The Christmas Sisters (18 page)

Petie
took a dramatically deep breath then tipped her head up, her eyes imploring. “You have to understand I'd never have done this kind of thing under normal circumstances.”

Sam turned to Nic. “I shudder to think what qualifies as 'normal circumstances' in this family.”

Petie
didn’t
so
much as flinch at his remark. “But Park and I, well, the lines of communication have constricted somewhat this last year, what with both kids gone off to college.”

“You know that's not all that unusual,
Petie
.” If Sam had been sitting closer, he'd have given her a reassuring pat. “You've heard about the empty-nest syndrome.”

“Empty nest?
Of course.”
Nic sighed.

Though he faced away from her, Sam could feel her relief in the way the couch sagged as the tension left her body.

“Your little chicks have flown the coop,
Petie
.” Nic gave a light flap of her hands like birds taking flight. “That's why you've been all on edge and unfocused these past few months.”

“Me? “
Petie’s
gaze narrowed like a laser beam on Nic, her lips thinned as she demanded, “When did this get to be about
me
?”

“When is it ever
not
about you?” Collier let out a burst of laughter, then got that deer-in-the-headlights look on her face as if she probably
just
realized what she'd said, who she'd said it about, and that she'd said it out loud. “I, uh, I didn't mean that as an insult, of course.”

“No, of course not, why would I take it as one?”
Petie
went so stiff it looked like even the hint of a smile would crack her face, like one of those masks that women wore for their complexions. “You are only taking a very painful situation in my life and using it as a springboard to
loose
your pent-up vindictiveness against me.”

“I never—”

“A springboard to
loose
pent-up vindictiveness?”
Nic was off the couch and striding across the floor. When she pivoted she stood behind her sister's chair, but she railed on like an impassioned attorney making a closing argument. “That's exactly the kind of thing that made Collier say that about you. It's this weird need you have to blow things that so much as touch your life way out of proportion. And
you
don't even need a springboard to send you flying off on some tear about you, you,
you
!”

“Me? Me?
Me
?”

Nic spread her arms out as if the case had just been made to the jury. “
Petie
, listen to yourself.”

“Heaven knows we've had to listen to you long enough,” Collier muttered.

Petie
wedged her elbow between her youngest sister's backside and the arm of the chair, then used the leverage to unseat Collier so quickly Sam did not have time to call out a warning.

Collier spilled with a thump to the floor.

Nic ignored her completely. “Why can't you just admit you might be making a bigger deal of this than it warrants? Why can't you, for one minute, stop playing the victim of everybody and their dog and consider that maybe your perspective is colored by the fact that your life has changed and you don't know how to cope with it yet?”

“Why don't you come over and sit on the arm of my chair and say that?”
Petie
patted the spot from which she had just unceremoniously dumped their baby sister.

“Oh, if I come over there, it won't be to sit on your chair, missy.” Nic folded her arms.

Collier tilted her chin up from her spot on the floor. “Do it, Nic.”

“Like she'd ever have the nerve.”
Petie
smoothed her hand down the lapel of her robe.

“Oh, do not tempt me,
Petie
, not after the past few days I've just gone through.”

“Hold it right there, ladies.” Sam held both hands up, boxing referee style. “Let's keep this focused on the real issue here.”

“Butt out!” The three sisters spoke in unison but with varying degrees of vehemence.

“This is between sisters, Sam.” Nic raised her eyebrows at him.

If it was intended as a threat or merely a way of emphasizing her point, Sam could have cared less. It was at the very core of his being, a part of his very calling in life to help people sort through their problems and find peace. He had not had success accomplishing that in his new church. If he also failed at it in his home, how could he live with himself?

“You're letting your relationship as sisters and a whole lot of stored-up anger and frustration over nit-picking nothings intrude on the real issue. Can't you set your annoyance with
Petie's
dramatics aside long enough to see your sister seems genuinely hurt and worried over whatever has happened regarding Park?”

Nic bristled at him in sulking silence.

Collier hung her head.

Petie
tugged her robe lapels closed just under her chin and gave him a nod of approval befitting a queen. “Thank you, Sam.”

“Now come over here and sit back down on the couch, Nic. Collier, you can have my place.” He stood to make room for the girls who grudgingly made their way to the old sofa. “Now are you ready to hear what
Petie
has to say?”

Collier smiled up at him. “Yes.”

Nic heaved a sigh.

“
Petie
?”
Sam folded his hands, hoping he looked authoritative enough to keep the others quiet while seeming sympathetic and supportive enough to allow
Petie
to open up. “Why do you think Park has left you or met with some horrible accident?”

“Because I...” She bowed her head.

Sam believed that if she had had a hankie, she'd have dabbed her eye with it, just like some actress in an old-time, black-and-white movie.

Nic tapped her foot in rapid tempo against the leg of the coffee table.

“Go on,
Petie
,” he urged. “You can tell us. No matter how hard it is to talk about, we're listening.”

“Like I said I'd never do this normally. I trust Park...or I did.” She sniffled. “Maybe I was wrong to do that. I have to ask myself if I'd been more vigilant, would things be different today?”

“If you don't move this along, you'll have to ask yourself if things would be different tomorrow because it'll be past midnight.” Nic's machine gun-paced foot tapping did not let up.

