A Sister Would Know

by C. J. Carmichael

  Amalie did a double take. “You? Why you?”

  It was a good question. “I guess because she trusts me, because I was Ramsey’s best friend.”

  For what that was worth. He’d been Ramsey’s closest buddy, yet he hadn’t had any more clue than Denise about what was going on. The truth was Denise wasn’t the only one who felt betrayed.

  “And you couldn’t say no?”

  He wondered how to explain the duty he felt he owed to Ramsey’s widow. “I guess I understand how she feels. See, the Asulkan Hut, where Ramsey and Helen…well, you know. That was Denise and Ramsey’s special place. He asked her to marry him there.”

  Would she get it? It seemed that she did.

  “Oh, Grant, of course I understand how awful this situation is for Denise. It’s just the idea of you asking questions about my sister without me knowing….” She swiped at an icicle that hung from the awning above the restaurant door; they both watched as it shattered on the concrete sidewalk at their feet.

  “It still doesn’t make sense to me—that Helen was having an affair with a man who was married.”

  Grant checked the urge to argue. Despite all Amalie had learned about her sister these past few days, she obviously still didn’t believe Helen had changed. What would it take to convince her that her sister wasn’t the same person she’d been as a child?

  Or maybe she was the same person; only, Amalie had never been willing to face up to her flaws.

  “Look, Amalie,” he said, putting an arm round her back. “Let’s just—”

  A voice called out from behind him. “Grant!”

  Oh, boy. That sounded like…He turned to find Denise helping Chrissy and Colin out of the back seat of the Jeep.

  “Go ahead and get us a table,” Denise said, urging the children into the restaurant. Grant held the door open for the youngsters, avoiding Denise’s glare. Her anger was hot as she turned from Grant, to Amalie, then back to Grant.

  “Together again? Clearly, there’s something going on here that I don’t know about.”

  “There’s nothing going on,” Amalie said quietly. “I was just about to catch up with Davin at the bookstore. If you still want to take him snow-snoeing,” she added, transferring her gaze to Grant, “you’ll find us there.”

  He nodded, then watched her deliberate retreat. Which left him with Denise, who was eyeing him very suspiciously.

  “I just don’t understand it. After what her sister did to us—”

  “Amalie is not Helen,” he said, determined to stand his ground. Then Denise put a hand over her eyes, and he saw her shoulders tremble. Compassion kicked in. “I’m sorry, Denise. I have been trying to find out about—about what you asked me.”

  She stilled. Took a deep breath. “And—?”

  “A week before the accident they met here for pizza. Blaine said they seemed to be discussing something serious and Helen was very upset.”

  Denise’s gloved hand went to her forehead. “So they’d been together for a while. It wasn’t the first time—”

  He’d have liked nothing better than to dispute that, but he’d come to the same conclusion. If Helen had been crying, then something had to have already happened between them. “Maybe Ramsey was trying to call things off.”

  “Oh, Grant.” Denise leaned against him, blotting tears with her leather-covered fingers. “He never should have started anything in the first place.”

  “I know…” He placed a hand on her shoulder. Beneath the jacket she felt so fragile.

  “Ramsey’s hours between his practice and the hospital were always crazy. I never called to check up on him or worried about where he was. I just trusted him.”

  “I know.”

  “I thought we had a good marriage, that he was happy. The night before he left we made love.”

  That sounded like a good thing, although Grant was really uncomfortable with such intimate confidences. Withdrawing slightly, he gave her shoulder a final pat. “I’ll keep asking around,” he couldn’t stop himself from offering.

  “Thank you, Grant.”

  He waited till she was steady on her feet, then opened the door to the restaurant for her. As she walked in, he thought of the woman who had caused all these problems.

  Helen. For a moment he was sorry she’d perished in the avalanche. She ought to be here, facing these questions. But from what he’d seen and what he’d heard from Amalie, Helen had never been that good at coping with the consequences of her actions.

