been so unexpected, so intense, it left me reeling. Eli and I had walked into that party at a friend’s house on top of the cliffs and everything had changed.

  Technically, it wasn’t the first time I laid eyes on Riker. He’d been in town a few times that summer and we’d locked eyes outside the ice-cream shop once. Corny, but true, and I’d felt his steely gaze all the way to my toes, the buzz of animal magnetism unforgettable. Riker had made me feel more alive, more aware of myself as a woman in that one scorching stare than all the times with Eli.

  So when Eli started drinking heavily at the party and practically ignoring me in favor of the boys, I’d wandered off; and encountered Riker. He’d been right about one thing; we didn’t speak much. I knew his name and little else bar his transient lifestyle before he bunched up my skirt, ripped off my panties and entered me.

  I’d wanted him more than I’d wanted anything else in my life. The sex had been frantic, hedonistic and memorable. But the guilt after I’d run from that shed had been overwhelming. I’d vomited, twice, and known I couldn’t keep a secret so monumental from my boyfriend. Telling Eli what I’d done with Riker seemed the right thing to do at the time. Breaking up with him because of my guilt had been spontaneous. I may not have pushed him off that cliff but he’d jumped because of me. No one knows my secret but Alice and considering her state of mind now, I think it’s safe.

  Though is that what Aunt Alice means by her constant reference to secrets? Maybe she does recognize me on some visceral level and has connected me to the past?

  “Hey, where did you go?” Freya snaps her fingers in my face and I stop ruminating.

  “Sorry, Sis, being back here has me reminiscing at the oddest of times,” I say.

  “I can understand that.” She eyeballs me with respect. “Thanks for coming back. I know it must be tough, after everything you went through back then.”

  “I wouldn’t have done it for anybody but you.”

  My eyes fill with tears, matching the sheen in hers, and I try to lighten the mood.

  “Though if you expect me to attend your wedding wearing one of those poufy satin bubble dresses you coveted in your retro eighties phase when you were a sophomore, I’m out of here.”

  We laugh, one of those rare spontaneous moments of synchronicity since I got back.

  “I thought my warped fashion sense is one of the many things you love about me?” She grins and I’m relieved we’re back on solid footing again. “Have you had breakfast? I’m running early for work so I’ve got a bit of time for a coffee?”

  “A coffee sounds great.”

  Not because I need the caffeine hit, but because I’m enjoying reconnecting with my sister in a way we never have before.

  Seventeen

  Alice

  THEN

  After a week of fruitless searching and ransacking the house for any clues Mom might’ve left lying around that might alert me to what happened to Diana’s firstborn, I give up. I can’t believe my mother kept old programs from a local theatre production of My Fair Lady that Dad took her to fifteen years ago but she kept no records of her first grandchild.

  I assume the baby had been adopted out but it’s difficult to access those records without knowing where to look. Privacy laws protect the mother and child, leaving me frustrated. Incredibly, I cop a break when the attorney who dealt with Mom’s will contacts me out of the blue saying he discovered some old documentation regarding a safety deposit box my parents had at the bank and do I want to keep paying for it. I don’t, but I’m interested in anything it may contain. As it turns out, the box has an old ruby ring I’d never seen Mom wear and the information I need.

  Elizabeth Shomack was born in a private home for unwed mothers on the outskirts of LA. So much for Diana living it up on Long Island. Initially adopted by an older couple, Elizabeth is now in the custody of Child Protective Services because of domestic abuse within the family. As if my heart isn’t breaking enough for my poor abandoned niece.

  I understand this isn’t all Diana’s fault. Mom wouldn’t have allowed her to return to Verdant with a baby in tow. She would’ve forced her. But what I can’t understand is once Diana returned home and found Cam loved her enough to marry her and have more kids, why hadn’t she done whatever it took to reclaim her first child?

  I’ve always known Diana is selfish but she’s my sister and I’ve made excuses for her vanity and attention-grabbing in the past because it’s a part of her as much as her big blue eyes and we all have our faults. But this time I’m out of excuses. I can’t fathom her lavishing love on Brooke and Freya while she could easily find Elizabeth if she wanted to and add her to her already perfect family.

