Sisters

by Patricia MacDonald

  ‘A girl,’ Alex said.

  Jean did some mental calculations. ‘She’d probably be . . . what . . . in her early thirties by now?’

  ‘I suppose,’ said Alex.

  ‘Do you know what happened to her? Was Cathy in touch with this girl?’

  Alex shook her head. ‘She said that she hoped the girl would try to contact her, but I guess she never did.’

  Jean sat back and shook her head. ‘I can’t believe this. I never would have guessed this of your mom.’

  ‘Me neither,’ said Alex.

  ‘Who was the father?’ Jean asked. ‘Did she say?’

  ‘No. Nothing. That’s all she said.’

  Jean looked at her husband quizzically.

  ‘What?’ Brian asked.

  ‘Well, who would it have been?’ Jean asked.

  ‘What? What are you talking about?’

  ‘The father. Who would the father have been? Do you remember her boyfriends?’

  ‘This would have been her senior year in high school,’ said Alex.

  ‘In high school? No. Cathy didn’t have boyfriends. She was very . . . studious. She was always volunteering for good causes or babysitting,’ said Brian.

  ‘No dates?’ said Jean. ‘I can’t believe that.’

  I can, Alex thought. Her mother had always reassured her that a lack of dates in high school did not doom a girl to a single life. Out in the world, her mother told her, everything would be different.

  ‘Would you have even noticed if she had a boyfriend at that age?’ Jean asked.

  ‘She did not have a boyfriend,’ Brian insisted. Then, he hesitated. ‘Unless . . .’

  ‘Unless what?’ Alex asked.

  ‘Well, there was one guy, but I didn’t think they were . . . you know . . . involved . . .’

  ‘Who was it?’ Jean asked, sitting upright and staring at her husband.

  Brian spoke slowly. ‘Cathy used to tutor kids in math. Not little kids. Kids her own age. She started helping this one guy who got left back. Neal was his name. Neal Parafin. He was a mess. Always in trouble. Always getting suspended from school and being picked up by the police. You know. A delinquent. He had grown up in foster care. The nuns asked Cathy to help him. And Cathy could never say no to a stray.

  ‘Anyway, he’d come over for tutoring and my mother would invite him to stay for dinner once in a while. He didn’t talk much. Very quiet and moody. He had this long hair, I remember. And he was scrawny. Dark circles under his eyes. He looked unhealthy. When I think about it now, he was a very wary kind of kid. But you could see he was very attached to Cathy. My parents were worried about it. I used to hear them talking.’

  Alex was imagining her mother as she had seen her in high school yearbook photos. Young and serious, her frizzy, strawberry-blonde hair pulled back from her sweet, round face in a ponytail, trying to help this boy who was such an outcast. That sounded like her mother. She had never stopped being involved with at-risk kids through the schools or charitable organizations.

  ‘So, what happened?’ Jean demanded.

  Brian exhaled and shook his head. ‘Well, it was getting toward the end of summer – she was ready to go off to college and Neal became angry. I mean, he was always moody but . . . he got much worse. It turned out that he wanted her to run away with him. I found this out later. After it happened.’

  ‘After what happened?’ Alex asked cautiously.

  Brian spoke slowly. ‘One hot night in August, Neal showed up in his car. He wanted her to go for a drive. He had this real beater car, but it was like his one possession and he was so proud of it. If you criticized the car she would always stick up for him and say how it was the best he could afford and not to be a jerk about it.’

  ‘Meaning you,’ said Jean.

  Brian nodded. ‘True. Well, that night she got in the car and they were parked in our driveway. They didn’t go anywhere though. I guess they were talking. And then we heard the noise. We all heard the noise – it sounded like firecrackers going off in the driveway. My dad started yelling. We all ran to the door. Out in the driveway, Cathy was hysterical. She was standing beside the car door, shaking and screaming. I’ll never forget it. She was wearing this pink and yellow dress. It was all covered with these dark blotches. It was blood. I didn’t realize right away what I was seeing. Neal was slumped over the wheel.’

  Jean’s eyes widened. ‘He shot himself?’

