by Teri Blake
While some would say I was envious of Quin, I wasn’t. I was envious of how you treated her. I wanted to be like her. I was stubbornly sure that when she left for college you would suddenly have time for what was important to me. That was not the case.
I do thank you for giving me the use of this house. It allowed me to play pretend that my artwork on the wall was put there by you and was just as important and beautiful as that of my sister. Poor Quin will never understand. Even this very night she tried to convince me to call you and have you come. She doesn’t understand that the moment you arrive, I will no longer have her attention because when you are around, she tries to please you. She has not yet figured out that is an insurmountable feat. I can’t have that. Time is too precious.
Mom once told me that she would fight tooth and nail for my survival. Those are not my wishes and I won’t be guilted into staying when my time has arrived. For those reasons, I asked Quin to keep my illness a secret. Please don’t blame her.
Quin rolled to her back and let her tears flow down her temples. All this time she’d tried to avoid her parents and their smothering while Ryla had wanted even a little of that. Quin would have gladly given her sister a taste.
The clock on the mantel struck six. The bank had closed an hour before and her parents hadn’t come back or called. Quin set the diary back on Ryla’s shelf with the letter still tucked in the back. The time certainly wasn’t right to give it to them. While they might not enjoy the gift of a prepared meal, she certainly would.
Chapter Twelve
The oven timer went off just as someone knocked on the door. Quin yelled as she rushed to pull the casserole from the oven. “Come on in!” Mom and Dad wouldn’t knock which meant it was most likely Paxton or Karla.
Paxton’s voice came from the front. “Not today, Duggy.”
The little rabbit had been getting increasingly frustrated with her, as if he suspected her of keeping Ryla from him. He thumped a lot and had taken to sitting by the door, waiting for an escape.
“Sorry about him. I keep forgetting. I’m so caught up in the house and my parents…” And she didn’t want to get too attached to the rabbit she couldn’t keep.
“Maybe he’s grieving too.” He strode into the kitchen cradling the chocolate-colored rabbit in his arms. “He was here with her for a long time, ever since he was a kit. He’s never known anyone else and it wasn’t like Ryla was incredibly social. This is all new to him.” He slowly stroked Duggy behind the ears. “How are you holding up?”
This was all new to her too. “I’m managing. Did you stop by for supper?” She pulled the tinfoil off the top of the dish and as the steam rose a luscious scent came along for the ride.
“I did, and now I’m glad. That’s Karla’s bacon green bean casserole, known throughout the land as the best of the best.”
She sighed as she stared at the green beans and bacon bits covered in a creamy mushroom sauce with melted cheese. Her stomach grumbled and she clutched her belly. It never did that.
He laughed as he bent forward to release Duggy. “No shame in being hungry at suppertime. Where are your folks?” He went for the plates in the cupboard.
“They went to do some digging into Ryla’s affairs. I didn’t want to join them. They also turned their nose up at the offered supper, so they’re probably eating out as we speak.” She frowned, not knowing if she was supposed to put the food in a serving dish and having no clue where the serving spoons were.
Paxton pulled out a drawer and dug out two forks and a large spoon. “I’ll get this plated. Why don’t you sit? No sense in both of us standing in this small kitchen.”
She hadn’t thought the press of the room was bad until he mentioned it. She glanced around her, looking to see what he saw. That had never been her goal before. She’d always tried to see the world the way no one else saw it. Paxton kept giving her tiny hints—like calling the kitchen small—that he wasn’t the one to be her connection to the world. His inner nature to be nice and nurture, that same nature that made him an excellent nurse, kept confusing her.
The dining room felt cold and alone. She’d only used it when her parents were there. The one meal with Ryla at the table had been her only pleasant meal at that table so far. Paxton set a plate in front of her along with a fork and napkin, then he sat down just to her left.
“You’re in for a treat. Karla usually only makes this for the neighborhood potluck. She must be trying to get you to come out of the house.” He laughed as he dug in.
“Why does everyone expect me to be so different from her?” Even Ryla herself had noted in her diary that they were so different, despite certain similarities.
“Because we only knew her—and frankly not that well—and she painted you as wonderful, often in a self-deprecating way which I tried to stop.”
Her sister had done that for as long as Quin could remember. No matter how often she’d encouraged her to find friends she could share with so she didn’t have to feel like the younger sister, she’d ignored every plea. Ryla wanted to be the little sister. She felt it was her role in life. “I wish she hadn’t have felt that way. I can’t live up to that. Even in her diary from when she was twelve, she paints me as this amazing person. I’m not.” Quin pushed the beans around on her plate. No matter how hungry she felt, she couldn’t force herself to eat.
Paxton’s voice softly nudged her. “Maybe you’re more like her than you think.”
She’d survived on everyone else’s belief all this time. First Ryla’s, then her parents’, then Ben’s. At the age of thirty, she should have her own confidence in her ability, but that had never come. Now she was running out of people to give it to her.
“Until I saw how talented my sister was—a talent that was completely suppressed—I thought I was pretty great when someone told me I was. Now I see it for what it was, an expectation that everyone was going to love me. I projected it. I think I need a new life calling.”
