Open House: A Novel

by Katie Sise

  Haley’s heart pounded. The open house. Josie had arranged for all of them to be there to find her, and she’d been the one to turn off the heat: she could have googled it, figured out how much easier it would be to keep herself from going into shock in colder temperatures.

  How had Haley never thought of this before?

  Dr. Cotler was showing a slide up on the screen, teaching on the superior vena cava, but Haley could barely breathe. She needed to get to the police station, to explain in no uncertain terms the possibility of Josie purposely stabbing herself in that exact spot, where no major veins and arteries could be hit. Haley was right—she knew it.

  When Dr. Cotler finally called the end of class, Haley didn’t move at first. She stood close to Susie, her hand resting on her shoulder as if she were comforting her, but maybe it was the other way around. Haley sent up a silent prayer of thanks to Susie, wherever she was, for helping her, and then she thought of her sister, feeling her closer than ever before. Maybe Emma had always been there; maybe she’d just been waiting for Haley to catch up with her, just like when they were younger, to see and know the truth of everything that had happened. Maybe Haley would spend the rest of her life trying hard never to forget that, to remember her sister for everything she was and everything she never would be, to honor her in the only ways she knew how.

  Haley pulled the sheet back over Susie’s body. She gathered her things and raced to the station.

  FIFTY-FOUR

  Haley

  After a few hours at the police station, where Haley described to Rappaport her theory on what Josie had done to herself at the open house, Haley was back at the hospital and waiting outside Josie’s room.

  Rappaport had arrived at the hospital before her and was still inside, and Josie had already been informed of what they knew, and that she would be arrested for Emma’s death upon her imminent release from the hospital. Rappaport had promised Haley time with Josie, and she planned to take it. Haley had to face her parents this afternoon, and she needed to bring them something from Josie: an apology, maybe, or at least an admission of guilt.

  When Rappaport opened the door, Haley braced herself. “I probably shouldn’t be doing this,” he said pointlessly, “but we’ve already taken Josie’s confession on the record for both Emma’s death and what happened at the open house, and if you think it’ll help you to talk to her for some closure . . . if you’re sure . . .”

  “I’m sure,” Haley said quickly, before he could change his mind.

  Rappaport held the door open for her. “Then go ahead, Ms. McCullough,” he said. “Good luck.”

  Josie looked far worse than when Haley had last seen her, with purple circles beneath bloodshot eyes. She looked up at Haley with a hollow glance and then blinked a few times as though it was taking her a beat to recognize Haley. When she did, tears filled her eyes.

  “I don’t understand,” Haley said. She thought she’d say more, but at the crux of it, what she’d said was true: she didn’t understand what had happened. Josie was Emma’s best friend. Emma trusted her, and so had Haley.

  Tears spilled over Josie’s face. She was quiet, and Haley felt terrified she wasn’t going to say anything. A minute passed that felt like an eternity, and when Josie finally spoke, the words came out embarrassedly. “I was just so blindingly jealous of her,” Josie said, shaking her head slowly, carefully. Her movements felt measured, and Haley wasn’t sure how much of what she said could be trusted. Josie took a raspy breath, and Haley stayed quiet, the air hot and swollen between them, full of sharp things. “I liked Noah,” Josie finally said, “which I know sounds insubstantial because we were all so young and it was just a crush, I guess, but then he started falling in love with Emma and her with him, and it was just so obvious that he was choosing her over me. She was just so good, you know? And I tried to put my feelings for him aside, to give him up to her. But then she got together with my brother, and he’s the one person . . . he’s the only person who’d ever been my family up until that point. And it felt so cavalier, the way Emma was about it. She had everything going for her, with Noah falling for her, but she still carried on in secret with Brad, and then my brother, who clearly had feelings for her . . .”

  Haley tried to digest this new piece of information. “So if family is so important,” she started, swallowing over a hard lump in her throat, “and if it’s true about Chris and Emma, you realize that Chris might have been the father of the baby, who you killed along with my sister.”

