The Sibling

by Diane Moody

  Aubrey leaned over and kissed her mother’s forehead. “Get some rest, Mom.”

  “I will, sweetheart.”

  As they turned to go, a doctor opened the door. “I’m Dr. Roberts. Are you Mrs. Evans’s daughter?”

  “Yes,” she said shaking his hand. “I’m Aubrey Evans, and this is Peyton Gellar.”

  As he shook Peyton’s hand, the doctor glanced over at Faye, then lowered his voice, “Let’s step out in the hall and have a chat.”

  They introduced Jeff who’d been waiting just outside the door. Dr. Roberts leaned against the wall, casually crossing one ankle over the other. “Physically, Mrs. Evans seems to be fine, though she was quite dehydrated. We’re giving her fluids intravenously, as you may have noticed. We’ve checked her vitals, checked her head to foot and found no injuries. No areas sensitive to touch, that sort of thing. Of course, she’s quite confused. At one point during my examination, she pointed toward the corner and asked why there was an orangutan in the room.”

  Aubrey groaned, dropping her head in her hands. When he touched her elbow, she glanced back up at him.

  “I assured her it was my assistant who bears a remarkable likeness to orangutans and apes,” he added with a lopsided grin. “That seemed to suit her just fine.”

  She appreciated his humor which defused the tension for a moment.

  “How long has that been going on? The disorientation?”

  “A couple of weeks, but possibly more. That’s when I arrived in town after my father died. It was a lot of little things I noticed at first, but it seems to be progressing.”

  “That said,” Peyton added, “at other times, she’s completely coherent. It seems to come and go.”

  “Do you think it’s some form of dementia?” Aubrey asked.

  “No, I wouldn’t jump to that conclusion just yet. But I would suggest having her evaluated. I can refer you to a doctor in that field. There are a couple of excellent centers here in town that I’d be happy to recommend.”

  “I’d appreciate that, Dr. Roberts.”

  “We’ll need the rest of her information since your mother was unable to complete the necessary forms. Once she’s in the system, I can make the referral so they can set up an appointment for her.”

  “You mean the evaluation won’t be done here at the hospital?”

  He shook his head. “Gotta love the insurance companies. They won’t cover her stay since there is nothing physically wrong with your mother, unless we admit her to the psychiatric floor. Typically, the evaluation is conducted as an outpatient, which will actually save her a fortune. I’ll have someone bring you the forms to fill out. I’d like to keep her a couple more hours, get some more fluids in her, then I’ll sign for her release.”

  “Thank you,” Aubrey said.

  “My pleasure. By the way, I’m sorry for the loss of your father, Miss Evans. How long had your parents been married?”

  “Forty years last summer.”

  “Make sure you include that information in the evaluation,” he said, as he turned to go. “I’ll check in on you later.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Roberts.”

  Late that afternoon, Jeff drove them back home and helped Peyton and Aubrey get Faye settled in bed before he left. A couple of Faye’s friends from church wanted to stay and cook supper for them. They’d also arranged a schedule of others who would come and stay as long as needed.

  When Faye drifted off to sleep, Aubrey walked Peyton out to his car and lingered a while.

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” she said. “I never would have survived all this without you.”

  “You’re welcome, but I disagree. You would have made it through, with or without me. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known.”

  She pursed her lips with a smile. “Then you need to get out more.”

  “Ah, don’t sell yourself short.”

  “Still, all clichés aside, thank you for everything.”

  They stood in silence for a moment as he wrapped her in his arms. And in that moment, she realized there was no place she’d rather be.

  “You had quite an epiphany earlier on our way to City Hall before we were interrupted,” he said. “I’d like to continue that conversation sometime. Not now, obviously, but soon?”

  “Yes, I’d like that too.”

  “Good.” He gave her a final hug and released her. “Go get some sleep. But promise to call me if you need anything, or if you just need some company, okay?”

  “I will.”

  She waited until he drove away then turned to go inside.

