by Kay Stockham
That wasn’t Ethan. The voice was female, familiar. Jenn’s.
Megan inhaled a steadying breath, and forced herself to a sitting position. The room wobbled as blood rushed to her head and she sat on the edge of the bed, coughing and hacking until the wooziness faded away.
On her feet, she finger-brushed her hair, got dressed and emerged from the bedroom wearing the freshly laundered jeans and sweatshirt she’d worn on the day of her arrival. Ethan or his housekeeper must have washed them for her.
Out in the main part of the house the living room was clear, the hall and Simon’s bedroom, as well. Had she dreamed Jenn’s voice? She’d had some pretty vivid dreams since being sick, memories of Sean and those awful nights, of sleeping in her car with those creeps knocking on her car windows and trying to buy sex.
Megan stopped just inside the swing door in the kitchen, her gaze fastening on Jenn and Simon outside in the backyard. Why wasn’t her sister in school? Simon?
Jenn was trying to get Simon to color in a coloring book, but the kid stared morosely at the page, his head propped up on his palm in a way that made his cheek pull in a lopsided grimace. His cheeks were wet with tears and his shoulders shook with the force of his sobs. Oh, poor kid. He really was having a tough time of it.
Megan padded over toward the door only to pause. Simon was obviously safe and in good hands, but she needed an icebreaker with Jenn. No two ways about it.
The coffeepot beckoned and she blessed Ethan’s taste in dark, thick, corrode-your-stomach brews. Megan hurriedly poured two cups and continued out the back door, aware of Jenn’s panicked, leery expression when she looked up and saw Megan approaching. Hey, when opportunity knocked, you opened the door—and brought gifts. “I poured you a cup. Hey, Simon. What’s the matter, bud?”
Jenn’s mouth twitched. “No, thanks. I’m cutting back on caffeine.”
Great. Jenn glared at her, Simon wouldn’t look at her. Feel the love. Megan lifted a shoulder in a shrug. She wasn’t a morning person, either. “That’s okay. I usually have two cups. I’ll drink it.” Megan nudged Simon gently. “So, what’s the problem? You’re not having fun?” she asked in French.
“Leave him alone, Megan. Simon’s had a difficult morning. Ethan dropped him off at preschool and he got so upset that he threw up and wouldn’t stop screaming. The principal let me bring him home to stay until Ethan can get here from work. He’ll be home any minute,” she added, sounding a bit desperate. “We’re fine if you want to go back inside and rest.”
In other words, take a hike.
Megan took a sip of the coffee, her hands wrapped around the mug. Jenn stared at her, she stared at Jenn. Yeah, this was comfortable.
Should she blurt out what she had to say, or lead up to it? If Ethan was on his way home, time was running out and who knew when the next opportunity might arise where she had Jenn basically trapped and at her mercy? Her sister would never leave when she was responsible for Simon. “I’m sorry. Jenn—”
“Not now, Megs.”
“But—”
“I said not now.”
Whoa. Jenn had pulled out her teacher voice for that one. Megan seriously considered shutting up but stopped herself just in time. Screw it. She didn’t have to listen to the teacher. She hadn’t when she was in school, so why start now? “Look, I screwed up and I hurt you—”
“I have to get back to work as soon as Ethan returns and I don’t want to be upset when I get there.”
“Then don’t get upset, just hear me out.”
“No.”
“When are you going to believe that I’m sorry, truly sorry, for what I did?”
Jenn nudged Simon to his feet, shooing him toward the bright and shiny new swing set. The boy turned, a crayon and his paper in his hands, and regarded them with a questioning stare. The tears had stopped but the stains were drying on his cheeks.
“Simon, go draw a picture or—or swing.” Jenn moved her hand back and forth in an arc. “Go swing, Simon.”
Simon glanced at her, and Megan jerked her head toward the slide, asking him to go play for a little bit so the grown-ups could talk.
Simon liked the slide. She’d watched from the kitchen table yesterday after dinner while he’d slid down over and over again.
