“Why didn’t you grow up to be a reporter like Lisa Ling?” Ketki inquires, riveted by the story.
“Oh, that’s a good question,” Shelby replies. “She is really cool. She gets to go to all sorts of neat places. I guess I just hadn’t been at it long enough for the bug to truly bite. We didn’t even have the chemicals to develop the pictures. I had to imagine what they were going to look like. When my parents decided to leave, I elected to give my camera to The Ghost because he loved it so much.”
“It sucks that you had to give up your camera,” Ketki remarks.
“Yeah, I was upset about that — but I was more upset that I had to leave Harvey. He was like a grandpa to me.”
“You poor thing — having to give up your whole family like that — aren’t you lonely?” my mom asks and Shelby breaks into a teary smile.
Right now, if it wouldn’t be hugely conspicuous, I would love to give my mom a gigantic bearhug. She just gave me the best opening ever. What’s funny about this whole situation is that my mother does not know that my phone is completely going berserk with text messages — but she has inadvertently given me a hand. We apparently have ourselves a little situation — one that I didn’t anticipate. Usually, I’m pretty good at heading these things off, but this one blindsided me.
Shelby wipes some machine lubricant off of her fingers and sits back in her chair. She glances up at my mom who is currently covered in flour. “It’s a little strange—for years, I never give it as much thought as I have been recently.” Shelby shifts her gaze meaningfully at Ketki as she continues, “I’ve recently made some new friends and they’ve reminded me what I’ve been missing without my family. In some ways, that makes it a little harder, I guess.”
“It’s like having you in my life,” adds Ketki. “I never wondered about my mom much before, but now I do. It’s weird.”
This whole conversation and the vibrating phone in my pocket are stark reminders as to why I need to get this whole situation resolved as quickly as humanly possible. Yet, it seems that one leg of the journey is well under way, whether I want it to be or not.
“Ketki, for the love of all things we hold near and dear, please stop whining!” I snap as my head pounds in time with the tires going across the pavement on the freeway. “The noise from these cat-eyes is enough to drive me insane, I complain, as I rub the bridge of my nose and try to focus on the road.”
“Cat eyes? I always thought they were called rumble sticks,” Shelby remarks absently.
Ketki’s expression grows even more dark as she interjects, “Don’t you guys know anything? Those are called Bott’s Dots — you know, after the guy who invented them?”
Shelby shrugs as she responds, “What do you know? I learn something new every day —”
Unfortunately, Ketki is her usual tenacious self and refuses to be distracted by the noisy road or anything else as she continues to argue, “Dad, we hardly ever get to Grandma and Grandpa’s and you still haven’t given me a reason why we had to leave early. You can’t even use the excuse that you have trial first thing in the morning because you don’t; The guy had surgery,” she asserts stubbornly. “Shelby and I were having fun. Why do you always kill the fun?”
“Enough!” I roar. “Ki, I know what I’m doing, okay?”
“Geez, Mark, no need to bite her head off,” reprimands Shelby. “She just asked you a question.”
“Well, she’s asked me the same question four dozen times,” I declare defensively.
“Your point?” Shelby responds with a raised eyebrow. “That’s kind of a Ketki thing and honestly, you have been really reticent about all of this. You aren’t answering anyone’s questions. I mean, it’s not uncommon for you to be rather attached to your phone, but you’ve raised it to a whole new level this weekend. I’m beginning to wonder if I should be concerned. You’re checking that thing every two-seconds. I thought you didn’t have any trials going on right now.”
“I don’t,” I respond, feeling chastised. “I just have a lot on my mind.”
“I know that a lot of that’s about me,” Shelby offers, “but, I still think you might want to send your mom flowers or something. Her feelings seem a little hurt.”
“You’re right,” I reply with the sigh. “As you pointed out before, I have a tendency to barrel my way through things. I hope you understand that I always have the best intentions.”
“I’ve been hanging around you long enough that I’ve figured that out by now,” she admits with a snort of laughter.
