The Sometime Sister

by Katherine Nichols

  Justin and I waited until the flood of people turned to a steady stream before gathering our bags. When we reached the gate, I saw the sign before I saw my cousin: Thank the Good Lord. Grace is back! Lesroy waved, then spun the placard before he dropped it, raced up to me, and whirled me around.

  “Oh, my God, Grace.” He released me, and I stumbled against him. Then he looked me up and down. “You’re not different at all.” He sounded disappointed.

  “Why should I be? I’ve only been gone a few weeks.”

  “When Mike said lightning struck you, I about lost it. I expected you to glow, or at least have one of those Bride of Frankenstein white streaks in your hair. But you only look peaked, like you just got over a stomach flu or a bad case of food poisoning.”

  “I did not get struck by lightning. It hit near me and threw me to the ground.”

  People bustled past, and I suggested we move to the side where I gave a quick correction of the details of my injury and introduced Justin.

  The way the guys I dated reacted to my cousin was my litmus test. If I detected any kind of negative vibes, that was it. Ben was the only one who ever fooled me. He pretended to like Lesroy until we got engaged. After I agreed to marry him, he showed his true feelings. By then, I convinced myself I was in love. I didn’t like how he avoided being with my magical cousin. But Ben loved me, which meant he would change for me.

  Other than Lesroy gripping a little more enthusiastically than usual, the handshake was normal, and Justin seemed at ease. My cousin turned and mouthed, “He’s hot!” while fanning himself with the recovered welcome sign.

  “I can’t wait to hear everything about the trip, but for now,” he swept his hand toward the exit, “your chariot awaits.”

  Gray snow-clouds filled the air with a wet, heavy scent. Justin explained he left his car at international parking and could take the shuttle, but Lesroy insisted on driving him.

  My cousin conducted an abbreviated talk-show-style interview on the short ride. I was both embarrassed and grateful since he got answers to most of my questions about Justin’s personal life in record time.

  He worked for a security firm in downtown Atlanta and rented a house in the Old Fourth Ward, not too far from Lesroy. He came close once, but no, he hadn’t married. Dogs were great, but it wasn’t fair to have one when he traveled so much. When we pulled up to his car, my very own Entertainment Tonight host had just gotten into recent dating history.

  “Enough!” I intervened. “You’re wearing him out with all these questions.” I unfolded, stepped out, and waited for Lesroy to open the back. Justin transferred his luggage and came to my side of the car where I stood shivering.

  “It’s freezing out here. Get in,” he ordered. He leaned down and kissed me on the lips. “I’m going to give you some time with your family, but I’ll call.” When we broke apart, he touched my cheek before walking away.

  Lesroy waited until Justin started his car before leaving.

  “Well, well. It looks like Gracie’s got a boyfriend. Tell me all about it, every dirty detail. And don’t you dare say there’s nothing going on between you two. Don’t forget, I have sexdar.”

  Laughing, I said, “No way am I giving you details of my sex life.”

  During the rest of the drive, I filled him in on my Ecuadorian journey. When I finished, he shook his head. “My, God, Grace. Who are you and what have you done with my cousin? Spraying deviants with Mace, hanging out with criminals, and engaging in carnal relations with one of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen. I should have gone with you.”

  We pulled into the garage, and I ran straight to the kitchen, eager to see Scarlett. When she didn’t greet me at the door, I called her name. There was no answer.

  Lesroy came in with my bags, and I pounced. “Is Scarlett okay? Is she sick? Did you leave her at the vet?”

  “Calm down. Miss Scarlett is fine.” He fidgeted with the zipper on his jacket, not allowing his eyes to meet mine. “I, uh. That is your mom, um. Okay, don’t get mad. But your mom made me leave Scarlett with her, so you’d come right over.”

  “Dammit, Lesroy!” He winced and stepped back. “Well, it’s not going to work. They’ll have to keep her overnight. I am not up to facing that woman. One more day won’t make any difference.” But the house felt empty without the Doberman’s haughty presence.

