‘Shall we say tomorrow at ten?’ the secretary asked brightly.
Alex looked around at the piles of belongings still unsorted, the half-empty boxes on the dining room table. ‘OK. Ten o’clock,’ she said.
John Killebrew’s office was in a Victorian house in the center of Chichester, the town where Alex grew up. She had often passed that house lugging her books on her way to the high school, never dreaming that in less than ten years she would be entering that office, orphaned, and trying to cope with the myriad financial and legal matters that attended the sudden loss of both her parents.
Thanks to Uncle Brian, much of it had been handled over the last six months. She had come to this office twice to sign a lot of legal documents when she was back here for the funeral, and Uncle Brian had taken care of the rest. There were probably only some details to discuss. She walked up to the bespectacled, middle-aged receptionist in the hushed office, which resembled an English gentlemen’s club. ‘I’m Alex Woods,’ she said.
The receptionist smiled at her kindly. ‘I know who you are,’ she said. ‘He told me to send you in when you arrived. Go right ahead. It’s the door at the end of the hall.’
‘I know where it is,’ said Alex. ‘Thanks.’
‘I’ll let him know you’re here.’
The gray-haired attorney arose from his chair and came around to shake Alex’s hand. ‘Have a seat,’ he said, indicating a maroon leather chair in front of his desk. Alex sat down.
‘How’s it going?’
Alex shrugged. ‘I’m trying to clean out the house. It’s a difficult process.’
‘I’m sure it is,’ said the attorney.
‘I didn’t know whether you might want my uncle to be here,’ said Alex. ‘With him being the executor of my parents’ estate.’
‘No, no,’ said Killebrew, shaking his head somberly. ‘There’s no need for that. This isn’t actually . . . about the estate.’
Alex frowned at him. ‘It isn’t?’
‘No, Alex.’ He folded his arms over his chest and frowned. ‘I have something to give you.’ He reached across his desk, picked up an envelope and handed it to her.
Alex immediately recognized the neat, bookkeeper’s handwriting. ‘From . . . my mother,’ she said.
John Killebrew nodded.
Alex was flustered. ‘Should I read it now?’
‘I think it might be a good idea,’ he said. ‘You may have some questions.’
Alex tore open the envelope with trembling hands and pulled out the sheet of paper. She began to read.
My darling girl,
If you are reading this, that means I am gone. I asked Mr Killebrew to keep this for me, in the event that I predeceased your father, and give it directly to you. I hope you will not think worse of me because of what I’m going to tell you. I feel sure that you will understand.
A long time ago, when I was still a teenager, I got pregnant. As you know, being a Catholic, abortion was really out of the question for me. Instead of going to college, I went away to a home for unwed mothers, had the baby and gave her up for adoption. I was told that she went to a good family. Second semester I enrolled at the university as planned. I got my degree, met your dad, and you know the rest.
After you were born, there were complications and it turned out that I couldn’t have any more children. I always regretted not being able to give you a brother or sister, and have been tormented by the knowledge that you actually have a sister whom you know nothing about. I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything about her, because it was a closed adoption. I often hoped that she would seek me out but, so far, she has not done so.
I don’t know what, if anything, you might want to do about this, but I didn’t want to leave this earth without letting you know that, somewhere, you have a sister.
Darling, if you want to try to find her, you have my blessing. If you decide to tell your father about the contents of this letter, that’s up to you. It must be your decision. I have chosen to keep it a secret all these years. He probably would have understood, just as I know that you will, but it was a secret I kept to myself. Still, I think that you have a right to know that your sister exists. I’m sure that you will do what’s best. I love you more than anything,
Mom
Alex read the letter again. Her heart was thudding and her hands were icy. Finally she looked up at the attorney. ‘Do you know about what this says?’ she asked.
John Killebrew nodded. ‘Yes, your mother confided in me, and she trusted me to use my judgment. She wanted, at least initially, for this information to stay between you and her.’
‘She never told my father,’ Alex said.
‘That’s correct. As it turned out, your father, obviously, did not survive her.’