“In that case, I’d like to preemptively ask for forgiveness in advance,” I suggest.
Shelby vehemently shakes her head as she responds, “No way. I may be a new, baby teacher, but even I know better than to give a blank permission slip like that.” She giggles and winks at Ketki. “Nice try, though. I’ll give you an A for effort.”
“I hope you still feel that way when the dust has settled,” I joke, hiding a very difficult truth in plain sight.
The mental argument I’ve been having with myself is so loud that I’m shocked that Shelby can’t overhear my thoughts. Maybe I should be doing something to prepare her for what she’s about to face, but I have no idea how to do that on the three-hour drive home in front of Ketki. My daughter is already having a colossal meltdown because of this complication and I don’t want to escalate things anymore. The time for recrimination and second-guessing is over and it is time to face the music.
“Dad, why is there a car with Georgia plates in our driveway? We don’t know anybody from Georgia,” Ketki asks, craning her neck to get a better look.
“Were you expecting Tristan? I see his car too,” Shelby adds.
“It looks like we may have company,” I comment neutrally. As soon as the words escape my mouth, I want to kick myself. Shelby deserves more warning than this, but I don’t know how to go back and fix what I’ve just done.
I take a deep breath as I look at Shelby and ask, “Shelby, you know, how sometimes it’s weird and things happen that you don’t expect? Sometimes good things can come out of bad things — I think today might be one of those days. Do you trust me?”
Shelby narrows her gaze at me as she replies, “Of course, as much as I trust anyone, I trust you. I love you —how could I not trust you?”
I let go of the breath I’m holding as I respond, “Fair enough. I’ll take that.”
We abruptly hustle out of the car and Ketki cautions Shelby as we make our way up the front walk.
“I think you might be in trouble, because that’s the voice my dad uses when he doesn’t want to tell my teacher about something embarrassing I did.”
Before I have a chance to explain myself, the front door opens and Savannah bursts out in a flurry of color. I watch with alarm as Shelby becomes ghostly white and sways. Suddenly, I’m grateful for Shelby’s slight build as Ketki ducks under her arm and provides support. Shelby struggles to take in the scene in front of her and seems to be rendered utterly speechless. Her mouth is opening and closing like a guppy who suddenly escaped his bowl without notice.
Savannah steps forward and attempts to break the ice as she comments, “Wow! I tried many times to envision the grown-up you, but you didn’t really look like this. Of course, I always figured you would be skinny, because you always had the energy to spare. I didn’t expect curves. You were always such a tomboy I guess I never expected you to grow into a woman. You are so beautiful.”
A look of confusion crosses Shelby’s face as she tries to process Savannah’s words. “Let me get this straight — You haven’t seen me in sixteen years and you want to talk about my bust size? Excuse me? Is this one of those ambush TV shows? This can’t be real? I don’t even understand where you’re coming from. Wait a second…let me take a minute to get this out — where are you coming from? Where have you been? Why aren’t you part of my life?”
Just when I thought things couldn’t get any more tense, Ketki interrupts the conversation.
“Shelby, is this
your sister? I thought you didn’t know where she was. If you didn’t know where your sister is, how did she find our house? That’s really scary. Should we call the police?” Ketki stops her barrage of questions for a millisecond to take a breath before continuing, “Never mind, I guess Tristan is kind of like the police and he knows she’s here — so I probably shouldn’t call the police. Are you happy that your sister is here? Is she going to stay with us too?”
Tears brim in Shelby’s eyes as she puts her arm around Ketki’s waist and hugs her close. “I wish I could respond to your questions Ki, but I am completely in the dark. I hope your dad has some good answers for me.” Instead of looking happy, Shelby looks even more broken than before.
Reflexively, I step forward and gather Shelby and Ketki into a large group hug. These two are the external representations of my heart beat. I have to find a way to patch it all back together. This is my family. It’s just not possible that things wouldn’t work out now.
“I WOULD SAY YOU LOOK beautiful, but honestly, Sissy, you are a mess,” Savannah remarks as she studies me carefully.
