Authors: Laura McNeill
Sister Dear (29 page)
Despite the sickness growing in her chest, Allie shook her head. “Please do.”
“She was talking about adopting Caroline.”
Allie's vision went gray, as if a sudden, thick fog descended over Natalie's office. Had she heard right?
Adopting Caroline?
Try as she might, the words would not make sense.
“I didn't know how to respond,” Natalie added. “I told her that everything was fine here. Everything.” She paused and crinkled her brow. “I also told her that if she was worried about you, she needed to talk to you directly.”
All of the air Allie had been holding in her lungs expelled in a rush. What in the hell was her sister thinking? What was she doing?
“I feel awful telling you,” Natalie added, “but I felt like you should know.”
“No. Really. Thank you for telling me.” But it was everything Allie could do not to completely lose it. Her face flushed hot. She wanted to cry, scream, and shake her sister. Instead, she swallowed the defensiveness and anger, struggling not to break down. “I-I'm not a bad person. Iâ”
“Allie,” Natalie interrupted. “I would let you go if I thought otherwise.” She cocked her head and scanned Allie's face. “You do, however, need to set that sister of yours straight.” Natalie heaved a big sigh and tapped her short nails on the countertop.
A cold sweat settled over Allie's body. “Believe me, I will.”
Natalie nodded. “Well, if you're still up for it, we've got a whole day ahead of us.”
Allie steadied herself. She could do this. Focus, work. Caroline was in school. She would deal with Emma this afternoon. “Sure. I'm fine.”
“Good.” Natalie smiled encouragingly. “Let's get to work.”
As best she could, Allie pushed aside the shock of Natalie's news and focused on her job. Knowing Emma, she would have some justification, but this went beyond any boundaries of concern.
Natalie and Allie spent the morning in the office and the afternoon visiting three local farms. They admired horses and checked out stables, getting to know the owners and listening to concerns. Allie held back and listened, ball cap and sunglasses on. Natalie
hadn't introduced her, just let people make the connection and ask questions if they wanted to.
Allie, happily, didn't get much more than a passing glance. These were families who kept to themselves, who worked hard and wanted good, quality care for their animals. The less said, the better, Natalie decided. And Allie was okay with that.
At the end of the day, Allie didn't bother to change at the office. She slung her backpack over one shoulder and called out a goodbye to Natalie.
During the short walk to her tiny house, she called Emma, only to have her call go straight to voice mail. Allie hesitated and then decided not to leave a message. She needed to cool off. Her sister would answer the phone eventually.
In the meantime, Allie needed to think more about Lamar Childree. She unlocked the door and closed it behind her, dropped the bag on the floor. Allie decided that the next step would have to be talking to someone who'd played at Mansfield. A big star who'd had a bright future, someone who's career might have crashed and burned.
Sliding down the wall, Allie buried her face in her hands. But first she needed to have a good cry.
2016
Every day Caroline disappeared into herself a little more. If she could figure out a way to become the Fantastic Four's Invisible Woman, she would have done it weeks ago.
Now, instead of classmates acting like she was a freak, almost everyone ignored her altogether. Jake avoided her, and Maddie was barely ever in school.
What was worse, and underscored it all, was every single instructor acted like she was made of glass. Of course, they meant well, but the pitying looks and glances over her head were enough to drive her crazy. If she heard one more “How are you?” from an adult at the school, she might start screaming.
To blend in even further, every day, Caroline wore the same uniformâa dark skirt and blouse. She kept her hair tied back in a simple ponytail and tucked Emma's platinum heart necklace away in the bottom of her top dresser drawer. She didn't want a single thing getting her noticed or making her stand out.
Today Caroline had been sent to the guidance counselor's office during homeroom. Now, outside the office, head tucked into her
chin, she waited as the world moved around her. Phones jingled, students walked in with excuses, and the bell rang while the copy machine whirred, spitting out paper every five seconds.
“Caroline Marshall,” someone called for her. “Miss Bell can see you now.”