  Aubrey tiptoed into her mother’s bedroom to check on her and found her still sound asleep. She desperately wanted to crawl in bed beside her and sleep all night with her. But her mother’s friends had prepared a meal for them, and the least she could do was insist they stay and eat with her.

  They sat at the kitchen table where Aubrey enjoyed a scrumptious homemade chicken pot pie served with a fresh green salad.

  “This is so kind of you both. I can’t imagine any possible way to thank you adequately.”

  “No need, honey. We’d do anything for Faye,” Shelia said. “We’ve loved Jed and Faye from the minute they joined our church.”

  “Did you know your father helped us in the church library?” her friend Kitty asked.

  “No, but it doesn’t surprise me,” Aubrey said. “I know how much he loved to read.”

  “He sure did. He’s the one who set up our summer reading program for the kids. He was so passionate about giving them opportunities to catch the reading bug early in life.”

  Aubrey set her teacup back on its saucer, enjoying the conversation. “I wish I’d been around to see that. Dad was gone so much when I was a child.”

  “Yes, and he often talked about how much he regretted that,” Kitty said.

  “He did?”

  “Yes, and I think that’s partly why he invested so much time with the kids at church. Once, he organized a field trip for elementary-age kids to visit the Nashville Library downtown, which is amazing and quite beautiful, by the way.”

  A pang of jealousy pinched her, but she wouldn’t give it space in her heart. “I’m so glad he was able to do that. Was Mom involved in the library too?”

  “No,” Shelia answered. “But she’s always been a part of our Tuesday ladies Bible study.” She paused, glancing at the door then lowering her voice. “That is, up until a week or so before your father died. It was the week we started a new study on Genesis.”

  “What happened?”

  Sheila folded her napkin and set it aside. “She seemed okay at first, but as we started discussing the first chapter of Genesis, Faye abruptly changed the subject, citing several passages in the book of Matthew that had nothing to do with Genesis. As if that was the book we were studying. She was completely fixated on it.” She looked at Kitty. “It was just so unlike her, wasn’t it?”

  “We knew something was wrong,” Kitty added sheepishly.

  “Did you ask her about it afterward?” Aubrey asked.

  “No, it was … it would have been so awkward, and we’d never want to embarrass her.”

  “Then, the next week she was back to normal,” Sheila added. “Stayed right on subject with the rest of us.”

  Aubrey stared at the salt and pepper shakers on the kitchen table. “I wish I could talk to Dad. He surely must have known something was going on with her. I should have stayed in touch more.”

  “Mustn’t worry about that,” Kitty said, picking up their dishes. “You’re here now, and that’s what’s important.”

  After the ladies put the leftovers in the refrigerator and cleaned the kitchen, Aubrey thanked them for their time and the wonderful meal, then said goodnight. She could hardly keep her eyes open as she turned out the lights and headed upstairs to take a shower. Afterward, she padded back downstairs and into her mother’s room. Quietly lifting the covers on the other side of the king-size bed, she stepped out of her slip
pers, crawled between the sheets, and lay beside her mother, watching her sleep.

  You’re here now, and that’s what’s important.

  The words echoed through the chambers of her heart, the weight of them wrestling with the harsh reality of everything else going on. With her father gone, her mother was now her responsibility. And that changed everything. Thoughts of returning to New York blurred on a distant horizon. She consciously blocked that topic from her mind, knowing she’d never get to sleep with all the layers of complicated implications.

  She glanced at her mother sleeping so peacefully and longed to reach out and smooth her messy curls. As if by doing so, she might smooth the bumpy road her mother was traveling.

  The tapestry of thoughts wove in and out of her mind until she finally drifted off to sleep.

  Chapter 30

  Peyton routinely took Mondays as his day off, and he was never more thankful for this one. His mind couldn’t stop cycling yesterday’s strange sequence of events, leaving him exhausted both mentally and spiritually. Needing some time with the Lord, he headed out to his back porch and took a seat in his rocker as Macy roamed in the yard. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, inviting the autumn chill to blow through the cobwebs in his mind and chase them away. Cradling the mug of coffee in his hands, he thanked God for the new day and asked Him to help make sense of yesterday.

