by Leigh, Tara
As the seconds tick by, emotions flash across her face like the screen of a drive-through movie theater. Hatred. Jealousy. And then I see something else, too. More than just a twitch of her lips, a glimmer in her eye. Pride.
A wave of nausea slams into me. Tucker and Sadie. Tucker and Sadie. Tuckerandsadie.
Tuckerandsadie.
But then she blinks, and for a moment I see past all of it. I see my sister. The one person I’ve always felt closest to, like we are two halves of the same whole. The only stability Sadie and I have ever had has been each other. Growing up, I shielded Sadie. Cared for her, protected her. And for the past year, during my pregnancy and after, when I was broken and empty, I thought she was doing the same for me. Returning the favor… in spades. Out of love.
When did her motivation change?
Because this, whatever this is, goes beyond mere sibling rivalry. Sadie isn’t looking at me like a sister now. I am an obstacle in her path. A barrier to be breached.
An adversary.
“Yes,” she finally confirms. “Someone had to step in. You lost your mind, remember? Could barely get out of bed, certainly couldn’t be the wife Tucker deserved. I needed to do everything for you. Buy your prescriptions, force you into the shower, practically spoon feed you, for God’s sake.
“Some of the drugs you were prescribed couldn’t be picked up by anyone but you. Kinda hard when you refused to leave the apartment. So Tucker got me a credit card in your name and borrowed your license. All so I could take care of you.
“You thought you were so smart for getting into Worthington, so special for landing a guy like Tucker. But you didn’t deserve him then, and you still don’t. You got drunk and threw yourself at him, then you acted all holier than thou and treated him like a thug. How dare you!”
I feel like the wind’s been knocked out of me. I never told her about that night. “How do you—”
“Tucker told me. He doesn’t keep secrets from me, unlike you. It used to hurt when you kept things from me. But you know what, I stopped caring. I’ve had a secret of my own for months now, and you haven’t even noticed. Serves you right, sis.”
Spreading my palms flat on the cool marble countertop, I am so stunned by her cruelty that it jars loose a memory. Bright and vivid, it overpowers everything else.
Sadie, in a small speedboat, appearing out of nowhere. Tucker and I had been talking. Or rather, I had been talking to him. He was distracted, and I was trying to get his attention. I wanted him to agree to a divorce.
I lift both hands to my face, massaging my temples as though I can rub away the pain slicing through my skull. “It was you,” I repeat, as if by saying it again, the awful truth will sink in. “This whole time. It was you.”
“Of course, it was me. I swear, I can’t believe you never figured it out. Actually, no,” Sadie says with an almost manic chortle, “what I can’t believe is that Tucker was ever into you in the first place.”
Her condescending tone is a spray of salt on my wounds. “So you decided to take my place?”
“Ha! That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not a replacement. I’m the newer, better model. You couldn’t hold his attention, or his babies. It was only a matter of time before he got rid of you, anyway.”
Sadie’s words are well-aimed arrows, the sharpened tips dipped in poison. Penetrating to the bone. Worse, so much worse, than the shards of glass doctors had spent hours picking from my skin. Those wounds will heal, most not even leaving a scar. But the cuts Sadie is inflicting now, these will stay with me forever.
The room blurs and I begin backing up, wanting to keep the kitchen island between us. “You really know how to kick me where it counts, Sadie.”
She shrugs. “It’s your fault we’re in this mess. If you had just gone with us like we wanted, none of this would be happening.”
“What do you mean? Why would I go anywhere with either of you?”
“Tucker tried to tell you about the business, about what would happen. But you refused to listen. He made plans, for all of us. New identities. Plenty of money. We would have had a nice life.”
“A nice life, on the run from the US government and the criminals Tucker stole from—with my cheating husband and sister? Really?”
“You’re so fucking selfish. Everything has to revolve around you.”
Another memory, an extension of the other one, appears like a ghost, whispering at the edges of my mind.
Raised voices. Breaking glass. Falling. Pain. Then darkness.
“So you hit me in the head and pushed me into a pile of glass?”