With a small sigh, Caroline got to her feet and slunk into the room. Miss Bell was a light-skinned and very pretty Latino counselor with a musical voice. She was popular with the students, but even her reputation did little to buoy Catherine's enthusiasm.
“Good morning, Miss Marshall. Just so you know, as guidance counselors at Mansfield, we're required to check in with all of our students at least twice a semester,” Miss Bell said, opening a file on her desk.
Relief flooded Caroline's system. Maybe this wasn't about Emma calling the school and raising Cain about the red flyers. She lowered herself even farther in the seat.
“So, how are things going?”
Caroline shrugged and looked away. “Oh, okay.” She focused on her socks, straightening each one, then fiddled with the laces on her saddle shoes.
“I see that you're taking a full load. All honors courses,” Miss Bell added with a megawatt smile. When Caroline looked up and met her eyes, the smile faded. “My dear, some of your instructors have mentioned that your grades have dropped recently.” The counselor flipped over a page. “Did you realize that you are close to failing science and English?”
This caused Caroline to flinch. She bit her lip. With the drama at her house, anyone would fail two classes.
Miss Bell cleared her throat. “I'm here to help. What can I do? Would you like the name of a tutor? I can pass a few names on to your aunt.”
Caroline tugged at the edge of her sleeve. “All right.”
The counselor ran a red nail down a typed list.
Goose bumps rose on Caroline's arms and legs. Emma would not be happy about the failing grades. It would be worse if Caroline didn't tell her first.
“So?” The woman read off a seven-digit combination, Emma's number. “Is this the correct number?”
“No, ma'am.” Caroline hated to lie, but the words slipped out before she could swallow them back. She transposed the last four numbers in her head and rattled them off.
“All right, thank you.” The counselor jotted the number down. “Will she be home this afternoon?”
“Oh, I don't think so. No, ma'am.” Caroline blinked up at her. “Maybe Monday.” Another lie. “And I'll let her know to expect your call.” Another fib. The lies were starting to add up.
“Monday it is.” Miss Bell cupped her chin in one hand. “Caroline, I know things have been hard, but I can't imagine what your life must be like now. All of the scrutiny.”
It was all Caroline could do not to race from the room. She prayed the woman would stop talking. “Yes, ma'am.”
Miss Bell smiled and patted the desk, smoothing away a particle of dust. “Well, there's one thing I know for sure. And that's when life throws us something really tough, it doesn't last. It'll get better. Really. You have to believe that.”
Ugh.
Please let this be over.
It was all Caroline could do to sit with her hands folded and nod every few minutes.
“. . . suicide.” The woman stared at Caroline through her glasses. Caroline only caught the last word of the sentence.
“Pardon me?”
The woman adjusted her chair and inched closer to the desk. “If you're having thoughts about hurting yourself, you need to call me.” She handed her card across the desk.
Caroline took it and stuffed it in her pocket. That would make things worse, not better. Did everyone think she was nuts? Did they think she was going to bring a gun to school and shoot up the cafeteria, Columbine style? Then off herself? Drown herself in the nearest river or the bathtub?
She was just sad and confused and a little depressed maybe. Wasn't that expected when someone's mother got out of jail? Then again, it didn't happen every day. Not in Brunswick.
So they were worried about Caroline killing herself. Suicide. Caroline shuddered. She hadn't even given it a thought until this lady brought it up.
“Day or night. My cell phone number is on there. If you start feeling bad, you should also let your aunt know. She can call a psychologist or psychiatrist, someone who specializes in that. You don't have to go this alone.”
The bell rang, signaling four minutes until the next class.
“May I go?” Caroline edged out of her chair and turned her head, expectant that she'd be set free.
“I hope this has been helpful for you, dear.”
“Very,” Caroline lied again and grabbed for the door. “Thank you,” she added.
She glanced at the clock and bit her lip. Another eight hours and she'd be at the nursing home. Caroline was going straight to talk to June Gaines. This time she hoped she'd get some answers.
2016
After several hours of carrying trays, helping file charts, and folding blankets, Caroline earned a ten-minute break. With a shaking hand, she poured a glass of orange juice. It was her backupâan excuseâin case anyone asked what she was doing in the room. If Dr. Gaines denied it, Caroline would say that the older woman was the one who was confused.