A burst of surprised laughter escapes my lips as I pour her more coffee in the quiet kitchen. I’m not sure where Mark, Ketki and Tristan disappeared to, but they have thoroughly vacated the premises, leaving me alone to deal with my sister.
“You always were mean to me,” I respond, sticking my tongue out, “but in this case, I can’t really argue with you. I am a mess. Cancer is no walk in the park.”
“I don’t think toilet paper band-aids are going to work this time, Shel,” Savannah adds sadly.
I shudder as the childhood memory plays in my mind. “I don’t know — the way I remember things, that’s probably a really good thing. There was an awful lot of spit involved with those. I can’t imagine that my Wound Care Doctor would approve.”
Savannah looks a little shell-shocked as she replies, “You’re kidding, right? Do your boo-boos actually have their own doctors?”
I nod as I confirm, “They really do. It’s a specialized area of medicine. I have so many different kinds of incisions and open sores on my body because of the different kinds of treatments they’ve tried to arrest my skin cancer that I have to have someone manage my healing process.”
Savannah’s eyes tear up and she hides a chuckle behind her hand as she admits, “I’m sorry for laughing, but all I can think about is how horrified Mom and Dad would be if they knew how much you go to the doctor now. It would probably give Dad a heart attack.”
I roll my shoulder and feign nonchalance as I ask, “How are Mom and Dad doing these days?”
Savannah cuts her eyes over to me with a look of total shock as she responds, “You don’t know?”
“Know what?” I ask, trepidation filling my voice.
“I never saw them after that nightmarish day.”
As I try to process this, she goes on.
“I was carted off to some weird halfway house. Technically, I was still a juvenile, but I was a couple weeks away from turning eighteen, so the court didn’t know what to do with me. I tried desperately hard to keep us together—but no one wanted to listen to me. I didn’t have any job skills and I had no education to speak of because I hadn’t even finished fourth grade. There wasn’t a sane adult on the planet who was going to listen to me when I told them that I had the skills and the fortitude to take care of you at eighteen. The last time I saw you, you were sitting in the back of a police car and there was nothing I could do to stop them from taking you away. My little brother was dead and you were gone and I was left alone in the world.”
Just like that, sixteen years of pain, hurt, suspicion and anger fell away from me like a snake shedding an old skin. I pull Savannah up to a standing position and pull her into a hug. I grimace when she touches the spot on the back that is the most painful. Yet, there is no way for her to know that Dr. Charleston has had to take layers and layers of muscle and skin away leaving me with nerve damage in that area which causes me terrible burning pain. It’s as if someone holds a burning ember to my back at all times.
I pull away and quietly try to compose myself as I sit down at the table and clutch my cup of coffee. Finally I whisper in a hoarse voice, “I thought you wanted me dead like Owen. I knew that he was your favorite and once he was gone. I was sure you didn’t want me.”
Savannah’s eyes widen with shock as she asks, “Why in the world would you think that?”
“You know those disposable phones we bought with the money we earned from cleaning Old Man Jenkins store? I’ve kept it loaded with minutes for sixteen years just in case you called?”
“Da-y-um, I’m sorry I let you down,” Savannah apologizes. “I always wanted you. I wanted Mom and Dad too, but they vanished like a fog on a hot summer morning. They were gone before the police car was even out of the driveway.”
“Wow, it’s amazing how one conversation can change everything you thought you knew about your life,” I respond. “Eventually, I ended up with a foster mom. What happened to you?”
Savannah flinches before she answers, “It’s too long a day for me to have that kind of conversation, but things turned out in the end. I have a cute little shop in Georgia where I help people make arts and crafts, called Paint Your Art Out.”
“Like one of those places where couples paint pictures or make pottery like in the movie Ghost?” I ask, unable to hide the excitement in my voice.
A fancy alarm starts to go off on the coffee machine. Savannah and I look at each other with an expression of annoyance, but shrug as we ignore it.
