What Holds Us Together

by Sandi Ward

  Annika looks up at him. “I won’t tell anyone. I don’t want you to worry. I want you to rest. Could you please throw more wood on the fire in the back room and here in the stove?”

  He nods and turns to go, passing Lisa, who is just coming from the kitchen.

  “What’s the matter with him?” Lisa points her thumb in the direction of where Danny went.

  “He doesn’t feel well,” Annika says, taking her coat off a hanger. “Can you come out with me to help shovel the driveway? Sam is changing the tire.”

  “Shovel? Now?”

  “Come on. It’s a big job. And I feel like we owe Sam for taking credit for all the dumb stuff we did in high school. Don’t you? I wish I could do more for him.”

  “Yeah, all right,” Lisa agrees, pulling her snow pants on and flipping her hair back over her shoulder. “I guess so. The sun’s out, anyway. It looks beautiful.” She pauses. “So, should we talk about this boarding school thing? I still think it’s a big waste of money.”

  The women keep chatting as they head outside.

  And just then, Donovan comes down the stairs. Strange. I didn’t hear his footsteps.

  Delilah is right behind him.

  “Donovan,” Delilah says with urgency. “Wait. We can’t start a fire. That’s insane. How would we even do it, anyway?”

  “We’ve got a whole garage full of firewood.”

  “Yeah, but . . . do you mean we’d make it look like someone accidentally started a fire?”

  Donovan continues to the bottom of the stairs and hunts around for his mittens and boots near the front door. “Yeah, exactly. It should look like an accident. Maybe we could bring some of those wine bottles from the fridge? And . . . sparklers. The ones Mom bought for New Year’s Eve. It’ll just look like some kids were drinking and playing around in there. We’ll think of something.”

  Delilah makes a face. “No, no, no, we can’t. Donovan, think about it. What would Dad say? He was always trying to get you to be more responsible.”

  “Yeah, but . . .” Donovan turns to face his sister and straightens up. “He also said: I’d rather give my story a new twist. The great thing about telling your own story is that you can decide what happens. Remember? He said that to us, Del. And the same kind of stuff is in his journal. You read it.” Donovan opens the closet to fetch his coat. “Dad would understand if we wanted to do something heroic, something unexpected. This is a grand gesture. For love. To win Danny over, so I can see Lexi.”

  Delilah chews on her bottom lip. “I don’t think this is exactly the kind of thing Dad had in mind.”

  “Well, then, think of it this way. We’d be doing Mom a favor. She just said she wants to help Sam. This will help his family.”

  Delilah folds her arms. “This is to do Mom a favor? Now you’re grasping at straws.”

  When Donovan moves to the bottom of the stairs, he is suddenly transformed into Peter in that moment—Peter’s face, his expression, his energy. Donovan throws his arms out in front of him with enthusiasm. “Why do you say that? Dad was always prodding me to get off my ass and do more to help out. This will help everyone. But most importantly, Danny needs the money, and he’ll be impressed. I’ll get to see Lexi when I need to. And, Del, I really need her. I’m gonna go crazy if I can’t see her. I’m already out of my mind. I have to see her. Please, help me. Please. Please, Del.”

  When Donovan reaches a hand up to his sister, I know in my heart that Delilah’s going to join him. She hesitates, but he is her twin.

  They are determined to find something meaningful in their father’s death, one way or another. Together.

  She takes one step down toward her brother. And then another. Until she’s face-to-face with him. “Okay, fine. I’m not going to get in the way of true love. But listen. You have to do something for me. Let’s convince Mom to stay here in Manchester with us. You don’t really want to live with Aunt Lisa if you have a choice about it, do you?” She makes a face. “And we need to persuade Mom not to tell Grandmommy and Granddaddy about the fact that she was driving the car the night of Dad’s accident. If she tells them, they’re going to try even harder to bring us back to Connecticut. You know they will. And I want to stay here. Okay?”

  He nods. And in a sudden movement, he gives her a quick hug. “Yeah, of course. That’s what I want, too. It’s a deal.”