He shook his head as he polished off his first plateful. “Only you can decide that. Do you really think Ryla wanted you to completely change your life because of her? I mean, she never begrudged your art. Instead, she tried to emulate it. If she wanted you to make a big change, don’t you think she would’ve tried harder to get you here while she still had some influence?”
Maybe if she were from a normal, healthy family. Not from their mess of a family though. “I think she left me enough clues around this house. Her first diary was full of wishes that people would see her like they saw me. I certainly didn’t want that. I didn’t want to outshine her. It wasn’t my intent. I was only a kid myself.” No matter how good the food smelled, her stomach wouldn’t stop tossing. How could she have been so blind?
Paxton stood and headed for the kitchen. “Or, she was really unhappy and was living with her own reminders. You might be just proving her right, that you were raised to think of yourself and so you don’t know any different.”
His words hit like an attack. “Are you calling me selfish?” Was she? She’d blamed her parents for her quirks for a long time, but did she have a view of the world that completely centered on her own ego?
“I’m saying you have a way of looking at the world that assigns feelings based on what you know. We all do it. But are you open to finding out something new, or will you stick to your old feelings? Ryla wasn’t just your little sister. There was a lot to her and she’s more than the hurt your parents brought onto her, too. I had hoped she’d confront them before she died, but ultimately that was her choice. She could’ve saved you from having to do it.”
“Me?” Quin couldn’t tell her parents how she felt. She’d never been able to do such a thing in all her life. She’d just left and kept her distance.
“Don’t you think you need that separation?” He patted her hand. “You haven’t eaten at all. You should.”
She took her first bite, and the flavor was like coming home after a long day and finding her favorite movie about to start on cable. Ho
me. “How does she do that? I’ve never had this before in my life, yet it feels like…” She tried to reach into her memory for the right word but came up woefully short. The best she could come up with was an old coffee commercial.
“Like home?” he mumbled. “That’s how it makes me feel.”
Home had never been a comfortable place for her. If this feeling was only a sample of what Ryla had hoped of their relationship, no wonder she’d wanted Quin to come back so often. Until she didn’t. Because Quin had failed her. “I can’t keep Duggy,” she blurted. She couldn’t keep anything. Didn’t deserve any of it.
“Why not? She wanted you to take him. He was like a child to her.” Paxton’s voice turned rough and he sat back, separating himself from her.
“I can’t. I can’t have him in my apartment. He doesn’t even like me. You should take him.” She pushed her plate away, wishing she’d never experienced any of Ryla’s hopes through her friends. Going through this would’ve been much easier if she’d remained blind.
“I can’t take him. She wanted you to have him.” He picked up his plate and took it to the kitchen.
She waited for him to come back so she could explain herself. He was right. She was being selfish, and she wanted to return to where she’d been. She wanted to block out the pain she could feel on the horizon at the prospect of understanding what family really meant. If she didn’t, she might have to face the fact that she’d given up on her only chance at it.
Chapter Thirteen
Mom sat on the floor, half playing with Duggy, half packing Ryla’s clothes. “It’s amazing to me that none of these have hair on them.” She gave Duggy the side-eye.
Quin glanced into the donate box and tugged a soft knee-length sweater from the top, then clutched it close. It still held a little of Ryla’s scent and the softness was like the hug she’d been too much of a fool to ever give her before it was too late.
“Why are you keeping that? I can’t even imagine having sweaters here, but maybe where you live…” Mom dumped a stack of clothes from the nearby drawer into the box without looking at them.
Even though the weather had been hot on the day before Ryla’s death, she’d brought the sweater along and had used it to soften the seat. That day had been one of the most stressful and uncomfortable, but that day, more than any other, Quin would cherish because Ryla had been real with her.
“Maybe because I want to keep a few things.” Things that, like the diaries, reminded her of times that were probably the best in her life. Strange that when she lived them, she could only think about the future. Now that the future had arrived and she’d seen where her life ended up, she wished she could have a few minutes back.
“Well, don’t keep much. Your apartment is small. It’s not like you make a bunch of money on your art and your father and I won’t pay your way. You’re an adult now. These are just clothes, keep what you think meant something to her.”
Quin realized Mom had already boxed up much of the dresser. Three other large boxes sat behind her. “I never asked you to pay for anything. Not even college.” Because if they hadn’t, she’d have picked a smaller, less expensive school and done it on her own. That tie was just another rope around her waist, attaching her to her parents, that they could use against her at-will. “Maybe if I hadn’t gone where you chose to send me, both of us could’ve gone.”
Mom was silent for a moment, then the scratching, stretching sound of the tape as she rolled it over the box to seal it shut cut into the silence. “We had enough for one child, and you showed the most promise. Ryla never liked being in a crowd and didn’t really want to go. She wouldn’t have lasted more than a few weeks. College would’ve been very stressful for her. Her heart couldn’t handle it. Not even then.”
Not even then? “How long have you known about this?” Quin lowered herself cross-legged on the floor. Duggy hopped away. She was beginning to think the angry look he seemed to give her was just the way his face was made.