  “Sure, Grace. I understand.”

  And, of course, he did. First, he knew I would put CNN on as background noise as soon as he left. Then I would check for frozen pipes or signs of a break-in. Next, I would go through the refrigerator to determine what needed to be pitched and what could be salvaged. By then the sound of quarrelsome politicians yammering at each other would be getting on my nerves, and I would long for the clicking of claws on my hardwood floors.

  But it wasn’t only my co-dependent relationship with Miss Scarlett that compelled me to bite the bullet and go to my mother’s house. And it wasn’t just the need to give her closure on my sister’s death. The memory of the night Mom and Gran killed Roy had tormented me since my memories returned.

  I wasn’t surprised my grandmother had willfully taken another life. To her, family was everything, and there was nothing she wouldn’t do to protect us. Acknowledging that my mother went along with the plan to commit murder, even if the victim was my scum-sucking uncle, forced me to accept she wasn’t the woman I thought she was.

  Prez’s death had troubled me, and I was relieved to discover I bore no responsibility for it. Any injuries I inflicted were the result of his attempts on my life. I accepted my lack of regret about what happened to him as a rational reaction to his part in Stella’s death. Still, the thought of him lying on the rocks, his neck cocked at an unnatural angle, wasn’t something I could shake. It was a lighter burden than not having resolved my issues with Stella before her death, but it would haunt me. Because when I shoved that pool cue through the slats in the staircase, I hadn’t worried if it would be fatal for Prez. Caught in the most primal of all urges, survival, I hadn’t cared about anything other than getting away from the man with the gun.

  What my mother and grandmother did was different. When they loaded my drunken uncle into his truck, they made a conscious decision. The twenty-minute drive to the lake gave the two-woman caravan plenty of time to recognize the enormity of what they planned to do. And they did it. As I imagined it, they wrangled him into his spot behind the steering wheel, started the vehicle, and watched as it careened down the embankment. My grandmother never did anything halfway. She wouldn’t have left until the last bubble disappeared and the muddy water calmed. I pictured Mom waiting in the car, grim and silent, but not disapproving.

  Their actions, however, were nobler than my desperate act of self-defense. Theirs was an act of love. At least in their eyes, it was the only way to protect Rita and Lesroy. Because my aunt had a history of taking her husband back, regardless of the pain he inflicted. And Uncle Roy would have only gotten worse.

  After about an hour of stalling, I gave up and set out for my mother’s.

  Although it was only a little after six, it was already December-dark and frigid enough to make my nose run. As usual, every light in the house was on when I got there. Gran was an electricity tyrant, insisting we turn off lights as soon as we left a room. I assumed Mom’s extravagant disregard for worrying about the bill was her way of rebelling. Now, I thought it might be less about rebellion and more a fear of what might be hiding in unlit corners.

  When she greeted me, I gasped. This shadow-version of my mother was not the woman who had always been invincible in my eyes. Learning about her capacity for deadly action only made her seem more so. But today I saw mortality on her face, and it terrified me.

  In the two weeks I’d been away
, she had dropped at least five pounds, not a lot of weight, but she’d been thin before Stella’s death. Her cheekbones were razor sharp and naked, with no trace of her signature cherry-plum blush. After Gran died, Mom cut her shoulder-length hair into a becoming pixie. She kept it an almost natural shade of light brown and was meticulous about root control. Today, a thick line of gray snaked through her part, and the short strands framing her face were slicked back, accentuating her skeletal appearance.

  Any anger or resentment I’d been carrying disappeared. I threw my arms around her. She had always been the one who initiated physical contact, a precise hug and a kiss on the cheek. Affection in my family was more efficient than effusive. As much as I loved Stella, our greetings and departures consisted of little more than quick touches on the shoulders or air kisses. Lesroy said we were emotionally stunted. I insisted we were dignified and reserved. Faced with the actuality of losing my sister and the inevitability of losing my mother caused something inside me to shift, as if an ice flow splintered.

