As Close as Sisters

by Colleen Faulkner

  I cut my eyes at her. “Taking cancer drugs doesn’t count. If I was puking as many times a week as you are, I’d be down to my college weight, too.”

  McKenzie flashed me a smile.

  “I’ll pack something healthy.” Lilly took butter and strawberry jam from the refrigerator and set them on the counter. “Carrot sticks and stuff.”

  I wanted to tell her that we could do without snacks between lunch and dinner, but I knew it would be a waste of breath. “Carrots are fine. No more chips or licorice.” I started for the door. “I’m going to jump in the shower, then come back for my coffee.”

  “Skip the shower.” McKenzie began to fold the newspaper. “We’ll all go in the water. You can rinse your stink off in the ocean.”

  Lilly opened the jar of jam. It smelled good, and I realized I was hungry. I was tempted to tell her to put a muffin in for me, too, but I really did need to cut back on the carbs.

  “It doesn’t make sense to shower, then go swimming in the ocean and come back up and shower again,” Lilly said.

  Fritz was barking again, now more insistently.

  I glanced in his direction, then back at Lilly. “I know, but I feel gross.” I made a face. “My underwear is sweaty.”

  “Eww,” Lilly groaned, putting up her hand. “TMI.”

  Fritz was still barking. Which was weird because he knows better than to sit on the deck and bark at every kid or rabbit that goes by.

  McKenzie turned around to look in the direction of the front of the house. “What’s going on with him?”

  I shook my head. His tone was strange. “Fritz!” I hollered. “Knock it off.”

  He kept barking. Something about the sound made the sweaty hair on the back of my neck stand up. I walked out of the kitchen and through the living room. I could see him on the deck, his muzzle to the rail. He was still barking. I had never heard him bark like this before. “Fritz! Enough!”

  He stopped barking and started to whine.

  I stepped out onto the deck, looking in the same direction he was looking.

  There was a knot of people crowded around the water’s edge, just north of the house; it was maybe seventy-five or eighty yards from the deck, but here, from the second story, I could see pretty well. Some sunbathers were moving toward the clump of activity, others away. On the wind, I caught the sounds of human distress.

  “Stay, Fritz,” I ordered, walking toward the steps.

  “What’s going on?” McKenzie came to the doorway.

  “I don’t know.” I looked up from the third step. “Something on the beach. Fritz, stay,” I ordered. He had started after me; I had to point for him to go back up to the deck. This was so unlike him. He was never disobedient.

  McKenzie glanced in the direction of the commotion. “I’ll come with you.”

  “No. Stay here,” I said sharply. Sharp enough that McKenzie stayed where she was.

  I hurried down the stairs. I’d left my running shoes in the laundry room, so I was in my socks. I didn’t take the time to take them off. As I crossed the dune, I heard the sound of a siren. The frequency of the tone told me it was police. Close, coming this way. I heard another, farther in the distance.

  As I went up and over the dune, I looked back over my shoulder. Lilly had joined McKenzie at the rail. Fritz waited at the top of the steps, his whine practically a howl. “Stay there,” I called.

  I hit the beach at a jog. Closer to the uproar now, I could hear a woman crying. Someone was clearing the area, forcing the crowd back. It took me a split second to realize what I was seeing; the group in bathing suits was standing around someone lying in the sand. I saw bare feet. Long legs. A red one-piece bathing suit. Then I saw the long, wet, blond hair.

  I took off at a full run.

  At the scene of accidents, I’ve heard people say that time slowed down for them. That everything seemed to happen in slow motion. For me, as I sprinted the distance, everything was a blur . . . of time and space. The sky whizzed by overhead; the sand moved under my feet. I heard voices, but I didn’t hear what anyone was saying. I saw the faces of the people gathered, but they had no features. Not even gender.

  “State police,” I heard myself call out. “Step back, please.”

  My back was to the beach house. I faced the ocean. Someone had pulled her just far enough out of the water so that her head was in dry sand. She was almost perpendicular to the water, but her feet got wet with each wave. Her goggles were gone. Her eyes were closed. Like my father’s had been.

  “Step back! Please!” I barked. I realized I’d come down without my phone. “Did someone call 911?”

  “I called.”

  “They’re on their way.”

  “I hear them.”

  The voices seemed disembodied.

  I crouched beside her. I knew right away that she’d been dead a few hours: Her hands and feet were beginning to slough off skin, she was slightly stiff, and her face and neck looked bruised— signs of lividity. I pressed my fingertips in the hollow between her windpipe and the muscles of her neck anyway. No pulse in her carotid. She was cold to the touch.

  “Should we start CPR or something?” someone asked behind me.

  “Here come the paramedics!”

  “I see the police!”

  I stood and took a step back. I turned to identify myself to the male and female paramedics. I spoke in a low, steady tone. I’d been trained for these types of situations, with the army reserves and the state police.