  Josie cried harder. “They didn’t sleep together,” she said. “He swore to me that they didn’t, and he’s never lied to me, ever. The baby was Noah’s. Haley, I swear to God it was an accident,” she said, trying to sit up but failing. “I meant to hurt her, I admit that. I was so angry, and I pushed her. But I never thought . . . It was so dark up there, I didn’t realize how close we were to the edge,” she said, crying harder now. “Please believe me, Haley, please. I loved your sister. I was so jealous of her and furious that she’d been with my brother when she promised she never would, I just, I couldn’t take it. Noah told me we couldn’t ever be anything more than friends now that Emma was pregnant and it was his. I thought he liked me, too, but he said he didn’t, that he only wanted to be with her, but I didn’t want to believe that, so I told him the truth: that Emma had been with Chris and Brad, too, and Noah was furious, and he called Emma disgusting and so many other terrible things.”

  “I don’t want to hear what Noah thinks of my sister,” Haley spat. “I couldn’t care less. You’re the one who married him. You killed your best friend and married her boyfriend, and that’s the most vile thing I’ve ever heard.”

  The corner of Josie’s mouth lifted into a sneer. “You’re just like your sister,” she said, her mood changing in a flash. “Judgmental. And why wouldn’t you be? With your parents who love you, with your perfect childhood . . .”

  “My perfect childhood?” Haley shrieked. “You’re talking about Emma, maybe. Emma’s perfect childhood right up until you killed her.”

  “Emma wasn’t a child,” Josie said. “She knew exactly what she was doing, taking Noah, messing around with Chris, the one person who’s ever even belonged to me, when she didn’t even like him.”

  “Most roommates don’t kill each other over that.”

  Josie sniffed. “Haley,” she said, her voice softer again, full of sadness that Haley wasn’t sure she could trust. “I was in a rage that night on the cliff. Okay? Temporary insanity and all that.”

  “This isn’t a courtroom,” Haley said. “And I don’t think you’ll have any luck with that defense. You’ve been lying to everyone for a decade. And you’re lying now, saying you loved Emma.”

  “I did!” Josie said, swiping away a lock of bloodstained hair. “She was like a sister to me.”

  “Then you don’t understand sisters,” Haley said. “And if you loved her so much, you could have admitted what you’d done. You could have said it was an accident; you could have said anything. You’re a liar, Josie. You acted as though you were trying to protect Emma from what people might have thought about her sleeping with Brad, her being pregnant, whatever it was you acted so concerned about. But you let everyone in this town believe she’d killed herself, to avoid the truth coming out that you pushed her. Do you realize how wrong that is, how psychotic? And why should I even believe it was an accident? Why should I believe anything you say about my sister?”

  Josie started crying so hard that Haley could barely understand her. “Because I’m telling you the truth now,” she said, her words staggered between sobs.

  “But even now,” Haley said, “even after the bracelet was found, you could have come forward. You attacked yourself to pin it on Brad! What kind of person does that?”

  “I was protecting myself!” Josie shrieked. “Can’t you understand that? I was terrified! After all these years, them finding out what I’d done? Me going to jail?”

  “You belong in jail!”

 
Josie’s head fell into her hands. “I’m sorry, Haley,” she said. “Believe me when I say it, please believe me. There are things you can’t understand, things I need to protect, I mean, my marriage, you know I would do anything to stay with Noah, I can’t be without him. I . . . I can’t go back there, to that night in the woods, please . . .”

  “You can’t go back to that night?” Haley asked, incredulous. “That’s funny, Josie. Because my parents and I have lived that night over and over again every day for the past ten years.”

  Josie’s pale eyes were wide as Haley backed away from the hospital bed.

  “Goodbye, Josie,” she said.

  FIFTY-FIVE

  Emma

  Ten years ago

  I’m falling with nothing to break my body’s trajectory, the air around me so cold and heavy. I fall until I hit something as hard as concrete, and then there’s a sinking feeling like I’m being sucked into something muddy, something fluid, something that’s trying to claim me as its own. I can’t breathe right; I can’t think straight. In my mind I see my sister’s face, peering over me with such concern, such love. The mud is numbingly cold, and I can’t stop shaking, and I try to call for Haley, but I can’t. I hear a shrill voice cut through the wind—“Emma!”—and for a second I think it’s Haley, but it’s not.

  It’s Josie.