  Brian nodded somberly. ‘Apparently he had a gun. My dad called the police. It seems like they were there in a few minutes. My parents wouldn’t let me out of the house. They wouldn’t let me look. They didn’t want me to see him up close.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ said Alex.

  ‘It was awful,’ said Brian.

  ‘No kidding,’ said Jean.

  ‘My mother never told me that story,’ said Alex.

  ‘She never talked about it,’ said Brian. ‘Over the years I mentioned it a time or two and she just changed the subject.’

  Jean nodded thoughtfully. ‘Wow. And now you’re thinking that boy, Neal, might have been the father of her baby.’

  Brian held his hands open wide. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t think they were involved in that way. I knew he was upset about her leaving, but I didn’t know anything about a pregnancy or a baby. As far as I knew, Cathy went off to college as planned. At least . . .’

  ‘That’s what you thought,’ said Jean.

  Alex felt sick to her stomach. ‘Do you think she was in love with him?’

  Brian shrugged. ‘With Neal? I never thought so. I thought she just felt sorry for him. My dad said he should have known that helping Neal would bring Cathy trouble. My mother would try to make him hush, but he would carry on about it, saying he never should have let that kid into the house in the first place.’

  ‘What did my mother say?’ Alex asked.

  Brian shook his head sadly. ‘I only heard her talk about it once, the night it happened. The police were questioning her in the living room. She still had blood all over her sundress and she was wearing this heavy sweatshirt over it because she was shivering even though it was a hot night. Her face was as white as a ghost and streaked with tears. I was upstairs on the landing. I wasn’t supposed to be listening but I did anyway. The officer asked her if they’d had some kind of lovers’ quarrel or something. Cathy said no, it wasn’t that. They asked her if she knew why he had done it, then. Why did he kill himself? I always remember what she said. She said that he couldn’t bear to be left behind again.’

  THREE

  That Christmas night, in the Reillys’ narrow guest-room bed, Alex slept restlessly and dreamed that an agitated young man whom she didn’t know was trying to force her to take a package from him. The package was wrapped in brown paper and he told her that she needed to deliver it. ‘I don’t know who it’s for,’ she protested, but he insisted that she did. She was looking down at the wrinkled paper which was wrapped around the package and was trying to read the address, but could not decipher the words written there. When she woke up, with a start, she was filled with sadness.

  On the drive home from her uncle’s house, she made up her mind. In the days before Christmas it had seemed like a terrible conundrum to her, but now, suddenly, it seemed simple and clear. She was going to do it. She was going to find her sister.

  She knew that Mr Killebrew’s office would be closed for the holiday, but on the following Monday morning she called the attorney’s office and told the receptionist that she needed to speak to him.

  Mr Killebrew came on the line. ‘Alex,’ he said gently. ‘How was Christmas? Did you get through it all right?’

  ‘Somehow,’ said Alex. ‘Listen, I’ve been thinking about it and I’ve decided that I want to find my sister.’

  ‘OK,’ said the attorney slowly.

  ‘You said you could help?’

  ‘Well, the adoption laws in this state are quite specific,’ said Killebrew. ‘As I said before, in a closed adoption only the adoptee can instig
ate a search. Parents who want to find the children they gave up for adoption can register their information in case the adoptee tries to find them, but they are not entitled to the adoptee’s information. That goes for family members too. If the adoptee doesn’t come looking for them, the members of the birth family don’t really have any right to the adoptee’s information.’

  ‘So I can’t search for her, even if I want to?’

  ‘No. Not exactly,’ said Mr Killebrew. ‘We can petition the court to have the records released, but normally that is only going to happen in cases where the family of origin has an urgent need to know. For example, if there were medical reasons they might allow it.’

  ‘That doesn’t apply here,’ said Alex glumly. ‘There’s no other recourse?’

  ‘As you know, a lot has changed because of the Internet. For one thing, it’s a lot more difficult to suppress information than it used to be. Privacy is little more than a quaint concept these days.’

  ‘That’s for sure,’ said Alex. ‘So you think I can find her online?’

  ‘She may have registered on one of those websites that were set up for just this purpose,’ he said. ‘She may visit the site, every now and then, looking for members of her birth family.’