  Davin was a prime example of that.

  AMALIE OPTED NOT to join the snowshoeing excursion. She suspected Grant was a little disappointed with her decision, but Denise’s resentment at seeing the two of them together had been obvious, and Amalie wanted time to think about the situation and where it was headed.

  She and Grant had been spending a lot of time together recently. Many of their outings revolved around Davin. But many of their conversations and the glances they exchanged did not.

  Was Grant interested in her? Amalie’s rusty feminine instincts told her yes. What concerned her, however, were the feelings she’d been having for Grant. That morning at the avalanche shoot, her fear for his safety had gone beyond what was reasonable for someone she’d known such a short time.

  Despite her relative inexperience in such matters, and her sense that they hadn’t known each other long enough, Amalie suspected what was happening.

  She was falling in love.

  Maybe she shouldn’t be surprised. Grant was a man in a thousand. Watching him try to deal with his torn loyalties for Ramsey and Denise and at the same time balance his concern for her feelings, Amalie had felt such affinity for him. So many times she’d found herself in the middle, too. Between her parents and Helena; between her parents and Davin.

  What tugged at her heart the most was how much he cared, how hard he worked at doing the right thing. A man like that would be easily trapped by a woman who played on his sense of honor and compassion.

  She couldn’t do that. Grant deserved a truly exceptional woman. Not someone he felt sorry for, someone he felt he had to look out for and protect. Grant deserved an equal; a woman who shared his love of the mountains, with an adventurous spirit and the spunk to be his full partner.

  Unfortunately, she was not that woman, and she only had to remember the fear she’d felt this morning to know she never could be.

  Then there was her sister’s reputation to consider. In the two months she’d lived here, Helena had done some terrible things, made some grievous mistakes. Amalie still liked to think those choices were not indicative of the person Helena had been. But clearly Grant did, and that hurt.

  So did having the people of Revelstoke paint her with the same brush they’d used on Helena. Just because she and her sister looked like carbon copies, people thought they were the same inside. All their lives they’d run into that kind of thinking. Denise Carter was just one example.

  The situation was a mess, Amalie acknowledged. A mess she could do very little about. She didn’t see how she could stop caring about Grant, no matter how hard she tried. Even now, knowing she’d done the right thing, she was acutely disappointed at having passed on the afternoon outing with him.

  Still, the free time was a bonus and she had to make the most of it. She phoned her lawyer, her parents and the boy she’d hired to shovel the walks and take in the mail back home.

  Then she looked up the number for the local library to order the books Davin was interested in. While she had the phone directory out, impulse made her flip to the C section. Carter, Ramsey. His phone number and address were both listed, and she made note of them before slipping on her coat and going out to the car.

  “You are not acting like a sane person,” she told herself as she negotiated unfamiliar streets with the aid of a small map she’d picked up from the information center. After crossing the Illecillewaet River on Fourth Street, she drove as far as the hospital before turning left into an affluent, wooded neighborhood. She found t
he Carters’ house on a crescent that backed onto forest and decided to park a few houses away.

  The house was a story and a half with a double garage. The wood exterior was stained a dark reddish-brown, the trim an attractive deep green. The place looked tidy, well maintained, including the row of cedars that grew along the driveway.

  Who had kept those cedars so perfectly shaped? Likely Ramsey, and she felt a pang for the other life, besides Helena’s, that had been wasted so needlessly.

  Amalie glanced at the digital clock in her car, realizing that it was almost this exact hour that she’d experienced the strange sensation of suffocating at Jeremy Mitchell’s birthday party, just over two weeks ago.

  Oh, Helena. Why did you have to die? You didn’t even like skiing. I know you didn’t. So what were you doing out there?

  Tears fell, and Amalie let them. All her life she’d tried to protect Helena, and all her life she’d failed. Especially after Davin’s birth. It was too easy to blame Helena for not keeping in touch; she herself should have made more effort.