  She squeezes and then releases him, satisfied. She tips her head the way Peter used to and smiles. “Good. We’ll grab matches in the kitchen and go out the back door.” And just like that, Delilah takes charge of the operation. She is still giving him orders as they get their winter gear on and head to the back of the house.

  Terrible Accident

  ANNIKA

  Lisa and I are making good headway on the path from the driveway to the front door. It’s slow going, but we take turns with the one shovel we have between us.

  “Look, I’m sorry I got mad about the cottage,” Lisa tells me. “But I’ve wanted this place for so long. It was a shock to hear you were moving in here. But I get it. Losing Peter was tough on you guys. You’ve had a lot on your mind.”

  I watch her kick the shovel with her boot to force it down under a large block of snow. “It’s okay. I should’ve checked in with you about it.”

  She straightens. “Look, if you’re really moving to Maine, I’ll take the house. And I told the twins that if they want to move in with me, they can. They’re old enough to decide where they want to go to school and manage their own affairs.”

  “Manage their own affairs?” I bristle, imagining the twins. Yes, they have the body of adults, but when I look at their faces I see the children they were not long ago, before Peter died. “They’re still kids, Lisa. They need a lot of supervision and guidance. Every minute of every day. You can’t just leave them to their own devices.”

  “Would I do any worse than the job you’re doing right now?” She throws a shovelful of snow to the side. “Seriously?”

  I stare down at my snow boots. I don’t have an answer to that.

  “I didn’t mean to steal the cottage from you. You can have it.”

  “Really?”

  I take the shovel from her. “Yes. Look, I’ve been thinking about the past a lot lately, and I remember I wasn’t always the greatest sister to you. In fact, I was pretty awful sometimes. So if it means that much to you—”

  “Wait. Do you smell smoke?” I look up to see Lisa tipping her head. She turns her head right and left.

  I take in a deep breath of the crisp air. “Yeah, Danny must have thrown a lot of wood on the fire.”

  Reaching up, she pulls her white ski hat off by the pom-pom, nose twitching. “No, it’s more than—” When she freezes, and her face collapses into a look of panic, I turn to look in the direction she’s facing. Past the garage, over the creek, through the trees, a steady stream of gray smoke rises into the darkening blue sky.

  My heart freezes up.

  “Oh, my God,” Lisa whispers. Her face hardens, and she cups two hands around her mouth to yell toward the driveway. “HEY, SAM. Get over here.”

  Sam comes lumbering toward us as fast as he can through the snow, one big step at a time. “Hey,” he croaks out. “The spare tire is on. But—Are you looking at that, over there? It looks like a fire.” He stops next to us and observes the smoke billowing from the woods. “That’s got to be the house my dad is building. The new one.” He points through the trees. “It’s on fire. It’s seriously on fire. Do you think it has something to do with the power outage?” Sam’s voice is quiet, but his face is one of amazement, eyes wide and mouth open.

  I feel my heart start to pound. Did Sam start that fire for Danny? Would he do that?

  It sure sounds like something he would do.

  I wasn’t watching Sam the whole time. Could he have snuck away for a few minutes . . . ?

  I look back at his face. He’s stunned. If he’s acting, he’s a damn good actor.

  He and I make eye contact. He gives m
e a small shrug, as if to say, I don’t know how it happened.

  Lisa whips out her cell phone and starts scrolling through her contacts. “I’m gonna call Hank. He’s the fire chief. It’s his sister I’m renting the house from.” She puts the phone to her ear. “Hey, Hank, it’s Lisa. We’ve got a fire on the block in an empty house. No one’s in there. It’s still under construction. Yeah, that’s the one.”

  She starts giving the details, while I look back toward the house. I never saw Danny come outside. I don’t understand how he got past us. Did he go out the back door?

  Fire engulfs the house within minutes. Soon, it’s not just smoke—I can see orange flames through the black trees, against the white snow. We trudge over to the edge of the driveway, and I believe I can actually feel the heat it’s throwing off, unless that’s just my body temperature rising as my stomach turns.

