From This Day On

by Janice Kay Johnson

  “You’re sure?”

  “I’m sure,” Josef said gruffly. “She fell off the monkey bars at school. Had what turned out to be a mild concussion, but she also bled like crazy from a cut on the head and her nose, too. At the hospital they checked her blood type. I knew her mother’s and I know mine. Amy doesn’t have either.”

  Well, that seemed definitive.

  Not my sister. Not my sister.

  The relief could have been a full chorus singing, full-throated. He staggered back to the table and sank onto a chair.

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  “Because I couldn’t tell her.” His father cleared his throat. “She’s a sweet girl. She didn’t deserve to find out something like that. I love Amy. As far as I’m concerned, she’s my daughter.”

  “You didn’t trust me.”

  “When you were a kid? Hell, no!”

  “As an adult?” Jakob kneaded the back of his neck.

  “You didn’t have anything to do with her. What difference did it make?”

  A grunt escaped him. For the first time ever, he faced his own truth. From the time she was twelve or so and getting a figure, he had always felt things for Amy that were mind-blowingly inappropriate for a brother to feel. He’d been pretty sure she wasn’t his sister—but not a hundred percent. What if the sprite he was lusting for was his half sister? The horror and guilt had just about killed him.

  Right this minute, it was his father he would have liked to kill.

  He unclenched his teeth. “I always suspected. It mattered, Dad. My suspicions got in the way of any kind of relationship we might have had.”

  And what kind of relationship would that have been? an inner voice taunted him. He ignored it.

  The shower upstairs had shut off some time ago although he hadn’t yet heard her footsteps on the stairs. “I’ve got to go,” he said to his father.

  “Like hell you do! What was in the time capsule?”

  “I think it’s Amy’s right to tell you or not. It’s not good, though, I’ll say that much. She’s having a hard time dealing with it.”

  A pause extended. “Will you be seeing her?”

  “Yeah.” Any minute.

  “Tell her I love her. I always have.”

  Jakob felt himself relax infinitesimally. That helped. It definitely helped. “Okay, Dad,” he said. “I’ll do that.”

  He didn’t hear her coming at all. The first he knew, he caught a hint of movement out of the corner of his eye and there she was in the doorway.

  She stared at him defiantly as she walked across the kitchen. Jakob was struck by how stiff she was. Usually she was as light as air, hardly seeming to touch the ground. It occurred to him that he never had been able to count on hearing her approach.

  “He’s gone?”

  The phone lay in front of him on the table. She was looking at him, not the phone.

  “Yeah.”

  “Are you going to tell me what he said?”

  “I told you I would.”

  The relief had metamorphosed into something else. Jakob had no idea what he was feeling now. All he knew was that, for the first time in his life, he was letting himself fully see her as a woman. As such, he was almost sorry she’d showered and changed out of the thin tank top and low-slung pajama bottoms into jeans and a sacky sweatshirt. The jeans did a heck of a job molding hips that weren’t quite boyish, though. And he realized that, though he hadn’t consciously noticed earlier, when he pushed his way into the house, he had definitely been aware of her breasts. They weren’t large, but he’d been able to make out their shape just fine. He imagined them nestled in the palms of his hands and was damn glad he was sitting down, because he was getting aroused.

  Guilt jabbed, but he stomped on it. Not my sister. He couldn’t help wondering if the seismic shift had fully hit her yet, and if so what the realization meant to her.

  Oh, hell, what was he thinking? She was dealing with her mother’s lies, with his father’s lies, with the knowledge that she was very likely the product of rape, and he was rejoicing because he didn’t have to feel guilty anymore for wanting her.

  What she needed right now was a friend. A brother. The understanding sobered him. That might be all she’d ever want from him. If it was, he would give her what she needed. There were too many years when he’d hurt her as much or more than Michelle and his dad had. He owed her.

  “Sit.”

  She sat, but indignantly. “I’m not a dog.”

  His grin came despite his plunge in mood. “No, you’re not.”

  Her spine didn’t touch the back of the chair. Her neck stretched so long it had to hurt, and that pointy chin thrust out. “So?”

  “He found out you weren’t his when you fell off the bars at school. I’d kind of forgotten about that.”

  She frowned. “I knocked myself out.”

  “And bled. A lot, according to Dad. I don’t know if they were thinking transfusion or what, but they checked your blood type.”

  Amy compressed her lips. “I thought it might be something like that,” she said after a minute.

  “According to him, that’s all he knows. Your mother never admitted anything to him. Maybe if she’d told him, they could have patched the marriage together.”

  “I can’t imagine. Finding out he’d been used like that? It would be hard to get past it.”

  He gave a noncommittal grunt. Yes. No. Depended on how much a man loved a woman. Speaking of...

  “He said when I saw you to tell you that he loves you. Always did.”

  She made a small, pained sound. For the first time, she bowed her head and seemed to be fighting for control. Finally she nodded. Acknowledgment, or acceptance? Jakob couldn’t tell.

