Sisters

TWO




For three days, Alex found her thoughts gravitating to the sister she had never met. It was easier to ruminate about whether or not to search for this long-lost sister than to face directly the prospect of this first Christmas alone. As she hunted in the attic for wrapping paper, or tried, with sorry results, to replicate her mother’s toffee, Alex felt assaulted by the expectations of the season. She didn’t want to do any of it. She wanted to spend Christmas alone in a dark room, with a blanket over her head. But she knew that her aunt and uncle would never allow it. In their good-hearted way they were determined to include her, to remind her that she still had a family, even if she felt as if she didn’t. And she knew what her parents would want her to do. They would want her to try.

She avoided midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, and wore her robe and pajamas until Christmas afternoon. She fielded phone calls and texts and, at around two o’clock, was dismayed to hear a knock at the front door. She opened it a few inches and looked out, frowning. Seth Paige stood on the front step, holding a Christmas cookie tin and a bottle of wine.

He smiled, and then frowned as he realized she was in a robe and pajamas. He looked upset at the sight of her.

‘Merry Christmas,’ said Alex.

‘Are you . . . are you spending Christmas alone?’ he asked.

‘No,’ said Alex, pushing her hair out of her face. ‘I just . . . um . . . I just haven’t gotten dressed yet. What’s up?’

‘I brought you some Christmas cheer,’ he said, hoisting the wine bottle. ‘And some of these cookies. Janet went on a baking binge before she left town.’

Alex opened the door a little wider and accepted the wine and the cookies. ‘Do you want to come in?’ she asked in a discouraging tone.

Seth hesitated. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘Just for a minute.’

Alex let him in and tightened the sash on her robe. She led him past the stack of boxes in the hallway into the living room. She sat down on the edge of a sofa cushion, the wine tucked in the crook of her arm, the cookie tin perched on her lap.

Seth sat down in a chair opposite her and rubbed his large hands together. ‘I wanted to come by because I felt bad about the other night. I was afraid that you might have left the party because of some stupid thing I said about your dad.’

Alex shook her head. ‘No, no. I wasn’t in a party mood,’ she said. ‘Actually, it was nice, what you said about Dad.’

‘Are you spending most of your time alone here?’ he asked, unable to keep the reproof out of his voice.

Alex sighed and looked around at the disorder. ‘Well, I’m trying to clean the house out. It’s really kind of solitary work, you might say.’

‘Tough going through everything,’ he said. He pushed his glasses automatically back up on his nose.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what to do with half the stuff. Their clothes . . . I think my mom saved every piece of Tupperware . . . All my dad’s books . . . Would you be interested in any of those? I hate to throw them away.’

‘I’ll come and take a look. Absolutely,’ he said, nodding.

‘Do you want to look now?’ she asked.

‘No, another time. It’s Christmas.’

Alex nodded, slightly embarrassed. ‘Right.’

Seth hesitated. ‘I know how it is,’ he said. ‘I remember the Christmas my mother died. I was only twelve, but I’ll never forget it. I mean, everything about her death sucked, but that Christmas really stands out in my mind.’

Alex smiled and felt herself uncoil slightly. He really did know. She could not even remember Mrs Paige, but women in the neighborhood used to cluck about how tough it must be for Mr Paige to raise his kids alone. ‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘It’s not good.’

‘I just want to be sure that you’re not going to sit here by yourself for the rest of the day,’ he said. ‘You can always come down and join me and my dad. He’s still pretty much confined to a chair, but there’s food, some decorations and the requisite loop of Christmas songs.’

Alex smiled. ‘Thanks. That’s really nice. But I’m going to my aunt and uncle’s for Christmas dinner.’

‘You’re sure?’ he said.

‘Scout’s honor,’ said Alex, awkwardly raising two fingers. ‘In fact, I should probably get dressed.’ She stood up. ‘But thank you for the cookies and the wine. That was thoughtful.’

‘No problem,’ said Seth. He stood up and headed to the front door. Alex shuffled along in his wake in her slippers. ‘I know it doesn’t feel this way,’ he said, turning to her, leaning down unexpectedly and kissing her cheek. ‘But merry Christmas, Alex.’

