The Other Sister

by Dianne Dixon

  “It’s my dream house, Jess. I can picture myself getting old there. And it’s where I wanted Sofie to grow up. I was looking at the staircase the other night…imagining Sofie walking down it in her wedding dress.”

  Jessica’s boys had collided, briefly dunking themselves under the water. Jessica scooped them up and waded toward the side of the pool, telling Ali, “You know how much I love you, and that I want to help, but—”

  “Jess, no. Please, that isn’t what I meant. I wasn’t asking for help.”

  With her children settled onto the pool deck, Jessica made an unnecessary adjustment to her bathing suit. Morgan noticed that Jessica wasn’t meeting Ali’s eyes as she said, “You know I’d do anything I could.” Jessica abruptly faced away from the barbecue area where Logan and Matt were. “Ali, this is so off the record that if you tell anybody, I swear, I’ll murder you. The reason I can’t help you out is…”

  Morgan leaned forward in her chair, straining to hear.

  “My connection to cash isn’t what it used to be,” Jessica said. “Daddy had his money invested with some A-list scammer, and the family fortune’s gone up in smoke, thanks to a good, old-fashioned Ponzi scheme.” She gave one of her tough-girl laughs. “You’re lucky you don’t want my help. Al, I couldn’t lend you a dime. I—”

  A shout had come from the barbecue area. Logan saying, “Two-minute warning on the gabfest. Steaks are ready.”

  “I just hope you didn’t overcook them like you always do!” Jessica shouted back. Then she confided to Ali, “I can still talk to him like that because he doesn’t know he isn’t married to money anymore.” She began gathering up pool toys. “I haven’t told him yet, so don’t say anything, okay?”

  “Not a word. I promise.”

  “And don’t worry about me. Even in my newly impoverished state, I’m okay. It’s only the extras that’ll have to go. Things like Logan’s boat and some other stuff. But our basic monthly expenses are covered. He’s doing fine money-wise. We’re not going to lose the house or anything.”

  Morgan saw the stab of envy her sister was experiencing. It broke Morgan’s heart.

  “You know that old saying?” Jessica murmured. “‘He who has the gold makes the rules’? Well, it’s always been ‘my gold, my rules.’” She looked in Logan’s direction. “I wonder how I’ll keep him in line when he finds out he’s the only one around here with cash.”

  Morgan watched Jessica’s mood turn on a dime as Jessica leaned in close to her twins, sniffing the air with a wry grin. “Tell me again why fourteen months is too soon to start potty-training these people?”

  • • •

  Afternoon had faded into early evening. The steaks had been served, and the meal was finished.

  Everyone was lingering at the table, chatting and watching the children play on the lawn. Jessica and Logan’s sons were busy with toy trucks. Sofie was romping with a huge orange-colored helium balloon that was attached to her wrist by a long, thin length of Mylar.

  Morgan wasn’t focusing on any of it. She couldn’t get her mind off what Ali had told Jessica about having to sell the house, and about that other “problem.” The one Ali wouldn’t name. What was it? Morgan wondered. There had been so much pain in her sister’s eyes.

  She was worried, wanted to help, needed to figure out where to begin. But Jessica was tapping her on the shoulder, saying, “Would you be a love and run up to the house…tell the housekeeper to bring dessert?”

  Morgan walked away with the feeling that Jessica’s gaze was following her. A split second later, she heard Jessica whisper to Ali, “Am I crazy, or has our little caterpillar turned into a butterfly?”

  • • •

  Jessica’s kitchen was empty. The pantry door, which had a center panel of textured glass, was slightly ajar. Morgan noticed someone moving around on the other side of it and assumed it was the maid.

  When Morgan pushed the door open, she discovered the pantry was surprisingly large. Chrome shelves lined all four walls, and in the middle of the room, there was a waist-high storage island with a black-granite top. Logan was at the far end of the island—an open bottle of vodka in one hand and a half-empty glass in the other.

  Morgan was surprised to see him there. “Oh. It’s you. I was looking for the maid.”

