My Sister's Husband

by Marsh, Nicola

  Brooke has applied to several colleges but they’re half-hearted attempts to please me rather than any burning desire for tertiary education. She scored so well, she can be anything she wants to be, but I have a feeling Brooke is more like her mother than she realizes and would rather give up her future for love.

  Because there’s no doubt in my mind that Brooke loves Eli. He, too, is eschewing college in favor of staying in Martino Bay and joining his parents in the family business, a thriving landscaping venture. The similarities between them and Di and Cam are uncanny. Personally, I hate seeing such talented kids throwing away their futures to stay in a town like this but who am I to judge?

  I ruined my future the day I chose vengeance and jealousy over love and I’ll never impose my views on my girls. While Eli has worked the last four weeks, Brooke has wasted her days. She knows she’ll have to find a job eventually but for the first time in her life she isn’t striving for something.

  Then she comes home from town one day and rattles my faith in her.

  “Aunt Alice, how do you know what true love is? If the guy you love is the one?”

  I want to tell her the truth; that you only know what true love is when it’s taken away from you. When you can’t breathe because that guy has his hands on someone else when it should be you. When you morph into a monster because your one true love has chosen another who you can’t help but hate.

  But I don’t say any of that. “Every relationship is different, honey. One couple’s definition of true love will be nothing like another couple’s. As for the fabled ‘the one’, I don’t know if that exists, but if the love is strong enough it can make us believe anything.”

  She’s pensive, chewing on her bottom lip, twisting a strand of hair around her finger over and over until the tip turns purplish from lack of blood supply.

  “What’s going on, kiddo? Is this about Eli?”

  She nods, and untwists her hair. “I love him, but something happened today and it’s got me thinking.”

  “What happened?”

  She hesitates, searching my face for approval. She must think she gets it because she starts talking. “I was in town today when I saw a guy. He stopped at the lights near the ice-cream parlor and when he looked at me…” The hair winding resumes. “I’ve never felt anything like it, except that time I got a zap from the power-point with my faulty cell phone charger. Only stronger…” She gives a little shudder. “I love Eli, I really do, but I’ve never felt like that when he touches me.” Crimson floods her cheeks. “It confused me because when that guy smiled, I felt it all the way down here.”

  She presses a hand against her belly and the color in her cheeks intensifies. She wants answers from me and I’m the least qualified person to give them, considering I know exactly what she’s talking about but for me, only Cam made me feel that way.

  “It’s okay to be attracted to other people, honey. It’ll happen throughout your life and it doesn’t mean you love Eli any less.”

  Relief filters across her face. “But it felt wrong somehow.”

  I cup her blazing cheek. “It was a glance and a smile, honey, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “I guess.” She shrugs but I can see it’s still weighing on her mind. “Is Freya around?”

  The last thing I want is Brooke talking to her sister about this. Freya might take it as a sign Brooke and Eli’s relationship is headed for trouble and it could give her false hope, when she seems to have moved on.

  “If you want my advice, honey, forget about this. It was nothing and you know your sister, she’ll only tease you about it.”

  “Good point.”

  Brooke leans forward and hugs me. “Thanks, Aunt Alice. You’re the best.”

  “I try.” I pat her back, thankful I can help.

  There’ll come a time very soon when my girls won’t need me anymore and then what will I do?

  Fifty-Four

  Freya

  Riker takes me into town for an early dinner on Saturday night. We don’t eat out a lot because of our schedules but when we do I love it because I get to parade my fiancé. He’s holding my hand. He’s staring into my eyes. He wants to marry me. I bask in the attention. It makes me feel special in a way I never have.

  Not that I deliberately seek out ways to flaunt my happiness but growing up I’d felt second best for so long that it’s nice to see how far I’ve come. While Riker can take the credit for some of it, I know it’s more than that. Being a good mother to Hope, an accomplished nurse at work, gives me the validation I’ve craved my entire life. It makes me feel worthy. And I deserve it considering what I’ve done to get here.

  When we get home, Riker opens the passenger door and holds out his hand to me. I take it, and when I step from the car, he murmurs in my ear, “Close your eyes.”

  “Why? You know I hate surprises.”

  “I know, but I want to show you my latest creation.”

  I love when he shares his work with me, when he asks my opinion. “Okay. But why can’t I close them when we get to the workshop?”

  “Just do it, babe.” He presses his lips to mine, and my eyelids flutter shut automatically.

  “No peeking,” he says, as he covers my eyes with his hands. I walk in front of him. He’s guiding me, but as we hit the stone path I know he’s not taking me to the barn, he’s heading toward the back of the house.

  “What are you up to, James Riker Smith?”

  “You’ll see.” His warm breath fans my ear and a shiver of longing shoots through me.

  When we stop, I hear Hope giggle and I immediately know this must be the surprise my delightful daughter has been planning with my sister.

  There’s a loud cacophony of ‘Surprise’ as Riker lowers his hands and I gasp in genuine shock. The backyard has been transformed into a fairyland, with ivory chiffon and lanterns in crimson, sienna and turquoise strung from tree to tree. A long trestle has been set up, with a lace tablecloth and satin bows at the corners. It’s covered in finger food, everything from mini wontons in individual spoons to elaborate twisted lox on rye. A smaller table to one side has colorful cocktails arranged on it, with corny names like ‘Bride To Be’ and ‘Here Comes the Groom’.