  ‘And if she hasn’t?’ Alex asked. ‘Is that it?’

  ‘Not necessarily. Our firm employs an investigator who can, very often, bypass certain channels to find the information you’re seeking.’

  ‘I’m not sure I understand,’ said Alex.

  ‘Let’s just say he is able to cut certain corners that we can’t.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘Why don’t you just leave this to me, and I’ll get back to you.’

  Alex thought about it for a moment. ‘All right. That seems . . . reasonable. I’m not sure yet what I’m going to do, so I’m not asking for anyone to contact . . . her. I just want the information.’

  ‘Of course. Understood,’ said Mr Killebrew.

  ‘OK, well, I’ll wait to hear from you.’

  ‘It won’t be long,’ the lawyer said.

  In fact, Alex received a call from the attorney’s office just two days later. The receptionist asked if she could come in that very afternoon. Her heart thudding, Alex said, ‘Absolutely.’

  When she arrived, Mr Killebrew was waiting, a grim look on his face.

  ‘So, you have news for me,’ Alex said expectantly, sitting down opposite him.

  Mr Killebrew nodded and reached for a folder on his desktop.

  Something in his expression made Alex feel suddenly apprehensive. She thought of the terrible story her uncle had told her about Neal, the young man who might have been Catherine Reilly’s lover so long ago. It seemed as if nothing but sorrow had come from that ill-starred relationship. She pressed her lips together, not wanting to let her anxiety show.

  The attorney cleared his throat. ‘We have, indeed, located your sister. Her name is Dory. Dory Colson.’

  Dory Colson. Alex repeated the name to herself. Somehow, the name made it real. To her surprise, she found herself fighting back tears.

  Killebrew continued. ‘Dory is thirty-two years old. Unmarried. No children. She was adopted by the Colson family as an infant and grew up in Boston.’

  ‘Wow,’ said Alex.

  The attorney looked at her. ‘What?’

  ‘So close? I never knew she existed, but we’ve lived our lives separated by only a few miles.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said gravely. ‘Are you . . .? Do you want to hear more?’

  ‘Sure. It’s just . . . it’s a little overwhelming. Suddenly I have a sister. Her name is Dory. It’s a lot to take in.’

  Killebrew frowned. ‘There’s more,’ he muttered.

  ‘Did the detective speak to her? Does she know about me?’

  ‘No,’ said the attorney. ‘She knows nothing about this.’

  Alex wished that he would just hand the file over to her. She felt as if he was keeping something from her which was rightly hers. She wanted to read it herself. She didn’t need a go-between anymore. ‘Well, is her current information in that file? I mean, can I contact her now?’

  Mr Killebrew placed his hands on top of the file. ‘You can. If you wish.’

  Alex recoiled at his tone. ‘What do you mean . . . if I wish?’

  Killebrew sighed. ‘You may decide you don’t want to.’

  ‘I suppose that’s possible,’ said Alex stiffly. ‘But that’s really up to me.’

  ‘It is,’ he said. ‘It is up to you.’

  ‘May I have the file, please?’ Alex held out her hand.

  Killebrew hesitated, keeping his hands on the file as if he were trying to prevent it from blowing away.

  ‘Is there a problem?’

  ‘You’ve had such a tough year, Alex. I really wanted to be able to give you some good news,’ he said.

  ‘Well, you already have. I wanted to find my sister, and now, thanks to you and your detective, I will be able to do just that.’

  The attorney frowned. ‘Alex, I hate to have to tell you this.’

  Alex felt a chill. ‘Tell me what?’ she asked.

  ‘There’s no easy way to say this. Your sister, Dory Colson, is in prison.’

  Alex stared at him. For a minute she could not believe her ears. ‘In prison? You’re joking.’

  ‘It’s not something I would kid about,’ said the attorney.

  ‘Prison?’ Alex repeated helplessly. ‘Why?’

  ‘Dory Colson is in the state prison at Framingham. She’s two years into her sentence. She is doing twenty years.’

  ‘Oh my God!’ Alex cried. ‘For what?’

  Killebrew hesitated. ‘For murder. She’s in prison for murder.’