  “You really don’t have to stay, you know.” She looked at him again, her eyes dark, the gold highlights subdued. “You’ve done what you came to do. I’ve crawled out of my depression. I’ve eaten, showered, gotten dressed and my resolve is solid. I’ll call Mom tonight. I promise.”

  “And I’m going to be here when you do.” He wasn’t going to let her drive him away. “If you don’t want me to listen in, I won’t. That’s your choice. But when the call is over, you shouldn’t have to be alone.”

  She mumbled something.

  “What?”

  The chin came up again. The defiance was back in her eyes. “I said, I’m used to doing things alone.”

  “Maybe so.” He held out a hand. “But this time, you don’t have to.”

  Her stare lowered to his hand as if it was the snake in the Garden of Eden. Tempting, but also terrifying.

  They’d touched so rarely. He waited to see what choice she would make.

  * * *

  OH, GOD. CURLED on one end of the sofa in the living room, Amy listened to the first ring. The second. Apprehension had her in a vise. Ring. Had they screwed up their time calculations? Or Mom and Ken could have gone out and Mom forgotten her phone. She could be outside gardening. Although wasn’t it winter there? Did that mean days were short? Fifth ring.

  Jakob lounged in an armchair, feet stacked on the coffee table, and watched her.

  “Hello? Amy?”

  Her breath left her in a whoosh. “Mom?” She sounded strangled.

  Jakob put his feet on the floor and sat up.

  “My goodness. I had to run for the phone. I didn’t expect to hear from you. Is something wrong?” Her mother sounded her usual crisp self, perhaps mildly anxious. God forbid Amy had to report that the house had burned down.

  It was weird knowing she was half a world away, in an entirely different hemisphere, yet the phone reception was so clear they might have been calling across town.

  “In a way,” Amy heard herself say. “Something came in the mail from
Wakefield College.”

  There was a very brief pause. “From where?”

  “You remember the earthquake in eastern Washington that happened just before you left? It damaged a building on the Wakefield campus. The time capsule was in the foundation.”

  Jakob leaned forward now, his elbows resting on his thighs, his eyes keen on her.

  Her mother didn’t say a word. Amy felt compelled to fill the silence.

  “The college decided to open the capsule instead of putting it in the foundation of the replacement building. They made an event of it. I thought it would be interesting to go.”

  “You surely didn’t open something so private.” Shock altered her voice to one that was unrecognizable.

  “I didn’t expect it to be so private. Other alums were holding readings on the lawn and laughing at the short stories they thought were so profound when they were twenty years old. They didn’t know my mother buried her young self in that capsule.”

  The hitch of breath might almost have been a sob. “You had no right!”

  “To think I might like to know my mother, a woman who is a complete mystery to me?” Amy hadn’t known she could be so cutting. She made herself stop and breathe raggedly. “Steven Hardy is my father, isn’t he? Not...” Dad was the word that froze on her tongue. “Not Josef.”

  “That’s a terrible thing to say! What happened to me doesn’t have anything to do with you,” her mother exclaimed. “You were premature, that’s all.”

  Anger carried Amy. Anger, and Jakob’s steadfast, calm presence.

  “You’ve lied to me all my life and you’re still lying. Why bother now?”

  She found herself listening to silence. “Mom?” Her mouth fell open. “She hung up on me.”

  Jakob swore. His eyes were intensely, vividly alive. She couldn’t look away from him as she set down the phone. Amy was stunned, although she didn’t quite know why. How foolish to have expected her mother, of all people, to meekly surrender and admit to the sins of the past.

  “Give her time,” Jakob said. “You hit her pretty hard.”

  Amy laughed because she refused to cry. “I hit her hard? What was I supposed to do, say ‘Mommy, is there anything you’d like to tell me?’”

  The phone rang. She jerked and looked down at it. Oh, God, it was her mother’s number. She hesitated, then reached for it.

  “Mom?”

  “I never wanted you to know,” she said so low it was barely intelligible. “I tried not to remember.”

  “But you couldn’t help it, could you?” Amy’s bitterness bled into her voice. “Every time you looked at me, you remembered.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “It is true.” She sounded hard; wished she felt the same. “I could always tell. I just didn’t know why.”

  “You’re my daughter,” her mother whispered.

  “I’m also his daughter.”

  “No! You’re not. Never. Josef has been a good father to you.”

  “He was,” Amy agreed, “until he discovered I wasn’t really his. Then he changed. You know he did.”

  “He loves you.”

  Wasn’t that telling? Not once had her mother said, I love you.

  “I’m surprised he doesn’t hate me, given the way you used him.”

  Silence was her answer. Story of her life.

  “Did you ever tell my real father that you were pregnant?”

  “He’s not your father!” her mother snapped. “Not in any sense of the word. And of course I didn’t tell him. I never spoke to him again. I never wanted to see him again.”

  Amy disregarded the faint softening she couldn’t help feeling. She understood, oh, she did, but forgiveness was something else again.

  Throat choked, she said nothing.

  “You aren’t thinking...?” her mother said, her horror stark. “Promise me you won’t approach him! Swear!”

  The terrible desire to lash out overcame Amy. “Don’t you think that’s my decision?” she said, almost gently but knowing the rage wasn’t hidden.