  “Don’t worry,” Lisa says, seeing the look on my face. “Hank said that homes with a timber frame burn fast. There’s no wind, and that property was clear cut so there aren’t any trees too close. I think we’re safe here. Hank’s on his way. He’s just on Mill Street. He’ll have to walk, but he’ll get here eventually. We don’t need to go over to the house. We can keep an eye on it from here.” She looks around. “They won’t be able to get the trucks very close, though.”

  I take out my phone, hands trembling, and text Delilah. I gulp in a breath of cold air to steady myself. It burns my lungs. IS MR. PARSONS IN THE BACK ROOM?

  A minute goes by. Two minutes. YES. HE’S LYING ON THE COUCH BY THE FIRE. HIS EYES ARE CLOSED. WHY?

  I glance over at Sam. He stands there, knee deep in snow, hands on his hips.

  He doesn’t look at me. He looks wary, as if he can’t believe there’s a fire right in front of his eyes. Which is exactly how I feel.

  Yet who else could have done this but him? There are only two suspects here: Sam and Danny. Or the two of them together. This fire did not start itself. There is no way this is a coincidence. For the love of God, we were just talking about it.

  I clear my throat. “Do you have anything to say about this?”

  Sam squints. “What do you mean? About the fire?” He doesn’t have his face mask on because the sun is shining, and in that moment he looks lost. He’s gaping at the smoke pouring up from the trees. “I don’t know what to think.” He pulls his hat off and holds it in both hands, as if not sure what to do with it. “Believe me . . . I don’t know what to say.”

  I’m disappointed. But I don’t know why I’m surprised. This is so Sam. He’s incredibly predictable. This is exactly the kind of thing he would’ve done in high school.

  I just feel stupid for not seeing it coming.

  I can’t believe for a moment I was considering staying in Manchester because of Sam. Do I want to get dragged into this insanity all over again? You can’t just break the law to help people. Getting yourself kicked out of town, or thrown in jail, helps no one. The truth is, it hurts people in the end.

  Sam takes a step away from us. “I’m going to go over there and survey the damage. See if there’s anything I can do.”

  He trudges off in the direction of the fire before I have a chance to ask anything more.

  I feel like I’m eighteen again and Sam has just told me he’s going to confess to spray-painting graffiti in the gym. He always means well, but it’s maddening. He does whatever he feels is the right thing at the time, without thinking through the consequences. It drove me crazy back then and amazes me now. But I’m too old to excuse his behavior. Burning a house down is serious business.

  That’s it. We’re leaving Manchester. This is too much.

  As dusk descends, we hear the fire engine sirens in the distance, but the trucks never even get close. I later find out they got stuck on the ice and in the snow drifts at the start of our dirt road. Seven men who are bundled up in winter gear hike up the street toward the smoldering remains of the house. They move as fast as they can on foot through the heavy snow, although the fire is, for the most part, over. They have little equipment to utilize anyway, as the trucks can’t follow them. I watch their efforts from the driveway, feeling my feet starting to freeze in my boots. My hands are numb and starting to ache. Lisa tells me she’s going over to the fire. I’m tempted to get closer to the action, too, but stay where I am, near the kids.

  I wonder why the twins haven’t come outside, or why they aren’t at least watching all of this from an upstairs window. You’d think they’d at least be curious.

  The fire quickly diminishes. The firemen poke around the house, although it’s past the point where they can do much, and the sun is going down fast. Eventually, they retreat back down the street.

  Just as it’s getting dark, an older man crosses the frozen creek in his boots, with Sam and Lisa in tow. I wait for them, feeling defeated.

  “Let’s all go inside for a minute,” I say. “I need to check on the twins.”

  I go in first. The house isn’t exactly warm and it’s getting dark, but Delilah has left a campfire lantern on for us on the coffee table near the candles, and it feels good to stand in front of the woodstove and soak up the heat. The fire chief follows Lisa into the house with slow, deliberate movements. He’s stocky, with salt-and-pepper hair, a full beard, and deep-set wrinkles. He’s a man who has clearly seen his share of fires. My palms feel sweaty and my nerves are on edge as he joins me by the stove. I’d offer to take his coat, but it’s too cold to undress.

