But none of it explained why Gaines would want the coach dead.
Then it hit her. The article Caroline brought home. Maybe she’d been looking in the wrong places, assumed each new job was a step up: better school, bigger salary, more prestige. But what if it was more than that?
What if the moves followed some kind of controversy or trouble? A scandal, sexual harassment, underage drinking? Issues with players, parents, or boosters? Or his own family?
Allie rubbed the back of her neck. Her fingers fumbled over the keyboard, trembling—worried she might find something, frightened that she wouldn’t.
What can I prove?
Her shoulders ached from sitting. Allie straightened, glancing once more at her notes. She wasn’t a detective. She needed help. She was drowning in details, going in circles, and getting hopelessly frustrated. Allie got up from her desk and stumbled toward the bed. As she lay down, easing her body between the cool sheets, she allowed herself to drift off. After hours of restless slumber, tossing and turning, she woke with one thought: Ben.
Ben was the only person who might give her a chance to explain. She’d tried to push the thoughts of him out of her head. He was back. He was here. Ben had made a huge career change, one that allowed objectivity.
He’d make an excellent journalist, Allie thought. And now he wouldn’t be bound anymore to one particular party or candidate. Ben might be able to help her. It was the longest of long shots, an almost-guaranteed slam of a door in her face.
Ben, after all, had left town right after she’d broken it off. It made sense. She’d ended their relationship. She shivered. Allie had broken his heart, but why had he disappeared so quickly? Because she’d ended it? To put distance between them as soon as possible? To try and forget her? Or was there something more?
Allie sat up. Ben’s brother had protected Coach Thomas. Did Ben know something she didn’t? She pressed her fingers to her forehead, propping her elbows on her knees. He might tell her to go to hell.
If Ben did, at least one thing was certain. Hell didn’t frighten her. Not that much.
Allie had already been there.
TWENTY-NINE
CAROLINE
2016
Caroline hadn’t seen Russell in days. The hours seemed to pass in slow motion, measured in songs she memorized. Her current favorite was Druery’s “Deliver Me.”
Tell me about the freedom you crave. We can’t get out today. The streets, they all head one way.
The rhythm and words gave her something to focus on, a way for her brain to disconnect from all of the worry. Unfortunately, Emma didn’t see it that way. Every few hours she’d open Caroline’s door. It was the same question every time.
“You okay?”
Caroline would nod and shift her body away, put her back to the door. When Emma offered to make homemade strawberry ice cream, one of Caroline’s all-time favorite recipes, she offered a polite no.
“Not hungry,” she told Emma. “Thank you anyway.”
As for school, she existed by slipping into the girls’ restroom and locking herself in the last stall between classes. She skipped lunch, choosing to hide out in the musty basement near the custodian’s supply room, which smelled of bleach and cleaning supplies. No one bothered her there. Caroline pretended to cram for a test if anyone walked by. It had worked so far.
There was still buzz about Maddie’s photograph, and she’d returned to school a different person, reserved and quiet, slipping from class to class with her head down. Caroline noticed that Maddie, now more pale and drawn than when she had the flu last year, quit wearing makeup. She was dressing in slouchy clothes that covered her slim figure. There were rumors of Maddie being put on Xanax and antidepressants, of Maddie not leaving her house on weekends.
That morning their eyes had met across the hallway between classes. For a moment, Caroline felt a surge of hope. But Maddie’s eyes were swollen, with dark circles underneath. She looked haunted, and turned and walked away before Caroline could even react.
In the swirl of students rushing around her, Caroline stood still, watching the girl who had been her best friend disappear into the crowd. As hard as she could, Caroline wished she could erase it all and start over. She’d give anything for a fresh start from the past few weeks.
With thoughts of Maddie still heavy on her mind, Caroline headed home to get ready for her volunteer shift at the nursing home. She remembered how they’d laughed and joked on career day. How Maddie had rolled her eyes and poked fun at the speakers. Her always-up-to-no-good grin that made Caroline laugh.
She winced at the memory.
