Between Sisters

Meghann smiled in spite of herself. It was always this way between them. How could you stay angry with a woman as shallow as Mama? In the end, sometimes there was nothing to do but laugh and go on. “I don’t think so, Mama.”


She put her arm around Meghann and pulled her close. It reminded Meghann of so many childhood and adolescent times. She and Mama had always fought like cats and dogs, and then ended up laughing. Probably because both of them would rather laugh than cry. “No. You looked right up, smiled, and flipped me off. It was the funniest damn thing ever.”

“I’ve done it a few times since.”

“I imagine you have. It’s the nature of the beast. You’d know this if you’d had children.”

“Don’t go there, Mama.”

“Oh, fiddle-dee-dee. You don’t tell me what to do or say, Missy. It takes guts to be a mother. You just don’t have ’em, that’s all. Look at the way you pawned off your sister. Nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

“Mama, I don’t think you ought to tell me what it takes to be a mother. I might have to remind you of a few things you pretend to forget. Like how it was your job to raise Claire, not mine.”

“So, are we goin’ to this reception or not? I have a midnight flight home. But don’t worry, there’s none of that two-hours-ahead stuff for stars like me. I need to be at SeaTac by eleven.”

“That means you need to leave here about eight-thirty. So let’s go. And I mean it, Mama, best behavior.”

“Now, darlin’, you know that social etiquette is bred into us Southern girls.”

“Oh, please. You’re as Southern as Tony Soprano.”

Mama sniffed. “I swear, I should have left you by the side of the road in Wheeling, West Virginia.”

“You did leave me there.”

“You always were a hard and unforgiving person. It’s a flaw, Meggy. Truly. So I miscounted my children. It happens. My mistake was in comin’ back for you.”

Meghann sighed. There was no way to get the last word with Mama. “Come on, Mama. Claire probably thinks I killed you.”





CHAPTER

TWENTY-ONE

Claire refused to think about the debacle with Mama. She clung to Bobby’s arm and let herself be carried away. She was the center of a laughing, talking, congratulatory crowd. She had never felt so special, so completely loved in her life. Most of the town had turned out for this wedding, and everyone stopped Claire to tell her that she was the prettiest bride ever.

It went straight to a woman’s head, that kind of thing. You forgot sometimes, in the middle of a hectic, single-mother life, how it felt to be the center of attention.

Bobby slipped an arm more tightly around her waist, pulled her close. “Have I told you how beautiful you look?”

She stopped and turned to him, letting her body melt against his. The wedding guests kept moving past them, jostling them. “You have.”

“When you came down that aisle, you took my breath away. I love you, Mrs. Austin.”

She felt tears start again. It came as no surprise. She’d been weepy all day.

They kept their arms around each other and followed the crowd, walking slowly this time. “I don’t see why everyone had to park at Riverfront Park. There’s usually plenty of room at the church. We can all carpool to the campground.”

Bobby shrugged. “I’m just following the crowd. Gina said the limo was waiting for us at the park.”

Claire laughed. “Leave it to Meghann to rent a limo to drive us six miles.” But she couldn’t deny that she was excited. She’d never been in a limousine.

In front of them, the crowd stopped; as if on cue, they parted, forming a dark aisle.

“Come on,” Gina yelled out, waving them forward.

Claire grabbed Bobby’s hand and pulled him forward. Around them, the guests clapped and cheered them on. A shower of rice seemed to fall from the sky; it sprinkled their faces and crunched beneath their feet.

They came to the end of the crowd.

“Oh, my God.” Claire turned around, searched the crowd for Meghann, but her sister was nowhere to be seen.

She couldn’t believe her eyes. Riverfront Park, the very place where she’d spent her childhood, where she’d broken her ankle playing red rover, where she’d tasted her first kiss, had been transformed.

Night turned the thick lawn jet-black. Off to the right, the now-quiet river was a tarnished silver ribbon that caught the moonlight and held it.

A huge white tent had been set up in the park. Thousands of tiny white Christmas lights twined up the poles and across the makeshift ceilings. Even from here, Claire could see the tables set up within the tent. Silvery, shimmery tablecloths draped each one. Chinese lanterns cut the light into shapes—stars and crescents that patterned the floor and walls.

She moved forward. The scent of roses filled the night air, turned it sweet. She saw that each table had a floral centerpiece, a simple glass bowl filled with fresh white roses. A long, silver-clothed table ran along one side, its surface cluttered with elegant sterling chafing dishes and pewter trays of food. In the corner, a trio of men in white tuxedos played a World War II love song in soft, haunting tones.