  I feel her hands on my shoulders. “Oh, no, no, oh no,” she says, and then she takes her hands off me, and I feel colder without her pressing against me. I hear the dull beeping sounds her phone makes as she tries to call someone. “Hello? Chris? Are you there?” But I know her phone won’t work, not all the way down here. She puts her hands on my shoulders again and squeezes. “Wait here, Emma,” she says, and then she swears beneath her breath. I hear her hands rifling through the dirt beside me. I open my eyes to see her pick something up, and I’m pretty sure it’s the pregnancy test that must have fallen from my jacket. She pockets it, and I open my mouth to tell her that she should tell them, whomever she calls for help, that I’m pregnant, but I can’t seem to speak. “Just wait for me, Emma,” she says. “Just hang on, okay? I’m going to find my brother. Someone will have service up there; we’re going to get you help.”

  I wait, I do. At least I try to. Minutes seem to pass, and sometimes I swear I’m with Haley in one of our bedrooms, curled up against the pillows and talking, but other times I know exactly where I am: at the bottom of the gorge with every bone in my body broken. Finally I hear Josie’s voice, and I’m pretty sure it’s real, because I hear her telling someone the truth: “I pushed her! She’s down there! Help her!”

  I hear a male voice calling my name, but I can’t make it out well enough to know who. I try so hard to wait, but it’s so cold, and I’m so tired. I hear the voice call out again, and I realize it’s Noah.

  Noah, Josie. My friends. Thank God. Noah’s getting closer, I can hear him calling, “Emma!” and then he’s finally beside me, his hands at my neck, trying to find a pulse. I use every ounce of strength to open my eyes, and when I do, I see his face hovering over mine, his features blurring. I can hear Josie crying, but she sounds so far away, and I can’t see her.

  “I’m alive,” I manage to tell him, so grateful to be able to say the words, and for the truth of them.

  “You’re alive,” he whispers to me, and I can’t make out the expression on his face, but I think he’s smiling. I can’t keep my eyes open anymore—I’m too tired. I shut them, feeling a little warmer with him there beside me. Josie’s crying gets louder; she must be coming closer. Noah uses his hands to roll me over, and I don’t know why he would do that when it’s too painful and there’s no way he should be moving me right now. I try to let out a cry of protest but nothing comes.

  “Is she okay?” Josie shrieks, sobbing.

  Noah doesn’t say anything at first, and Josie cries even harder. An animal calls out in the distance. I’m pretty sure I can hear strains of music from the party, and I just pray someone there has service and can call an ambulance. All I want is to go home.

  “She’s dead,” Noah says.

  His voice is as cold as ice, and it takes me a beat to process what he’s just said. My head is throbbing against the ground, and I try to open my mouth to speak, but I can’t. Tears start, burning my eyes. I make a small sound, but Josie’s wailing so loud there’s no way she can hear me.

  “Josie,” I whisper, but the word doesn’t make it past the cold dirt near my lips.

  “Go back to the party, Josie,” Noah says. “Wait for me there. Tell no one; do you understand me?”

  “What?” Josie says, still hysterically crying. “Shouldn’t we . . .”

  “Shouldn’t we what? Call the cops? Do you want to spend the rest of your life in jail? You killed her.”

  There’s only silence now. I try to lift my hand, but Noah’s knee is pressing against it. And then Noah shouts, “Go!” and I hear Josie’s footsteps pound the ground, her sobs shrinking.

  Noah turns me back around, his hands going beneath my arms. Now that my mouth isn’t pressed against the ground, I try to speak. “I’m alive, Noah, I’m alive,” I whisper.

  “I know, Emma,” he says, dragging me over the ground, toward the sounds of the rushing river. “But wouldn’t it be so much easier if you weren’t?”

  FIFTY-SIX

  Haley

  Snow fell again that afternoon, and Haley waited for the feeling of fury as she followed her father through the woods toward the cliff where Emma had fallen. Her hands were clenched and ready to tap her thighs, but the snow was pristine, the sky was white, and the world seemed so peaceful and washed clean that she didn’t feel the need to tap, not even when her father’s shoulders started shaking. Her mother was crying, too, but Haley didn’t turn around to look. She didn’t want to intrude. It was enough to be here together.

