“I’ll take them,” Kat offered.
“I appreciate your help.” Wendy expertly carved a dozen sandwiches out of each loaf and arranged them on the next tray.
“It looks like the band is thrilled to have a fan. They’re all posing with Cory.”
Wendy didn’t look pleased. “I apologize for his lack of respect.”
“You don’t have to apologize to me.”
“I’ll save it for the dead guy.”
“It’s not like he’s here.”
“He’s not? Doesn’t a person have to be present for their funeral?”
“It’s a memorial. You don’t need a body.”
Kat had delivered the last tray of sandwiches. Though she watched Wendy’s precise movements appreciatively, her thoughts were far away listening to her parents argue about whether a funeral for a ten-year-old was appropriate, her mother insisting that people needed to see Ava to say goodbye, her father’s certainty that it would be too disturbing.
In the end, they had compromised on a closed casket. Kat had wanted to see inside. But she hadn’t wanted to, either. At the time, she’d stood in the church thinking maybe her sister wasn’t in the small white box at all. Of course whether she was or wasn’t didn’t really matter. It didn’t change the fact that Kat could not hold her hand or sing songs with her anymore. Not looking at her in the casket did, as her father had argued, force her to remember her sister’s face alive.
Smiling.
That grin as she jumped from the diving board.
The memories threatened to crush her. Wendy looked up from the cookies she was arranging. “You okay?”
“Of course. I’m sorry. It’s just that I have to make sure all the payments are squared away before the priest and organist get antsy.” Without waiting for Wendy’s reply, she slipped out of the kitchen and back to the safety of her office.
* * *
Wendy let the lie go. Something had upset Kat, but it wasn’t like she could stop the production line and take her aside to insist she talk. Unfortunately, talking would have to wait.
Cory didn’t leave until the church’s kitchen was spotless. He had worked his tail off as a way to apologize for the spinach debacle. He was always a good worker, but that day, he outdid himself keeping the trays replenished, the dishes bussed and the workspace clear. It didn’t hurt that he kept recognizing famous faces in the crowd. The pictures on his phone and his excited monologue kept her distracted for a good while. As their cleanup came to an end, Wendy grew more anxious and sent Cory on his way to help back at Fairbanks and the evening meal.
She grabbed a duffel with her casual clothes. Slipping into soft jeans and a long-sleeved tee, she felt eminently more comfortable and ready to help load the chairs and tables. She still had a couple hours’ work dealing with the leftover food and dirty dishes piled in the bus tubs, but all that could wait until she’d had a chance to help Kat and maybe find out why she had left so abruptly.
She found Kat in her office behind her desk. Her gaze was wandering aimlessly.
“Your extra set of hands is here!”
Kat’s head snapped up, and she covered her heart with her hand. “You scared me! Chair time?” She stood a little unsteadily.
“Are you sure you want to do this now? You seem a bit…”
“I’m fine! Just running through the to-do list to make sure I didn’t miss anything important.”
“You keep your to-do list in your head? I’d be sunk if I didn’t put reminders in my phone.”
Kat gathered her things. “I’ll just pull my beast around, so we don’t have to carry everything so far.”
They headed outside to the patio. Wendy began to pull chairs back from the tables and lean them against each other. Without a word, Kat took them, two in each hand, to feed into the SUV. She remained all business as they passed each other, each time making Wendy feel more awkward. Unlike in the kitchen where they’d at least been able to have a conversation, the air felt charged.
“You really don’t have to follow me over,” Kat said when they had finished loading and locked up for the night. They stood in the yellow lamplight in the parking lot, tendrils of hair that had come loose from Kat’s French braid shimmering in the gentle spring breeze. She combed the wisps with her fingers in an attempt to tame them, but they immediately fell loose again softening her profile.
Wendy was sorely tempted to twine one of the strands around her finger. “What if I said I’d like to have another look at the lights to make sure they look okay?”
