Little Sister (11 page)

“But where are we going to live?”

“Well, you’re going to live with Aunt May. I have to go back to Philadelphia.”

“I don’t want to live with them.”

“Francie, didn’t Aunt May talk to you? They want you there.”

“You were supposed to live with me. I thought we both were going to stay in the house.”

The lawyer looked at Beth with a grim expression on his face. “I would have thought you might have already talked this over with your sister.”

“Everything has happened so fast,” Beth explained uneasily.

“Well, I think you’ll have to straighten a few things out. You, not her aunt and uncle, are the girl’s legal guardian.”

“I’m sure we can work everything out,” Beth said lamely.

Francie, who was sitting limply in the chair, turned and glared at her sister. She stood up and, without another word, walked out of the lawyer’s office.

Beth got up. “I’ll have to get back to you,” she said to the stem-faced Mr. Blount before she hurried after her sister.

The woman in the outer office tried to usher them out with a pleasant good-bye, but Francie strode through the office, glowering, and slammed the door on Beth. Beth caught it just in time and ran after Francie, who had crossed the street without looking and narrowly missed being clipped by a delivery truck. She ignored the call of the driver, who stopped to make sure she was all right, and continued walking.

Beth ran after her, feeling clumsy in her high-heeled boots. When she caught up to the girl, Francie just kept on walking, “Look,” said Beth, trying to fall into step beside her, “I’m sorry about this. I thought you understood.”

“No,” Francie snapped. “How was I supposed to know?”

“I guess I shouldn’t have assumed,” said Beth. “It’s just that May and James want to have you. Aunt May’s already fixing up a room for you. And I know you don’t want to leave Oldham, and all your friends, school—and Andrew.”

Francie did not speak but kept on walking.

“They are such nice people. You get along with them. And this way you can finish school here, and then, if you go off to college, there will be money from the sale of the house, just waiting for you. You can go anywhere you want.”

“You’ve got it all planned,” Francie muttered.

“Hey,” said Beth with a sigh, “are we going anywhere? I mean, let’s head back to the car. We can talk there.”

Without a word Francie turned and started walking back in the direction of the lawyer’s office. Beth tried again.

“Francie, I don’t know where you got the idea that I would be able to move up here and live with you. I have my own business where I live. A house.” She was about to say “a fiancé,” but she stopped herself short. She did not want to get into that right now. “I just can’t.”

Francie’s face was stiff, as if she were trying to keep any feeling from showing there. “You could if you wanted to,” she said.

Beth felt her face redden at Francie’s accusatory tone. “Well, it’s just not possible, and that’s it. I wish you hadn’t started thinking that. If I’d have known what you were thinking, I would have said something right away. Honestly, it’s not as if I were throwing you to the wolves. You’ll be with people who care about you, right where you’re used to living.”

They had reached the car, and Francie pulled the door open and hunched up in the front seat without a word. Beth went around and got in on the driver’s side. “I’m sorry, Francie. Really. I’m sorry that this came as such a shock to you. I’m sure that in a day or two—”

“He said you would take care of me. That you would stay with me if anything happened to him.”

Beth’s face turned white. She stared at Francie. “Who said?”

“Daddy. He said you would.”

Beth felt as if her heart were being crushed like a nut in a nutcracker. It was an old, familiar feeling. “Doesn’t that figure?” she said tightly. “Isn’t that typical of him? Telling everybody else what to do and how to do it. Never mind what I want. Never mind how I might feel about things. What difference does it make what plans I might have made? No, no, just go ahead and dictate, and heaven help you if you don’t see it his way—”

“Can we go?” Francie muttered. Beth started the car without another word, and they drove home in silence, not looking at each other.

When they reached the house, Francie went immediately up to her room. Beth followed her inside wearily. The house was quiet. She sat down in the living room, rubbing her forehead, and then she picked up the local paper and tried to read it. Nothing in it was remotely interesting to her. The living room seemed gloomy, and she felt a stab of homesickness for her cheerful house and then, immediately after that, for Mike. Suddenly she knew just what she wanted to do. She went into the kitchen and closed the door behind her. She dialed his number and stood there waiting, sure that she would get his service but hoping against hope that he might be there.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” she said to the faraway voice. “Am I tearing you away from something?”