  It’s a bridal shower and, while I may not like surprises as a rule, I’m touched Brooke went to so much trouble to arrange this. It signifies how far we’ve come and I’m thankful.

  Riker spins me around and I see everyone gathered on the porch, work colleagues mostly, with Lizzie, Brooke and Hope fronting the motley crew. Hope’s beaming and runs toward me, as Brooke searches my face for approval; she knows I’m not big on surprises, and in that moment I love how close we are again.

  I smile and mouth “Thank you” as Hope flings herself at me.

  “Isn’t this the best surprise ever, Mom?”

  I hug her tightly. “Sure is, sweetie. Did you do this?”

  “I helped Auntie Brooke, it was her idea.”

  That’s my daughter, honest to a fault.

  “Well, it’s fabulous. Thank you.” I press a kiss to the top of her head.

  “There are presents too.” Hope points to a smaller table I hadn’t spotted yet, tucked beneath the branches of an oak. “But Auntie Brooke said it’s probably best you open those later because some people give brides-to-be naughty stuff.”

  I chuckle. “Your aunt is very wise.”

  But as the crowd surges toward me, I spy something that belies my proclamation.

  Aunt Alice.

  She’s in a wheelchair, tucked into the corner of the porch.

  My euphoria instantly fades. What the hell does Brooke think she’s doing? Aunt Alice shouldn’t be out here. Why does Brooke think she can make these decisions without consulting me?

  As if sensing my displeasure, Brooke waits until my friends have greeted me and drifted off before approaching. I open my mouth to chastise her but before I can speak she holds up her hand.

  “I can see by your expression you don’t
approve of me bringing Aunt Alice out of her room, but Lizzie’s watching her so she doesn’t wander off. This is a special time for you and she’s been a huge part of your life, so she deserves to be here.”

  My anger fades. “You’re right. She should be a part of this. I just worry about her.”

  Brooke almost sags in relief. “I know you do, but she’ll be fine. Now, how about I pour my sister a glass of champagne?”

  “Sounds good.”

  Brooke links her elbow with mine and leads me toward the makeshift bar. I’m overcome by emotion and the conviction we’re closer than we’ve ever been. She’s done this for me, thrown a wonderful bridal shower. She came back for the wedding. She cares about me. But she also lied to me.

  Can I trust her?

  Fifty-Five

  Brooke

  Seeing Freya mixing with her work friends, champagne flute in one hand, a mini quiche in the other, with a big smile on her face, I’m glad I did this.

  Eleven years is a long time to be away from my sister and despite our differences over Aunt Alice’s care lately, re-establishing our bond is still a priority and seems to be progressing. The initial awkwardness between us is fading and witnessing her happiness today makes me wonder if I should’ve insisted on doing more for her regarding wedding prep, despite her admitting she’d used that as an excuse to get me home earlier. I miss our closeness and throwing her this shower has gone a long way to showing her how much I care.

  I wonder if she knows about the baby I lost. Aunt Alice had said she wouldn’t tell anyone, including Freya. If so, she’s kept that secret for years and has no reason to reveal it now.

  But after all the time I’ve spent with Hope, I wonder if I should tell Freya. It would bond us like nothing else if she learns we both went through teen pregnancies and I know trusting her with my secret would mean a lot to her.

  Lizzie has been hovering near Aunt Alice’s wheelchair for the last hour, attentive and on guard. Not that I really fear Aunt Alice wandering off anywhere; she’s too feeble. It took both of us to get her into the wheelchair. It ratchets up my admiration for Freya, who does it every second day to get her into the shower. Lizzie gives Aunt Alice a sponge bath on alternate days.

  My gaze drifts toward Aunt Alice. She’s staring at the people mingling on the lawn with unseeing eyes, tapping her hand against her thigh in time with the music. I remember she wasn’t a fan growing up, preferring the house to be quiet rather than having the radio blaring, but she didn’t mind us turning up our playlists when we were home.

  I should use those old playlists as part of the reminiscence therapy. The first night had gone surprisingly well and Lizzie had reported that last night had been okay too, with Alice managing a chuckle at our old high school photos.

  I feel vindicated doing this despite Freya not knowing. She may be the expert who nurses patients like our aunt on a daily basis, but in this case maybe she’s too close to the situation and isn’t seeing things clearly?

  I want to keep doing the therapy for the next week and if there’s a marked improvement I’ll tell Freya what I’ve been up to. Aunt Alice should be out in the fresh air every day. It would always be under supervision and if she’s so frail there’s no way Aunt Alice can move out of that wheelchair.

  “Hey, Brooke, long time no see.” A hand touches my arm and I turn, wishing I’d made more of an effort to memorize the guest list. The tall redhead smiling at me is vaguely familiar but I have no idea if it’s a co-worker of Freya’s or a friend.

  “Hi, how are you?”

  She laughs at my generic greeting. “You don’t remember me, do you?”