  “C’mon, Hank,” Lisa teases him. “You’ve got to do a little more work on the treadmill. You’re not gonna make it.”

  His face is red from the cold. He chuckles. “You’re right about that. I don’t know why I don’t just retire.”

  “Annika.” Lisa turns to me. “Do you remember Hank McKean? Henry’s dad.”

  I struggle to figure out who he is, wringing my hands, but then the name rings a bell and I stop fidgeting. “Henry’s dad. Oh—yes! It’s been a long time.”

  Wow. I look at him again.

  The truth is, I hardly remember Mr. McKean. I’m sure I saw him a few times at events at the high school back in the 1980s. At a football game. Or a band concert.

  And in the hospital on prom night, after Henry crashed into us.

  He shakes his head. “Annika. It’s good to see you. Lisa told me all about you. And Peter! I’m sorry for your loss. I was so happy when I heard you married him. My wife sent money to Peter’s parents after his accident, but they wouldn’t take it. The truth is, we needed every penny for Henry’s lawyer. But it would’ve made us feel better if they had taken it.” He sighs.

  “Who’s this?” I hear Donovan’s voice before I see him.

  I turn to see the twins are standing at the bottom of the stairs, and I’m surprised to see them there. They both have their winter coats on, but their faces are flushed like they’ve been running around.

  “The fire chief,” Lisa says. “Mr. McKean. There was a fire in that new house, across the creek. Didn’t you guys wonder why we were outside so long?”

  Delilah’s dark eyebrows knit together. I wonder if she recognizes the name McKean from what we talked about earlier.

  “Well, about that fire.” I take in a deep breath, suddenly realizing what I’m going to do and unable to stop myself. “I set the fire. By accident.”

  “What?” Lisa asks, stunned. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Sam tips his head, puzzled. His brows knit together, and he mouths to me: What?

  I’m going to help you, I try to communicate to Sam through my expression. It occurs to me that I should have tipped him off earlier that I was going to take the fall this time.

  But the truth is, I only knew I had it in me once the words came out of my mouth. It’s not something I planned. I just did it. The same way Sam just jumped in and took the blame when he thought I needed help so many years ago.

  But this is it. I’m going to absolve myself for my past errors. I owe it to Sam. I appreciate all he
did for me, and never expressed it at the time. I feel responsible as the one who sent him on a trajectory where he had to flee Manchester, and never felt at home in Los Angeles—and took a job he didn’t like—and fell for the wrong woman—

  I stop when I suddenly get the feeling that Peter is here with me. I shudder, because it’s so intense, and it brings tears to my eyes. But I can’t stop now to worry over whether or not he would approve.

  I’m okay, I tell Peter in my head. I can do this. I’m going to step up and make amends, and give this afternoon a new twist that no one sees coming. I’m going to do exactly what you told us to do—write my own story. I miss you more than I can express, and I desperately wish you were here, but it will be okay. I can handle it. It’s fine.

  I clear my throat and forge ahead. “Yes, I set it. It was just a terrible accident. I walked over to the house to make sure no one needed help during the power outage. I wasn’t quite sure if anyone had moved in yet, because the house is so new.”

  “But when—?”

  I give Lisa a stern look, to silence her. “Lisa. Listen, I brought a candle in a lantern with me and accidentally dropped it. Everything caught fire so fast that I had to run for it. That’s when I found you shoveling snow on the path.”

  Lisa squints at me, but she’s smart and keeps her mouth shut. I can see the wheels turning in her mind as she glances at Sam. “So . . . right. That’s right. That’s when I called Hank.”

  Donovan walks up right behind me and puts a hand on my back. “Mom. What are you talking about? No one is going to believe that. Why are you making that up?” He sounds amazed, and awfully sure of himself.

  “But, sweetheart.” I whirl around, shocked that Donovan would call me out. He’s hovering, as if he needs to take something dangerous out of my hands. “It was an accident. I didn’t mean to do it.”

  “Mom, please.” Donovan shakes his head and turns to Hank. “That’s not true. I set the fire. She’s just trying to cover for me.”