“She’s had a weak heart for…years. Probably since high school, but we didn’t know for sure until she was eighteen. I remember even before her diagnosis that her doctor said she shouldn’t be in sports or even take physical education. She wasn’t sad about that.”
Leave it to Mom to joke about something that wasn’t funny. “Why didn’t I know?”
She frowned. “I don’t know. You were only two years older. I guess we figured she would tell you what she wanted you to know. You two were close back then.”
She’d thought they were… Ryla’s dairy from her teen years was still on the shelf, but Quin had to hurry if Mom was already packing the house. Packing felt final and this house was Ryla’s home, the place where Quin could feel her. Once it was sold, she’d never be able to return and feel that again…the green bean casserole feeling would be lost forever. “Mom…can you not pack anymore, please? Just until I get my feelings straight. I want to help, especially since I’d like to keep a few things, but I can’t deal with it this fast.”
“Honey, I know you don’t want to deal with this. You’re probably worried about your own death all of a sudden because you were so close in age. But don’t worry. This isn’t something that runs in the family. You’ve got a long life ahead of you.” She grabbed another flat box and opened it, then taped the bottom.
“That isn’t it at all. Ryla told me so much in the two days before she died and I want to honor her by thinking about her words, but I can’t do that if I’m constantly worried you’re going to pack away something important. Where is all this going, anyway?” Quin’s chest ached thinking about what could be lost already.
“Goodwill. It’s not like we can keep it all.” Her mom gestured at the bed and the medical equipment in the corner. “Mr. Daniels…Paxton—is that what you said his name was?—said he’d stop by later today with a friend and load all of that up. Ryla was renting it and I don’t want to get a bill for it.”
Quin didn’t bother to hold in her flinch like she normally would around her mother. “Mom…please.” Couldn’t she be warm, just for a few weeks?
“Fine.” She stood up and dusted off her backside. “I’m only trying to help you so you don’t have to do all of this alone. We found her will on file with the bank, notarized in a lockbox. She left you the house, the rabbit, and her money. Virtually everything. She left us some letters that were with the will.”
So, the house was hers. But Mom—in her desire to help—was busy giving it all away? “I didn’t know Ryla owned the house. If it’s mine, then let me deal with it. You don’t have to stay and do this.” She’d much rather if they just left.
Mom frowned and took a deep breath. “Ryla had an issue with the homeowner’s association early on and needed to be able to claim the property as hers. We signed a quitclaim deed and put it in her name since it was paid off and we didn’t want it in our names any longer.”
More things she’d never known. “She thought I could handle it. Please let me.”
Mom nodded briefly and strode out of the room. Duggy shifted slightly to watch her leave and seemed to lurch forward as if he had seriously considered hopping after her. “Not today, rabbit.” Quin scooped him up and held him close. He pressed his nose into her shoulder, almost like a return hug. It was a start.
Duggy pushed free of her grasp and hopped to his cardboard cutout playhouse. He’d chewed huge holes in it, and he peered at her through one of them.
“Would you like a new one?” She glanced at the boxes Mom had left lying on the floor, ready to pack away all of Ryla’s belongings where no one had to think about them ever again. It was a small defiance, but a defiance none the less. Quin grabbed the box cutter Mom had left sitting next to the unused boxes and carefully cut a little square hole in the side of the box big enough for Duggy to jump through, then she taped the box shut and turned it over like a little hideout for him. He eyed her but didn’t leave his old enclosure.
Quin stood and took the high school diary off the shelf. While t
he first one had definitely shown Ryla’s childish thoughts, the teen diary would surely be full of angst. It seemed like all teens were. Was she ready to deal with the emotions of a teen when her grief was still so raw? Did she have a choice?
Someone knocked, saving her from the decision. She jogged to the door, closing the bedroom to keep Duggy contained. The last thing she wanted to do was chase him around the neighborhood. Especially with Paxton angry at her.
She opened the door and Karla stood on the other side, a tentative smile pulling at her lips. “I hope this isn’t a bad time…?”
The question seemed mildly funny given the circumstances, but Quin didn’t laugh. Instead, she opened the door. “Want to come in?”
Karla glanced inside then bit her lip and shook her head. “Not really. I was wondering if you wanted to walk the beach for a few minutes?”
Quin had arrived at her sister’s over a week go, yet had only been to the shore that one time. “Sure.” She stepped outside. “Thank you for supper last night. I think there’s enough that we can have it tonight, too.”
Karla nodded. “I’m glad.” She tucked her hands in her back pockets as they strode toward the beach. Her blonde hair was held back in a perfect bun and her clothes all looked pressed. “I just needed some time away and thought of you, sitting there in that big house dealing with everything. Thought you could use a break too.”
As the sun warmed the top of her head and the breeze cooled her cheeks, Quin took a deep breath. “I did. More than I realized. I keep trying to do two things at once and then just end up spinning my wheels on both.”
Karla smiled and shielded her eyes from the sun as she glanced out to sea. “Some things need singular focus. I’m finding that out now too.”
“Did you lose someone too? I mean, aside from Ryla?” She didn’t want to be too nosy with a woman she barely knew, especially when she’d leave in a few weeks and probably never see her again.