“I’d call you a liar.” The edges of Kat’s lips tipped into a smile.
Wendy refrained from asking why Kat had really left the kitchen earlier.
“What are you thinking?” Kat asked softly.
“That I’d like to know if you really had to rush back to work. I was having fun talking to you, and all of a sudden you left.”
Kat’s gaze shifted inward, and a dozen emotions flitted across her face. “The best lies have some truth to them. I did have work to do.”
“But something upset you. I’ve been spinning it around in my head trying to figure out what I said. First it seemed like we were having fun joking around about whether you need a body for a funeral, but then it was like you remembered something sad.”
Kat’s eyes glistened as if she were fighting tears. “I did,” she paused. “I…I was thinking about my sister” Though she must have seen the surprise on Wendy’s face, she placed a hand on her shoulder to silence the question poised on her lips. “Follow me?”
Wendy nodded. Anywhere, she thought. She jogged to her car for the longest twenty-minute drive of her life.
Chapter Twelve
So much adrenaline pumped through Kat after she said my sister that her hands tingled on the steering wheel. The words meant no going back. Where did she start? How much was she prepared to say?
Twenty minutes was nowhere near long enough to work it out, but it wasn’t like she could continue driving. She parked the SUV on the street and was glad to see Wendy follow suit.
“I want to put all this in the garage. I just need to grab my dad’s keys to move his pickup. It’s parked in there.” They walked side by side up the drive, and Kat could see her mother sitting at the kitchen table. At the patio, she hesitated. She should invite Wendy inside, but her life would be so much easier if she checked on her mom and Travis alone.
“Take your time. I’ll say hi to the tortoises.” Wendy walked to the grapevines to pluck a few leaves, smiling and waving when she caught Kat watching her. Kat couldn’t look away. Wendy behaved like she had always been a part of Kat’s life, like she belonged.
Kat climbed the steps and let herself in the back door, praying that she could slip in and out quickly. The kitchen smelled of pizza, and she saw a takeout box on the range.
“Is that Wendy?” Her mom looked up from her phone, a plate scattered with crumbs in front of her.
“It is. She’s helping me with the tables and chairs. I have to move Dad’s truck to put them in the garage. Is that okay?”
Her mother lifted her hand and waved her off as if she were a fly buzzing around her head and then continued to scroll on her phone. Thankful her mother was not waiting to engage her in conversation, she hollered down the stairs. “Hey Travis! Come help your mom with some driving?”
He thundered up the stairs in response.
“Shoes?”
“Why?”
She’d given up trying to get him to wear anything other than shorts and tee-shirts but not shoes. “Because it’s the law?”
“I don’t think it is.”
Millie inserted, “Why don’t you get your license and find out?”
“And have to drive everywhere?” Travis rolled his eyes. “You just need it on the street, right?”
“There are palm-tree pits all over the front yard.”
He ended the discussion with a shrug and extended his hand for the keys. After maneuvering the SUV around for easy unloading
, Kat was surprised by Travis joining her at the garage.
“What’s all this?” he said.
“Tables and chairs for the wedding.”
“Need some help?” he asked.
“I’ve brought some, but thanks.” He turned to look down the drive and then back to Kat, his eyebrows high on his forehead in question. “Wendy’s feeding the tortoises.”
“Oh! Cool. Are you two going out?”
Had she heard him correctly? She had been meaning to talk to him about the conversation her parents had started when Wendy brought dinner. Before she could respond, she saw Wendy locking the gate to the tortoise yard.
“For dinner,” Travis continued. “Gramma and I already had pizza.”
“I didn’t know she’d fed you. Sorry I didn’t call to say I had all this stuff to load after work.”
“That’s okay. You sure you don’t need a hand?”
“You’re turning away help?” Wendy asked, a wide smile on her face. “Hi again.”
“Hey.” Travis dug his hands into his pockets and flipped his hair back with a jerk of his head.