In counterbalance, Sam walked slowly across to
Petie's
chair. The floorboards squeaked under the faded nap of the floral carpet. Above the cold, empty fireplace, the mantel clock ticked out the passing of each second like raindrops dripping into a metal bucket. The lights of the Christmas tree blinked and twinkled and, with the glow of the overhead light from the kitchen, illuminated the faces of the three lovely Dorsey sisters.

Seeing them now, like this, they hardly seemed a day older than when he had known them so many years, so many mistakes, and so many changes ago. Sam's heart filled with joy at being here to help these people in their time of need
who
had been so much a part of his life.

With his eyes locked on hers, he knelt by
Petie
and took her hand. “It doesn't do any good to dwell on 'if only,'
Petie
. The thing to do is to take hold of the situation as it is and deal with it, head-on, no delaying,
no
fear. We’re with you in this.”

She nodded and gave his hand a squeeze.

“Why do you think Park has left you, or that something awful must have happened to him?”

“Because—” She choked up just enough to garble the end of the word.

Nic made a sound that Sam had no trouble interpreting as a wish to finish the job of choking her sister into complete speechlessness. But she did stop thrumming her foot on the table leg, and for that he was truly grateful.

“
Petie
?”
He infused his hushed tone with all the ministerial solace he could muster.

She sighed.

The girls on the couch leaned forward.

Petie
wet her lips, raised her chin, and with a look he'd only seen on paintings of martyred saints, blurted out, “Because he hasn't picked up his e-mail.”

“His...his what?”
Sam tightened his grip on her hand.

“
That's
the big crisis du jour?” Never known for her aim, Nic sent a small sofa cushion sailing and missed
Petie
by a mile. It skimmed the backside of Sam's head.

He glared at her and not all of his agitation had dissipated when he turned to
Petie
again. “And how does not picking up his e-mail translate into death or impending divorce?”

“Because people always pick up their e-mail.
I check mine twice a day, and I don't use it for business or anything.”

“So, you sent him an e-mail and—”

“No, no. That's why I said I wouldn't normally do this. I...
well,
we have different screen names with the same on-line service. So I signed on under his and found he hasn't picked up his e-mail in two days!”

“That hardly screams accident or abandonment in my book,” Nic grumbled.

“You don't understand. After our chat up on the roof, I got to feeling all cozy and nostalgic and had this compulsion to try to reach Park again. So I called his work.”

“Which you'd done before,” Nic supplied.

“Only to be told he was out and they didn't know where to or when he'd get back. Today was different.”

“Oh?” Sam adjusted his weight to keep his knees, still in full crouch, from starting to ache.

“Today the receptionist transferred me to his boss, who seemed quite surprised that I didn't know that Parker had requested some time off in addition to time he was supposed to have off to come down here for the holidays.” She swept her fingers over the motionless waves of her hair, then fixed her eye on Sam and dropped the last detail like a bomb.
“Beginning two days ago.”

“Okay, that's a little odd, I'll grant it,” Sam conceded before brightening up a bit and adding, “But if he was able to call in for time off, at least you can be thankful the tuna didn't do him in.”

“If that's your best brand of counsel, Reverend, I suggest you shop around for something new and improved.”

Nic's dark eyes sparked with amusement at his fumbled attempt to console her sister. “But Sam does make a point. He's obviously fine and just wanted some R & R.”

Collier perked up. “Christmas is almost here. He's probably taken some time off to get some Christmas shopping done.”

“Parker
Sipes
?”
Petie
snorted. “There hasn't been a gift box come into or gone out of our house since the day we were married that he even knew the contents of, not for y'all, not for his family, not even for the kids.”

“Are you really sure you mind all that much if he has left you?” Collier laughed just enough so that everyone knew she was trying to make light of things to pacify, not bedevil, her sister. “The way you talk anymore it doesn't seem like it'd be much of a difference.”

Petie
sighed and cast her gaze downward.

“Oh, get real now,
Petie
. You cannot go reading something untoward into every unexplained action.” Nic pushed her unruly hair back behind both ears. “We all know Park. He's just not the type to sneak off and leave you.”

“You think you know Park. I thought I knew him but...”

“A man who gives his wife the password to his e-mail account is hardly the type who has anything to hide.” Sam patted her arm.

“He didn't give me his password,”
Petie
whispered.

“What?” Sam cocked his head. “I didn't quite get that.”

“I said he didn't give me his password, okay?” She pushed up from the chair and started toward the kitchen. Halfway there she stopped and spoke without looking back. “I broke into his account.”

“You read his personal e-mail?” Nic half shouted the exact thought that had gone tearing through Sam's mind.

“No, I didn't read his e-mail. I just checked when he last signed on and glanced over the list of saved mail. All of it was filled with addresses from work on subjects like 'database backup memo,' that kind of thing. Oh, and scads from his administrative assistant tided 'Meeting Reminder.' Even if I intended to snoop, there was nothing there that seemed even remotely intriguing.”

Sam tried not to believe she sounded a tad disappointed at that.

“Oh, and I poked around to see what kind of places he had bookmarked on the Internet. No surprises there: sports sights, travel info, boring stuff.”