Alex had a jumble of impressions of his soft black hair brushing her face, the sharp edge of his glasses, his masculine scent, his bristly cheek. She wondered, anxiously, if she had brushed her teeth. Before she could respond he was quietly closing the front door behind him.

After Seth left, Alex placed his Christmas offerings in the kitchen. That was so nice of him, she thought. Then she trudged upstairs and managed to find a dark green sweater in her closet, a long, narrow black skirt and black boots to wear to her uncle’s house. In her parents’ bedroom she found a star pendant on a long chain on her mother’s bureau which Alex had given her mother for Christmas several years ago. Alex looped it around her neck and the pendant sparkled against her dark sweater. She patted the star tenderly and left it on.

In her own room she combed her hair and applied make-up to alleviate the paleness of her skin, the circles under her eyes. She didn’t want to look like a Grinch. Her nephews, Aiden and Finn, would be excited about this happiest of days. She understood that. She had always loved Christmas as a child. Even if this was the worst Christmas of her life, she wasn’t going to deliberately spoil theirs. It was time to go.

The Reillys’ house was brightly lit, fragrant with the scent of roasting turkey, and buzzing with excitement. Most of the excitement was generated by Aiden and Finn, as well as the younger members of Jean’s family who were in attendance. But Alex saw the sadness in her uncle’s eyes when he embraced her.

‘I’m glad you came,’ he said.

Alex nodded. ‘We always come here for Christmas,’ she said bravely.

Brian cleared his throat. ‘And you will always be welcome here,’ he said. ‘All your life. Don’t forget that.’

‘Brian. Can you pour the eggnog?’ Jean called out.

Alex pushed him away. ‘Go on. Go. I’ll be fine.’

And, in the end, she was all right. Jean’s family members were both solicitous and full of goodwill. The kids were boisterous, the dinner was delicious – as always – and Alex made a point of helping out where she could.

It was not until evening, when the house was quieting down and most of the guests were gone, that Alex felt the melancholy descending again. She sat down in the family room in an armchair beside the tree and gazed at the glittering ornaments and lights.

Her heart felt as dark as the night sky outside. She wished she had not promised to stay over. They had wanted her to come and stay on Christmas Eve, but that was out of the question. She dreaded the whole idea of her little cousins rising at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning and demanding that she get out of bed and join in the merriment. But she had agreed to spend the night on Christmas Day and not drive home after eggnog and champagne. It had seemed a dreadful prospect, to make the long drive back in the dark to that empty house. Now she was seriously rethinking her decision and wishing she could leave.

Brian came into the room and sat down heavily on the far end of the sofa. ‘Wow, those boys are practically in orbit. Especially Finn. Too much Christmas.’

Alex smiled and kept her gaze focused on the tree, blinking back tears. ‘It was a very nice Christmas,’ she said.

‘Oh, Alex,’ he said sadly. ‘I’m sorry. I know this is so painful for you.’

She could see that he was preparing to talk about the losses of this Christmas. She felt almost panicky at the thought. She was tired of the holiday, tired of being strong, and afraid she might dissolve into tears. She wanted to avoid his kindness. ‘I wanted to talk to you about something,’ she said.

‘Anything,’ he replied.

‘I got a strange . . . Christmas present this week,’ she said.

He looked both disappointed and relieved. ‘What was that?’

Alex drew in a breath. ‘Well, I got a call from Mom and Dad’s attorney, Mr Killebrew. He had a letter which Mom left for me in the event of her death.’

Brian raised his eyebrows. ‘Really? What did it say?’

‘I wondered if you already knew about this,’ Alex said.

Brian frowned. ‘I don’t think so. About what?’

‘Mom wanted to tell me that, as it turns out, I’m not an only child.’

Brian looked at her in amazement. ‘Excuse me?’

Alex took a deep breath. ‘It seems that she got pregnant as a teenager and . . . had a baby. A baby which she gave up for adoption.’