  He thought about Faye and the need to have her evaluated. Aubrey needed definitive answers for her mother’s odd behavior. Good news or bad, the time had come for a diagnosis. As for his relationship with Aubrey? He sighed with contentment, thankful for the bond they were sharing, and how she had opened up to speak from her heart the day before. He wasn’t quite sure what to think about it and reminded himself to take it one day at a time.

  He opened his Bible to the book of Psalms and read a long chapter about God’s infinite love for His children. The words descended upon him like a warm blanket against the morning’s cold temperature. Most days, his hour spent with the Lord gave him a rock solid foundation for the day ahead. Not so today. He still felt restless and confused.

  Unfortunately, he knew exactly why.

  No more excuses.

  Without further thought, he went inside and pulled on his jacket. He gave Macy a good scratch behind her ears, grabbed his keys, and made the half-hour drive up to Ashland City. He continued to pray as he drove, asking for patience and wisdom. But what he really needed was a miracle.

  After a quick detour through McDonald’s, he drove the short distance to the Cheatham County Jail, adjacent to the stately courthouse on the city square. He went through the metal detector, signed in, and promptly had the contents of his bagged meal confiscated.

  Ten minutes later, a door opened and his twin brother, dressed in a bright orange jumpsuit, entered the visitation room. The guard stood beside him, glancing at Peyton, then Tristan, then Peyton again.

  “Brothers?”

  Tristan rolled his eyes. “Ya think?”

  With his signature smirk, Tristan plopped down in the seat across from Peyton, a dirty glass partition between them.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Nice to see you too, Tristan. I brought you some McDonald’s, but the guard took it.”

  “Big redhead dude with a hairy mole on his cheek?”

  “Yeah.”

  The smirk deepened. “Now you know how he got those three chins.”

  Peyton chuckled. “Guess I should’ve asked first.”

  “If I didn’t hate you so much, I’d say thanks for the effort. The food in here sucks. What’d you bring?”

  “Two Big Macs, two orders of large fries, and a chocolate shake. All for you.”

  Tristan bit his lip and shook his head as he glanced aside.

  A memory sprung to Peyton’s mind. “Remember when we laced those Big Macs with ExLax then left them for the Winkler brothers?”

  A slight hint of a smile teased his brother’s eyes. “They never made it to the bathroom.”

  “Missed school for three days, they were so sick.”

  “Yeah, and they deserved it,” Tristan added. “Couple of worthless snitches, those two. I heard the young one died in a diving accident a few years back. Serves him right.”

  Peyton leaned back in his chair. “Didn’t you have a crush on their kid sister? What was her name?”

  Tristan blanched. “You mean Roberta? Are you crazy? That girl gave the clap to half the football team. Not my type. Oh, hell no.”

  “Really? I knew she was popular, but I didn’t know she—”

  “Why do you think she was so popular, Sherlock? Course, you were too busy singing in the glee club and proselytizing with the Bible-thumpers to notice girls like her.”

  “And it’s a good thing, from the sound of it,” he answered with a slow smile.

  “So why are you here? Apart from feeding Big Bob out front.”

  “I wanted to see you. We haven’t talked, just you and me, since you—”

  “Since you had me arrested again?”

  “I didn’t have you arrested, Tris. And don’t forget, thanks to you, I was named a person of interest.”

  Tristan snorted. “Gee, that musta’ been scary, bro. A person of interest? What’d they do, shake a finger in your face and warn you not to leave town? Geez, you must’ve been shaking in your Walmart boots. Give me a break. You oughta thank me for spicing up your life.”

  “Fine. Thank you for spicing up my life. C’mon, I’m trying to have a civil conversation with you without Sterling or anyone else around.”

  “Why?” Tristan asked. “What could we possibly have to talk about?”