‘No,’ said Alex.
‘I hope you understand why I chose not to give this to you immediately after your parents’ death. It seemed as if you had enough to cope with at the time.’
Alex stared down at the letter in her hands and nodded. ‘I appreciate that.’
‘I don’t know what you want to do about this . . .’ he said.
Alex shook her head. ‘I don’t either.’
‘Think it over,’ he said. ‘There’s no hurry to decide.’
‘Why didn’t she tell me?’ Alex cried.
‘I don’t know. I’m sure she had her reasons.’
‘I feel . . . blindsided.’ Alex’s voice sounded surly to her ears.
‘I’m sure you do, right now. But this could turn out to be a great consolation to you, Alex. A sister you never knew you had.’
‘I don’t want some sister I never knew,’ Alex replied angrily, tears springing to her eyes. ‘I want my parents back.’
John Killebrew watched her silently, knowing better than to remind her of the futility of that wish.
Alex brushed her tears away impatiently, and took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Killebrew. It’s not your fault. Look, if I did decide to try and find this . . . woman . . .’
‘I won’t lie to you. There are obstacles. In a closed adoption, only the adoptee is allowed to instigate a search for the birth family. But if you decide that you want to find your sister you can petition the court to have the records released, and see what the judge decides. We can help you with that.’
‘I don’t know,’ Alex said. She sat numbly in the chair, the letter dangling from her fingertips.
‘It’s a lot to absorb all at once,’ said the attorney. ‘Go home and think it over.’
As if I had any choice, she wanted to say. Instead she said, ‘I will.’
TWO
For three days, Alex found her thoughts gravitating to the sister she had never met. It was easier to ruminate about whether or not to search for this long-lost sister than to face directly the prospect of this first Christmas alone. As she hunted in the attic for wrapping paper, or tried, with sorry results, to replicate her mother’s toffee, Alex felt assaulted by the expectations of the season. She didn’t want to do any of it. She wanted to spend Christmas alone in a dark room, with a blanket over her head. But she knew that her aunt and uncle would never allow it. In their good-hearted way they were determined to include her, to remind her that she still had a family, even if she felt as if she didn’t. And she knew what her parents would want her to do. They would want her to try.
She avoided midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, and wore her robe and pajamas until Christmas afternoon. She fielded phone calls and texts and, at around two o’clock, was dismayed to hear a knock at the front door. She opened it a few inches and looked out, frowning. Seth Paige stood on the front step, holding a Christmas cookie tin and a bottle of wine.
He smiled, and then frowned as he realized she was in a robe and pajamas. He looked upset at the sight of her.
‘Merry Christmas,’ said Alex.
‘Are you . . . are you spending Christmas alone?’ he asked.
‘No,’ said Alex, pushing her hair out of her face. ‘I just . . . um . . .
I just haven’t gotten dressed yet. What’s up?’
‘I brought you some Christmas cheer,’ he said, hoisting the wine bottle. ‘And some of these cookies. Janet went on a baking binge before she left town.’
Alex opened the door a little wider and accepted the wine and the cookies. ‘Do you want to come in?’ she asked in a discouraging tone.
Seth hesitated. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Just for a minute.’
Alex let him in and tightened the sash on her robe. She led him past the stack of boxes in the hallway into the living room. She sat down on the edge of a sofa cushion, the wine tucked in the crook of her arm, the cookie tin perched on her lap.
Seth sat down in a chair opposite her and rubbed his large hands together. ‘I wanted to come by because I felt bad about the other night. I was afraid that you might have left the party because of some stupid thing I said about your dad.’
Alex shook her head. ‘No, no. I wasn’t in a party mood,’ she said. ‘Actually, it was nice, what you said about Dad.’
‘Are you spending most of your time alone here?’ he asked, unable to keep the reproof out of his voice.
Alex sighed and looked around at the disorder. ‘Well, I’m trying to clean the house out. It’s really kind of solitary work, you might say.’