“You’ll really help?” Kat asked. She rolled her eyes in response to his unenthusiastic shoulder shrug. “All right then, thank you! Let’s get it over with.”
They formed a chain with Travis pulling the chairs and tables from the car and handing them to Kat who passed them to Wendy to stack. Though Kat stood between them, Wendy and Travis chatted as they worked. Wendy complimented Travis on his performance and peppered him with questions, and Travis surprised her by telling Wendy how much he had enjoyed the dinner she had prepared for them.
“Too bad we didn’t know you were coming tonight or we wouldn’t have ordered pizza!” he said.
“Travis!” Kat exclaimed. “Wendy’s been cooking all day. I’m sure the last thing she wants to do is make dinner.”
“Stop,” Wendy said. “He’s fine. I’d be happy to cook for your family again.”
“Gramma said we should hire you to cook for us.”
“You make it sound like we never cook for ourselves.”
“I don’t think nuking beans and cheese in a tortilla is really cooking, Mom.”
Kat closed her eyes to escape her embarrassment but opened them when she heard Wendy’s laughter. “I’m always happy to cook for friends.” Wendy caught her eye, and her expression held so much familiarity that Kat’s stomach fluttered. Ever since the memorial, she had been flustered and anxious. Throughout the drive, her mind was a jumbled mess of emotions and memories that she had struggled unsuccessfully to sort out. Standing in the garage with Wendy and Travis, she felt it all settle, and she knew that whatever she ended up saying tonight, Wendy would hear her and understand.
* * *
They sat on a bench swing by the driveway, eating cold pizza and drinking wine.
“I feel embarrassed to serve you delivery pizza.”
“Don’t be,” Wendy said.
“Of course, Travis says this is several steps up from my culinary skills.”
“Delivery pizza takes me back to high school.” Wendy set down her pizza and took Kat’s hand. “It would be easy to slip into a fantasy about being at your party. I’d be sitting over here because, of course, I wouldn’t know anyone, and then you’d come over to tell me not to stay on the sidelines.”
“I never threw any parties.”
“You’re going to ruin my fantasy just like that?” Wendy snapped her fingers. She’d been aiming to lighten the mood, and it surprised her that Kat didn’t respond. “I thought you were the party girl.”
Kat set down her plate and picked up her wine. She didn’t look at Wendy when she said, “Oh, I was definitely a party girl. I went to other people’s parties because it helped me build a life away from home. I had cheer practice. Away from here, I could be the fun one. I could be the life of the party, not the child whose mother couldn’t get out of bed, whose father spent his life at church. If I brought people here, I would have had to explain about my sister, and usually I do anything I can to avoid talking about it.” Kat took several gulps of wine. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“How about with her name?” Wendy offered, setting her pizza aside.
“Ava,” Kat said, finally looking Wendy in the eye. “Her name was Ava. She’s the daughter who helped my dad build the stone cottage. He would tell her what kind of stone he needed, and she would bring ones she thought would work. She’s the one who would have been happy to scamper up ladders and onto the roof to hang lights.” She poured more wine and offered the bottle to Wendy.
She declined. Kat said her name was Ava and she had become upset at the memorial. “What happened?”
“She died,” Kat said simply. Kat studied the wine in her glass, tipping it one way and then another before taking another deep sip.
“Oh Kat,” Wendy whispered. She didn’t know what to say. Kat nodded. Having known about Kat’s divorce, Wendy understood how weddings were hard. What Kat just told her put a whole new perspective on the memorial. Remembering some of the things she’d said, she cringed. “I’m so sorry I assumed you were an only child when we were talking about inheritance.”
“It’s okay,” Kat said. “You didn’t know about Ava, and it’s hard to know what to say. I don’t know how much to tell you. I don’t have a lot of experience with the whole honesty thing.”
“Tell me as much or as little as you want.” Wendy squeezed Kat’s hand.
“I had a sister for ten years. I’d just turned thirteen. She was ten. There was an accident in the pool. That’s what Jack and Travis know.”