  Privately, she’d always thought it was better for all concerned if Helena stayed away. Now she wondered if she’d been motivated by more selfish reasons than she’d ever admitted to. Maybe she’d been scared of what would happen if Helena ever returned. Maybe she’d been afraid that once Helena saw Davin again she’d want him back.

  Movement at the Carter house forced her thoughts to the present. The front door had opened. Now the little boy she’d seen that morning with Denise came outside, dressed in a hockey shirt and pants, a stick in one hand and a puck in the other. His boots left tracks in the thin film of snow that had fallen since the last time the walks were shoveled. He trudged to the center of the driveway, where a hockey net was positioned against the garage door.

  For a long time he stood there, shoulders slumped, head bowed. Then he put the puck down and with his hockey stick slapped it into the net. In the living room window curtains moved as someone, probably Denise, kept watch over the little guy.

  Immediately, Amalie knew this boy was not used to coming out alone to play hockey. In her mind she pictured his father standing in the net, calling out encouragement while Colin practiced his wrist shot.

  For a moment, she felt a taste of Denise’s rage.

  Oh, Helena, how could you?

  GRANT DELIVERED an exhilarated Davin home shortly after seven. Amalie met them at the door dressed in a pale-gray sweatsuit, worry lines once again on her forehead, the only color in her face the blue of her eyes. Still, she summoned a smile for Davin and helped him pull off his outdoor clothing.

  “Sorry we’re late.” He’d phoned earlier to warn her that Davin wasn’t going to want to quit until it became too dark to snowshoe. Then they’d stopped for burgers at a drive-through.

  “You should have come, Aunty. You wouldn’t believe the size of those trees—what were they called, Grant?”

  “Western red cedars.”

  Davin stretched his arms as far apart as they’d go. “Way bigger than this. We went on two different trails. Snowshoeing is even easier than skiing, but not as much fun.”

  “You’ve got a real athlete here.” Grant patted the boy’s back, then noticed the worry lines were not fading from Amalie’s face. What had happened to get her so tense while they were gone? Or was she upset he’d kept Davin out too late?

  “I’m glad you had fun, but now it’s time to take a shower and head for bed.”

  “Go on if you want, Aunty.” Davin grinned cheekily. “I’ll stay up and talk to Grant.”

  She laughed. It was good to see. A little pink tinged her cheeks, and those lines on her forehead were momentarily smoothed away.

  “Good try.” She swiveled Davin’s shoulders till he was facing the short hall. “Now, march. There are clean towels waiting for you, and don’t forget to brush and floss.”

  Her gaze followed him down the hall. When the door shut, her little spurt of positive energy fizzled. The frown was back, along with an uncharacteristic sag in her shoulders.

  Grant decided to try apologizing again.

  “I hope you weren’t worried.”

  “No. I’m glad you called, though.” She went to the sofa to fold an old afghan that he’d never noticed before. Somehow she ended up sitting, and he sat beside her.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Sure, Grant. I’m fine.”

  She didn’t look at him, though, and he just couldn’t believe her. He didn’t know what to do. Probably he should leave and let her get some rest, but he didn’t think fatigue was getting her down. She was upset, and maybe she needed to talk.

  “So how did you spend your afternoon?”

  “Oh, I made a few phone calls, ran a few errands….”

  She was affecting a bright tone that he’d never heard before. Something was wrong. When she angled her shoulder slightly away from him, he guessed she didn’t want him to see her face.

  “Missing your sister?”

  A small hiccup made him certain she was holding back tears. Instinctively, he put out his arm and drew her close. For a second she softened into him, and he was able to touch her hair, the side of her cheek, with his free hand.

  “I’m sorry, Amalie.”

  She jerked out of his embrace and stood so quickly he wondered if he’d somehow hurt her. He watched as she fiddled with the blinds while the sound of water drumming against porcelain came from the bathroom. Moments later they heard exuberant, youthful vocalizations.