Brain gaped at her in disbelief. ‘What? No. That’s not possible.’

‘I guess you didn’t know about it,’ said Alex.

‘No. This is a mistake. That can’t be . . .’

‘Well, I don’t think she was making it up,’ said Alex.

Brian frowned and shook his head. ‘No, no, of course not. But I . . . I would have known.’

‘Known what?’ Jean asked as she came into the family room and collapsed onto the sofa beside her husband. ‘Lord, I’m beat. Those boys of ours definitely had a big Christmas,’ she said cheerfully.

‘It was a lovely Christmas,’ said Alex.

Jean, a small, birdlike woman with big eyes and short, spiky hair, leaned over and patted Alex’s knee. ‘You are a trooper, Alex,’ she said. ‘You were trying to make it easier for all of us.’

Alex smiled wanly. She loved her uncle’s wife, a woman who was always calm, no matter the situation. Jean’s sturdy practicality had helped Alex get through the last few months. ‘No, really, it was a fine day.’

Jean took a deep breath as Brian began to absently knead her shoulder. She looked from Brian to Alex and back again. ‘I have a feeling I interrupted something. What were you two talking about anyway?’

Brian face was knotted with concern. He sighed, and seemed to be choosing his words carefully. ‘It seems . . . Alex just told me that Cathy left a letter with her attorney. Apparently she had a baby and gave it up for adoption when she was a teenager.’

‘Get out,’ said Jean. ‘Catherine? You’re kidding me.’

Brian shook his head.

‘Wow,’ said Jean.

‘I know,’ said Alex.

‘Well, she was always a very devout Catholic. I can’t imagine her doing anything else if she got pregnant,’ Jean admitted thoughtfully.

‘That’s just it. She was never pregnant,’ Brian protested, running a hand through his thinning hair. ‘I would have remembered that.’

‘Apparently it happened when she was supposed to be headed off to college. She had the baby in a home somewhere for unwed mothers,’ said Alex.

Jean waggled a hand at him dismissively. ‘Darling, you were what . . . twelve or thirteen? I’m sure you didn’t have a clue what was going on in Cathy’s life in those days.’

Brian shrugged, acknowledging the truth of his wife’s observation. ‘I guess, maybe not . . .’

‘No maybe about it.’ Jean turned to Alex. ‘What else did she say? Was it a boy or a girl?’

‘A girl,’ Alex said.

Jean did some mental calculations. ‘She’d probably be . . . what . . . in her early thirties by now?’

‘I suppose,’ said Alex.

‘Do you know what happened to her? Was Cathy in touch with this girl?’

Alex shook her head. ‘She said that she hoped the girl would try to contact her, but I guess she never did.’

Jean sat back and shook her head. ‘I can’t believe this. I never would have guessed this of your mom.’

‘Me neither,’ said Alex.

‘Who was the father?’ Jean asked. ‘Did she say?’

‘No. Nothing. That’s all she said.’

Jean looked at her husband quizzically.

‘What?’ Brian asked.

‘Well, who would it have been?’ Jean asked.

‘What? What are you talking about?’

‘The father. Who would the father have been? Do you remember her boyfriends?’

‘This would have been her senior year in high school,’ said Alex.

‘In high school? No. Cathy didn’t have boyfriends. She was very . . . studious. She was always volunteering for good causes or babysitting,’ said Brian.

‘No dates?’ said Jean. ‘I can’t believe that.’

I can, Alex thought. Her mother had always reassured her that a lack of dates in high school did not doom a girl to a single life. Out in the world, her mother told her, everything would be different.

‘Would you have even noticed if she had a boyfriend at that age?’ Jean asked.

‘She did not have a boyfriend,’ Brian insisted. Then, he hesitated. ‘Unless . . .’

‘Unless what?’ Alex asked.

‘Well, there was one guy, but I didn’t think they were . . . you know . . . involved . . .’

‘Who was it?’ Jean asked, sitting upright and staring at her husband.