  Dean brought up the rear of their procession. All four of them walked single file along the trail, no one speaking. Her dad pushed away the spindly branches and held them aside so his family could pass. As their boots crunched the snow, Haley thought about the Yarrow student who’d found Emma’s bracelet and set into motion the revelation of the truth about her death. Rappaport had told Haley his name, Oscar Mendez, and she’d looked him up, memorizing his face so if she saw him on campus, she could stop him and talk to him. But what could she even say? Thank you seemed too paltry for everything his discovery had done for her and her family.

  Birds called overhead, and Haley looked up to see sparrows flitting from branch to branch. The trail grew even more winding and then opened up to a small clearing. It was one of the highest points above the gorge, and based on where the bracelet was found, it was the cops’ best guess as to the place from where Emma had fallen. When Haley took in the small clearing and the ledge above the water, she felt sure they were right. Her dad stopped, but Haley took a few steps closer to the edge, and her mom followed. Dean hung back. Haley exhaled, peering down into the steep gorge and out to the dark river. Her mother let out a small cry.

  Haley turned back to her dad, and his gaze held hers, seeing her. Then he bent down and began to dig into the snow. When he reached the dirt, he kept going until he had a sizable hole. He stood again and carefully removed a piece of paper from his jacket. He unfolded it with shaking hands, and Haley saw it was one of Emma’s sketches, a pencil drawing she’d done of their family. In the sketch, her mom and dad stood like bookends around Haley and Emma. Each parent had a hand on one of their daughters’ shoulders. All four weren’t smiling exactly, but they looked contented, peaceful together.

  Haley’s dad knelt to the ground and carefully set the sketch against the cold earth. “We’re right here with you, sweetheart,” he said. “We always will be.”

  Tears fell over Haley’s cheeks. “Goodbye, Emma,” she said. She reached for her mom’s and Dean’s hands as her father buried the sketch, marking it with stones.

  Snow fell quickly, covering the shallow grave.

  They would come bac
k in the spring.

  EPILOGUE

  Haley

  Five years later

  Haley glanced around Mosaic and took in the new paintings lining the coffee shop’s walls. Bright blocks of color covered the canvases, and Haley’s eyes settled on a particularly striking one with streaks of reds and navy blues. She took off her snow hat, trying to smooth her messy dark hair behind her ears, inhaling the smell of roasted coffee. A barista she recognized smiled. Haley smiled back as she got in line.

  She checked her watch. 11:59. Dean would be here any minute. He still never ran late, even now that Grace was here. Naming the baby Grace had been Dean’s idea, actually, and she was absolutely perfect, a cherub with blond curls and big cheeks below light brown eyes, smooth fingers that curled around Haley’s. Since the first moment Haley held her, Grace felt so incredibly meant to be.

  The shop’s door opened with a ding. Haley turned, but it wasn’t Dean and Grace, and she felt agitated with anticipation. Tap, tap, tap went her fingertips against her wool coat. “Can I add a muffin to my order?” she asked the man behind the counter, because maybe Grace could try one today. She was almost nine months. Dean was so careful with Grace, and Haley knew she’d have to run it by him first before just offering a crumbly piece. She was pleasantly surprised that Dean had turned out to be one of those parents who read all the articles about what foods to introduce first, the kind of parent who cared about all the little things that made up Grace’s life. It was endearing.

  Customers chattered around Haley. She waited for the barista to make her coffee, checking out the paintings again. They were Priya’s, and they were beautiful. Haley couldn’t wait to go to the official opening of the exhibit tonight, and she imagined Priya in one of the flowing dresses she often wore now, her cheeks blushing as she took in everyone’s compliments about her paintings. Priya’s long black hair had been chopped into a bob, and sometimes she still went to reach for it, to twist a piece, and then laughed when she remembered it was gone. Priya and Haley had become good friends over the past five years, at first rehashing what Josie had done to cover up Emma’s death, and then marveling at the way Josie had scared and toyed with Priya over the years by calling their illicit meetings. But slowly Haley and Priya fostered a friendship based on something deeper, something real. Priya and Brad weren’t living together anymore, but they still saw a therapist once a month to help them coparent Elliot. Priya was doing so much better—her panic attacks had stopped completely—and that made Haley happy.