The Sister-in-Law

by Pamela Crane

  I felt the jab of his words hit my heart. He saw it etched on my face, because he immediately reached for me. I pulled back, out of reach, expanding the distance between us. I couldn’t handle his consolation, not after that dig.

  ‘Are you trying to compare Candace to Ben? How dare you! We spent a lifetime together. And we loved each other. And yes, Ben hurt me, but he also loved me despite what I did. I couldn’t forgive myself, and yet Ben did. That, Lane, is love.’ I didn’t know if I was trying to convince my brother or myself.

  ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that. I know how much he loved you. That was wrong of me. I’m just being defensive because I want the same benefit of the doubt.’ He sat and reached out again, and this time I let him rest his hand on mine. ‘Forgive me for being an idiot brother?’

  I shrugged. ‘Don’t I always?’

  Of course I forgave his idiocy. I always did and I always would. Even when things got dark. Even when the sins were too numerous to count. We always forgave and always protected each other. He collected the needy, love-hungry people who fed on him then discarded him when they had their fill. I had always been there to pick up the pieces, just like he did for me. But with Lane slipping out of my grasp and into Candace’s, I could no longer protect him from himself.

  Candace would never take care of him like I did, and as I felt myself getting pushed away, inch by foot by yard, I wanted to hold on tighter. Lane was all I had left. He needed me, just as I needed him. Candace would one day destroy him, and he might never bounce back. He hadn’t been hardened by love like I had; I didn’t know if he could survive the blow.

  He smiled at me, the boyish lopsided grin that threw me back to when I was six years old and he was seven. Trevor Gist had pushed me to the ground for the second time that week, skinning my knees and elbows on the broken concrete of the playground. Lane watched it happen from a distance, then turned red with the injustice pumping through him, like a soldier at war. Running toward the other boy, he cried out as he slammed into Trevor’s back and tackled him to the ground, then beat the crap out of my bully. After, as Lane lent me his hand to help lift me up from the patch of gravel, he grinned and said, ‘I’ll take down any bully who touches you.’

  That day Lane found his battle cry. Today, I found mine.

  I’ll take down any woman who hurts you. Even if that woman was my sister-in-law.

  Chapter 9

  Harper

  Ben would forever be in my heart and in my thoughts. But he wasn’t much use to me there. Daily I was losing pieces of myself while juggling everything alone. And daily I was failing at life. I hadn’t been able to find a job yet, not that I had spent much time looking. The past few days since moving in had been a flurry of chaos. My days were filled with cleaning the Hendricks Way house for rental, my evenings were spent helping the kids with homework and preparing dinner, and my nights were dedicated to handling Jackson’s night terrors, which were growing in regularity.

  The terrors had started again two nights after we had moved in, his screams echoing down the hallway, frightening the entire house awake. Crying until his voice went raw, Jackson was inconsolable, stuck between wakefulness and sleep in a terrified limbo. I would never forget the very first time it happened, almost a year ago now. Panic had surged through me when I heard a loud bang followed by wailing. My initial thought was that he had fallen out of bed, but when I found him thrashing on the floor and couldn’t calm the crying, unable to shake him out of sleep, I realized it was something else. Our pediatrician explained the phenomenon and told us encouragingly that the terrors would stop on their own. Sure enough, one day they had suddenly ended, as though he was cured. I had never been so grateful for a full night’s sleep. At last, peace descended on our home – no more frantic wakings, no more panicked nighttime cries.

  Until now.

  For months I had dreaded the possibility of ever reliving those awful nights, and yet here I was. Stuck in my own personal hell. And Candace wasn’t making it any more tolerable.

  I felt myself nodding off from my mere three hours of sleep the night before when Candace’s voice suddenly jarred me awake.

  ‘How about a toast?’ Candace raised her water glass from her place beside Lane at the dining room table. A large, three-wick candle burned as a centerpiece, while a platter of hacked up chicken filled one end of the table and two bowls of side dishes filled the other.

  ‘To my beautiful wife,’ Lane adulated, clinking his wine glass against hers. ‘And this wonderful meal she cooked.’