“No one hit you. You tried to take control of the boat and you fell. There was blood everywhere. Tucker tried to pick you up and bring you into the other boat, and his hands got cut up from the glass too. The only way he would leave was if I agreed to drop him off and come back for you.”
I scoff at her attempt to rewrite history. “Don’t even. I was found alone, remember?”
“Only because the yacht captain was worried about a weather pattern coming up the coast. He sent his crew out looking for you and Tucker. By the time I came back for you, you had been airlifted to the hospital.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, trying to organize Sadie’s self-centered commentary and my scattered memories into a cohesive timeline. “Why didn’t you leave then? Why bother coming to check on me?”
“I thought about it. But I decided to find out if you had said anything first. And when the nurse told me you’d been unconscious since you were found, I decided to stick around and convince you to stay quiet.”
“But… I didn’t remember anything.”
“An unexpected stroke of good luck. But then you had to go and hire Reese Reynolds. Making noise about Tucker faking his own death and having an accomplice. Fuck, Poppy. If it wasn’t for you, I would be lying on a beach somewhere with Tucker right now.”
She puts a hand to her belly, the corners of her mouth lifting into an eerie smile. “I’m giving him the family you couldn’t.”
The breath leaves my lungs in a rush and I lean against the nearest wall, quickly, before my trembling legs give out. My sister is going to give birth to Tucker’s baby.
And yet somehow, her betrayal isn’t as sharp a surprise as it should be. “You told me this. On the boat.”
“Yes.” She releases a humorless laugh. “I think that’s when you knocked the champagne glasses out of the basket.”
An uncomfortable silence descends. Where do we go from here? Except the we in this situation isn’t me and Sadie. Her allegiance is to Tucker now. And if she wants him, she can have him. Which is exactly what I say. “You can have him, Sadie. Just go.”
But Sadie only shakes her head. “I don’t trust you, sis.”
“What other choice do you have? I’m not going with you.”
Her stare narrows as it drifts to a spot just over my head, a look of resignation settling over her features. “No, you’re not.”
The sun outside the window shifts, as if sliding out from behind a cloud, momentarily bathing my sister in soft white light and reminding me of my final moments with my babies. Our last goodbye.
And with it, reality finally hits home. I can’t let Sadie go. No matter how badly she betrayed me, she is still my sister. Tucker will be caught, and if he’s caught by the man from the other night… A shiver of fear shakes my spine. Sadie might not make it out alive. “If you go to Tucker now, you’ll be running for the rest of your life. You’ll never be safe.”
Sadie’s eyes blaze with fire as she slams her hand against the kitchen counter. “See. I knew it. You don’t want him, but you won’t let me have him either.”
My phone is in my bedroom. Damn it. I push off the wall, turning my back on Sadie. “Believe what you want, but I’m calling the police. It’s for your own good.”
I don’t get two steps before I hear it, the sound of Sadie pulling a knife from the wood block beside the stove.
When I spin around, the sight
of my sister bearing down on me, stainless steel blade glinting in her hand, seems like a dream. A terrible, terrible nightmare.
“Sadie, what the hell?” I squeak, backing away from her.
“I won’t let you ruin all of my plans.” Her face is a vengeful mask, almost unrecognizable from the sister I know.
Correction: the sister I thought I knew.
“So what, you’re going to kill me?” I’m stalling, trying to buy time. Sadie is a Soul Cycle addict, small but fast. And she hasn’t been dealing with a head injury and multiple lacerations all over her back. If she lunges, I am a goner. Somehow, I need to talk my way out of this.
“That’s the idea, although, of course, I’ll make it look like a suicide. I mean, it would be understandable, right? Your life is a complete train wreck. Husband a criminal who’s gone missing. Assets frozen. Police questioning your involvement. Plus, there’s your unhappy marriage to Tucker, and your miscarriage. Twins, so a double whammy.” She speaks in a singsong voice, moving closer.
“You know what, you’re right. Tucker is waiting for you. Why don’t you just leave now? I won’t say anything, I promise.”