‘Tough going through everything,’ he said. He pushed his glasses automatically back up on his nose.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what to do with half the stuff. Their clothes . . . I think my mom saved every piece of Tupperware . . . All my dad’s books . . . Would you be interested in any of those? I hate to throw them away.’
‘I’ll come and take a look. Absolutely,’ he said, nodding.
‘Do you want to look now?’ she asked.
‘No, another time. It’s Christmas.’
Alex nodded, slightly embarrassed. ‘Right.’
Seth hesitated. ‘I know how it is,’ he said. ‘I remember the Christmas my mother died. I was only twelve, but I’ll never forget it. I mean, everything about her death sucked, but that Christmas really stands out in my mind.’
Alex smiled and felt herself uncoil slightly. He really did know. She could not even remember Mrs Paige, but women in the neighborhood used to cluck about how tough it must be for Mr Paige to raise his kids alone. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘It’s not good.’
‘I just want to be sure that you’re not going to sit here by yourself for the rest of the day,’ he said. ‘You can always come down and join me and my dad. He’s still pretty much confined to a chair, but there’s food, some decorations and the requisite loop of Christmas songs.’
Alex smiled. ‘Thanks. That’s really nice. But I’m going to my aunt and uncle’s for Christmas dinner.’
‘You’re sure?’ he said.
‘Scout’s honor,’ said Alex, awkwardly raising two fingers. ‘In fact, I should probably get dressed.’ She stood up. ‘But thank you for the cookies and the wine. That was thoughtful.’
‘No problem,’ said Seth. He stood up and headed to the front door. Alex shuffled along in his wake in her slippers. ‘I know it doesn’t feel this way,’ he said, turning to her, leaning down unexpectedly and kissing her cheek. ‘But merry Christmas, Alex.’
Alex had a jumble of impressions of his soft black hair brushing her face, the sharp edge of his glasses, his masculine scent, his bristly cheek. She wondered, anxiously, if she had brushed her teeth. Before she could respond he was quietly closing the front door behind him.
After Seth left, Alex placed his Christmas offerings in the kitchen. That was so nice of him, she thought. Then she trudged upstairs and managed to find a dark green sweater in her closet, a long, narrow black skirt and black boots to wear to her uncle’s house. In her parents’ bedroom she found a star pendant on a long chain on her mother’s bureau which Alex had given her mother for Christmas several years ago. Alex looped it around her neck and the pendant sparkled against her dark sweater. She patted the star tenderly and left it on.
In her own room she combed her hair and applied make-up to alleviate the paleness of her skin, the circles under her eyes. She didn’t want to look like a Grinch. Her nephews, Aiden and Finn, would be excited about this happiest of days. She understood that. She had always loved Christmas as a child. Even if this was the worst Christmas of her life, she wasn’t going to deliberately spoil theirs. It was time to go.
The Reillys’ house was brightly lit, fragrant with the scent of roasting turkey, and buzzing with excitement. Most of the excitement was generated by Aiden and Finn, as well as the younger members of Jean’s family who were in attendance. But Alex saw the sadness in her uncle’s eyes when he embraced her.
‘I’m glad you came,’ he said.
Alex nodded. ‘We always come here for Christmas,’ she said bravely.
Brian cleared his throat. ‘And you will always be welcome here,’ he said. ‘All your life. Don’t forget that.’
‘Brian. Can you pour the eggnog?’ Jean called out.
Alex pushed him away. ‘Go on. Go. I’ll be fine.’
And, in the end, she was all right. Jean’s family members were both solicitous and full of goodwill. The kids were boisterous, the dinner was delicious – as always – and Alex made a point of helping out where she could.
It was not until evening, when the house was quieting down and most of the guests were gone, that Alex felt the melancholy descending again. She sat down in the family room in an armchair beside the tree and gazed at the glittering ornaments and lights.