  Logan lifted his glass. “This is my way of having another drink without listening to my wife bitching that I don’t need one.” He drained the vodka in a series of slow gulps. When the glass was empty, he put it down and looked at Morgan. He held the look for a long beat, as if he was evaluating her, as if she were a car he was thinking about buying.

  When he finally said “Shut the door,” Morgan was reminded of that night in Newport, on the terrace of her guest room, when Logan had offered her what sounded like a playful dare.

  “Jessica wants the dessert brought out.” Morgan could tell that Logan was slightly drunk. It made her a little uncomfortable.

  He seemed amused and slowly repeated what he’d just said: “Shut. The. Door.”

  She closed the door carefully. Thinking about Ben, what a nice guy he was, but she was curious to see how these next few minutes would play out. Earlier, in the upstairs bedroom, her mother had told her “You’re absolutely beautiful.” And Morgan wanted, just for a little while, to flirt. To enjoy the power of being pretty.

  She was close enough to Logan to inhale the scent of his cologne, along with the salty smell of sweat and barbecue smoke.

  He was grinning at her.

  She smiled back, enjoying their little game of cat and mouse.

  Logan reached out and touched Morgan’s silky, summer dress; it was knee length, fitted loosely at her hips. Before she could move away, he lifted her skirt, letting his gaze quickly travel the length of her thigh.

  Watching her skirt float back into place, he murmured, “Sweet. Even better than I remembered.”

  Morgan stepped away, smoothed her skirt. “While my sister and I weren’t talking to each other, I got a dog. I’m outside a lot. I’m in better shape than I used to be.”

  The atmosphere shifted, the playfulness gone. There was unmistakable sexual tension now. Logan’s look told Morgan exactly where he planned to go next. She knew she should leave.

  But his fingertips were already on her skin—tracing the scar at her hairline, the tiny healed-over wound that vaguely resembled a question mark.

  For a split second, she felt a rush of excitement and was tempted. The same way she’d been tempted in Newport on Logan’s wedding night. But things were different now. She was different—not so lost and desperate.

  Morgan opened her mouth to tell Logan she was leaving but didn’t have the chance to say it. She was drowned out by a series of terrified screams.

  They were coming from outside the house. From the backyard.

  • • •

  Ali was screaming when Morgan raced onto the lawn. Matt was running toward Sofie.

  Sofie was on the patio, unconscious. A few feet away from an overturned barstool. One of her arms was twisted underneath her like a pretzel, tangled in the Mylar string attached to the helium balloon she’d been playing with.

  The balloon floated above Sofie’s body. In the light of the setting sun, it looked like a ball of orange fire.

  Ali

  The hospital room was spotlessly clean, right down to the floors. At the slightest touch of a shoe, they squeaked. The bed had chrome rails, and the sheets were blizzard white. Although the bed was tiny, it looked enormous to Ali, because it was empty.

  Her mother was insisting, “We need to pray. All of us together,” while Morgan kept asking, “Where’s the doctor? Where the hell is the doctor?”

  “Shut up!” The words came out of Ali in a frightened shout. “Both of you! Shut up!”

  Matt looked anguished, and said absolutely nothing.

  Ali cou
ldn’t stop thinking that she was to blame for what had happened to Sofie. At Jessica’s party, Ali had turned away, just for a minute. When she turned back, Sofie was up on that ridiculously tall barstool. Before Ali could get to her, Sofie toppled and hit the cement.

  “They’ve finished all the tests and the imaging.” There’d been the squeak of a shoe in the doorway—a doctor was in the room. A man with a haggard, soulful face. “We’ve sent her upstairs. She’s being prepped for surgery.”

  Ali reached for Matt, holding on to him for support. “How serious is it?”

  “We were lucky,” the doctor told her. “The EMTs did a great job stabilizing her arm. As far as the surgery goes, she has an outstanding team around her. The surgeon who’s doing your daughter’s procedure is the best.”

  “And once the surgery’s finished, then what? She’ll be fine?” Ali was torn between hope and fear.