Caroline called out to Emma that she was home and went straight to her room, where she brushed her hair into a long, tight ponytail. She washed her face, scrubbing until it glowed, then ran some ChapStick over her lips. Caroline bent over to tie her tennis shoes, straightened her waistband, and pulled her backpack over one shoulder.
“Emma, I’m leaving, okay?” Caroline headed for the front door, double-checking to make sure she had her keys.
“Already? Want a ride?” Emma said, leaning out of her office door.
“No thanks,” Caroline replied, waving to her aunt. Today was about standing on her own two feet. She would show Russell that her volunteer work was more than running away from her problems. That she wasn’t really that shallow and selfish. And she would give him the apology that was way overdue.
The walk did Caroline some good. The air was clear and crisp. Her freshly washed skin tingled. A few of the residents lifted a hand to wave as she walked up the curved driveway.
“Hello,” she said and smiled as she walked past. Through the doors, up the elevator, to the nurses’ station.
“Caroline,” one of the aides greeted her. “How are you, honey?” She smiled widely, showing a gold tooth on one side.
“Good.”
“Glad to hear it. We sure need an extra pair of hands tonight.” She reached across the counter for a list, then handed it to Caroline. “Here are the folks who need dinner brought to their rooms. You don’t have to do anything other than set the trays down and make sure they’re comfortable. If anyone needs something else, come and find me.”
It would be fine, Caroline told herself. She’d duck in, duck out. Caroline busied herself with the trays, her stomach growling as the scent of roast beef and gravy drifted from the cart. On her way out of the corner suite, she thought she’d caught a glimpse of Russell. His shoulder and arm around a tiny, bird-like lady, helping her walk. Other residents and staff congregated nearby.
She backed away and turned her cart. Caroline didn’t need an audience. She’d save seeing Russell for last. The cart’s wheels squeaked across the floor as she pushed, trying not to appear flustered or rushed.
Russell had offered to listen. He wasn’t trying to be smart or condescending. He seemed to understand, like something bad had happened to him or a friend.
Caroline had just reacted, switched herself on the defensive, and fired back.
She was immature and emotional, and he’d probably also added hysterical pain in the butt to that list. Someone to avoid. Psycho, even.
He deserved an “I’m sorry,” even if he decided never to talk to her again.
She’d find him today, say what she needed to say before he told her off, and hope for the best.
Caroline stopped and scanned the names and room numbers on the list. There was at least one new resident; most of the rest she knew by sight. And there was a Dr. Gaines. Room 204. The woman who thought she knew her.
Gaines. She wondered if it was a cousin or a sister to the sheriff. Checking the number, she rolled her cart in the direction of Dr. Gaines’s room. She bent down, easing the tray off the rack into the crook of her elbow. With her free hand, she rapped twice on the door. Hearing nothing, she held her breath and pushed down on the handle, letting herself in the room.
It was dark, the curtains drawn, and smelled faintly of Windex, as if someone had just been i
n to clean. Dr. Gaines sat facing the television, though nothing was on. Maybe she was dozing. Or thinking. If so, Caroline didn’t want to disturb her. She tiptoed across the carpeting and set her dinner on a small table near the bed.
As she turned to leave, Dr. Gaines spoke. “Hello? Who’s there?”
Caroline stood still, caught. She made herself swivel around and smile. “Hi, Dr. Gaines. I brought you some dinner.” She pointed toward the tray.
“Thank you.” Dr. Gaines strained to sit up taller and waved her closer. “Emma, dear. I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” Slowly she lowered her gnarled hand, resting it, waiting.
Her throat went dry, but Caroline forced herself to take a step forward. “I’m Paul and Lily’s granddaughter,” she added, making her voice louder, pressing her palm to her chest.
“Yes, yes. They’ve been so worried about you,” Dr. Gaines mused. “They don’t know what’s wrong.” She sighed and folded her hands on her lap. “I understand that you don’t want to tell them. That’s your decision. But someday you should let them know. They love you and they’re worried about you.”
“I-I don’t understand.”