  I provided Aurora’s full name. Then I stepped back to give the paramedics room. I heard them going through the motions of a resuscitation, but I knew, as I’m sure they did, that it would be unsuccessful. As I walked toward the first police officer arriving on the scene, in an Albany Beach uniform, I glanced up at the beach house. McKenzie and Lilly were still standing on the deck with my dog.

  Could they see her lying on the beach?

  I gave my name and Aurora’s name to the officer and explained my relationship to her. I pointed to the house, and then I walked away. A part of me thought I should stay with Aurora until she was loaded in an emergency vehicle, but my thoughts were now with the living.

  My heart shattered into raw, bloody bits as I trudged over the sand in my socks. Tears ran down my face. I’d seen dead bodies before, even a drowning victim. But my knees were weak, and I felt like I might be sick.

  I never saw this coming.

  Thoughts blurred in my head. When did she go swimming? Last night? Did she tell me she was going? I couldn’t remember her mentioning a swim when we turned in, and I didn’t even drink last night. Why did I not hear her go by my bedroom door?

  How did this happen?

  Did she get a leg cramp and drown? Was it an accident? Or was this something darker, something I could not bring myself to consider right now?

  McKenzie and Lilly were waiting for me on the deck. Just standing there, arms around each other, tears running down their faces. They were crying so quietly. Quieter than I expected.

  I knew they knew.

  I told them anyway.

  Epilogue

  McKenzie

  “I don’t understand.” Janine slid into the plastic chair in the hospital cafeteria and passed me a cup of coffee: cream and sugar. Coffee had finally started to taste good again.

  “What’s not to understand? It’s Aurora.”

  Janine stared at me. Blinked. She looked cute this morning in jeans and a sweater. It wasn’t as if she’d gone full Lilly on us, but I felt like she was figuring out who she was without worrying about what other people expected of her. Not even Lilly and me. She was wearing eyeliner, which I intended to tease her about at some point.

  “She left everything to Maura and Mia?” she asked, still dumbfounded.

  “Yup.” My annoyance was obvious in my voice. I was past the shock I’d felt when I’d seen Aurora’s attorney yesterday. Now I had moved on to being pissed. I hadn’t broken the news to my girls. I was trying to figure out how I
could not tell them. Of course, Aurora’s attorney had said that wasn’t possible. “No trust, nothing. My girls turn eighteen in March, and they inherit”—I took another sip of coffee—“somewhere around one point seven million dollars, each.”

  “Holy shit.” Janine took a sip of her black coffee. And again, “Holy shit.” It had become one of her favorite phrases—picked up from Aurora, I was sure.

  “Right.”

  Janine stared at me across the table, her gaze flicking to the clock on the wall. We’d both been in the hospital for hours. We’d even been in to see Lilly before things got down to the wire. We’d already talked to Matt twice since the birth. The birthing center in the hospital had some rule about no visitors being allowed in until the baby was an hour old. (Like we were visitors?) We only had to wait eleven more minutes. I planned to hit the elevators in five.

  “I didn’t know Aurora was . . .” Janine was at a loss for words.

  “That rich?” I asked her.

  “That rich or that stupid.” She put her hands together on the table. “Why did she leave it to them and not you?”

  “Obviously she assumed I was going to die before she did.” Someone called a code something-or-the-other over the loudspeaker almost directly over our table. I waited until Janine could hear me again. “The will was written in April. It was done perfectly legally; everything’s in order. I was dying. She thought she was doing a good thing.”

  “And Jude?” Janine asked.

  I shook my head. “He’s not mentioned in the will. I talked to Hannad last night. He seems fine with it. He says Jude is fine.”

  “That’s a lot of money not to leave to your only child.”

  I glanced at her over the rim of my paper cup. “I suspect Hannad is worth far more than that.”

  Janine glanced away, beginning to get fidgety. “I should call Jude. I haven’t talked to him since the funeral.”

  “You should,” I encouraged.

  She drew her lips back in a sad smile. “I don’t know. I got the impression when we said good-bye that he just wanted to let that part of his life go. Let us go, go with her.”

  We were both quiet for a minute. Lost in our thoughts. So much had happened in the last few months that I felt as if I could barely keep up. How could life change so quickly?

  The new drug was working, my lungs were looking better every month, and I was seriously considering going back to work part time. Aurora was gone. Things were going well between Janine and Chris. The beach house was on the market. My girls were going to be millionaires in six months. And Lilly had a baby this morning.

  I studied Janine across the table. She looked good. Her attorney expected the lawsuit against her to be dropped before it went to court. She talked about Chris like he was now a permanent thing. I’m so happy that she’s so happy.

  She glanced at the clock again. “We should go. If we’re one minute late—”

  “I know.” I rose. “We’ll be in trouble.”

  We both ditched cups still half-full of coffee and followed one hallway, then another to a bank of elevators. We took the elevator to the maternity floor and then followed signs to the birthing suites and checked in with a young nurse dressed in bright pink scrubs.

  Matt met us at the door to Lilly’s room. He was dressed in khakis, an oxford, and an argyle sweater vest. Despite a twenty-two-hour labor, he didn’t seem to have a hair out of place. He was grinning as hard as any new father could.