  I lifted my glass in a halfhearted salute. How do you applaud a child’s effort when they come home with a big, fat F on their test? Good job! Well done on that lovely failing grade! Because that was exactly what Lane expected me to do with Candace over tonight’s family dinner. I simply couldn’t praise mediocrity. It wasn’t in my nature.

  Holding up their milks, the kids exchanged a confused look. They knew the meal was terrible too.

  ‘Do we get wine?’ Elise asked.

  ‘Are you of legal age yet?’ my mother, sitting at the end of the table, said with a flash of bleach-white teeth. She looked overdressed for this meal in her purple pantsuit over a gray silk blouse. But that was Mom; always proper, always put together.

  ‘I dunno, Grandma, am I?’

  ‘If your mom’s okay with it, one sip each.’

  I nodded permission for my mother to offer Jackson first, then Elise, a sip. They winced and coughed with disgust. If anything, the dry merlot would deter them from ever wanting to drink alcohol again.

  ‘To Candy,’ my mother added with a flourish, her glass raised, ‘and this wonderful family meal.’

  I nearly choked on the bite I had been chewing for the last five minutes. The roasted chicken was bland, dry, and overcooked, but I swallowed it anyway with a grim smile. I aim to please. Across from me, Elise’s chicken remained untouched along with her burned broccoli – how does one even burn steamed broccoli? – but her instant mashed potatoes were about halfway eaten. On my left, Jackson’s food was stirred together in a mushed medley without a single bite taken. I couldn’t blame him.

  ‘Why aren’t your kids eating?’ Candace directed the question at me.

  I pointed my fork at the kids. ‘Ask them. They can speak for themselves.’

  I hadn’t intended such kick to my reply, but my irritation was oozing out. I knew all about women like Candace. Trap a good man with a pregnancy. Then use guilt and empty promises to force marriage on him. Top it off with a hefty dose of make-believe. Play house. Lure him into compliance with insincere efforts of date nights and adventurous sex so that you could later use it against him. This was the foreplay before ripping his heart apart when you announced you’re leaving him … and taking half of everything with you.

  I knew her game well. I had come close to leaving Ben once, but I didn’t follow through. I was more concerned about losing him than I was about losing my dignity. Dignity wouldn’t pay for my huge house, or keep our family together, or give me freedom to run the PTA. I liked my house, my intact family, and my status, so I turned my head the other way when Ben began drifting.

  Candace, on the other hand, I could see taking everything and running. Just as I could see her faking her way through this silly family meal. We have a big announcement to make, I had overheard Candace telling my mother on the phone earlier today. And I’d like to share the news with you over a homecooked dinner tonight. I wondered just how much Mom knew about the whole charade.

  At the head of the dining room table sat Lane, at the other end, Mom. Or as Candace called her, Monica. Mom had always insisted that Ben call her ‘Mom’, but had never corrected Candace after that first ‘Monica’ came out as my mother swept in through the front door, unloading goodie bags into the arms of each of the kids. I wondered if it bothered Lane that Candace would never fit into our family.

  Elise sat at the corner closest to Grandma, chatting about her bestie at school, her favorite class, the boy she h
ad a crush on, Nathan, God help me. Grandparenthood fit my mother like her tailored suits. After missing out on so much of my and Lane’s childhoods, owing to the stressors of single parenting and working, she certainly made up for it with Elise and Jackson.

  Children gravitated toward Mom. And she gravitated toward them. Maybe it was the relatable way she knelt down, always face-to-face as she asked questions she knew they’d have answers to. What’s your favorite animal, sweetie? Do you like candy, honey? Every child was a sweetie or honey or sugar or pumpkin. I had told her she never should have set the precedent of always showing up with gifts when she saw the kids, but their happy squeals of ‘Grandma!’ every time she popped over muted anything I said.

  ‘Grandparents are supposed to spoil their grandkids,’ she always insisted. And spoil them she did. But one look at those smiles – and knowing how sugar and toys helped bury the unjust pain they had already suffered in their young lives – and I let them have it. Kids deserved a win every once in a while, even if it gave them a sugar buzz right before bed.

  ‘Elise, Jackson,’ Candace threw her words between Elise and Grandma’s conversation about how all boys are trouble, especially Nathan, ‘don’t you like the food I worked hard to prepare?’ Candace shifted up straight as she said it, as if being an inch taller than she already was would demand their respect and obedience.

