When We Were Sisters: An unputdownable book club read about that bonds that can bind or break a family. Emilie Richards

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ texting. I wanted to feel sorry for myself, like a sullen seventh grader.”

      “And you feel guilty?”

      “It should have been me in that seat. I should have been sitting next to Gretchen. Or maybe if I hadn’t debated seat arrangements with Talya, maybe those few seconds would have made all the difference. Maybe Gretchen wouldn’t have caught the red light on the way out of the parking lot, and we would have been well beyond the spot where that car ran the stop sign.”

      “You know how self-defeating that kind of thinking is, don’t you? You didn’t look into the future and trade seats with Talya so you could stay safe. Reality is random. It was chance. And if it wasn’t, then God decided who would live and who wouldn’t.”

      “You don’t believe that and neither do I.”

      “Not the part about God, no. The part about random? Absolutely.”

      Robin didn’t argue, but I could tell she wasn’t buying it. “I can’t even be at the funeral to say goodbye.”

      I make decisions quickly. I’ve always had to. “Do you feel well enough to go?”

      “I feel as well as I’m going to for a while.”

      “Can you get up and wash your face? Comb your hair?”

      “I had a shower earlier. I was fine.”

      “Then do both. I have a dark skirt and blouse that will probably fit well enough in my suitcase. Or has Kris brought clothes for you to wear home?”

      She shook her head, and the movement made her wince. For a moment I reconsidered. Maybe she really did need to stay here another night, more tests, more observation. Then I remembered the tears.

      Robin so rarely cries.

      “Donny’s here. He’ll go down and get my clothes for you. Meantime I’ll talk to the— What did you call her...?”

      “Navigator. Nurse navigator.”

      “That’s the one. If I can find her I’ll tell her we’re navigating you right out the door, and she can set up an appointment or whatever she’s supposed to do. But she’ll have to do it without you lying here.”

      She bit her lip, considering. “Okay.”

      That’s when I knew Robin really needed to go to the funeral. Because defying authority isn’t part of her emotional makeup. Or possibly whatever defiance she was born with was bled out of her one drop at a time by her sadistic grandmother. But this time? This time she was ready to do exactly what she needed to.

      “Wash, brush. I’ll be back. Do you know where the cemetery is?”

      “I think so.”

      “I’ll have Donny find that out, too. We have a car and a driver. We’ll get you there in time.”

      She was already swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “The hospital won’t be happy. They’ll try to stop me.”

      I stood and leaned down to kiss her hair. “You’re kidding, right? I’ll make sure they’re thrilled beyond belief. You wait and see.”

4

      Robin

      Talya loved autumn, the changing colors, the smell of wood smoke and pumpkins piled high at farmer’s markets. So many October afternoons we sat in my garden sipping tea or home-brewed lattes, and admired borders of nodding sunflowers and the heavy perfume of sweet autumn clematis. I had a trunk of garden hats, and Talya always picked through them to find just the right one to match whatever she was wearing. Whenever I saw colorful or whimsical hats I bought them, just to delight her.

      I loved Talya. We were just neighbors until she became pregnant with Channa and a month later I became pregnant with Nik. We used to joke there must have been something in the water at Meadow Branch, and our pregnancies brought us together. We shared morning sickness, traded maternity clothes, took bets on who would deliver first, since Nik was a big baby and showed signs of arriving early.

      As our children grew so did our friendship, until recently when changes swept her in other directions. Now death had removed her from my life forever.

      Cecilia reached over and covered my hand as the Town Car driver came around to open my door. Her long, perfectly shaped nails were painted the palest aqua. My nails were at best clean, my hand trembling.

      “Channa will need you, Robin. Now and when she grows older. You’ll be able to tell her who her mother really was, what kind of woman and friend you knew her to be. Girls need to learn how to have and be a friend. It will help.”

      I’m sure all over the world people think my sister is just an empty-headed publicity hound with big boobs and a bigger voice, but Cecilia hasn’t gotten where she is by chance. She understands the big picture. How else would she have gotten to the top?

      “Michael will move away,” I said. The Weinbergs’ house would be filled with memories, and he and Channa would see Talya everywhere. They had never, as hoped, filled the house with children, and the stone and frame Colonial had always seemed too large for just the three of them. For two it would be impossible.

      “If he does move, you’ll stay in touch. Talya would want you to.”

      I squeezed her hand and dropped it. “You’re going to wait here?”

      “We’ll park down the road to leave room for mourners. We’ll pull back around when it’s over.”

      I didn’t ask her to come with me. Cecilia’s presence would be a distraction. When the door opened I stepped out into bright sunlight wearing her blouse and a skirt I had rolled three times at the waist. The glare gave me an immediate headache, and I fished in my purse for the sunglasses Cecilia had given me, nodded to the driver and started down a grassy slope to the graveside.

      Channa and Michael, as well as his family and Talya’s, hadn’t yet arrived, but someone had set up a lectern with a guest book, and I signed my name and scribbled a quick condolence before I moved forward. Until I saw Gretchen sitting under a canopy in a row of chairs at the very back, I didn’t recognize anyone in the gathering of about sixty. Her black clothes didn’t suit her pale blond coloring, nor did the red-rimmed eyes or the narrow bandage across her forehead. I made my way around the crowd to sit beside her.

      “This is my fault,” she said when I kissed her cheek in silent greeting.

      “Of course it isn’t.”

      “I should have seen him coming. I should have—”

      I had an unwelcome glimpse of the SUV streaking toward us, a rocket about to launch. “There was absolutely nothing you could have done. He came out of nowhere.”

      “Did you know there have been other accidents at that intersection? Other people have run that stop sign. Other people have died!”

      It was like Gretchen, political to the bone, to focus on the civic problem instead of what was about to happen. But I nodded, because I understood. I wished I could be angry today СКАЧАТЬ