  “Your child managed to fall from a high perch onto a hard surface. She shattered her arm in a way that will make it a challenge to repair. The injury is significant. We can put things back together for now. But there’s a strong possibility that as she gets older, she’ll need additional surgeries.”

  Ali dropped into a chair. Worried. And relieved. She looked up at Matt, wanting to say, Thank God. Sofie’s going to be okay, but the odd mix of emotions on Matt’s face shocked her into silence.

  The first thing Ali noticed was Matt’s look of resentment, as if something he cherished was being unfairly taken away from him. Then, almost immediately, the resentment was swallowed by anguish and a kind of cold-eyed determination—as if he was voluntarily killing off some vital part of himself.

  It was frightening to watch. Ali wanted to ask Matt what was going on. Before she could, the doctor was telling her, “Don’t blame yourself. Kids move like lightning bugs, and they have accidents. No parent can keep them safe every minute of the day.”

  The doctor put his hand on her shoulder for a moment. “I need to go upstairs now. I’ll make sure they take good care of your little girl. The surgeon will be here in a minute to talk to you.”

  As soon as the doctor left, Morgan leaned against Ali and asked, “Why does life have to be like this? Why is something terrible always waiting to happen?”

  Their mother tried to speak, cleared her throat, and tried again. “I don’t know if you girls remember, but your father used to say that our life on earth is the cosmic version of fourth grade. It’s a test…and we’re not here primarily to be happy. The big reason we’re here is that we’re supposed to be learning something.”

  “Like what?” Morgan’s question was pure bewilderment.

  “I think it’s different for everyone. I think we each have our own individual lessons to learn. And life keeps testing us on the same things till we figure out how to get them right…or at least come closer to getting them right.”

  Ali’s mother glanced toward the window, seemed to be looking into the past. “Maybe happiness isn’t about never having problems. Maybe it’s about learning from them. And doing better every time the test shows up.”

  When her mother uttered that phrase—doing better every time the test shows up—Ali watched Matt tremble and noticed an angry flush spread across his face.

  In that same moment, another squeak came from the doorway. A new doctor was in the room. The man who would perform Sofie’s surgery.

  Ali couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

  His hair was longer now, slightly messy, as if he was in the habit of running his hands through it. His body was leaner, not as chiseled and rock hard. His face was thinner. His eyes weren’t as open and bright as they’d been. But there was no doubt about who he was—Ali’s former neighbor from the apartment complex.

  “Peter!” she said. “Peter Sebelius.”

  Morgan

  “Wow. It’s insane how fast kids heal. It’s only been a few weeks, and Sofie’s doing so well.” Morgan was on a step stool, looking down at Ali.

  Ali smiled up at her. “It was like an answer to a prayer, having Peter Sebelius handle her surgery. He’s an incredibly good doctor.”

  Ali and Morgan were in the closet in Ali’s bedroom. Ali was searching the floor while Morgan, on the step stool, searched the overhead shelf. They were hunting for a pair of sandals Morgan wanted to wear to a garden party fund-raiser at the museum. She and Ali had spent the day together, talking and laughing. It had been good but not exactly the way it used to be. Something between them was different, something fundamental.

  All afternoon, Morgan had been trying to determine what had changed, and she finally had the answer. She had changed. Up until now, it was always like Ali was on a pedestal, in a spotlight, and I was in a dingy hole. I thought it was her fault that I was stuck in that hole. And I wanted to punish her for putting me there.

  “But I’m not in the hole anymore.” Without intending to, Morgan had spoken her thought aloud—and Ali asked, “What hole?”

  And Morgan immediately remembered a horrible thing she’d done while she’d been in that jealousy-filled hole. It took every ounce of courage she could find to ask Ali, “Do you remember that guy Zev Tilden, the big-time chef you were supposed to do the internship with?”

  “Yeah. I still think about that… I never did understand what happened. One day he was saying I was a gift to the world of food, then the next thing I knew, he’d handed my spot to somebody else. And he claimed I told him to do it.”