  As if it was that easy. If that worked, I wouldn’t still be five foot two.

  Jackson shook his head. ‘It tastes yucky.’

  ‘You haven’t even tried a bite. Here, I’ll help you.’ Candace leaned across the table, stabbing a piece of his chicken with her fork and raising it to his mouth. He grimaced and backed away from her hovering hand.

  I slapped her fork down. ‘Do not force-feed my kids, Candace. If you want to do that to your own children, go for it. But you’re not their mother.’

  Candace’s face contorted into blotchy pink shock as she rested the fork on her plate and dropped her arm stiffly to her side.

  ‘What’s this about your own kids, Candy? Are you two planning to start trying?’ Mom asked, rising from her seat.

  ‘It’s Candace, not Candy.’ This was only the fifth time Candace had corrected my mother about her name. Mom wasn’t that forgetful, but she could be that spiteful.

  ‘I apologize. I keep forgetting.’ As Mom collected her plate, I exhaled relief that dinner was done. ‘I’ll take the plates of those who are finished.’

  Instantly Jackson and Elise shoved their plates across the table. ‘I’m done, Grandma!’ they chimed.

  ‘Actually, that’s why we’re hosting this dinner, Mom.’ It was the first time Lane had spoken since his impromptu toast. ‘Would you like to tell them, honey?’ Lane turned to Candace, who cupped his hand and rested their suctioned palms on the table. I wanted to scoff at the blunt show of affection.

  Mom froze. Lane smiled. I rolled my eyes. The kids looked at me with a plea for permission to leave. I nodded in the direction of the stairs, and the stampede was off.

  ‘We’re expecting!’ Candace’s excited words were met with stunned silence.

  It was too long before Mom replied.

  ‘You’re … pregnant already?’ Mom sounded as shocked as I had been.

  ‘Yes, and we’re thrilled that it happened quickly, since we’re eager to start a family. So you’ll be a grandmother!’

  Mom dropped into her chair. ‘Well, I’m already a grandmother, dear.’ I recognized the stiff smile the moment it spread across her lips: disapproval. A firm dash with the slightest lift at the ends. ‘But that’s wonderful news. I’m just … a little surprised. You’ve barely known each other a month and a half … and now you’re already married and pregnant. It’s a lot going on pretty quickly. How do you feel, Lane?’

  Lane kissed Candace’s palm and beamed. ‘I’m thrilled, Mom. Really. I’ve always wanted to be a father, and now it’s happening. Life doesn’t slow down, and now it’s my turn to jump on and ride it.’

  He looked genuinely happy. In fact, he’d never looked this happy in his life. It was like he sunbathed in Candace’s pregnancy glow, and for a moment I wondered if maybe I was wrong about her. Maybe she was good for him after all.

  ‘Having children isn’t a rodeo, Lane. It’s hard work and sacrifice.’

  ‘I know, Mom. But I have a good job, a nice home … and now I’m ready to fill it with a family.’

  Mom gestured to Candace. ‘What about your parents, Candy? I’m sure they’re excited by the news.’

  Candace – not Candy – rolled her eyes at Lane, who begged her for silence with a shake of his head. I forced back a chuckle.

  ‘I don’t have any family.’ Candace replied so matter-of-factly that it bordered on cold.

  ‘Oh, honey, I’m sorry to hear that.’ Mom paused, waiting for an explanation or some kind of elaboration. Instead Candace looked down at her plate and scraped the last bite of chicken coated with instant potatoes into her mouth.

  ‘Did something happen to them?’ Mom pressed in her tactful yet dogged style.

  Candace swallowed, then looked Mom square in the eyes. ‘I’d prefer not to talk about it.’

  ‘Do you have any other family back – where did you say you’re from, dear?’ Mom knew just how to pick at a scab to make it bleed. Those long, crooked fingers with knobby knuckles full of arthritis still knew how to poke. And right now they fiddled with my great-grandma’s emerald necklace, a nervous habit. So, Mom was nervous; how unlike her.

  ‘She’s from Ohio, Mom. Please stop interrogating my wife,’ Lane interjected with a stilted chuckle.

