Sister Dear (17 page)

Emma got up and paced the room, glancing at the magazine and newspaper clippings she'd tacked to the wall. Feature stories on clients, interviews with local business owners she worked with, and an article about her mother's garden club.

Sometimes it took looking at the situation in reverse, doing the opposite of what she expected might work. Emma stopped and zeroed in on the newsprint, an idea forming in her head.

With a burst of inspiration, Emma sat down and did a quick Internet search. It took all of ten seconds to find the article she wanted. As she hit print and watched the paper slide from the machine, Emma reached for the page, brought it down to her lap.

She read and reread. Gripping the paper, her mind whirred with possibilities. This one thing, this reminder from the past, could help Emma make things right. Instead of shielding everyone from her sister, perhaps she should force Caroline and Allie together.

The discomfort would be temporary, and certainly everyone, including Caroline, would manage to get through it. The theory was well worth testing.

Then, from the corner of her eye, Emma noticed the screen of her cell light up. She'd had the ringer off for the past few hours, concentrating on her deadline. She grasped the phone and tapped at the call history. Emma had missed four calls from her mother in the last thirty minutes. Her skin prickled. Was something wrong? What had happened?

Taking a breath, Emma listened to the voice mail. Her father was out to dinner with friends, her mother explained. He'd been golfing all day, and she felt lonely. Did Emma want to get together?

Relief flooded Emma's body. There was no crisis. No drama.
For once.

When Emma called back, her mother picked up on the first ring. Emma suggested a drive to St. Simons, where they might catch a glimpse of dolphins playing in the waves along the shore and watch the sun set in the horizon over the Atlantic. They could spend the hours, she added, under the shade of a covered restaurant patio, sipping frozen drinks.

But her mother had opted for privacy and asked that they spend a quiet evening in the comfort of Emma's backyard. It was a lovely evening to be outside, Emma thought, under the canopy of her magnolia trees, with their curved branches, creamy-white blossoms, and glossy green leaves. And she could keep an eye on Caroline, who'd been quiet and pensive since her date with Russell.

It wasn't a complete surprise—her mother's sudden interest in
solace and privacy. Since Allie's release, her mother had postponed all social activities for the near future, pleading that she needed to tend her garden or had “projects” at home. Emma understood, however, that avoiding everyone in a thirty-mile radius shielded her mother from most public scrutiny and gossip.

Both of her parents had always dealt with uncomfortable situations this way. Emma had half expected her mother to flee the country, but perhaps she was trying—this time—to handle things differently.

“How is everything?” her mother asked after a sip of wine, watching a pair of industrious bees. They buzzed in unison, hovering and ducking in and out of deep red hibiscus blossoms.

Emma raised her glass, swirling the liquid. “Caroline's still freaked out about Allie being home. She's already had a tough week with Jake breaking up with her. And one of her best friends—you know Maddie, right? She's been ignoring her.”

“Bless her heart,” her mother said. “The poor girl. It's the last thing she needs.”

With a frown, Emma crossed her arms over her chest, hugging them to her body. She'd been thinking about Maddie, dwelling on the girl's cruelty. How could she drop Caroline like this? It was time Maddie was taught a lesson.

“So, what about her trying to spend some time with Allie?”

“I've talked to her a lot about this. Almost every night.” Emma pursed her lips. “Caroline is freaked out. Her life's all upside down, and I know she blames a lot of it on her mom getting out of prison. Right now she just wants to stay away from Allie.”

Her mother drew a breath. She blinked and looked away. “Oh dear,” she murmured, pursing her lips. “Allie—well, she won't be happy.”

“I know,” Emma sighed. “I'm taking it day by day. Caroline is fragile right now, she needs time, and some stability. It's all so new, with Allie back. It has to feel like she's been dropped onto another planet.”

“Well, I'll let you handle it, dear,” her mother said. “No one's spent more time with Caroline. You know best.”

“Thank you,” Emma said, the words swelling her heart a full size larger. Her parents had never lauded her with much praise in high school and her college years. She was going to soak up every minute now. She deserved it, after all. She'd earned it.