“What did you say to him?” Jenn watched Simon carry his paper and crayon over to the structure. “The slide? Megan, I told him to swing. Ethan needs to get a guard for the top. It’s too high. What if Simon falls?”
“Then he’ll be smarter next time. Jenn, he’s a kid. One who’s come from Niger and has seen bullets and blood and death. The slide is a cakewalk.” Once some things were experienced, there was no going back. “Everyone falls down. There’s no guard against that.”
Jenn looked insulted. “Ethan trusts me with Simon.”
“And he still will. Simon played on the slide yesterday when Ethan was here and didn’t fall once. He’ll be fine. Stop being such a boring worrywart and listen to me.”
Her baby sister stiffened, and Megan barely stopped herself from uttering a nasty curse. The taunting name had slipped out before she could stop it.
“Stop being such a worrywart and let me have some fun, will you?”
“But Mom said—”
“Get a life! Our parents are out of town and we have the house to ourselves. Hello? Teenagers are supposed to party, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do. Pull the stick out of your butt and have some fun.”
More memories came, things she’d said, things she wasn’t proud of. Megan sighed and rubbed her head again. “What I meant was please, hear me out.”
“That’s not what you meant. I know what you meant. What you always meant.”
She’d had to be a real bitch growing up, hadn’t she? “That is the past. Jenn, I want to make this right. Can’t you give me a chance to do that?”
Jenn shook her head back and forth. “No, because nothing you say can make it right. You can’t undo what you did. And for the record? I’m not that pathetic schoolgirl anymore. You stay away from my husband or I’ll kick your cheap, sorry butt all the way to the state line.”
Megan felt her face heat with lavalike embarrassment. Then she smiled, admiring the backbone Jenn had finally developed. “Understood.” Jenn blinked at Megan as though confused by her ready agreement. Like she was lying about that, too?
Her sister shoved her long hair behind her shoulder and harrumphed. “Did you ever once think that someone had to be a worrywart? That since that someone obviously wasn’t you, because you couldn’t be bothered even though you’re older, it had to be me? Did you ever consider that maybe I got sick and tired of always being the responsible one?”
“Who said you had to be? No, really, you brought it up so let’s talk about this and get everything out in the open,” Megan said, following Jenn when she turned away and gathered up a plastic plate and juice box. “Who made you my keeper?”
Jenn’s mouth opened and closed but no words came out. A frown formed and she busied herself with cleanup duty.
“Jenn…come on. Do you hate me because I didn’t follow the rules, or because I did all the things you weren’t brave enough to do?”
CHAPTER NINE
JENN GASPED and swung around to face Megan. “Don’t you dare.”
“What if I did what I did because I wanted to escape all the crap at home? I never got to do anything that wasn’t on that damn schedule.”
Jenn inflated, puffing up like a blowfish. “Oh, you poor thing. To think that you had to go spend your days as the center of attention. You had voice lessons!”
“Which I hated. Just because a person can sing doesn’t mean she wants to.”
“Oh, and you hated gymnastics, too?”
“Like any girl wants dirty old men and perverted dads sitting there ogling them in skimpy little costumes talking about how flexible they are!”
“I couldn’t get braces until I was in junior high but Dad bought you thousand-dollar gowns for those pagea
nts.”
“Where I got felt up by the judges and escorts because when I was twelve I looked like I was twenty.”
Jenn tossed the items in her hands onto the table where they landed with a clatter. “Don’t. Don’t stand there and feed me your latest lines of bull. You liked doing all that stuff. You reveled in it and rubbed it in my face every chance you got.”
Megan had. She had because Jenn sucked at singing and wasn’t coordinated and Megan was jealous that Jenn was allowed to stay home. While she’d cheered ball games, Jenn had snuggled up on the couch with Mom to read. While she’d played sports, Jenn had gone trick-or-treating and rode her bike. Jenn had been Mama’s pet, allowed to stay home and spend her evenings cooking dinner and baking, laughing, visiting with Grandma. And Megan had looked down on Jenn because of it, hated her for it, even though she’d have given anything to be one of them and not an outsider.