Brian spoke slowly. ‘Cathy used to tutor kids in math. Not little kids. Kids her own age. She started helping this one guy who got left back. Neal was his name. Neal Parafin. He was a mess. Always in trouble. Always getting suspended from school and being picked up by the police. You know. A delinquent. He had grown up in foster care. The nuns asked Cathy to help him. And Cathy could never say no to a stray.

‘Anyway, he’d come over for tutoring and my mother would invite him to stay for dinner once in a while. He didn’t talk much. Very quiet and moody. He had this long hair, I remember. And he was scrawny. Dark circles under his eyes. He looked unhealthy. When I think about it now, he was a very wary kind of kid. But you could see he was very attached to Cathy. My parents were worried about it. I used to hear them talking.’

Alex was imagining her mother as she had seen her in high school yearbook photos. Young and serious, her frizzy, strawberry-blonde hair pulled back from her sweet, round face in a ponytail, trying to help this boy who was such an outcast. That sounded like her mother. She had never stopped being involved with at-risk kids through the schools or charitable organizations.

‘So, what happened?’ Jean demanded.

Brian exhaled and shook his head. ‘Well, it was getting toward the end of summer – she was ready to go off to college and Neal became angry. I mean, he was always moody but . . . he got much worse. It turned out that he wanted her to run away with him. I found this out later. After it happened.’

‘After what happened?’ Alex asked cautiously.

Brian spoke slowly. ‘One hot night in August, Neal showed up in his car. He wanted her to go for a drive. He had this real beater car, but it was like his one possession and he was so proud of it. If you criticized the car she would always stick up for him and say how it was the best he could afford and not to be a jerk about it.’

‘Meaning you,’ said Jean.

Brian nodded. ‘True. Well, that night she got in the car and they were parked in our driveway. They didn’t go anywhere though. I guess they were talking. And then we heard the noise. We all heard the noise – it sounded like firecrackers going off in the driveway. My dad started yelling. We all ran to the door. Out in the driveway, Cathy was hysterical. She was standing beside the car door, shaking and screaming. I’ll never forget it. She was wearing this pink and yellow dress. It was all covered with these dark blotches. It was blood. I didn’t realize right away what I was seeing. Neal was slumped over the wheel.’

Jean’s eyes widened. ‘He shot himself?’

Brian nodded somberly. ‘Apparently he had a gun. My dad called the police. It seems like they were there in a few minutes. My parents wouldn’t let me out of the house. They wouldn’t let me look. They didn’t want me to see him up close.’

‘Oh my God,’ said Alex.

‘It was awful,’ said Brian.

‘No kidding,’ said Jean.

‘My mother never told me that story,’ said Alex.

‘She never talked about it,’ said Brian. ‘Over the years I mentioned it a time or two and she just changed the subject.’

Jean nodded thoughtfully. ‘Wow. And now you’re thinking that boy, Neal, might have been the father of her baby.’

Brian held his hands open wide. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t think they were involved in that way. I knew he was upset about her leaving, but I didn’t know anything about a pregnancy or a baby. As far as I knew, Cathy went off to college as planned. At least . . .’

‘That’s what you thought,’ said Jean.

Alex felt sick to her stomach. ‘Do you think she was in love with him?’

Brian shrugged. ‘With Neal? I never thought so. I thought she just felt sorry for him. My dad said he should have known that helping Neal would bring Cathy trouble. My mother would try to make him hush, but he would carry on about it, saying he never should have let that kid into the house in the first place.’

‘What did my mother say?’ Alex asked.

Brian shook his head sadly. ‘I only heard her talk about it once, the night it happened. The police were questioning her in the living room. She still had blood all over her sundress and she was wearing this heavy sweatshirt over it because she was shivering even though it was a hot night. Her face was as white as a ghost and streaked with tears. I was upstairs on the landing. I wasn’t supposed to be listening but I did anyway. The officer asked her if they’d had some kind of lovers’ quarrel or something. Cathy said no, it wasn’t that. They asked her if she knew why he had done it, then. Why did he kill himself? I always remember what she said. She said that he couldn’t bear to be left behind again.’