  Mom’s mouth parted in offense. ‘I’m just trying to get to know my new daughter-in-law.’

  Candace rested her hand on Lane’s arm. ‘It’s okay, honey. I don’t mind. That’s a lovely necklace, Monica.’

  Mom glanced down at her chest, as if she didn’t know she was wearing the same necklace she always did.

  ‘Thank you, dear. The darn clasp is broken, so I’m always worried it’ll fall off. I’d hate to lose it; it’s an heirloom. My grandmother’s first husband bought it for her for their wedding anniversary. He was murdered shortly after. Strange how a curse like that can travel down the family line.’ She glanced at me, then Lane, as if he was next.

  ‘Wow, that’s quite a family history.’ Candace chuckled, but I heard the fear in her voice.

  ‘What brought you all the way from Ohio to North Carolina? That’s quite a climate adjustment, I’m sure.’

  ‘I guess you could say I needed a change. And that’s what I found.’ She gazed lovingly at Lane, a movie-star gaze you’d see in a 1950s flick. ‘We met at a karaoke bar where he wooed me with song. Two chocolate martinis later, I was hooked!’

  ‘Finding love at a bar, now that’s pretty unique.’ My mother, so tactfully insulting.

  ‘I can’t take all the credit,’ Lane said. ‘The Gin Blossoms did the work for me. All I had to do was sing “Til I Hear It from You” and that seemed to do the trick.’

  ‘It’ll be a delightful story to tell your child one day, how a song and alcohol were the recipe for your happily ever after.’ Mom always dared to say what no one else would.

  ‘Does anyone want dessert?’ The tension spurred Lane out of his seat. ‘Candace made cheesecake – your favorite, Mom.’ Lane busied his hands collecting the stack of plates.

  Candace stood, hovering at Lane’s side.

  ‘Dessert would be lovely.’ But I could tell Mom was put off. Her chin jutted out in that passive-aggressive way it always did when she was not-so-secretly upset.

  Lane scooped up the silverware, making his way around the table while Candace shadowed him.

  ‘Let me clean up and serve the dessert while you rest, dear.’ Mom waved Candace back to her seat. ‘The cook doesn’t clean where I come from. Especially a pregnant one.’

  I helped Mom finish clearing the table, carrying the cups to the kitchen sink.

  ‘Do you know anything about her fam
ily?’ Mom whispered to me as she dumped a handful of dishes into the soapy water.

  ‘No, she’s been so secretive about everything. Is it me, or does all of this seem kind of … off to you? Like she’s hiding something?’

  Mom glanced behind us, her forehead wrinkled all the way up to the inch of graying roots leading into fading fake blond. I’d never seen her roots so unattended. ‘That girl has more secrets than the CIA. I thought it awful unusual that she has no family to speak of … won’t even explain what happened. That kind of aloofness is not normal for kids your age, is it?’

  By kids my age Mom was referring to grown adults encroaching on forty. But I guess your kids will always be your kids, no matter how old they were.

  ‘No, Mom, it’s not normal to hide major details from family. Maybe it’s something embarrassing.’ I pointed to Mom’s roots. ‘Speaking of embarrassing, I distinctly remember you saying a lady never goes out in public with her roots showing. Is there something I need to know?’

  She waved off the joke with a laugh. ‘Oh no, I just haven’t had the time to make it to the salon. I’ll probably schedule an appointment next week. But I can’t shake the feeling that Candace is covering up something big. Something Lane doesn’t even know about.’

  ‘And you can’t trust a person who hides things.’ My mother had often said these same words to me – first about my father, later about Ben.

  ‘So true, dear. So true.’

  If only Mom knew what her own daughter was hiding. But this wasn’t about me and my demons. This was about the woman who had wormed her way into our family. The woman who was dismantling Lane’s life.

  I couldn’t prove it, but my intuition was rarely wrong. Candace’s past had holes filled with secrets. And we would uncover them one by one and burn her lies down to ashes. I was the match and Mom was the gasoline.

  ‘You know how protective I can be over you and Lane,’ Mom murmured beneath the splash of the water. ‘And the Good Lord has my back on this. Look at where Ben ended up.’ She clucked, water sloshed. ‘I’d hate the same thing to happen to Candy.’