Dr. Gaines continued, “It’s so disappointing, after all the expectation and excitement.” Her eyes bore into Caroline’s. She wasn’t being unkind; it was like she knew something. A secret. Dr. Gaines exhaled a ragged breath. “Even with your situation.”
Situation?
“I’m just worried about you needing someone to talk to. Have you been back for a checkup or spoken to the grief counselor I recommended?” Dr. Gaines blinked at Caroline, expectant.
“No,” Caroline answered, stuttering. “I-I think—”
“Emma,” Dr. Gaines cut in. “This is not the end. You can adopt. You have options. We’ll find you some help. There are children who need loving parents . . .”
Emma. Grief counselor. Adopt. Situation?
Dr. Gaines had to be insane or plain out of her mind.
Caroline didn’t need to be frightened. It was Dr. Gaines who was confused, not her. The whole thing was just a silly mistake. Sure, she looked like her aunt, everyone said so. But Emma had never been pregnant.
“Um, excuse me. I forgot something.” Caroline backed out of the room, into the hallway. She closed the door with a click, turned, and bumped straight into Russell’s chest.
“Oh.” She jumped.
“Hey.” He touched her shoulder. “Where you going so fast?”
Caroline flushed pink. “I needed to grab something.” She paused. “And . . . I was going to find you after my shift. Later. I needed to apologize. To you.”
With a lopsided smile, Russell stepped closer. “Thanks.”
“I mean it, really,” Caroline said. “I’m so sorry. I acted like a baby. All defensive. It wasn’t right. You were trying to be sweet and listen. I just freaked out.”
“Apology accepted, okay? I know you’re under some pressure,” Russell replied, gesturing with his hand. “You’ve got a lot to handle with your mom and stuff at school.”
Caroline grimaced.
“So, tell me, what just happened?”
Caroline sighed. “That lady. Dr. Gaines. She weirded me out a little.”
“She’s really harmless,” he said. “Gets a little irritated sometimes. Hey, did you know she’s married to Sheriff Gaines?”
Caroline balked at the thought. Sheriff Gaines always seemed proper and buttoned-up. Rigid. Cold, almost.
“He comes in every day.” Russell shrugged. “If that’s not love, I don’t know what is. It’s crazy, what happened.” He paused. “Tractor trailer hit her. She should have died.”
“Oh, wow,” Caroline sputtered. “No wonder she’s messed up. She thinks I’m Emma. And she was talking crazy . . . about my ‘situation,’ and ‘there are children who need loving parents.’ ”
“Wait, who’s Emma?” Russell wrinkled his forehead.
“Oh, sorry. My aunt. I live with her.”
“Well, do you look alike?”
“Um, sure. We do,” Caroline agreed.
“Hey.” Russell rubbed at his chin. “Dr. Gaines could have been your aunt’s doctor,” he added, raising an eyebrow.
“Hmm. Maybe,” Caroline said, scrunching up her forehead. She couldn’t imagine Emma picking Dr. Gaines, though. “What kind of doctor was she?”
“An ob-gyn. She delivered babies.”
Caroline wrinkled her nose and started to laugh. “Oh, I don’t think so—”
The look on Russell’s face, serious and contemplative, stopped her.
She felt the hairs on her neck stand at attention when she remembered what Dr. Gaines had said. This is not the end. You can adopt. You have options.
THIRTY
ALLIE
2016
All day at work, Allie thought of nothing but Caroline’s challenge and talking to Ben. She ran everything through her mind several times, planning out what she might say and how she should approach him.
Allie’s distraction caught up with her in the afternoon. At Natalie’s office, she’d knocked over a tray of instruments, dropped a vial of medicine on the floor, and in her haste to clean up the mess, splashed cleaning fluid on the dog’s owner. The man, less than pleased, didn’t hesitate to complain to Dr. Harper immediately.
He wasn’t the first person to express distaste at having Allie in the office. Most of the time there was no basis for the person’s unhappiness, other than personal feelings. Allie was aware that her status as a felon made it difficult for some owners to be comfortable, but she worked hard, kept to herself, and did her job. When someone complained, Natalie excused Allie from the room, wrote a note in the chart for future reference, and made sure to explain the circumstances.