Her heart felt as dark as the night sky outside. She wished she had not promised to stay over. They had wanted her to come and stay on Christmas Eve, but that was out of the question. She dreaded the whole idea of her little cousins rising at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning and demanding that she get out of bed and join in the merriment. But she had agreed to spend the night on Christmas Day and not drive home after eggnog and champagne. It had seemed a dreadful prospect, to make the long drive back in the dark to that empty house. Now she was seriously rethinking her decision and wishing she could leave.
Brian came into the room and sat down heavily on the far end of the sofa. ‘Wow, those boys are practically in orbit. Especially Finn. Too much Christmas.’
Alex smiled and kept her gaze focused on the tree, blinking back tears. ‘It was a very nice Christmas,’ she said.
‘Oh, Alex,’ he said sadly. ‘I’m sorry. I know this is so painful for you.’
She could see that he was preparing to talk about the losses of this Christmas. She felt almost panicky at the thought. She was tired of the holiday, tired of being strong, and afraid she might dissolve into tears. She wanted to avoid his kindness. ‘I wanted to talk to you about something,’ she said.
‘Anything,’ he replied.
‘I got a strange . . . Christmas present this week,’ she said.
He looked both disappointed and relieved. ‘What was that?’
Alex drew in a breath. ‘Well, I got a call from Mom and Dad’s attorney, Mr Killebrew. He had a letter which Mom left for me in the event of her death.’
Brian raised his eyebrows. ‘Really? What did it say?’
‘I wondered if you already knew about this,’ Alex said.
Brian frowned. ‘I don’t think so. About what?’
‘Mom wanted to tell me that, as it turns out, I’m not an only child.’
Brian looked at her in amazement. ‘Excuse me?’
Alex took a deep breath. ‘It seems that she got pregnant as a teenager and . . . had a baby. A baby which she gave up for adoption.’
Brain gaped at her in disbelief. ‘What? No. That’s not possible.’
‘I guess you didn’t know about it,’ said Alex.
‘No. This is a mistake. That can’t be . . .’
‘Well, I don’t think she was making it up,’ said Alex.
Brian frowned and shook his head. ‘No, no, of course not. But I . . . I would have known.’
‘Known what?’
Jean asked as she came into the family room and collapsed onto the sofa beside her husband. ‘Lord, I’m beat. Those boys of ours definitely had a big Christmas,’ she said cheerfully.
‘It was a lovely Christmas,’ said Alex.
Jean, a small, birdlike woman with big eyes and short, spiky hair, leaned over and patted Alex’s knee. ‘You are a trooper, Alex,’ she said. ‘You were trying to make it easier for all of us.’
Alex smiled wanly. She loved her uncle’s wife, a woman who was always calm, no matter the situation. Jean’s sturdy practicality had helped Alex get through the last few months. ‘No, really, it was a fine day.’
Jean took a deep breath as Brian began to absently knead her shoulder. She looked from Brian to Alex and back again. ‘I have a feeling I interrupted something. What were you two talking about anyway?’
Brian face was knotted with concern. He sighed, and seemed to be choosing his words carefully. ‘It seems . . . Alex just told me that Cathy left a letter with her attorney. Apparently she had a baby and gave it up for adoption when she was a teenager.’
‘Get out,’ said Jean. ‘Catherine? You’re kidding me.’
Brian shook his head.
‘Wow,’ said Jean.
‘I know,’ said Alex.
‘Well, she was always a very devout Catholic. I can’t imagine her doing anything else if she got pregnant,’ Jean admitted thoughtfully.
‘That’s just it. She was never pregnant,’ Brian protested, running a hand through his thinning hair. ‘I would have remembered that.’
‘Apparently it happened when she was supposed to be headed off to college. She had the baby in a home somewhere for unwed mothers,’ said Alex.
Jean waggled a hand at him dismissively. ‘Darling, you were what . . . twelve or thirteen? I’m sure you didn’t have a clue what was going on in Cathy’s life in those days.’
Brian shrugged, acknowledging the truth of his wife’s observation. ‘I guess, maybe not . . .’
‘No maybe about it.’ Jean turned to Alex. ‘What else did she say? Was it a boy or a girl?’
Sisters Page 2