  She stiffened, shocked by my enthusiastic show of affection, then hugged me back.

  “Let’s get out of the cold.” She kept one arm around me on the way to the dark- paneled den, as if she feared I would vanish if she let go. From behind the door to the spare bedroom, came a frantic scratching, followed by a low-pitched whine.

  “That dog has the worst case of canine depression I’ve ever seen. Lesroy hand fed her. I had to shut her up in there to keep her from wandering through the house, pissing and moaning.”

  “You know she’s housebroken,” I said. Scarlett thudded against the door, knocked it open, and wriggled through. I braced myself for her usual full-frontal attack, but she plopped down, belly up, flopping back and forth like a fish on a dock. I knelt beside her while she yelped two octaves higher than normal. When I stopped rubbing her tummy, she righted herself and began covering my face in fragrant doggy kisses. I wondered if my departure made her feel as if a second sister had dumped her. If so, her uncomplicated joy at my return revealed an enviable capacity for love and forgiveness. It also sent the happy signal she was my dog now.

  “That’s the first time the poor girl has shown any energy since you left. Lesroy was planning to take her to the vet if you didn’t get home soon. Looks like she’s fine now.”

  Scarlett followed us to the den and sat on the floor in front of me. Mike announced he was going to make a batch of lemon drops. I’m not a big martini drinker, but his mixture of lemon, vodka, and a special secret ingredient was irresistible.

  Mom draped a sweater over her shoulders and leaned toward me. “I need to know everything that happened over there. Mike’s been sharing information, but you know how protective he can be. He doesn’t realize it’s worse not knowing. But you understand.”

  I wondered if she was referring to recent events when she said I understood. Either way, she was only half right. It could be better and worse at the same time. As a woman who knew what it felt like to take a human life, however, she should be capable of handling the truth.

  Scarlett scooted closer and laid her head on my knees. I rubbed her silky muzzle and scratched behind her ears.

  I started by telling Mom as much as I could remember from Stella’s letters explaining someone had stolen them, that it was most likely Prez, but we’d never been able to verify that. I glossed over Stella’s relationship with Adelmo. Mike joined us with our drinks, and I picked up the story where I’d gone to see Ben. When I got to the part where I sprayed Ben with the Mace, Mom’s lips curled in a brief smile, and Mike nodded his approval.

  I didn’t want to tell her about the kidnapping but knew if I left it out, the rest wouldn’t make sense. So, I downplayed the danger and skipped the part where Prez chased me with his gun drawn.

  A sick sensation came over me when I reached my encounter with Ben in that room filled with the stench of terror and decay. Admitting I advocated for mercy when I asked Adelmo to turn my ex over to the authorities would disappoint her. I included it, anyway, hoping my role in taking Prez out would satisfy her. Granted, it wasn’t intentional, but it should still count.

  When I concluded with the lightning bolt that destroyed the trailer with Ben in it, the room went silent.

  “Somebody say something,” I begged. “I’m sorry, Mom. I should have been strong enough to tell Adelmo to pull the trigger, but—”

  “Stop, Grace, please stop!” My mother held up a trembling hand. “I’m the one who’s sorry. When I first got the word about Stella, I lost it. And that thing with Justin, uh, well, that was crazy. Thank God, Mike understands me well enough to know I would never do something like that if I were in my right mind.”

  I sputtered on a sip of lemon drop. She must not have told him about Uncle Roy. Or she didn’t think I remembered that night. Either way, now wasn’t a good time to bring up her past proclivity for murder.

  “Mike knew from the beginning that lovely young man didn’t plan to kill Ben. He was only going along to protect you and to work with the police to get to the truth. But I should never have let you go.” Tears trickled down my mother’s cheek. Mike rushed to sit by her, his arm around her shoulders. The gesture made me think of Justin.