Natalie’s pat answer was that the office needed an experienced tech, she hired who was available, and the state of Georgia approved the work as part of her rehabilitation. Generally, the person who complained didn’t say anything else after that.
Today, however, Allie’s carelessness had cost her. Natalie was a good employer who’d taken a big chance on a convicted felon. Allie needed to worry about doing her job well and making herself useful. Chasing ghosts from the past didn’t have any place in a vet clinic.
Despite telling herself that, Allie couldn’t help but think back to when her life was so different. A pang of regret hit her square in the heart. Ten years earlier, she’d put in a shift with her father at the vet office, go home to Caroline, and spend the evening with Ben, or reading journals like the Lancet and the Harvard Health Journal. It wasn’t exactly normal. No one else she knew was quite that focused.
Of course, Emma had called it “obsessed.” Ben, though, always understood.
Pressing a fist to her lips, Allie swallowed a sob. Why hadn’t Ben fought harder? Why hadn’t he demanded another chance? Why?
Allie closed her eyes and lowered her chin to her chest.
No. It was all her fault. Such a huge mistake—thinking that she knew exactly what Ben needed, what he wanted, and what he could handle. If she had to do it all again, she would have just let him love her.
October 2006
When the last patient, a feisty border collie, and his owner made their way to the vet clinic’s lobby, Allie smiled and headed for the employee break room. Her father had sewn up a small gash on a golden retriever, they’d performed surgery on a Labrador with a bowel obstruction, and she’d given shots to a half-dozen squirming corgi puppies. The litter, an adorable mess of clumsy bodies and legs, made Allie grin. The dogs’ collective yelping drowned out every other sound in the office.
Allie shed her soiled scrub top, balling it up and tossing it into the mouth of her open canvas bag. She pulled the thick band from around her ponytail and shook out her hair, feeling the heaviness settle against the back of her neck. With a glance at the clock, Allie scrubbed her hands at the sink, watching the suds and water swirl to the drain below her fingertips. Thank goodness her mother loved watching Caroline. A
s a favor, Ben would be picking up Caroline in a few minutes.
When she bent to slip off her shoes and set them on the bottom shelf, Allie ran a hand along the smooth wood, wondering how many times she’d touched this same spot. The break room, cramped and windowless, held only lockers, a small stove, and a noisy yellow refrigerator. But Allie wondered if she would miss it. The office, the animals, even the ugly break room with its outdated appliances.
She’d interviewed with Emory in September, sat through a day of grueling scrutiny from white-coated physicians. Allie had managed to maintain her composure, express her love of medicine, and profess that the school had been, and still was, her first choice. She would arrange schooling and after-hours care for Caroline. Her family wasn’t far, she added, and could help on weekends.
Allie reached for the envelope inside her bag. She drew it out carefully, set it in her lap, and ran a finger across the black letters. Her name, stamped onto the smooth white paper. When she broke the news last night at dinner, her father had been ecstatic and talked nonstop, repeating at least five times he was glad she wasn’t leaving right away. Ben had hugged her and kissed her head. When her grandmother began clapping, a bewildered Caroline clapped along and began singing “Happy Birthday,” making Allie grin and shake her head.
Even twenty-four hours later, the acceptance hadn’t fully sunk in yet. She’d probably sleep with the envelope under her pillow to make sure she hadn’t dreamt the delivery. Right now, medical school still seemed like a foreign country, a place to visit where she didn’t know the customs and didn’t speak the language. Allie straightened her shoulders. This is silly. She knew a lot about wounds and injuries; she’d sewn up plenty of lacerations, and she’d helped tend to the sick.
Allie connected with animals, sensed illness or pain. People, though, were different. People were complicated, with millions of questions and lists of ailments. Would she freeze up, forget everything she’d learned, not trust her intuition?
Ben, on more than one occasion, assured her that these anxieties were normal. In fact, he’d planned a picnic for this evening—just Allie, Caroline, and him—to get her mind off medical school and help her enjoy the remainder of her soon-to-disappear free time.
Sister Dear Page 17