  One push of the button, and her mother was gone. My turn. Amy turned off her phone. Her hands were shaking, she saw with distant surprise. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Jakob.

  “That was petty,” she mumbled.

  “No.”

  She blinked and lifted her head. His face was carved with lines of concern. “I was trying to hurt her.”

  “I know. But what you said was also true. Whether you ever approach this Hardy or not is your call, not hers.”

  “I’m not really thinking about doing that.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you are yet.” His expression changed with startling abruptness and he rose to his feet, circling the coffee table swiftly to sink onto the sofa beside her and wrap her in his arms.

  That was the moment Amy realized the face she pressed to his chest was wet with tears. She was crying and hadn’t even realized. I am such a mess.

  But maybe, for once, she had an excuse. Amy let herself lean on Jakob, clutch his T-shirt in both hands and weep, taking comfort from the heat and strength of his big body. The fact that he wanted to hold her was a miracle. She wouldn’t question it, not now. He was here when she needed him.

  My brother.

  Except, of course, he wasn’t. The reminder swirled in her head, knowledge confusing her at a moment when he was acting like her brother in a way he never had before. Something else to think about later.

  He was rocking her slightly. She felt his hand stroking her hair. Probably, she thought on a weird bubble of amusement, the way he’d have soothed a frightened dog. She’d have to ask him if he had one.

  She didn’t know how long she cried, but eventually she ran dry. Some of the pain inside had washed away, leaving...nothing. Cautiously she poked around internally and decided that she was numb. Anesthetized.

  Then she expanded her senses to become aware that Jakob had propped himself in the corner formed by the back and arm of the sofa and had stretched out his legs so that she could all but lie on top of him. Now his hand moved in circles on her back. His fingertips gently kneaded. She thought that must be his bristly jaw pressed to the top of her head. She could hear the deep, slow beat of his heart.

  Amy sniffed, wiped her nose on the soft fabric of his shirt and began to separate herself from him. Either he was reluctant to let her go or it took him a moment to realize what she was doing, because his arms tightened before finally loosening. She sat all the way up and awkwardly scooted away from him.

  “Better?”

  She made a face, but also took stock. “I guess I am,” she said with mild surprise. “Um...I think I’d better go do some repairs.”

  Cold water could only accomplish so much, she found. A few minutes later, she gazed at herself in the mirror. Ugh. With her redhead’s skin, she was not an attractive crier. Her eyes were so puffy, they could barely be seen through slits, and she’d acquired some hideous, uneven red blotches. At least she’d scraped the damp tendrils of hair off her face and brushed the whole mess back into a ponytail. Short of hiding in here for the next hour, there wasn’t much she could do but go out and face Jakob, though. And, hey, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t already seen this face.

  He wasn’t in the living room, she discovered. The sound of a cupboard door opening and closing led her to the kitchen. The teakettle was already murmuring. She saw him rip open a couple of packets and dump the powder into two mugs.

  “Cocoa?”

  He turned to face her, giving her a quick, hard scan. “Found it in the cupboard.”

  “It’s not mine. I think Mom or Ken left it.”

  He shrugged. “It seemed appropriate. Neither of us need caffeine at this time of night.”

  She was embarrassed by the wet spots on
his royal blue T-shirt. “You’re soaked.”

  He glanced down. “A few tears won’t hurt anything.”

  “Some of that is probably snot,” she said, chagrined.

  Jakob laughed quietly. “Yeah, I kind of guessed. Snot never hurt anything, either.”

  “I suppose not.” This conversation felt unbelievably weird.

  The kettle worked up to a whistle and he poured boiling water into the mugs then carried them to the table. Amy sidled past him and sat down. She inhaled and was surprised at how good the cocoa smelled. She had a suspicion her reaction didn’t have as much to do with taste as it did memories.

  “Mom used to put a marshmallow on it.”

  “I didn’t find any.”

  “I never actually liked marshmallows.” She frowned. “Except on cocoa, I guess.”

  He nodded, quite seriously. “On cocoa and s’mores.”

  “Oh, boy. I haven’t had a s’more since I went to summer camp. I couldn’t have been more than eight or nine.”

  “I still carry the ingredients when I backpack.” Jakob grinned. “I have a sweet tooth.”

  “I remember.” That wasn’t all she remembered. She scowled at him. “Right before the divorce was the first time I got to go trick-or-treating. You stole part of my candy.”

  His eyes crinkled with amusement. “To save you from getting sick. You were too little to eat that much.”

  “What a big heart for an eight-year-old boy.”

  A smile playing on his mouth, he pressed an open hand to his chest. “That was me.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t steal my whole bucket and tell everyone I didn’t remember where I’d hid it.”

  He laughed out loud. “Crossed my mind, but Dad would have made me split mine with you.”

  “You were a creep, you know?” So, okay, she was laughing, too, which was another thing that felt weird given everything happening inside her.

  His smile vanished as if she’d turned off a light switch. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “I know I was.”

  Amy eyed him warily. “It was...nice of you to stay tonight.”

  “Pure nosiness.”

  “Sure.”