She draws back. “Me?”
“Yes, you. I write about siblings. How we’re permanently connected. What being sisters means. When it works and when it doesn’t. Why being sisters is more than being friends and how we suffer when a sister is lost. Loads of women I know are estranged from a sibling, but I write those blogs because of us. I don’t mention your name—trust me, I wouldn’t do that—but you’re right there.”
She has no reply. Nor do I, actually. But one of us has to speak, so I say, “I didn’t realize.”
“That I was talking about us?” Margo asks in surprise. “Then either I went overboard being obtuse—or you didn’t want to see it. I wrote those blogs to say how much I missed my sister.” She looks at Anne. “You.”
Anne is teary again. “Seriously?”
Margo rolls her eyes. “Must I grovel?” She catches up Anne’s hand. “We will be here. Unless you don’t want us.”
“I do,” Anne cries, looking like she might burst into full-on sobbing. I’m thinking I might, too, my own throat is that tight. But she is suddenly scowling. “As long as you know, I’m not marrying Bill.He can be involved with the baby, he can even live here with us at the house, I have no problem with that, but I am not rushing to lock myself to him just because of a baby. If you did it without a man, Mal, so can I.”
“But Bill loves you,” I remind her.
“Then maybe in time, but not right now.”
She looks at me, then at Margo. There is a sense of expectancy in her that has nothing to do with Bill or the baby. We’re back at thewhat-happens-nowquestion.
But I do have the answer. I won’t tell them that the words come from Paul, because he doesn’t—shouldn’t—have a place in this circle of three. Nor will I force it on either of them. For one thing, with Tom barely in the ground, this is a time to remember him. For another, forcing isn’t my way. But the idea offers definite direction.
“What if we were to start making new memories?”
Chapter 29
I needn’t have worried about infringing on Tom’s memory. His absence, even beyond those hallowed, hollowed cushions of his chair, is a stark presence in the house. If it isn’t his pen on the floor by the chair, it’s his glasses in the key bowl in the hall or his boat shoes parked side-by-side at the back door.
That said, even if these things hadn’t kept us subdued, caution would have. The truce between us is fragile. No one wants it broken.
That goes for Jack as well. I’m not sure how he ended it with Paul outside, but he is suddenly, solicitously, with us in the house. He runs to the market for cookout makings, then keeps the kids busy readying the firepit while my sisters and I prepare salads, chips and salsa, and trays of garlic bread, condiments, and s’mores makings.
Another time, Margo or I might have noted the stereotype of women in the kitchen, but given Anne’s career, we don’t dare. Besides, there is something soothing in filling a traditional role heretogether. There’s a sense of the torch being passed now that the last of a generation is gone.
More than once, I think of Paul, who was with us over the years for so many family gatherings. He is grieving for his friend. That should be reason enough to invite him to join us. But I’m not ready to reveal the other, and whether I can have him here without giving it away with a careless word or look is up for grabs. The last thing I want is to muddy the waters of this intra-family truce.
That said, I am sorry he’s alone. Finding a free minute, I slip off to a private part of the porch to phone him, then change my mind and text. It’s the coward’s way, I know. But I’m giving myself permission to be that for once.
Was he very difficult?I type. After sending it off, I return the phone to my pocket and am heading inside, when he texts back.
He says he loves you. Mutual?
As I study the words, I think about the irony of sudden honesty. But how to answer?
It is a minute before I reply.I always did.
Past tense?
Maybe present too. We’re different now.Figuring out what to do with these new renditions of us, homes and careers and all, isn’t easy.
Don’t overthink it, Mallory.
Fine for him to say. But how can I not? What happens between Jack and me impacts my daughter’s life.
Or maybe Paul is right.
Can we talk tomorrow?I ask.
Of course. I’m around.