“I know that you'll help her make the right decisions.”

“I will.” And she would. About Caroline. Allie. Emma gritted her teeth. Even that Maddie. She stretched her arms overhead, releasing some of the tension in her shoulders as her mother took another sip of wine.

“So, let me tell you what I'm planning with the landscaping at the house.” Her mother smiled and set down her glass. “I've decided that we need to plant some hydrangeas . . .”

Listening to her mother change the subject without missing a beat, Emma realized they were done talking about anything personal. Anything difficult. It was a “wave the flag” visit. A show of concern. Something to check off the list.

It was fine. Emma could play the game too.

She'd done it her whole life, and it had finally paid off, as far as her parents were concerned. Now she was the good girl. The one who made her father and mother proud. The stars had finally aligned, but in her favor this time.

“Don't you think so, dear?”

Her mother's question snapped Emma out of her thoughts.

“Yes, definitely,” Emma said, mustering some enthusiasm and hoping it was the right answer.

Her mother's face dissolved from concern into a slow smile. “Good, I thought so too.”

And her mother kept right on talking.

After another hour, Emma kissed her mother good night. It had been a pleasant evening, but one that had taken effort. Emma was drained from smiling politely, from nodding and paying close attention to her mother's talk about shoes and people from church.

As her mother drove away, taillights getting smaller in the dark night, Emma allowed her shoulders to relax. Overhead, the moon grew brighter, shining like a pearl against black velvet. Stars dotted the sky, winking as cicadas and crickets chirped in unison.

It was nights like these that made her love Brunswick. She felt safe. After her mother's visit, she felt loved. She'd prayed for so long for her parents to see her as the favorite daughter. Finally, this dream had come true.

With a final glance around the yard, Emma climbed the front steps, let herself inside the house. She wandered by Caroline's room; the door was cracked an inch. Her niece had fallen asleep, a novel on her chest. Tonight she looked at peace. What she wouldn't give to see that every day on Caroline's face.

Her eyes fell on the picture frame that housed a photo of a smiling Maddie and Caroline, arm in arm at a school football game. Her skin prickled as she walked over and picked it up. She needed to take care of this little problem—once and for all. Once she was finished, Maddie would come crawling back to Caroline, whether she wanted to or not.

Emma tucked the frame under her arm and plucked two other small snapshots of Maddie that had been tacked to a board filled with movie ticket stubs, bumper stickers, and high school memorabilia.

She examined all three on the way to her office, deciding on the one she liked best. After dumping the two others in the trash,
frame and all, Emma opened her scanner and inserted the photo of Maddie. While the machine whirred to life, Emma clicked a few icons on her computer screen, bringing up the program she used to edit images.

Tomorrow, everyone, like it or not, would focus on Maddie Anderson.

TWENTY-THREE

ALLIE

2016

When her alarm burst into trills Monday morning, Allie tapped the button to silence the noise and rolled out of bed to stretch. For the first time in forever, the day didn't loom ahead with a sense of shadowy dread. She had a job. A purpose. One step closer to a normal life.

Allie brewed herself a pot of coffee, inhaling the rich, nutty fragrance as the machine bubbled and percolated. After pouring herself a cup and doctoring it with creamer, Allie took a sip, letting the sweet liquid soothe her throat, still scratchy from sleep. Holding the steaming mug with both hands, she stepped into her front room and glanced outside.

In typical fashion, many of the houses on her street and around town were in full swing, decorated for the football season. Banners streamed from windows, flags flew from posts. In many yards, large wooden placards were painted with players' jersey numbers and the “Go Wolverines!” slogan.

She moved to the next window, reached for the cord to open the blinds and allow the morning sunshine to warm the room. As
she tugged gently, the shade rose, folding neatly in place. From the corner of her eye, Allie noticed a bright red rectangle among the sea of black and silver, erected in her own yard on a sturdy wooden post. A sign.

A For Sale sign.

