The Silent Sister (37 page)

“When did you say they got married?” Jeannie asked.

“December twenty-ninth.” I'd spent the week between Christmas and New Year's with Bryan at his parents' house in New Jersey, worrying the whole time that I'd deserted Danny and my father over the holidays. I usually divided my time in New Bern between the two of them, but I knew Danny didn't really care about Christmas and Daddy had encouraged me to go with Bryan. I'd still felt guilty and called every day. Sometimes my father didn't answer his phone and I pictured him napping to ward off depression over being alone for the holidays. Instead, he'd been in Seattle, dancing, chatting, and jamming with the band at his daughter's wedding.

“I suggested to him that we get away that week.” Jeannie sounded equally stunned. “But he said he had a funeral to go to in Seattle. One of his close collector friends.”

“He lied to you,” I said. “There was no funeral.” I was surprised by the anger I felt. It was one thing to protect Lisa by keeping me in the dark about what had actually happened to her. It was another thing entirely to be an active part of her family while leaving me behind.

Jeannie suddenly stood up, raising her arms in the air in a gesture of frustration.

“Why didn't he ever
tell
me, for heaven's sake?” she asked. “He knew he could trust me!”

I understood her pain completely. “I feel like”—I hunted for the words—“like Lisa and Daddy did everything they could to keep her existence—and their relationship—a secret from me.” My voice locked up, and Jeannie looked down at me.

“I can't imagine what this is like for you,” she said. “I feel so …
betrayed
myself. It's got to be a thousand times worse for you.”

It was a
million
times worse, and I felt like I was going to crawl out of my skin. I set the laptop on the coffee table and stood up, needing to move. Needing to do something to erase the image of Daddy and Lisa laughing together, three thousand miles away from me. “I know this is irrational,” I said, “but I feel almost as though they were laughing
at
me in those pictures.”

Jeannie walked over to me and put her arm around my shoulders. “No, honey, now you know that's not true, don't you?” she asked.

“I don't know
what'
s true anymore,” I said.

“You sit.” She gave me a little shove toward the couch. “I smell coffee. I'm going to get us both a cup. Then we'll be able to think more clearly, all right?”

I nodded, flopping onto the couch again. I tried to empty my mind while I listened to Jeannie rooting around in the kitchen, but the images of my father at the wedding were burned into my brain and I couldn't get them out.

I spotted an e-mail notification on my laptop and clicked on it, surprised—and fearful—when I saw it was from Danny. I opened the mail.

Come over tonight. I have something to show you.

I stared at his message. This couldn't be good. Danny was much more sophisticated than I was when it came to using the Internet. If he believed Lisa was alive, who knew what he'd been able to find?

Jeannie was back in the room and she nearly missed the coaster as she set my mug on the coffee table in front of me. “She was terrified of prison, Riley,” she said, lowering herself to the other end of the couch. “After the … you know, the shooting and everything, Deb would call me up, so worried. She'd say that Lisa couldn't sleep and she cried all the time. She felt so guilty that she'd taken a life, and she was afraid of being in prison with … you know … hardened criminals. If your father offered her a way out, she must have jumped at the chance. It was foolish of him, but I guess he was desperate to protect her. We have to forgive them both.” She lifted her mug to her lips, but set it back on the table again without taking a sip. “Did Deb know, do you think?”

I held the warm mug between my palms. “I don't think she knew until just before she died,” I said. “Lisa came here to see her.” I told her about the brief e-mail from Celia telling my father that Lisa had made her plane, and then I began to cry. “I feel so
alone,
Jeannie,” I said. “Totally alone. Dealing with all of Daddy's stuff.” I waved my hand through the air of the living room. “And I feel responsible for Danny now. I worry about him all the time and I'm totally alone with that, too. Meanwhile, Lisa's surrounded by a happy, healthy, smiley family. Children and a partner and all those friends and Celia's family and I have no one!”

“Oh, sweetheart.” She moved closer to me, taking the mug from my hands and setting it on the table. “I wish you could remember Lisa from when you were little. She doted on you. She adored you.” She patted my hands where they rested limply on my lap. “You have to get in touch with her. You know that, right?”

I nodded. “I just don't know the best … the safest way to do it. And Danny can't know. He already thinks something's up, but if he knows for sure she's alive, he'll tell the police and that will be the end of her.”

“He'd do that?”

“He really hates her. He blames her for everything that went wrong in our family.”

“You could e-mail her,” she said. “There's that contact information on the Web site.”

“Who knows where that goes?” I said. “I have to be really careful. That e-mail probably goes to their band manager or something. I do have Celia's e-mail address from Daddy's computer, but I—”

“You need to tell Lisa you know she's alive,” Jeannie said, “and that Frank passed away and that you'll find a way to meet up with her when she comes to New Bern.”

I shook my head. “It can't be done by e-mail,” I said. “If she doesn't reply, I'd never know if she got my e-mail or if she just wanted nothing to do with me.”

“You're right, you're right,” she said quickly. “Somehow, you'll have to talk to her in person at that concert, then. I want to be there, too,” she added. “I need to see her.”

“Let me do this alone, all right?” I asked. “It's going to be hard enough with only myself to worry about.”

She sighed, nodding reluctantly. “All right,” she said. “I'll settle for just being there in the crowd.” She broke into a wide smile. “I still can't believe this! When you talk to her, please tell her I'm relieved she's alive and well. That I'm glad she found the happiness she deserves and let her know that I love her.”

I envied Jeannie for being able to see past the deception to feelings of warmth and love. The image of Lisa laughing and dancing, as though she didn't have a care in the world, would be with me for a long, long time. I didn't know what I would say when I was finally face-to-face with her. I was so afraid of seeing her. Of scaring her. She might turn away. Turn
me
away. But I remembered Celia's e-mail to my father, how she'd written that there would always be a place in Lisa's heart for me. She'd written those words years ago, but I'd hold on tight to them. I needed them to be the truth.