Her father had made it worse, too. How many times had he told her not to worry about her schoolwork because, honestly, she wasn’t that smart and her brains could only take her so far? According to Daddy Dearest, her looks were her best asset and she had to take advantage of them before she lost them. He’d belittled her abilities, destroyed her self-confidence. Made her unable to believe in herself for the longest time.
He wanted you dependent on him for your self-esteem, wanted to control you. You realize that now. You weren’t Daddy’s girl, you were Daddy’s little alibi, and he took full advantage. Had Jenn ever figured out the truth of why their father was so gung-ho about taking Megan places? Once he’d dumped Megan off, the excuses had left him free to do—see—whomever he pleased. Could she really not know?
Megan shoved the pain aside. “I was a stupid kid and not very nice to you, but for the record,” she said, her voice strengthening, “I have considered those things. I feel bad about them, too.”
Jenn rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”
“Don’t give me that.” Megan stepped toward her. “People change.”
“Not you.”
Her hands curled into fists. So she wasn’t redeemable at all in Jenn’s eyes? “Put yourself in my shoes. Have you ever thought about what it was like up on stage being picked apart by everyone watching? At any one time I was too fat for one judge and too skinny for another, my nose was too big, my thighs jiggled too much. I was never just right the way that I was, there was always something wrong with me.” Years of trying, years of being talked to like she was a thing, nothing, washed over her. Years of knowing the truth about her father and being so ashamed of it she’d never talked to anyone about it—except once. And you know how well that went. Mama blamed her, not him. “I would’ve traded you, Jenn. I would’ve switched places with you in a heartbeat. Don’t tell me I was the lucky one when you don’t have a clue what it was like to stand there and be nothing.”
The declaration seemed to throw Jenn off-kilter. But it was true. At first Megan had been happy to spend so much time with her dad. Jenn was little and always in her stuff and here was their handsome father showering Megan with attention and buying her beautiful things. She’d felt special. And their father was good. He knew the tricks, the lies, the ways to sidestep tough questions by taking his remarks to a personal level.
Whenever she’d asked where he disappeared to during her lessons or events, he’d criticized her. Her dance moves, her less-than-straight shoulders, the way she threw a ball or batted or landed a routine, like he’d actually stayed and watched. By the time he was through, she’d completely forgotten her question.
On a good day she was pretty and talented and his best girl, but on a bad one?
Only one news flash a day, Megs. You’re treading water with Jenn the way it is. What does it matter now, anyway? This is about you and Jenn.
“None of this matters now,” Jenn murmured, echoing Megan’s thoughts. “None of it. You broke the bonds of trust when you slept with Sean. I’d always known you were capable of stuff like that with your so-called friends, but you did that to me, Megan, your sister. How would any woman trust her sister after that?”
“I’m not that girl anymore. I’m not, I swear it. Jenn, Sean wasn’t a saint. He’s not the man you’ve made him out to be all these years you’ve held this grudge. That night? I was trying to protect you. Everything I did was to try and keep you from making a huge mistake!”
“What mistake? Protect me from what?”
This was it, her chance to tell Jenn exactly what a low scum-sucking bottom-feeder Sean had been. But when Megan opened her mouth, words fled, just the way they had all those times someone had asked about the bruises and cuts and bloodied lips. She didn’t want to admit that she’d hung around while someone beat the crap out of her. Who would? But if she didn’t say it now, didn’t connect with Jenn now, when? “He hit me.”
The voice didn’t sound like hers. It was low and soft and full of shame and she hated, hated, that Jenn now knew one of her dirty, shameful secrets. But it was too late to take it back or blow it off because Jenn had heard her. She could tell by the way Jenn froze in place, the way her eyes flared wide.
Megan’s pride kicked in as always. “You always said you hoped I got everything I deserved for stealing Sean from you. Well, rest assured Sean made sure I got more than that.” She laughed, trying for light and breezy but ending up with strained and forced. “I mean, you know how he got when he drank, loud and obnoxious, any little thing would tick him off. After a while, the thing that ticked him off most was the sight of me.”