  ‘Murder?’ Alex repeated the word as if she could barely comprehend it.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ he said.

  ‘But . . . I don’t understand . . . What . . .’

  ‘I’m sorry to be the bearer of this news. I know this is not what you were hoping to hear.’

  ‘Who did she kill?’ Alex asked.

  Mr Killebrew met her gaze stolidly. ‘Her sister,’ he said.

  There was a long silence in the room as Alex tried to absorb what she had just heard. ‘I’m her sister,’ she said at last.

  ‘She had another sister,’ said Killebrew. ‘Her name was Lauren. Three years ago, Lauren was stabbed to death in the family home. Dory pleaded guilty to her murder.’

  Alex recoiled. ‘Oh my God,’ she said again.

  Killebrew looked at her levelly. ‘I’m sorry. I know it’s a shock.’

  Alex shook her head. ‘Are you sure about this?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Killebrew. ‘Our investigator double-checked everything. I knew this was going to come as a blow.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Alex. ‘Do you know why?’

  ‘Why she killed her? No. I don’t.’

  ‘I can’t believe this,’ Alex murmured. She thought of her mother’s letter, urging her to find this woman. A murderer.

  Killebrew frowned. ‘If you were to decide to drop the whole thing now, no one would blame you. And Dory would be none the wiser. She doesn’t even know you’re looking for her.’

  ‘Yes, I understand,’ said Alex distractedly.

  ‘I know this is not what your mom had in mind when she wrote you that letter.’

  Alex nodded. He was right about her mother’s intentions. ‘Is her address in there? In case I do want to contact her?’

  ‘It’s all in the folder. There’s an address at the prison where you can write to her. No emails. She has no computer access. Or you could call her.’

  Alex could not picture that phone call. What words would she use? ‘Can I see the folder?’

  Killebrew pushed it across the desk. ‘You can have it. It’s yours.’

  Alex opened it, looking at the paperwork within. Then she closed it again. She hesitated before putting it into her bag.

  ‘I’m so sorry about this,’ said Killebrew.
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  Alex felt numb. ‘It’s not your fault. You just did what I asked you to do.’ She got up from the chair. ‘Thank you so much, Mr Killebrew. I appreciate it.’

  ‘Do you know what you’re going to do?’

  Alex shook her head. ‘I don’t. I’m very confused right now. To tell you the truth, I didn’t think it mattered that much to me. But right now, I feel . . . devastated.’

  ‘Alex, if you decide to go further with this, be careful. I can tell you from experience that people in prison are always looking for sympathy and will take advantage of your good will. She’s a dangerous criminal . . .’ he said.

  Alex nodded. ‘I’ll be careful,’ she said in a small voice. She shook his extended hand and hurried down the stairs, leaving the office with as much dignity as she could muster. She crossed the street to her car and unlocked the door with trembling hands. She kept her composure until she was alone behind the wheel. Then she began to shake.

  Alex fumbled with her keys and turned on the ignition so she could get some heat. Outside the short, cold day was dimming and the street lamps were beginning to glow. She wanted to just go home, but she was shaking too hard to drive just yet.

  All her losses came flooding back to her. She felt tortured when she thought of her mother, offering her this information from beyond the grave, thinking, when she lovingly wrote that letter, that she was providing Alex with a treasure. Some treasure, Alex thought.

  You don’t have to do this, she reminded herself. This is not your problem. Like Mr Killebrew said, Dory doesn’t even know that you are looking for her. You can take this folder and put it in the trash. You can forget you ever even knew about her. You don’t owe this woman a thing.

  Alex took a deep breath. She turned on the car and pulled out of the parking space. Sometimes, she told herself, you need to leave well alone.

  FOUR

  The first thing she did when she got home was to put on her most comfortable sweats and make herself a cup of tea. She crawled into her father’s armchair with a book and tried to read. Her eyes scanned the printed lines but she had no idea of what she was reading. Her thoughts kept returning to what she had learned from the attorney. No matter how Alex tried to banish the thoughts from her head, it was impossible. She felt as if she had opened Pandora’s Box, and now she could not force the questions she had unleashed back into it. The questions rose and buzzed around her.