“Here? In this pool?”
Kat’s frowned hard and her chin quivered as she struggled not to cry.
“I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that.”
“No. It’s just that Jack never asked. He knew she was doing flips into the pool. She hit her head.” Her hazel eyes flitted to Wendy’s. “It wasn’t this pool. And I never told him we were at my dad’s boyfriend’s house.”
Painful images of Kat and her father by a pool trying to save her sister flashed though Wendy’s mind. Had her sister died in the pool or at the hospital? Who had called for help? How long had it taken for them to arrive? She saw how tightly Kat gripped her wine glass and held her questions. She was obviously wrestling with far more, and Wendy did not want to intrude.
“He didn’t know my dad had boyfriends,” Kat said. “He didn’t know a lot of things.”
Wendy gently rocked the swing. She had told Kat to share as much or as little as she wanted and she was content to sit without talking if that was what Kat needed.
* * *
Kat waited for Wendy to say something. Secrets were lined up behind dams, and the smallest crack would release a flood. Jack hadn’t known she had been alone in the pool with Ava. Hadn’t known that her father had never dated after Ava died. Didn’t know why her mother wore only long-sleeved shirts, even in the hottest summer months. He had never to Kat’s knowledge even noticed that Miranda had slipped out of her life after their wedding day. She worried that if one dam broke, it would trigger the others and there would be no end to what she ended up saying.
Instead, they rocked on the swing. The swaying helped to calm Kat, and eventually, she leaned her head on Wendy’s shoulder. That felt so good, she pulled her feet up beside her on the bench, leaning fully against Wendy. “Is this okay?”
“It doesn’t look at all comfortable,” Wendy said. “Let me move my arm.” She shifted her body and lifted her arm. Kat leaned again, this time nestling her head against Wendy’s chest.
“Better?”
“Yes, better,” Kat said. “I am thinking of what I can say. You must have a lot of questions.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m happy listening to the music and thinking about how everybody is talking about us.”
Kat laughed at Wendy’s continued fantasy of attending a party at her house. She watched Wendy catch the cement with her toes and push off jus
t firmly enough to keep the gentle back and forth of the swing. “They think we’re a thing, don’t they?”
“After I took a girl to prom? Of course they’re thinking you’re gay, or that I’m trying to recruit you. I’m kind of surprised you’d risk the rumors.”
“Back then, I wouldn’t have.”
“But you’ll risk it now?”
“Absolutely. And if I could put us in one of those seventeen-again movies, I’d swing with you in front of all the cheerleaders because I would have gained the wisdom to know that I was just using them to avoid the hard stuff in my life.”
“When did you figure that out?”
“About two minutes ago.” Kat reached across her body and put her hand over Wendy’s, pressing it closer. It felt nice to be held. She couldn’t remember when she’d felt as content as she did in that moment. “You would have liked Ava.”
“Tell me what she was like.”
“She was always completely herself,” Kat said. She closed her eyes to see her sister better. “She looked like a little Laura Ingalls with two long brown braids hanging over her shoulders. She didn’t care that they were never in style. They kept her hair out of her face, and that’s all that mattered.”
“You wore your hair that way when we hung the lights.”
“I’ve been thinking about her a lot these days. The cottage was her space. I haven’t been back there in years. She was always the one pulling me away from the books I loved to read telling me I couldn’t stay inside all day like our mom.”
“Was your mom staying in because of the boyfriend?”
“It’s hard to say which one caused the other. Did my dad have boyfriends because my mom couldn’t cope, or did my mom have trouble coping because my dad had boyfriends? All I know is that the three of us often spent the weekend with my dad’s boyfriend to give my mom space.” The night Ava died slammed down on Kat, and she refused to spiral into that memory. She bit down hard on the tip of her thumb to redirect her thoughts back to the present. “Her smile was a lot like my dad’s. Her eyetooth was just starting to twist like his. They said she was going to need braces. I miss her smile.”
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