An Act of Love (41 page)

Maggie looks around. “This place is too small for chairs.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Above them a bee buzzes and lands on a pink Rose of Sharon flower. It’s quiet, private.

“You know what?” Maggie whispers. “Sometimes I hate my family.”

This happens all the time between Emily and Maggie. They think the same thought at the exact same moment. “Sometimes I hate my family, too,” Emily confesses.

“You do?” Maggie’s eyes are wide.

An unfamiliar excitement fills Emily, a kind of sharp danger and guilt. “Sometimes my mother drinks too much. She bumps into things. She talks like this: ’Em errr, whersh my purshe?”

Maggie giggles. “I’ve heard Mother
do it
with a man.”

All Emily’s New York friends talk about sex, but no one’s ever heard their
parents
do it
. “What does it sound like?”

“Oh, oh, oh, oh,” Maggie pants.

Emily face grows hot. “Who was it?”

“I don’t know, I didn’t see him, I only heard him. It was disgusting. I’m
never
going to have sex.”

“Me neither,” Emily announces loyally.

“Swear?”

“Swear.”

“Sometimes I think”—Maggie pauses, as a strange new sensation of guilt shoots through her like a quickly branching vine—“that I don’t belong in this family.”

Emily nods rapidly. “I know! I feel that way, too. Sometimes I dream I’m adopted.”

“Me, too!” Maggie blinks with surprise at this coincidence. “In the car, when I’m riding, sometimes I think my real family will see me and rescue me.”

“I do that, too,” Emily tells her. “My parents are so …” Her voice trails off. She can’t voice the words. She may not know the words. “At least,” she continues thoughtfully, “you have a brother.”

“Yeah, he makes it all better,” Maggie says scornfully, kicking the dirt. “I don’t want a brother. I want a sister.”

“Me, too,” Emily agrees. “A sister would be fun. We could play together. Trade clothes.”

“Braid each other’s hair.”

The two girls look at each other. Maggie wears rubber flip-flops, blue shorts, and a yellow T-shirt. Emily wears red leather sandals, white shorts, and a striped red top. Except for their clothes, they look just alike, Maggie thinks. They’re both skinny, and tanned, although Maggie’s hair is short this year while Emily’s is pulled back in a ponytail. Still, Emily is blond with blue eyes, Maggie has dark hair and blue eyes. So they make a complete set, like salt and pepper.

“We’re kind of like twins,” Emily decides.

Maggie’s so pleased she giggles. “Except, um, you’re blond and I’m dark.”

“Yeah, but …” Emily bites her lip. “It’s not just the way we look. It’s the way we think. It’s the way we
are
.”

“I know.” Maggie cocks her head, considering. “You’re the closest thing to a
sister I’ll ever have.”

“Same here.”

“What if …” Maggie begins, then stops.

“What if what?” Emily prompts.

“I have an idea but I’m afraid you’ll make fun of me.”

“Which would be so wrong because sisters never make fun of each other,” Emily teases.

“Okay, then: Here.” Maggie lifts the lid of the small plastic box in the corner. “I’m making a yarn bracelet.” She holds it up, a few inches of blue, white, and yellow braided together.

“That’s really pretty,” Emily says, a yearning note in her voice. She has bracelets at home, lots of them, but this one calls out to her.

“Do you like it?” Maggie holds it out to her. “You can have it. I mean, when I finish it.” Scooting around to face Emily, she directs, “Hold out your hand. So I can measure your wrist. I’ll see how much more I need to do.”

An emotion swells inside Emily—a gratitude, a kind of love, and an astonishment that Maggie wants to give her this bracelet.

“And you make one for me!” Maggie tells her.

“I don’t know how.” Emily’s learning how to make knots for sailing, but she’s never learned how to make a bracelet.

“I’ll teach you. Right now. It’s easy.” Handing the box to Emily, she says, “Should I have the same colors or different?”

Emily’s glad to be able to make a choice since the box, the yarn, and the idea are Maggie’s. “The same colors, of course.”

“Okay.” Maggie digs around in the box and takes out three skeins of yarn. “You won’t believe how easy it is. You know how to braid, right?”

“Duh.”

The two girls sit together, hands busy with the yarn, concentrating hard as Maggie shows Emily how to be sure the yarn is taut.

“Like this?” Emily asks after a while.

Maggie grins her irresistibly contagious grin. “Right.”

They lean against opposite sides of the walls of the little lair, braiding quietly in the quiet shade. It doesn’t take long. Their wrists are small.

“Now,” Maggie instructs, “I’ll tie yours on your wrist, and you tie mine.”

Emily obeys. “It’s like a rope bracelet, only prettier,” she says.

“Only more important,” Maggie reminds her.

Emily smiles. “Yes. It means we’re sisters.”

Maggie proudly specifies:
“Nantucket sisters.”