  “It’s okay, Mom. Really, I’m fine. Everything turned out just fine.” Only it hadn’t. I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling I’d had since our flight departed. A brain glitch telling me I had left something important behind—something that explained Stella’s transformation.

  “Please, honey. You’re not fine. A sensitive person like you can’t go through what you did, and it not affect you. Your sister was a different story. That’s why when she and Ben ran off, I wasn’t too upset.”

  My fury and pain at her calm, resigned approach to my loss of the man I loved had consumed me. I assumed it was because of her unspoken preference for my sister, that she thought if Stella wanted him, why shouldn’t she have him?

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I know. And I should have said something. I should have spoken out as soon as you brought that monster home. I could tell he was trouble. But Gran and I agreed telling you how we felt would only make you more determined to have him.” She wiped at her eyes and patted me on the knee. “You’ve always been a bit of a hard head.”

  I’d been hearing a lot along those lines lately.

  “But I thought you wanted me to marry him, that he was the best thing that could have happened to me.”

  “Well, I didn’t. I knew he was a man who’d take someone like you and crush your spirit. He would beat you down and make you feel you weren’t enough. So, when he and Stella ran off, this massive relief came over me. Your sister could give as good as she got. I almost felt sorry for the asshole when he married her. I was a horrible mother because I kept thinking at least it wasn’t Grace. And, God help me, I still am.” Her voice broke, and she leaned forward, holding her head in her hands.

  Mike patted her back, reassuring her everything was all right. She jerked away from him.

  “No, it’s not all right!”

  Scarlett trembled and pressed her body into me.

  “As soon as I got the news, one thought kept running through my mind: It could have been Grace. It could have been Grace. I would have given anything to have traded places with your sister. I’d give my life for either of you. But when I heard Stella was dead, my only comfort was it could have been Grace, and, thank you, Lord, it wasn’t.” She sank into the sofa.

  I reminded myself to breathe as I processed my mother’s words. I had no strong memories of life before my sister, but I imagined I was the sun and Mom revolved around me. Once there were two of us, I was happy to move aside and let my sister take center stage. She was infinitely more suited for the spotlight. I assumed being the favori
te child was part of the package for someone as special as Stella and accepted the role of second sister without realizing no one had offered it to me.

  Watching my grief-stricken mother struggling with the additional burden of guilt for what she considered her role in Stella’s fate, I saw how fragile she was. I joined her on the sofa and held her. For that brief time, I was the parent, and she was the child.

  “It’s okay,” I said, rocking her. “You didn’t love Stella less. You loved her differently. She would understand.” And the words weren’t just true for my mother. They were true for me.

  I thought of Mom’s relationship with her sister and wondered if she had felt like the lesser of the two. Regardless, she didn’t falter when it came to defending Aunt Rita, where I argued against punishing Ben. But, if I were honest with myself, while I refused to give Adelmo my permission to kill Ben, his death didn’t bother me at all. It didn’t matter to me how he died, as long as he was gone. Maybe I was more my mother’s daughter than I wanted to admit.

  Chapter 36

  My mother’s confession exhausted her, and Mike half-carried her to her room. He and I agreed I would return tomorrow to discuss the details of Stella’s memorial service.

  “Your mother loves you more than you can imagine, Grace. And she loved Stella, too,” he said as Scarlett and I were leaving.

  I assured him I was aware, and I was telling the truth.

  On the drive home, I concluded that my adoration of Stella hadn’t been fair to either of us. The pedestal I put her on created a barrier—one that, as an adult, she resented. I saw her the way I wanted her to be, not as the lovely but flawed creature she was. And it was those flaws that made her who she was. Because I refused to see them, I never saw the real Stella.

  For me, her loss was an open wound. Sometimes it only throbbed, other times it shot bolts of pure agony through my entire being. The knowledge I had missed out on having a genuine relationship with her, that I didn’t get to celebrate the new and improved version of my sister, was like losing a limb. Phantom pain for something that wasn’t there and, in my case, never had been.