“I can see you’re still a terrible, incurable romantic,” my sister observes dryly.
“Aren’t you?” I retort “I remember that I wasn’t alone when we were writing those stories in our tent.”
Savannah shakes her head sadly as she replies, “No, I think real life has pretty much beat any romance right out of me.”
“That’s sad — you were the person who taught me about princesses, princes and the importance of believing in magic.”
Savannah sighs as she examines me, “I don’t want to be a downer here, but it seems to me that you need a little more than magic here, Sissy. I’m scared for you, really scared.”
“I’m scared too. But —”
The low-key beeping becomes more insistent. “Is that your phone?” Savannah asks, sounding perturbed.
“No, that’s not my phone,” I answer reflexively as I look around the kitchen. “Oh no,” I groan as I remember, “Mark just got a new phone. I forgot about his new ring tones. He must’ve left it by the coffee machine before he and Tristan took off with Ketki.”
I walk over to the coffee maker and pick up Mark’s phone. When I recognize the name on the messenger program, I can’t disguise my gasp of dismay.
“Something wrong?” Savannah asks as she sees my expression.
“I don’t know yet,” I answer candidly. “There just seem to be about hundred and five thousand messages from Mark’s ex-wife.”
Savannah sucks in a dramatic breath as she responds, “Oh, that’s never good.” She walks up and leans over my shoulder as I’m looking at Mark’s phone. “Is she really that pretty or is that clipart?”
I shake my head as I declare, “No, that’s not clipart. She really is that pretty and she is wicked smart too. She’s everything that I’m not. She is tall and graceful — almost regal. Her hair is long and shiny and almost down to her butt. You know the kind I mean; she could star in a shampoo commercial.”
“Is she a bitch? Please tell me she’s a bitch,” Savannah replies, fluffing her curly hair. “Some people get all the best genes.”
As I reach up to pat my head, I notice a large clump of my hair falls out in my hand. Tearfully, I show it to Savannah as I morbidly quip, “Be careful what you complain about, it could be worse.”
Mark’s phone beeps again. Savannah looks at me and whispers, “What are you going to do?”
After a brief second of indecisiveness I pick up Mar
k’s phone and answer it, “Mark’s phone. This is Shelby.”
After listening for a couple of minutes, I answer, “I’m not sure where he is exactly. It sounds like the two of you need to talk.”
I pause and listen to her.
It’s all I can do not to throw the phone down and just go running to someplace quiet. This phone call is my nightmare come to life. I never wanted this for anybody.
Finally, I take a deep breath and straighten my spine before I say, “You know what? You and I need to talk. Are you free tomorrow for lunch? Great, I’ll see you tomorrow at twelve thirty.”
“What happened?” Savannah asks anxiously when I hang up the phone.
“Well, I think I just signed up for an old-fashioned duel over my guy, I hope I come out the victor,” I confess, my voice shaking more than I would like.
I had forgotten all the perks of having a sister. I feel and look like a million dollars today. Okay, maybe I don’t feel like a million dollars because I spent half the night puking my guts up and there was another pile of hair on my pillow this morning, but Savannah did an amazing job with a random scarf that I left in Mark’s car. I look put together and fashionable. Two things that rarely ever apply to me — usually I’m just content to look like a leftover flower child from the 70s. Yet, today I am grateful for the additional armor as I sit drinking iced tea waiting for Tanyanita.
She is wearing bright orange scrubs as she comes flying through the restaurant. “Shelby, you look much better than the last time I saw you. I’m sorry that this is going to have to be a quick lunch. The doc I’m working for today wants to work his surgeries close together. Is there something wrong with Ketki? Is that why we’re here today?”
Tanyanita’s question throws me off a little. I wasn’t expecting that. I came here to talk about Mark and I wasn’t expecting Ketki’s name to be thrown in the middle of it so quickly. I decide to be truthful as I reply, “I’m not sure why we’re here, honestly.”
Love Is More Than Skin Deep (A Hidden Hearts Novel Book 4) Page 15