  “I saw something on TV yesterday.” There was a flutter in Morgan’s chest—remorse and a desperate hope that this would make everything okay. “Zev Tilden’s been arrested. Apparently great food isn’t the only thing he likes. He also likes taking videos of himself having sex with thirteen-year-old girls.”

  “Oh my God. That’s completely disgusting.”

  Morgan was nervous. This was the make-or-break. “So it probably turned out to be a good thing…you not getting the apprenticeship. You wouldn’t have wanted to work with a guy who’s a total pig, right?”

  “No. Of course not.”

  Morgan was flooded with relief.

  “You look happy,” Ali said.

  “I am.” Morgan went back to searching for the sandals.

  “That nice guy you’re seeing. Ben. When do I get to meet him?”

  “Not for a while. He’s going out of town. He’ll be in Washington, DC, on a big field trip with his students.”

  Even before Ben told her about his trip, Morgan was having trouble scheduling time to see him. Her new job kept her incredibly busy. And the truth was, she’d been grateful for the built-in buffer. Her dates with Ben were low-key and wonderful. Their relationship was moving toward the next level—something Morgan wasn’t quite ready to do.

  Her feelings for Ben were tender, and it was the reason she’d asked him to be patient about having sex. Sleeping with sweet, gentle Ben Tennoff would make her want to stay with him. She’d been out in the world for only a handful of months. Discovering who she was, spreading her wings. Morgan needed time to be sure that Ben—the quiet, serious history teacher—was the man she wanted to stay with.

  “And what about work?” Ali asked. “Are you still liking your job? Your boss?”

  “Mr. Dupuis? He’s the best. He’s seriously old school and formal…intimidates me like crazy…but what I’m learning from being around him is amazing.”

  “It’s great to see you this upbeat.”

  “I have a terrific job and a pretty place to live. A little niece I adore. And a sister I love. How could I not be happy?” Morgan looked up at the shelf full of shoe boxes and whistled, as if calling a pet. “Come on, you fabulously cute sandals, come to Morgan!”

  Ali answered with a playful singsong, “Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

  Morgan laughed—like she used to laugh when she and Ali were little, in the summers on BerryBlue Farm.


  “It’s nice, us being together and having fun.” Ali had abandoned the search for the sandals and was gathering up some of Sofie’s toys that were scattered on the bedroom floor.

  Morgan was slightly embarrassed as she said, “I won’t miss her. Will you?”

  “Who won’t you miss?”

  “That idiot. ‘Poor Morgan.’” Morgan was thinking about all the pain she had caused her sister.

  She remembered when they were seniors in high school. Ali was devastated because her three best friends had left on a graduation trip to Myrtle Beach, without her. Ali had been looking forward to the trip for months. And the reason she didn’t get to go was Morgan. Morgan had been jealous that Ali hadn’t invited her to come along. It didn’t matter that the other girls who were going to Myrtle Beach were Ali’s friends, not Morgan’s—and they were the ones who’d organized the event. All Morgan cared about was making Ali include her. When it became clear Morgan was staying home, she found a way to be sure Ali stayed home, too.

  A week before Ali was scheduled to leave, she and Morgan were running errands in their mother’s car—Ali driving, Morgan in the passenger seat. Ali had been pulled over by a state trooper. Never moving from the passenger seat, Morgan slipped their mother’s camera out of the glove compartment and took a photograph of the trooper handing Ali a speeding ticket. Worried that the ticket would ruin her chances to go to Myrtle Beach, Ali begged Morgan not to tell. Morgan swore she wouldn’t say a word. Then she left the photograph where she was sure their mother would see it.

  Ali was grounded. Heartbroken about missing the trip. And furious with Morgan for taking the picture. Yet, later that night, when Morgan was frightened by a nightmare, Ali had let her climb into bed with her, drowsily draping a protective arm around Morgan’s shoulders. Morgan had drifted off to sleep with her head on Ali’s pillow, breathing in Ali’s scent. A cool, sweet smell that had always reminded Morgan of spring flowers.

  Now, as Morgan was watching Ali gathering Sofie’s toys, she realized that all along the way, life had been inflicting hurt on Ali.