 

49.

At seven o'clock that evening, I drove through the dusky forest to Danny's clearing, determined to reveal nothing of what I'd learned. I wouldn't let him trip me up. I was only worried about what this thing was he wanted to show me … and I figured that out the moment he opened his trailer door to let me in.

The music on his laptop wasn't loud, but it was very familiar to me after listening to it nonstop for most of the day. Danny's computer was on the counter, and the Web site photograph of Jasha Trace was on the screen. The picture of Lisa and the group stared me in the face as I walked inside.

“Okay.” I surrendered, standing with my back against the door. “What's going on?”

He sat down at the kitchen table. “Good ol' Verniece,” he said. “She really wants the RV park.”

I swallowed.
Damn it
. “What are you talking about?” I asked, lowering myself to the bench across the table from him.

“You can lose the innocent act,” he said. “They couldn't talk you into turning over the park to them, so she tried to get it through me.” He ran his hand over his short blond beard. “I didn't tell her that (a) I don't care about the park and (b) I don't have the legal authority to give it to her without your involvement … although I have to say I was surprised to learn that
you
had had no problem keeping me out of your dealings with her and Tom.”

“Oh, Danny, I'm sorry.” I felt my whole body sag in defeat. “I was desperate to find out what they knew.”

“And what you didn't want me to know, right?”

“Do you blame me?” I asked. “You and I have different ideas of what should happen to Lisa. And how did you figure out about—” I pointed to the laptop, where Lisa was in the middle of a fiddle solo. “Jasha Trace? How could you…?”

“I took a look inside our father's RV,” he said. “Do you believe our old man?” He laughed, but there was nothing funny in the sound. “I always knew he worshiped her, but I'd really underestimated just how much. Anyway, I had to break the lock to get into the trailer. And I think you beat me to it, right?” He waited for me to answer, but I kept my expression stony and blank. “I found a newspaper ad on his table about the concert coming up,” he said. “I saw there was a violinist in the group and she had on a necklace like the one Lisa used to wear. Daddy had all this bluegrass music there, but none of that band, which made me wonder…” He tilted his head, eyes on mine. “Did he have some of their CDs and you took them?”

I hesitated a moment, then nodded.

“I had to pay iTunes eight bucks for this CD.”

“Danny…”

“Once I had her name, it was easy to find out everything else.” He shook his head, and I recognized the hurt look on his face. It was the same expression I saw that morning in the mirror. “She's made one hell of a life for herself, hasn't she.”

“Danny.” I folded my hands on the table and leaned toward him. “I'm pleading with you. Please leave her alone.”

“I wasn't sure how much you'd been able to find out on your own, but the way you've been avoiding me the last few days made me think you knew plenty,” he said. “And when I opened the door a few minutes ago and you heard the music … Your face gave you away.”

“Have you talked to Harry about it?” I'd lowered my hands to my lap and was anxiously rubbing them together.

“Not yet.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

He didn't hesitate. “I'm going to tell Harry he can solve a cold case the night of that concert. He can be a hero, and Lisa will finally get what she has coming to her.”

“Danny”
—I was very close to crying—“she's not hurting anyone.”

I might as well have been speaking Greek. “You don't seem to get it, Riley,” he said. “Leaving aside all the crap she put our family through, she
killed
a man. If it was an accident—which I think is bullshit—she'll finally get to have her day in court. It'll be complicated by the fact that she ran off, of course, but still. And if you sincerely want to help her, you might line up a good criminal lawyer for her in Virginia.”

“Damn it!” I pounded my fist on the table. “Can you leave it alone? Please! It's not only Lisa's life you're tampering with,” I said. “It's her children's. It's her family's.”

“
Most
criminals have families,” he said. “That doesn't give them a ‘get out of jail free' card.” He reached out to touch my fist, gently unfolding my curled fingers until they lay flat on the table. The gesture felt tender and it gave me hope. “What is it you want from her, Riles?” he asked quietly.

“I want to meet her,” I said. “That's all I want. Just to meet her. What I
don't
want is to hurt her.”

He withdrew his hand from mine with a sigh. “She killed someone,” he said again, sounding tired. “That's the bottom line. She killed someone and she has to pay.”

I stood up and walked to the door. “Will you promise me something?” I asked. “Just one thing?”

“What's that?”

“Think about this awhile longer before you talk to Harry.”

“The concert's only a couple of days away,” he reminded me.

“I know. But you can wait, can't you? What difference will it make if you tell him tonight or the day of the concert?” I opened the door. It was dark outside now, and when I turned to look at him, the trailer light illuminated the sharp angles of his face and the translucent blue of his eyes. “It's important that you think it through before you act,” I said.

“I don't need to,” he said. “I've done enough thinking.”

I looked at his computer where it rested on the counter, the image of Jasha Trace a bright light in the dim trailer. Lisa stared at me from the life I was no part of.

I turned back to my brother. “There's something you don't know,” I said quietly, using the only card I had left to play. “Something you couldn't have figured out, no matter how skillful you are at searching the Internet.”

“What's that?” he asked

I swallowed hard. “Lisa's my mother,” I said.

Two sharp lines creased the space between his eyebrows. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“It's the truth,” I said. “Jeannie told me. Lisa's my mother. She had me when she was fifteen. Mom and Daddy adopted me.”

“Shit,”
he said, and his face softened, but only by a small degree.

I knew that wasn't going to be enough.

 

50.

When I left Danny's trailer, I drove straight to Jeannie's small, one-story white brick house in the DeGraffenried neighborhood. She was dressed in a blue robe when she opened the door, and it only took a glimpse of my face in the porch light to let her know something was very wrong.