With a lump wedged deep in her throat, Allie flung open the front door and raced down the steps in her nightshirt and shorts. Despite the warmth of the morning air, goose bumps raised on her bare arms and ankles. She shivered and surveyed the huge white letters on the display.

Then she smelled something rank and awful. Her eyes began to water and sting. Allie covered her nose and mouth with one hand and backed away. Someone—whoever had taken the time to place the For Sale sign in her front yard, maybe someone else—had also deposited animal waste across the freshly cut grass.

The brown piles lay in clumps, spaced every few feet.

Allie's stomach contracted with disgust. She held her breath and tried not to vomit, pressing with her free hand on her abdomen.

The sound of a car door slamming jolted Allie from her state of shock. She looked up in time to see the neighbors staring at her and the mess on her lawn. The couple, a young woman and her husband, bent their heads together to talk. They both looked away when they caught Allie's glance.

Meanwhile, the owner of the house next door had shuffled to the front sidewalk to retrieve the morning paper. Allie swung her head to glance in her direction. The older woman bent down to pick up the plastic sleeve and its contents. When she straightened, she noticed Allie and the sign. She frowned at Allie, then scowled to herself.

Allie didn't wait to see more. She sprinted back into her house, pulled on sweatpants, a jacket, and hat and then gathered a shovel,
plastic gloves, and two large trash bags. She willed herself to ignore everything else and keep focused on the task at hand. With the best invisible barrier she could muster between herself and the world, Allie stepped back outside.

Though she was hurt, the prank only served to fuel Allie's determination to prove her innocence and protect herself and her daughter. The killer was still out there. Who else would go to such lengths to publically shame and scare her?

As she entered her bathroom and stripped off her clothes, only one name, one face, came to mind.

Sheriff Lee Gaines.

Allie stepped into the shower, scrubbing and rinsing as if she could wash away the hurt. After thirty minutes of hot water, steam, and plenty of soap, Allie felt semi-human again. She pulled on a pair of navy scrubs, gathered her hair up in a loose ponytail, and arrived fifteen minutes early for her first day of work, determined to shake off the lingering unease over this morning's incident.

Natalie drove up and parked at the office moments after Allie arrived. She jumped out of her car, juggling a stack of magazines and steaming hot coffee. “Hey there. Right on time. I like that.”

“I'm ready to go,” Allie replied with a nervous smile. “Can I help?”

Natalie handed over veterinary journals and a few books. “My office,” she told Allie. “Thanks. Give me just a sec. Want to grab the blue bag out of the trunk?”

Allie walked around to the back of the car while Natalie punched in a code.

“Anything else?” she asked, shaking off the tightening in her throat. It would be odd, working here, strange at first. Allie had known everything before. Every code, lock, and key. It was a matter of trust, she told herself, and she hadn't done a thing to earn it. Not yet.

Natalie flicked on the lights. Allie followed her down the hallway. The walls and floors had been scrubbed clean and smelled of lemon.

“We've got an easy schedule today. Just a few patients. Later in the week, things get busier. We'll have some boarders this weekend.”

“Wonderful,” Allie replied. “That's really good to hear.”

Natalie paused at the doorway to her office. “I've been doing a lot of thinking about your role here, Allie.” She took the blue bag from Allie and set it on a chair. “How we should work things.”

“All right,” Allie answered, a pang of nervous energy in her chest.

“Let's keep it simple. I'll handle the patients, for the most part. My husband will be here to answer the phone this morning,” Natalie said. “The delivery truck should be here in thirty minutes. You can organize that, check the exam rooms, and fill in what's needed.”

Allie nodded.

“By the way, none of this is a punishment,” Natalie added. “Let people get used to me, first, and the new office. Then we can let them know you're here too. One step at a time.

“I understand,” Allie replied. “Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity.”

Natalie opened her mouth, but hesitated when a beep sounded, signaling someone opening the back door. A rangy man with dark, close-cut hair, loaded down with delivery boxes, met them halfway. He wore work clothes, a flannel shirt, and beige Carhart pants torn at the knees.