The Story Sisters (22 page)

After a while Meg came down and they sat there together in their nightgowns—presents from their grandmother, the smocking stitched by hand—and had a quick breakfast. They went back upstairs and got dressed. Claire pulled on jeans and boots and a sweatshirt. She’d packed her gym bag with her equestrian equipment, her helmet and gloves. She had taken up riding again and it was a perfect day for going to the stables. Claire had completely recovered from her broken bones, although she still had twinges on humid days. She could always tell when it was about to rain. It had taken a while for her to get over her fear of falling, but she’d done so with practice. Now she was horse crazy. That was the best thing about spring finally arriving. She would be able to ride every weekend.

Meg was heading out with Claire. She’d study for the SATs in the tack room at the stables, where she could curl up on an old leather couch. She was also bringing along her copy of
To the Lighthouse
to reread as a treat if she happened to finish studying. The truth was, she didn’t like to stay alone in the house with Elv. Not that Meg would ever consider riding. She wouldn’t even try it when Claire begged, insisting they’d have great fun. Meg was afraid of horses. She’d seen how hard and how fast the carriage horse in the park had gone down. She’d felt the thud right up through the tires of the police car.

They were just about to leave when Elv came into the
kitchen. She’d slept for seventeen hours and was groggy. She got herself a cup of coffee, then sat down at the table and pinched one of Claire’s half-eaten waffles. Her skin was pale and she was wearing a velvet headband, the one she’d stolen from Meg. “I miss Lorry,” she said plaintively. She sounded almost human.

“Who’s Lorry?” Meg asked Claire when Elv went to get herself some juice.

“He’s her boyfriend. He gave her the ring she wears.”

“He must have been the one who was in Ama’s apartment.” Meg went to rinse the dishes and load them in the dishwasher. Then she got her jacket and Claire’s. “Let’s go.”

Elv was drinking right out of the container of orange juice. She had to fill up the next few weeks until she at last turned eighteen and no one could tell her whom to love and how to live her life. “Where’re you going?” she asked when her sisters headed for the door. “Where’s Mom?”

“She went to see Ama.” It was so beautiful outside Claire didn’t think she needed a jacket, but when Meg handed her one, she put it on anyway. “She’ll be back at dinnertime. We’re going to the stables.”

“Wait a minute,” Elv said. She didn’t want to be alone.

“We’re already late,” Meg said. “Come on.” She guided Claire toward the back door. “We have to go.”

“I know more about horses than the two of you put together,” Elv said. “I ran the stables at Westfield. I wasn’t some spoiled brat who has a hired hand to pick up the shit and clean out hooves. I did it all.”

“Let’s go,” Meg said to Claire. She had the curdled feeling she had whenever Elv was around.

Elv put the OJ container on the counter. She wanted to have fun, the way they used to. “I can give you a ride,” she said. “You’ll get there on time.”

“I don’t think so.” Meg was disgusted. She wasn’t about to be won over by Elv’s tricks. “You don’t have a car.”

“I’ll get Dad’s.”

Meg elbowed Claire. “Come on.”

“Seriously,” Elv said.

“She’s a good driver,” Claire told Meg.

Elv sent her a grateful look.

Meg opened the door. “Let’s go.”

“See you later,” Claire called to Elv as they headed for the door.

“Alligator,” Elv called back.

They looked at each other and laughed.

M
EG AND
C
LAIRE
cut across the lawn, then started down the street. The lawns themselves looked blue, as if the sky had somehow been reversed. There were robins in the trees, on the fences, in the grass. The lawn where Pretzel had always been tied up looked empty. The grass there was ruined.

“She’s really not that bad,” Claire told Meg.

Meg’s book bag was slung over her shoulder. She was wearing a pair of black leather boots, a short denim jacket, and khaki slacks. Her hair was pulled back. “Bad is a relative concept.”

There was still a crust of snow and ice on some lawns. They had to walk three miles, but Meg and Claire didn’t mind. On their way they sang Beatles songs, their mother’s favorites. They sang “Imagine” as high as their voices could go, then exploded into giggles. Halfway to the stables, they heard a car behind them. Somebody honked. They turned and saw the Miata. Claire laughed and ran over to the car. The top was down and there was Elv, driving. She looked like a movie star.

“You are so crazy!” Claire said. “You’re going to wind up in jail!”

“Dad didn’t know last time. He won’t know this time. Anyway, I think they went away for the weekend. You said you were late, so hop in. I’ll be your chauffeur.”

Elv was wearing sunglasses. In the spring sunlight, she looked like Audrey Hepburn in
Two for the Road
. Their mother could watch that movie every night and never get tired of it. It was all about falling in and out of love with the same person.