“Liar,” she spits. “You’re such a goody-two shoes, Poppy. Always have been. I wouldn’t make it halfway down the corridor before you called the police on me. No. This is the way it has to be. You have to die.”
My instincts kick in. I lash out with my forearm, knocking into Sadie’s wrist and sending the knife skittering across the polished wood floors. Bone collides with bone and we both yelp, looking at each other in surprise. Sadie recovers first, spinning around to grab for the knife. I should probably race back to my room and barricade myself behind a locked door, but instead I pounce on my sister, jumping onto her back and sending us both sprawling.
“Ooof,” she gasps, sucking wind.
The knife in sight, I army-crawl over her prone body to get it. Barely an inch away, my fingers outstretched for the handle, Sadie rears up, flopping me onto my back. Explosions of pain light up along my still healing skin, my skull smacking the hard floor. The edges of my vision blur, but not enough that I don’t see Sadie wrap her hand around the knife and straddle me, her face flushed with exertion and rage.
“Get. Off. Me.” I grunt, the pain in my head and back negated by a rush of adrenaline.
“Not a chance,” she says, reaching for one of my flailing arms. “Just two quick cuts, you’ll barely feel it. I’ll throw you in a tub, stage it like a suicide. By the time your body is found, I’ll be sipping daiquiris on a beach with Tucker.” Sadie cackles. “Virgin for me, of course.”
This isn’t happening. I can’t be fighting off my depraved lunatic of a sister who is intent on killing me to run off and join my husband.
But I am.
Swatting away Sadie’s attempts to capture my hands, one of my nails draws a diagonal slash across her cheek. “Fuck!” she screams, holding a hand to her injured face as she stares at me accusingly.
“Let’s just stop, okay? Right now.” I freeze, my palms outstretched to block the knife still pointed my way. “This is crazy, Sadie. We’re sisters—no guy should ever come between us.”
And at that moment—just before the thunderous sound of the front door crashing open, wood splintering around a booted foot, hinges being ripped from the frame—I see Sadie give the slightest shake of her head before drawing back the knife intending, I know without a shadow of a doubt, to kill me.
She never gets the chance.
Gavin points his gun, shouting for Sadie to drop the knife. My arms are shaking, fighting a losing battle to keep her from plunging it into my chest. Even so, I risk a glance Gavin’s way. Just in time, I catch the almost imperceptible narrowing of his eyes, the clenching of his jaw. I don’t have to see his finger twitch to know he is going to shoot my sister.
“No!” I scream, flinging myself up in an adrenaline-fueled burst of strength and wrapping my arms around her.
There is an explosion of pain in my right shoulder as Sadie and I jerk from the strength of the bullet that tears through both of us.
The knife clatters to the floor as Sadie’s grip loosens, the two of us coming to rest in a tangled heap, our blood a fast-moving river heading toward the discarded blade.
Epilogue
Sackett, Connecticut
Three years later, Poppy
We are the only ones at the cemetery this morning, and Valentina’s tiny hand is soft and damp inside my own. “Belly Mama is here?” she asks, looking around the forest of gray headstones, most of them taller than she is. We’ve been coming to visit Sadie’s grave once a month since her burial, but Valentina’s only just begun stringing words together into sentences, and these are hard words to hear.
My throat tightens as I struggle to swallow the enormous lump of remorse blocking my vocal chords. “No, sweetheart,” I finally manage. “Belly Mama is in Heaven. But she’s always smiling down on you, and I know she’ll love the bouquet you picked for her.” A riotous assortment of wildflowers is clutched within her other hand, already wilting from the unusual heat and humidity of the morning.
Valentina’s face brightens, and my heart immediately swells in response. It is a feeling I should be used to by now, after two and a half years with her. But somehow, every time I think I cannot possibly love this beautiful, mischievous, curious little imp more than I already do… I feel a surge of the purest love, so strong it nearly blows me over.
I cannot bring myself to hate my sister. She is Valentina’s Belly Mama, after all. Even on that unthinkably awful day, I would have given my life to protect hers, and very nearly had. Luckily, the bullet that went straight through my shoulder had only grazed Sadie’s abdomen. Another couple of inches to the left and we would both be dead. I still shudder to think of how close I’d come to never being given the gift of Valentina. Despite everything, I consider myself truly blessed.