  “Thank goodness you’re here.” He kissed the top of my head, then Janine’s. “I was afraid I was going to have to come looking for you.”

  “You said an hour,” Janine pointed out, checking her cell phone.

  “I know, but according to Lilly, it’s been sixty-two minutes.” He stepped aside. “Go on in. I’m going to run downstairs, get some coffee, and make a couple more phone calls. She keeps taking the phone out of my hand while I’m trying to talk to people.”

  I laughed as I lifted up on the toes of my knee-high boots and kissed him on the cheek. “Congratulations, Papa.” Then I pushed through the half-open door.

  The room was nice. More like a hotel room than the kind of hospital room I’d stayed in after having Mia and Maura. Lilly was sitting in a leather recliner, dressed in a pale blue kimono-style bathrobe. Her hair was combed, and she was wearing pink lipstick. Of course she was. The only sign that she’d pushed out a baby an hour ago were the crinkles of fatigue around her eyes. And of course, it was obvious she’d been crying.

  She squealed when she saw us, and then she offered the white bundle to us.

  I took her first. “Oh my God, Lilly,” I breathed, gazing down at the tiny, sweet face. Her skin was pale like Matt’s, but she had jet-black hair and brows. “She’s gorgeous.”

  “She is, isn’t she?” Lilly grabbed a tissue from a box and dabbed at her eyes.

  Janine peered over my shoulder. “You know I don’t know much about babies, Lilly, but I’d say this one is pretty damned cute.”

  Lilly cut her eyes at Janine.

  “Sorry!” Janine apologized. “I forgot. No freakin’ cursing around the kid.”

  I rocked the baby against my chest, remembering the feel of Mia and Maura in my arms when they were this small. I closed my eyes and smelled her heavenly scent. “She’s perfect,” I whispered. “Our baby is perfect.”

  “So what’s her name?” Janine asked, taking a chair near Lilly. It was the question that had been on both our minds since Matt had called us an hour ago to say she’d been born.

  “I hope it won’t upset you . . . either of you,” Lilly said slowly.

  Aurora. She was going to call her Aurora. Janine had been sure of it. I hadn’t.

  “She’s your baby,” Janine said. “You can name her what you want.”

  Lilly looked at Janine and then me. She held my gaze for a moment. “I’m going to call her Joy.”

  “Joy,” I murmured, looking down, pressing a kiss to her soft cheek.

  “Not Aurora?” Janine said softly.

  Lilly turned to her, shaking her head slowly. “No. Matt and I talked and . . .” She looked down and then up again at Janine, tears in her eyes. “We decided that was too big a burden for our daughter, to carry that name.”

  We both watched Janine.

  “I’m sorry if that hurts you,” Lilly told her.

  Janine looked up. Tears in her eyes. “No,” she whispered. She rose and came to me and put out her arms.

  I handed the baby to her, pretty sure she had never held one of my girls when they were newborns.

  “Joy deserves her own name,” Janine said, awkwardly cradling the baby in her arms and looking down at her.

  I walked over to Lilly and leaned down to hug her. “I think Aurora would agree.”

  A READING GROUP GUIDE

  AS CLOSE AS SISTERS

  Colleen Faulkner

  ABOUT THIS GUIDE

  The suggested questions are included to

  enhance your group’s reading of

  Colleen Faulkner’s As Close as Sisters.

  DISCUSSION QUESTIONS

  1. Would McKenzie, Janine, Lilly, and Aurora have continued to be friends beyond middle school had it not been for Buddy’s death? Why did they grow closer together, rather than further apart?

  2. What do you think of the way McKenzie is handling her terminal diagnosis? Do you think it’s realistic? If you were McKenzie, how would you respond differently?

  3. Do you think that Janine has recovered from the sexual abuse by her father or does that abused child still live in her? Did what Aurora did to Buddy really save Janine?

  4. What are your thoughts on McKenzie’s relationship with her ex-husband, Jared? Is he a good father?

  5. Do you think it’s odd that Janine chose to be a police officer like her father? Do you think it gives her the control she didn’t have as a child? Is law enforcement something that’s “in your blood”?

  6. Why do you think Lilly was a part of the group? What
does she add? Is she in the inner circle? Were you surprised by her secret that only McKenzie knew about? Is it always better to share secrets with those you love?

  7. Do you think Aurora is a brave woman? Is she selfish or unselfish? Do you think her strength is real or a facade? Do you know someone with similar characteristics?

  8. Did you think McKenzie’s daughters, Mia and Maura, behave selfishly? Did you think they’d be okay after their mother’s death?

  9. If you could choose two of these women to spend a girls’ weekend at a beach house with, which two would it be? Why?

  10. Do you think what happens to Aurora is an accident? Why or why not?

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2014 by Colleen Faulkner

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  eISBN-13: 978-1-61773-519-6

  eISBN-10: 1-61773-519-1

  First Kensington Electronic Edition: November 2014

  ISBN: 978-0-7582-5571-6

  First Kensington Trade Paperback Printing: November 2014