  I wince. “Sorry, I’ve been away a long time.”

  “Helena. I was in Freya’s class at high school.”

  The moment she says her name I recognize her. Not because Freya brought many friends home back then, but because she’d been at the party the night Eli died. She’d been really drunk, singing some old Springsteen ballad loudly and repetitively. Funny, how such a mundane detail like that has stuck in my head. Then again, I remember every tiny thing about that night because I’ve gone over it repeatedly in the ensuing years, wishing I’d done everything differently.

  “Hey, Helena, good to see you. It’s great you and Freya are still close.”

  “Not so much these days. I travel a lot for work.”

  “What do you do?”

  “I’m a counselor for one of the colleges in LA, but my folks are here so I’m in town regularly.”

  “That’s great.”

  As our small talk tapers off I expect her to drift away. Instead, she fixes me with an odd pitying stare.

  “I was sorry to hear you left town and haven’t been back since Eli’s death.” She shakes her head. “That night was so awful.”

  Not wanting to dredge up the past, especially with someone I barely know, I mumble an agreement.

  “Most of us girls were jealous of you back then,” she continues, oblivious to my discomfort. “Eli was gorgeous and such a nice guy. We thought you two were one of those perfect couples who’d be together forever.” I don’t need to hear this but before I can come up with a polite way to extricate myself, she says, “I was surprised when he returned to the party that night after you two left together, especially seeing how distraught he was.” She points at Freya. “I never encouraged your sister’s crush on him, but it was lucky she was around that night to comfort him.”

  Shock renders me mute.

  I had no idea Eli returned to the party after I told him the truth, let alone that Freya had spoken to him. She never mentioned anything to me, even after his body was found the next morning and my world toppled.

  “We all assumed you’d had an argument…” She shakes her head, genuine sadness clouding her eyes. “I know some of the kids were horrible and blamed you, but these things happen and there’s nothing you or anybody could’ve done to stop him making the choice he did.”

  Looks like Helena can’t help but dole out counseling advice when she’s out of the workplace too but I don’t want to hear it. I’m too fixated on what Freya has been keeping from me. What did he say to her? Did he hate me? Did he tell her what I confessed?

  Now, more than ever, I’m relieved I didn’t tell Eli the name of the guy I’d been with that night. I see the way she lords Riker over me; over everyone, really. He’s like a prize she’s won, like that time at Martino Bay’s fair when she shot three bull’s-eyes in a row to claim a giant stuffed bear. She’d paraded around all day with that bear under her arm, and these days she wears the same smug expression whenever she holds Riker’s hand.

  If she ever suspected I’d slept with her fiancé long before she had… no, it’s another secret in this family that needs to be protected.

  “Anyway, sorry for dredging up the past.” Helena gives herself a little shake. “It was nice seeing you again, Brooke.”

  “You too.”

  I force a smile but as Helena drifts toward the group clustered around Freya, I’m struck once again by how little I really know my sister.

  Fifty-Six

  Alice

  THEN

  It’s almost midnight and I’m sitting outside, listening to the waves. I’m not sure whether the distant crashing is comforting but lately, with the girls socializing more, I’ve found myself out here most nights seeking solace.

  Tonight, they’re at yet another party and I’m left with too much time to contemplate, to remember. I don’t like it. When the girls are around there’s noise to drown out my thoughts and now they’re eighteen and seventeen respectively I see startling similarities between them and me and Diana. Freya is learning to hide her jealousy better, like I did. But it’s there all the same, festering, and Freya is more volatile than I ever was.

  I hear a car pull up and I exhale, glad the girls are home. I’m safe from my memories for another night. But my relief is short-lived when I hear a door slam and an anguished cry calling my name. I rush inside to find Brooke, tear-stai
ned and wild-eyed, dragging in breaths like she’s run a marathon.

  “What’s wrong?” I glance over her shoulder and my heart plummets when I realize she’s alone. “Is it Freya?”

  “She’s okay, she’s still at the party.”

  “Then what’s wrong—”

  “I screwed up.”

  Before I can ask any more she flings herself into my arms, hanging on so tight I can barely breathe. She’s sobbing hard, clutching at me like she’ll never let go, and my heart breaks. I don’t know what’s happened but Brooke is the most upbeat, positive person I know and I’ve never seen her this distraught.

  “Sweetheart, tell me what’s wrong.” I smooth her back, over and over, in long, slow strokes, murmuring “Ssh,” until eventually her sobs peter out.

  Only then do I ease her away, desperately hoping Freya hasn’t done something to precipitate this level of anguish.

  “I did something bad and I told Eli about it because I had to, as we’ve never lied to each other, but he went ballistic and said some really horrible things so I broke up with him.” She hiccups, her eyes swimming with tears. “I’ve made a mess of everything.”

  She’ll survive this heartache and I can’t help but feel relieved Freya isn’t the cause of it.

  “Hey, it’s okay. Whatever you’ve done, and however you’ve handled it, it’ll be better in the morning when you’ve had time to gain perspective.”

  She shakes her head, tears seeping from the corners of her eyes again. “He’s not going to forgive me for this. The names he called me… it was so awful I had to break up with him.”