I roll my eyes and laugh, but not unkindly. “C’mon, Sophie. You were a Yale medical student…and didn’t you go to Oxford and some fancy boarding school before that?”
“Yes,” she says, pushing a carrot with a tine of her fork. “But I was only a day student….”
“Oh, a day student.” I smile. “Well, that changes everything.”
Sophie laughs at herself, but then grows earnest. “Truly. I grew up in much the same way that you did. Very comfortably, but not lavishly…” She hesitates, then adds, “I loved your family home…and Atlanta is such a beautiful city. Urban in some ways, yet so green and lush…You really had an idyllic life—” She stops abruptly, looking slightly mortified. “I mean, that’s what I remember thinking when I was there….You know, with Daniel…” Her voice trails off as her face reddens and she looks down at her plate. In other words—when she visited the first time, not when she came back for the funeral.
It is so awkward that I can’t help feeling sorry for her, and reach out to touch her arm. “We know what you meant,” I say, speaking for my sister, too, as I wonder, for really the first time, about how it all unfolded for her.
“Where were you when you found out?” I say, chasing the question with a gulp of wine.
Sophie takes a measured breath, then another. “I was on my way to Royal Albert Hall with my grandmother. We were going to the Carols by Candlelight. Our little tradition…” She pauses and bites her lip, a faraway look in her eye. “My mobile rang. I saw Daniel’s name—and was so excited to hear from him….I’d been gushing about him to Gran—and had been trying to call him since I landed that morning….But it wasn’t Daniel, of course,” she says. “It was his friend…Nolan.”
My eyes still on Sophie, I nod and point to my sister. “That’s Meredith’s husband….”
Sophie looks surprised. “Is it?” she asks.
“My mom didn’t tell you that?” I ask, knowing that she must’ve, and wanting to call Sophie out on forgetting.
“Maybe she did, come to think of it,” she says, now looking at Meredith. “That’s so nice. For your family.”
I watch Meredith tense up, her eyes becoming expressionless, almost steely. “Yes. We got married and moved into our family home….” Her voice trails off.
“It really is a beautiful home,” Sophie says. “And I just love Atlanta.”
“Do you think you would have lived there?” I ask. “If you had married Daniel?”
Sophie gazes back at me, blinking. She opens her mouth, starts to answer, then stops, as if the thought has never really occurred to her, one way or the other. “I don’t know,” she says, blinking back at me.
“Well,” I press. “Do you think you would have married Daniel?”
A painful silence follows, but I refuse to speak first, unwilling to offer her an out. I am relieved that Meredith doesn’t, either.
“Oh, Josie,” Sophie finally says, her voice and expression laden with guilt. “I just don’t know the answer to that….There are so many variables.”
“Such as?” I ask.
“Such as our residencies. Whether we would have matched at the same place…then our fellowships…We were so young—and those were grueling years.”
“But did you love him?” I ask, thinking there’s really only one variable that should matter.
“Yes, I loved him, but…I just don’t know….”
Her answer, along with the uneasy look on her face, confirms my hunch. Although I appreciate her honesty, I can’t help feeling betrayed on Daniel’s behalf, and part of me is tempted to shout, How dare you not tell us that our brother was the love of your life, the best person you’ve ever known, and that you’ve never gotten over the loss?!
I glance at Meredith, and can tell in an instant that she feels the same, which is somehow reassuring. It occurs to me that as different as we are in our behavior and decisions, our most basic, knee-jerk emotional reactions to really big things are often remarkably similar. And it is in these moments that I am most grateful for my sister.
Meredith clears her throat, then picks up my interrogation where I left off, her feelings of decorum apparently having dissipated. “The night you flew back to London…right before the accident…Daniel sat in the kitchen and talked to Mom about you. Did she ever tell you about that conversation?”
Sophie shakes her head and gives a terrible answer, once again. “Maybe. I don’t recall for certain….”
My sister raises her chin and continues, her voice strong and clear. “Well, I’ll tell you what he said….He said you were the most incredible person he’d ever met—and that he wanted to marry you for a lot of reasons, including that he knew you’d be a fabulous mother.”
“Goodness. That’s so incredibly sweet,” Sophie says, finally looking mournful.