  Amalie managed a smile. “He always sings in the shower. I don’t think he has any idea how sound travels in this small apartment.”

  Grant listened for a moment, trying to make out the tune. “Maybe we should work on singing lessons, now that he’s mastered snowshoes.”

  Amalie looked ready to laugh again, but the sound that came out was a sob. She turned her back to him, raised her hands to her face.

  He was up and across the room in an instant. “Hey, I’m sorry. His voice isn’t that bad.”

  “Oh, Grant…”

  This time she let him hold her longer, even allowing her neck to bend in a little when he circled her shoulders with his arms.

  “Why did Helena come here?” she asked. “Why did she have to die?”

  Grant knew answers weren’t expected. He was glad when she let herself cry a little, but not surprised when she pulled herself together after just a few short minutes.

  “Oh, Lord, this is embarrassing. Now your shirt is damp.”

  He ran his index finger under her eyes, blotting her tears. “I’m not complaining.”

  She smiled, but kept her eyes lowered from his. “Grant…I’ve been thinking.”

  “Don’t.” He pulled her back close, his urge to comfort this woman shifting to something more elemental. “Amalie, look up at me. Let me kiss you.”

  “No.” She lowered her head even farther, but she didn’t push away.

  “Don’t you want to?”

  “Of course I do. But Grant, we can’t just kiss each other because we feel like it.”

  In her earnestness to convince him, she’d raised her head. It was all the opening he needed. Quickly he pressed his lips to hers, just one light touch, that he hoped was preliminary. Then he drew back and checked her expression.

  “Why not?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  AMALIE FELT RELUCTANT, but not resistant, in Grant’s arms. He dared to pull her closer, to bend his head until his lips were an inch from hers.

  She had no answer to his question. And when her eyes shut, he knew he had momentary sway over that stern voice at the back of her head. Perhaps it was her strict parents’ voice, telling her it was wrong to do something just because it was fun.

  Their lips met and joined, and he breathed her in, tasted her, like the fresh warm air that blew off the mountains in the spring. He bundled cool silky hair in one hand, then placed the other in the curve of her lower back.

  That her hands were on him was a joy, too. One at his
neck, one round his waist. Her thumb stroked the side of his jaw as she angled her face, deepening their kiss.

  Then a thundering silence made them realize the water had just been shut off in the shower. She jerked back.

  “I’m such an idiot—” She turned away, paced a few steps, then faced him again.

  Color was all over her face now—a bright, hot pink. It was in her lips and across her cheeks, and even in the hollow at the base of her neck.

  “When will it be safe to recover my sister’s body? I really need to know.”

  “Oh, Amalie…” He was so disappointed he felt he himself could have shed a tear. Barriers. More barriers. Just when he thought they were getting closer, she’d pulled back, retrenching like the soldier she was.

  “You know that’s why we’re here. What we’re waiting for.”

  In other words, he wasn’t to think their relationship was going anywhere. He began to see that he was the one who was acting the fool. When had she ever given him any real encouragement? “I don’t know. There’s been a lot of snow this week.”

  “It never stops, does it?” She sounded bitter now, standing at the window, playing with the blinds again, opening what she’d just recently closed. The room was so dark they could see the white crystals falling slowly through the yellow pool of a nearby streetlight.

  “I can go check out the area tomorrow,” he told her, making a promise he’d rather not have had to make. “I can’t make any guarantee beyond that.”

  “I don’t want to put any lives at risk. But I do want Helena’s body found. Everywhere I turn in this town, I seem to come up with more questions than answers. Maybe Helena will have something on her, some papers or additional identification, that will help me figure out what she was doing here, where she came from, where she was going.”

  The bathroom door slammed. They both turned to see Davin in his pajamas. He must have been more tired from the day than Grant had thought, because his face was white and his eyes were red.

  “I’m going to bed now. Thanks for everything, Grant.”

  Amalie stepped forward. “Want me to tuck you in?”