“For you, anytime,” he said.

Beth felt a rush of happiness and curled herself into the rocker with the patched seat, twining the cord around her wrist. “How’s it going?”

Mike gave her a rundown on his cases, just as he would if they were sitting together in her kitchen. It sounded as if he had had one crisis after another the last few days.

“Are you beat?” she asked.

“Me, beat? Nah,” he scoffed. “Just mildly exhausted. How about you? You sound tired.”

She could picture the strong face, sagging a little with fatigue, eyes thoughtful with concern for her. “We’ll be a great pair when we get back together. All we’ll want to do is sleep.”

“Wait till you see how fast I recuperate once I get my arms around you,” he said.

Beth smiled. “Good.”

“So, what’s happening? How’s progress coming on straightening things out up there?”

“Well, we hit a snag today.”

“Oh?”

“It seems that little sister and I had our signals crossed about the next phase.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we went to the lawyer’s, and it seems as though Francie thought that my program was to give up my life in Philly and come up here and mind her in the old homestead,” Beth said sarcastically.

She waited for Mike to comment, but there was just silence from the other end.

“So”—she went on less confidently—“I had to break the news to her that I was only here for the cleanup, and that I would be heading back as soon as possible, and that she is going to be living with her aunt and uncle.”

“Oh.”

“This is all my father’s fault really. He told her I would come live with her if anything happened to him. I couldn’t believe it when she told me that. That’s typical of him.”

“It must have really thrown her. Was she very upset?”

Beth’s temper flared at the question. “I suppose so,” she said coldly. “But it’s not my fault. My father was the one who went ahead and offered my services.”

“Well, I know. But she was counting on you.”

“Oh, fine. All right,” said Beth. “Maybe I’ll just dump my business and sell my house and come up here to live. Maybe if I’m lucky, I can get my father’s old job at the electric company.”

“No, no one’s asking you to do that, but there are other possibilities.”

Beth pursed her lips and chewed the inside of her mouth, staring out the kitchen window.

“Why don’t you bring her to Philly? She could live with us.”

“Live with us? Great. Now you’re the one who is offering my services. Terrific. Did it ever occur to you that I might not want to do that?”

“I’m just trying to offer a possible solution. And I’m not offering your services. I said ‘us’, and I meant it. I’ll help out in any way I can. She’ll be a part of our family.”

“I don’t believe this,” said Beth, jumping up from the rocker and pacing the room. “You’re just like him. Telling me what to do. Doesn’t anyone realize that it’s my life we’re talking about?” Beth could hear her voice turning shrill and defensive, but she could not prevent the nasty, bitter words from tumbling out. It was as if he had pressed a button that opened some kind of garbage chute.

“I have to admit I don’t understand your attitude,” he said. “She’s your sister after all. All right, so you didn’t get along with your dad. And I can see why you might be angry at the way he handled the whole thing, but what I don’t understand is how you can be so closed-minded about this girl. She’s only a kid. She’s now lost both her parents.”

“You’re right,” said Beth. “You don’t understand.”

“What is it? Some kind of leftover sibling rivalry or something? You’re an adult. She needs you.”

Beth felt angry tears springing to her eyes. “It’s been a big help talking to you,” she said resentfully, although her voice was thick.

Mike sighed. “All right, let’s drop it for now. Maybe we should talk again when you are feeling better.”

Beth remained stubbornly silent and then heard a click. “I don’t believe it,” she said, holding the phone away from her. “He hung up.”

“Beth, I’m still here,” said Mike.

She held the phone to her ear, although her hand was shaking. If he hadn’t hung up, then it meant that someone had hung up the other phone in the house. Francie had heard the whole conversation. Beth could feel her face suddenly get hot, as if she had been caught stealing something.