“Ready, set, go,” Elv said brightly. She pushed her sunglasses up.

Claire grabbed Meg’s arm. “Let’s,” she said.

“You’ve got to help shift,” Elv told Claire, who’d already begun climbing into the passenger seat.

“You don’t know how to shift?” Meg was standing in a patch of bluebells.

“Two heads are better than one,” Elv reflected. “So two drivers are better than one. Come on. Squeeze in. I’m going to get a sports car when I move to Paris.”

“You’re moving to Paris?” Claire was surprised.

“Maybe. Lorry and I have plans.” Elv winked, which was exactly what Audrey Hepburn would have done.

“Come on,” Claire said to Meg. “Trust me, it’s fun.”

Meg got into the back, which was less of a seat than it was a shelf for sacks of groceries. She pulled her legs up under her. She had her book bag on one side and Claire’s gym bag on the other. It was only a five-minute ride to the stable. The sky was unbelievably blue.

Elv told Claire when to shift, and after an initial stall-out, they got going. The Miata revved like a racecar every time Claire shifted. They went past the woods, then along the harbor. It was a beautiful stretch of road. Sometimes you could see blue herons glide over the water. There was no traffic, so Elv kept her foot pressed down on the gas. The wind smelled fresh, and the sun
was surprisingly strong. When Meg squinted, the light looked green. She could hear her sisters laughing, but she couldn’t hear much more. The motor was loud and the wind blew against her ears. She could see bits of the water in the bay and the tall bare trees that would soon be leafing.

They were only going fifty, but it seemed as though they were flying. When Elv lost control they didn’t even realize what was happening; they were just flying higher, blue sky, sweet air, the sound of the motor, and then they weren’t flying anymore. Elv screamed, but Claire couldn’t really hear her. She heard the wind, then a thud and a metal sound. Elv grabbed Claire and pulled her down hard, toward the floor. Claire covered her head with her arms, as she’d been taught to do should she ever fall from a horse. The impact was so hard she bit through her lip. They had leaped from the road into the woods. Everything was dark when they rolled over. It was quiet, but something echoed. Claire couldn’t tell if she was blind or if the whole world had turned black.

“Are you there?”

It was Elv’s voice. Shaky, unsure. Claire could see shadows: There was the car window, there was the earth covered with leaves and patches of snow, there was a stalk of swamp cabbage.

“Go out the window,” Elv told her.

Claire pulled herself through the shape that looked like a window. The car was upside down. There was still a blue sky. Elv was climbing out through the place where the windshield used to be. Broken glass was scattered in the leaves. There was a carpet of diamonds; diamonds were everywhere.

Meg was underneath a big tree. There were pine needles spread out, the color of hay. There was the sound of a siren very far away. It was like something in a dream, but it was coming closer. Elv went to stand beside Claire. Meg’s face was cut and she held one arm close to her body, clenched against her abdomen.
She had hit the steering wheel hard. She was covered with glass. Blood was flecked over her skin. Elv stared down at the grass. “Tell her to get up,” she said, baffled by what she saw. “Tell her. She’ll listen to you.”

Claire turned to Elv, sobbing. “Don’t you see? Look at what we did to her!”

There were dog violets in the woods. They grew underneath the snow and now the snow was gone. Beneath the tree everything was quiet. The quiet spread out like water in a pond. Elv ran off, but Claire didn’t care. She didn’t hear the sirens when the police cars drew near. Everything had stopped, even the sky. No clouds moved. No birds perched in the trees. She went to lie down beside her sister. If she really tried, she might be able to imagine they were still safe in bed, hours before this, back when the day was just beginning, when the ice was still melting, when the violets in the woods hadn’t yet bloomed.

Part Two

Snow

A
NNIE HADN’T STARTED HER TOMATO SEEDLINGS THAT SPRING
. She hadn’t bothered to weed. The garden was filling with Virginia creeper and thistle. Goldfinches flocked to the weed, trilling over their good fortune. The weather was lovely, a lamblike March, nothing like the terrible year when there was a false spring and the roads were slick with hidden patches of ice. Annie still wore a coat. She was cold all the time. She sat in a wrought-iron chair under the hawthorn tree. On the day the accident happened, there had been bluebells. By the following morning, nearly twelve inches of wet snow had fallen. They had learned not to trust the weather.

Annie and Claire stayed in the chapel with the body for twenty-four hours, unable to leave her. At last, the funeral director pleaded with them to go. There were some things for which family members shouldn’t be present. Remember her as she was, he suggested. But Meg had never been wound up in white, her face so pale, her eyes closed. They were already remembering her the way she was in death rather than the way she had been in life.