  Cam would forgive her. Diana could do anything and the man I love would stare at my sister like she could do no wrong. So why hasn’t she told him? Why doesn’t she find Elizabeth and bring her home?

  If she won’t I will.

  A small part of me wants to do it for the recognition. Cam will be eternally grateful and he might look at me differently. He’ll see the flaws in Diana where he only ever sees perfection. But my motivation is more altruistic; Di and I don’t have any other family left and Elizabeth is a part of that family, whether my sister discarded her or not. I can’t leave my poor niece with Child Protective Services, only to be given to another family and exposed to goodness knows what.

  Still, I dither. I mull it for a week, the same thoughts reverberating through my head. This is none of my business. Elizabeth could be given to a family who will love her more than my sister who gave her away in the first place and has done nothing to find her. Maybe this is for the best.

  Ultimately, it’s the family ties that get to me. Elizabeth is a defenseless toddler at the mercy of the courts when she doesn’t have to be. She’s Diana’s blood and, in turn, mine, and if my sister doesn’t want her, I do.

  It costs a lot of money to hire an attorney that facilitates private adoptions. But I have savings; living at home nursing Mom had its advantages. I’m too young to adopt, twenty-two, but once blood tests prove I’m a direct relation proceedings are smoother. I meet Elizabeth and she’s adorable, with a sweet disposition despite her rough start to life. It makes me hate Diana all the more for abandoning her beautiful daughter and I avoid my sister as much as possible in case I let slip what I really think of her.

  The day I hear I’m officially Elizabeth’s mother is the day I put the rest of my plan into place.

  Diana doesn’t deserve one child, let alone three.

  And she certainly doesn’t deserve Cam.

  I have a vision of Cam and me raising his three daughters. He’ll see what a great mom I make, much better than Diana, and with her out of the way he’ll eventually grow to love me.

  How can he not?

  So I head to the library, choose the furthest computer away from the counter, and research what I have to do.

  Eighteen

  Brooke

  It’s time I sit down with Lizzie and chat about her mom. Freya told me not to dig too deeply into Aunt Alice’s condition because it upsets Lizzie and I agreed out of respect. I know nothing about the situation they’ve been living with regarding Aunt Alice’s care and I have no right to delve. I feel like an interloper and don’t want to disrupt their well-ordered lives when they seem to have everything under control. But I’m increasingly concerned about Aunt Alice’s rants about my parents and Lizzie’s the best person to talk to.

  After Freya heads off to work, I find Lizzie in Aunt Alice’s room and I knock softly when I see Aunt Alice dozing.

  Lizzie beckons me in and I enter, pulling up a chair alongside hers. “How’s she doing today?”

  “The same,” Lizzie says. “Mornings used to be her best time but she’s so sleepy all the time now, like she’s getting worse.”

  “What does Freya say?”

  “That it’s to be expected, that after sleeping many dementia patients wake and are tota
lly disoriented so it adds to their feelings of panic.” Lizzie pulls a face. “When I popped in here this morning after Freya had checked on her, she was worse than usual, ranting again.”

  I’m not sure how to introduce the topic of my parents. “Have you ever tried to access her online diary?”

  Lizzie looks appalled for a moment, but I see the telltale blush creeping into her cheeks. “Yeah, I have. I know it’s not right but I thought if I could read about her past I might be able to offer more comfort now somehow. Maybe even read it out loud to her, give her a sense of familiarity? A way of remembering?”

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking.” My gaze slides to the laptop on the side table near the bed. “She gets so agitated when she starts rambling and I’d do anything to calm her. It must be disorienting not to remember the past and if something as simple as reading diary entries to her will make it easier for her, it’s worth a try.”

  “I know. But dredging up the past may not be the wisest move either.”

  Lizzie’s gaze slides away from mine and I know she’s hiding something.

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  She doesn’t answer for a few seconds and then takes a deep breath, as if coming to a decision. “You know when I sent you that email, asking you to come home?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, she’d been focused on a particular topic for a week or so before that.”

  “What topic?”

  Reluctantly, Lizzie drags her gaze back to mine. “Your mom.”

  That fit with Aunt Alice’s ramblings about sisters and the bad stuff my mom had supposedly done. She might be dredging up the past in her head and getting confused. “Did she say anything specific about my mom for you to be so concerned?”