Jenn couldn’t have looked more shocked—or suspicious. “If this is another one of your stories, Megan, so help me—Is that true?”
If? A story? Getting beat up wasn’t something to joke about, not even for Megan.
“Why didn’t you say anything? Tell us?”
A bitter laugh welled in her throat. “Who would I have told? You don’t believe me now.” Another caustic laugh erupted from within her. Of course this was how things would go, eh? “Mom and Dad kicked me out. You hadn’t spoken to me since that night. I was pregnant, and the way I looked at it, I didn’t have a lot of options. You were right about one thing, though. I was spoiled and self-centered and shallow, because in the beginning I honestly thought Sean’s money could make up for being slapped around.”
Jenn’s expression was priceless as she sorted through what Megan had said. If only she had a camera.
Jenn lifted her hands and pressed them to her head, her face scrunched up like a kid about to take medicine. “I can’t…I can’t think.”
What was there to think about? Either Jenn believed it or she didn’t. Either she let Megan stay, or she didn’t.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell us.”
Honesty came easier here. “Sean was good. A day didn’t go by that I didn’t hear him say something about how I’d betrayed all of you, how much you hated me, wouldn’t care what happened to me. You get told something so much and after a while you believe it.”
An engine cut from somewhere in the neighborhood and a door slammed, the sound echoing off the trees.
“I’m sorry,” Jenn said softly. “I am, truly. I had no idea, and I’m very, very sorry you had to deal with that after you married Sean. But,” she stressed, her tone firming, “what Sean did during your marriage is irrelevant to what happened between us and what led up to your marriage. It doesn’t change how you treated me or what you did.” Jenn gathered up the crayons with an angry scoop of her hand and pushed them into the box with little jabs of her finger. “And even though people change, I still know there’s another reason that you’re here. What do you want, Megan? It can’t simply be the need for forgiveness.”
“Why can’t it?”
“Because I gave you tons of chances growing up. I forgave you when you broke the porcelain doll Dad got me when you went away for that sectionals meet. I forgave you when all the recipes I copied from Grandma’s box wound up getting thrown out in the trash or when you lost the autographed copy of Nancy Drew Mom g
ave me for Christmas. I forgave you each and every time I had to cast my vote for whatever stupid school contest you were in, and every single time you turned around and stabbed me in the back when I wasn’t looking.”
Jenn’s words were so painfully telling. Megan had done those things, uncaring of Jenn’s feelings because she’d known Jenn would forgive her eventually, striking out because she could. Because she’d felt she had to. Strike out, or implode.
But she didn’t want to be thought of as that shallow, selfish girl anymore. Didn’t want to be the sister Jenn couldn’t count on, was embarrassed of, ashamed of, hated.
She’d made a mistake, lots of mistakes. Couldn’t Jenn see that things hadn’t been perfect? She had to stop pretending that their childhood was a fairy tale. Dad’s comments had hurt Jenn, too.
“But why bother asking for my forgiveness now?”
Because Sean had promised her she would see him again, that she’d never get away. He’d promised her that she’d pay for what she’d done and she knew he’d keep his word. “Because I want to start fresh. Can’t we put the past behind us and act like sisters? The way sisters are supposed to act? Can’t we try?”
Jenn stared at her, every emotion crossing her face—disbelief, pain, derision, guilt. “Maybe. If I could trust you. But I can’t. You say you’ve changed but how do I know it’s true? Megan, sisters aren’t supposed to sleep with their sister’s boyfriends! Considering you’ve done that to me twice…why would I believe you?”
“It was one time. Once.”
“She slept with your boyfriend? That’s what all the drama is about?” Ethan emerged from the house and walked toward them, his gaze searching Megan’s as though concerned.
Megan’s heart thumped in her chest. He looked sexy and confident and way too appealing to a girl who’d sworn off men. And now he knew—not that it was much of a secret. He could have asked Nick or Jenn at any time and they probably would’ve told him.