  Peyton leaned forward resting his elbows on the table. “I came to tell you I believe you.”

  Tristan’s ice-blue eyes locked on Peyton’s. “Is this some kind of joke?”

  Peyton shook his head. “Not at all. I know you didn’t kill Harley Creech.”

  “Because you did?” Tristan hooted. “Wouldn’t that be the perfect plot twist? Good twin kills the town florist; evil twin gets accused and locked up for life.”

  “Tristan, can’t we just—”

  “What? Can’t we just forget everything that’s happened and be each other’s BFF? No, Peyton, we can’t. You SCREWED UP MY LIFE, remember? You sent me to PRISON.”

  “Because you put a gun to my head and stole my car!”

  “I NEVER WOULD HAVE SHOT YOU!”

  “HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT?!”

  “HEY!” shouted the burly guard monitoring their visit. “You two knock it off or you’re outta here. Got it?” He glared at Peyton with unblinking eyes.

  “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

  The guard turned his eyes on Tristan before returning to his post by the door.

  Peyton dropped his head in his hands. When he finally glanced up, he caught the white-hot temper still aflame in his brother’s eyes. He reminded himself to stay focused. Lord, help me out here. Tell me what to say. Tell me how to get through to him.

  “I never heard from Mom and Dad when I went to prison,” Tristan said, his voice lowered. “Not once. Not a phone call. Not a visit. Not even a stupid letter. I didn’t even know they’d moved to Florida. Thanks to you, they disowned me. Thanks to you, I no longer exist in their eyes.”

  And there it is. Tristan’s victim card.

  Peyton refused to take the bait. Not this time. An idea crept into his thoughts, and he reached into his back pocket for his wallet. Opening it, he said, “I don’t suppose there’s any way you will ever believe that I still love you, Tristan. But I do. I always have.”

  He pulled out the photograph and carefully unfolded it on the table. Two young boys, identical brothers, their shirts off, their scrawny arms slung over each other’s shoulders. In their free hands, a string of fish, the day’s catch. All freckles and smiles, as if they’d just stopped giggling.

  Peyton watched his brother as he pressed the tattered photograph against the glass partition between them
. The faintest flicker darted through Tristan’s eyes. He stared at the picture a long minute before reaching up to trace its images. His voice faltered when he finally spoke.

  “Where’d you get that?”

  “I’ve carried it in my wallet for as long as I can remember.”

  Tristan looked up at him, his brows pinched. “Why?”

  Peyton took a long, slow breath. “I just told you. I love you, Tristan. And every time I open my wallet, I see it, and it reminds me to pray for you.”

  “And here it comes.” Tristan leaned back in his chair, rested his cuffed hands on his abdomen, and stretched out his long legs. “The preacher boy trying to save his brother from going to hell.”

  Peyton smiled. “No. That’s not why I’m here today.”

  “Yeah? Then why are you here?”

  He puffed one last weary sigh. “Because I believe you’re innocent. That’s it. Plain and simple. I believe you’re innocent, and I want to help prove it. I want you to walk me through that night again, step by step.”

  “Your attorney already asked me all that. You were there. You heard it.”

  “I don’t care. I want to go over it again. Just you and me. Step by step, every sound, every feeling, every thought that might have popped into that thick skull of yours.”

  Tristan could stare down a blind man and make him shiver with fear. But Peyton could handle it. He’d had years of practice. And for the first time he could ever remember, his brother caved first, giving a complacent shrug of indifference.

  “Fine,” he said.

  “Yeah?”

  “I said fine. I’m not giving you an engraved invitation. Do your best before I pass out from boredom.”

  Peyton sat forward, folding his hands on the table. “Tell me everything, from the moment you got off the interstate at Braxton.”

  And he did. Most of it Peyton already knew. But he stopped Tristan now and then, asking questions, hoping they might uncover something. Anything.

  “After this person—or persons—left the church, how long was it before you discovered Harley’s body in the baptistry?”