Ever so carefully, making sure the hallway was clear, she crept across to Dr. Gaines's room and put one hand on the knob. With her heart lodged in her throat, she pushed open the door and stepped into the dark space. The only light came from a lamp behind June's shoulder.
“Someone there?” June's voice was thick and rubbery.
“Just me,” Caroline said. “I brought you some juice.”
June motioned with one wizened hand for Caroline to come closer.
Sliding one foot toward June, Caroline's knees buckled. She slopped a bit of juice onto her hand, barely feeling the cold liquid. Another step. She was close enough to touch Dr. Gaines. As her
eyes adjusted, she realized that someone had taken her to the nursing home's beauty parlor. Her hair looked freshly coiffed, and she smelled of lotion and powder.
The woman tilted her head, examining Caroline. “Emma.”
“Y-yes,” Caroline stammered. “It's me.”
Dr. Gaines's hand shook as she took the glass of juice and brought it to rest in her lap. “How are you, my dear?”
“I'm a little confused,” Caroline began. “I'd like to ask you a question.”
The older woman straightened at the request, extending her free hand for Caroline to sit close to her. “Please.”
Caroline slipped into a nearby chair. “Could you tell me about the night you took care of me?” she asked. “What happened to me? I-I don't remember.”
June Gaines slowly closed her eyes. A painful look crossed her face.
“Can you tell me?” Caroline pressed, shifting her eyes to the door. Her heart was hammering so loud she thought the aides at the nurses' station might hear her.
“Poor, poor girl,” June Gaines murmured. “He'd hurt you.”
Caroline sucked in a breath. “How? Whoâ”
Outside the room and around the corner, she heard a man's voice. Gruff, distinct. And close by. The voice came closer.
Sheriff Gaines.
“I have to go,” Caroline said, jumping from her seat. “I'm sorry. They need me at the desk.” Glancing around, she picked up a spare lunch tray and headed out of the room, only to come face-to-face with Sheriff Gaines and his giant German shepherd in the hallway.
She couldn't turn away.
“Everything all right this evening?” The sheriff's voice, low and gravelly, seemed to penetrate her skin.
“Yes, sir,” she squeaked out, glancing up so quickly that she only registered a blur of uniform and dog.
Gaines eased the German shepherd back to let her pass.
“Thank you.” Caroline hurried away, keeping her head down. She couldn't help but smell the canine's damp fur and a hint of sea air still lingering on the sheriff's clothes.
As she headed for the nurses' station, she could hear June getting agitated, mumbling nonsense about medical issues. Caroline slowed her steps, listening.
“Now, June, what's wrong?” Gaines said gruffly.
“It's too late, can't save her,” June cried out, her next few words incoherent.
Caroline backed up to the wall, hugging the tray tighter to her chest.
“Stop,” Gaines insisted, the agitation rising in his voice. “Pull yourself together.”
“He'll hurt her again. There's no telling what he might do.”
“Shh. Junie, hey now. It's okay,” Gaines added softly. “She'll be fine. Don't you worry.”
As Gaines's room door closed with a click, a lone tear slid down Caroline's cheek.
There was no doubt now. Ten years ago, someone had really hurt Emma. What had happened? And why wouldn't Emma tell Caroline the truth?
2016
The last real conversation Gaines had with his wife had been ten years ago.
It wasn't even a conversation. More like an exchange, short, curt, to the point. He'd blown her off, sent another officer to check on the hospital case when the call came in about Coach Thomas.
Guilt crept up his neck. It happened every time he thought about that night. He wished he could reverse time, go back, and slow it down. Tell her to be careful driving home. Tell her he loved her.
The truth was this: That night, that particular hour, Gaines cared more about his job. He was in a bad mood, and he didn't want to talk about labor, epidurals, or babies. They were both workaholics; they didn't have childrenâJune couldn't, which was fine with him. So she buried herself in her career, which left him as her only friend and confidant. She couldn't talk with the other nurses or staff.