Gavin and I live a quiet life with Valentina now, in Sackett. It’s changed a lot since we were in school here. It still has a cozy New England vibe, but a burst of new construction in the past ten years has added new life to the old town. They even incorporated the school system into one district.
Last year, on one of our trips to the cemetery where I chose to bury Sadie, the same cemetery Gavin and I had explored as teenagers, we saw a sign for an Open House. A charming colonial that backed up to the nature preserve where Gavin and I first met and fell in love. We made it our home the very next month.
The life I shared with Tucker seems light years removed from the one I live now. My days are simple, trimmed of all the negativity and self-doubt that once cluttered my mind. Every choice I make is governed by love, and it is a flawless moral compass.
We find Sadie’s headstone, which is right beside the headstone for my twins. They are buried together, just as they shared my womb together.
Tucker had wanted to bury them beside his parents, but I refused. We both dug our heels in, the last spark of our doomed marriage. Sadie had stuck up for me, I remember. Telling Tucker that it might help me process my grief if I chose their final resting place. So now, they all sleep beneath the stars together.
One day, when Valentina can understand, I will tell her about her angel siblings. But for now, I press a kiss to their stone as Valentina lays her flowers on the grass in front of Sadie’s. There is no epitaph, just the facts. My sister’s name and the years of her birth and death. Valentina runs her still pudgy fingers along the inscribed letters and numbers. Announcing each one in a proud baby voice. Eth. Ay. Dee…
Sadie didn’t die from her bullet wound, or Valentina wouldn’t be here with me. My sister received stitches and was sent to prison to await trail. Her lawyer asked for remand, offering Sadie’s help locating Tucker if they allowed her to remain free until trial. But at the last minute, Sadie decided not to cooperate, holding out hope that she would be acquitted of all charges and then be free to join Tucker… wherever he was.
Wren was arrested for trafficking in sto
len art. In exchange for a suspended sentence, she flipped on Tucker and shared everything she knew about his money laundering. And she knew a lot. The clients he got involved with, in an effort to hide losses on Stockton Capital’s balance sheet and stave off critics who said the company had been better off under his father’s leadership, were Wren’s first. She made the introductions, a way of proving that herself to Tucker. Such hubris, all of them.
During the final days of Sadie’s pregnancy, Tucker was located. As it turns out, even in countries with no extradition treaties, locals are suspicious of Americans who throw their money around. His crimes were reported all over the world, alongside his picture. But it wasn’t the United States government that found him, much to Gavin’s chagrin. No, he was found—and killed—by the men he stole from, maybe even by the man who came into my bedroom in the middle of the night.
I haven’t been able to bring myself to look at the images that are too gruesome to be shown on network television, but are all too accessible online. Gavin assures me we are safe. Apparently, they reclaimed most, if not all, of the money Tucker had managed to hide overseas, and then they killed the man who had sinned against them. They might be murderers, but above all, they are businessmen. Hurting any of us would gain them nothing.
Just before Sadie gave birth, she begged me to raise her child. Her dream of a life with Tucker was gone, her conviction was inevitable, and she couldn’t bear the thought of her son or daughter entering the foster care system. Neither could I. I took custody of Valentina mere hours later, choosing her name for its meaning—brave. And because she had the most perfect, heart-shaped face I’d ever seen.
We hadn’t even arrived home before my phone rang with the news that Sadie had killed herself. She’d been on suicide watch for most of her pregnancy, crushed by the loss of the idyllic life she had envisioned with Tucker. But Sadie had loved the child they made together, and I’m eternally grateful she managed to hold on long enough to see her safely delivered. Even so, the news was a shock, and for the first few months of Valentina’s life, I felt like I had murdered my sister and kidnapped her daughter. But as time went on, and we racked up milestones together—first smile, first laugh, first tooth, first steps, first word—Valentina and I became mother and daughter, in every way except for her birth.