“What was that? Your sister on the phone?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Beth with an indifference she did not feel.

“Well, there’s no talking to you now,” he said wearily.

“So hang up,” she said. “I’m going to. Good-bye.” She slammed the phone down on the hook and flopped back down into the rocking chair. She didn’t know whether she wanted to cry or to throw something. She stared at the receiver, hoping that it would ring, that he would call back, but the phone was still. She wasn’t surprised, not after that conversation. Once she walked over and lifted the receiver. She heard voices. She replaced it without listening and sat back down in the chair as the twilight turned to dark.

BY THE TIME BETH WOKE UP
and came downstairs the next morning Francie was already gone. The house was quiet, and there was evidence in the kitchen, from some bread crumbs and bologna skins left on the counter, that Francie had made her lunch to take to school.

Beth forced herself to clean up the kitchen and make some coffee. She had hardly slept for thinking about Mike, wondering if this was truly the end of it. Around dawn she had decided that it probably was. His opinion of her was obviously so low that he would never want to resume their relationship. After all, he hadn’t called back. And for her part, she could not ever marry a man who tried to tell her what to do anyway. These thoughts had raced through her head until the morning’s gray light brought a fitful sleep.

Now, groggy and low-spirited, she did not want to think about it. She thought about calling her office to see how things were going but decided against it. Maxine had her number. Any problems that might come up would find their way to her ear soon enough.

She looked around the house in disgust. She still had to clean it out, and the project seemed more daunting to her than creating an entire building did at work. Well, she thought, it will give you something to do. You don’t have to think. Picking up an armload of brown grocery bags from the kitchen broom closet, Beth decided to start on the hall closets, clean them first, and then move on to the other rooms.

Grimly she set about her task, crouching down in the dusty closets and sorting through a lifetime of belongings. She had several bags for garbage, a pile for the church bazaar, and another small pile for things which she and Francie might want to keep or give to her aunt and uncle.

After a couple of hours of methodical sifting and discarding, her back ached, and her brain seemed equally tired. The mental strain was as great as the physical. She had to be ruthless about the baggage of the past, trying not to feel guilty as she discarded family memories, however bittersweet they might be.

Straightening up, Beth was proud to see that she had knocked off all the downstairs closets, except for the kitchen, and most of the upstairs. Closets were the worst. She brushed the dust balls off her sweatshirt and jeans. Closets were the resting places for everyone else’s indecision.

She knew she should finish her parents’ room next, but she was out of paper bags and in need of packing boxes. After going downstairs, she looked out the window. There was a light snow falling, although it was barely visible against the pearl gray of the sky. Beth debated for a minute, then pulled on her high school parka, which she had found in her closet, and plucked the car keys from the top of the refrigerator. She could just take a run to the 7-Eleven and see if it had any boxes.

Shutting the door behind her, Beth stepped out into the cold gray day. The air felt refreshing to her after a morning of rooting through dark, close spaces, and on an impulse she decided to walk to the store. The snow drifted lightly down and brushed her gently as she set off up the street toward the center of town.

Alternately walking and jogging, Beth made her way past the row of stores to the 7-Eleven at the end of the route. If they don’t have any boxes, she thought, I can stop by Hale’s on the way home, but she felt that the convenience store was the sort of place that had a more thriving business and more frequent deliveries.

The glass front of the 7-Eleven was steamed up, and there were only a few cars parked out front. Beth went in and was met by a blast of warm air that nearly chapped her cheeks on the spot. She was greeted by the same heavyset man whom she had seen there the day she got off the bus. “What can I do for you?” he asked pleasantly.

“Well,” said Beth, “I have a favor to ask. I’m packing up my family house, and I need some boxes. I was wondering if—”

The man waved a pink, beefy hand. “No problem. I’ve got a bunch in the back. Bring ’em right out.”

“Thank you,” said Beth.

The man left the counter and headed for the back of the store. “I’ll be with you in a minute,” he said to a customer he passed, who appeared to be heading for the register.