Part 14 (2/2)

Chapter 9.

The drive was plowed by the time I returned home. I drove immediately to the Christmas tree lot and purchased a tall spruce, dark green and full, then paid extra to have it delivered and set up within the hour. Usually Trevor helped me buy the tree, and he'd offered to before he'd left this weekend, but I figured I might as well get used to doing things alone. After all, I might be forced to fairly soon.

I was in the middle of dragging boxes of Christmas decorations from the bas.e.m.e.nt when the phone rang. I dropped the box on the floor and grabbed the receiver.

”So where have you been all day?” my sister inquired.

”Oh, hi Linda. Caroline and I went cross-country skiing this morning, then lunch.”

”Good for you.”

”So what's up?”

”Oh nothing-except I got a message from Mr. I Spy earlier today.”

”You did?”

”Yes, and he thinks he'll have something for us early this week.”

”Did he give any details at all?” I asked, my heart picking up speed.

”No, but I'm sure there'll be lots of those.”

I noticed an odd lilt to Linda's voice, a happiness that shouldn't be there, and wondered if she already knew something about the report. ”So, he'll call when it's ready?”

”That's the plan.”

I knew I should mention the possible break-in at the house, but I hesitated to do it since I knew how Linda would react-badly-but I couldn't have her going over there unaware of the danger.

”Caroline and I stopped over to the house today.”

”Yes, and ...?”

”We probably should put new locks on the doors, make the house more secure.”

”What happened?”

”Nothing exactly, but someone may have been in the house. Actually, I don't think so, but Caroline thought we should have the police check the place out.”

”You had the cops over there? Come on, Gwyn, give me the whole story and quit tiptoeing around the truth.”

”I am telling the truth, but before we both start jumping to conclusions, I think we need to be certain there isn't a simpler explanation. We need to be sure no one else has been in the house. Have you?”

She didn't answer for a moment. ”No, not recently.”

”But you have. When?”

”I don't know, a few weeks ago, maybe not that long.”

”Why would you go over there?”

”I was trying to help you out. I was looking for those stupid boxes, the ones with Kelly's journals. The problem is I think I may have thrown them out, before, by accident.”

”You what? You threw them out? How could you do that? You knew how important they were to me.”

”I found them in a damp spot in the bas.e.m.e.nt. They were moldy, Gwyn. It was sickening. It was like it was her, all yuck and moldering in her grave. I think I may have tossed them when I was cleaning up. I didn't mean to. I changed my mind about it, but I threw out a lot of stuff that day and they may have gotten mixed in.”

”But I wanted them,” I cried, feeling sick, my insides doubling over on themselves.

”I know, and I'm sorry. I really am. I guess I shouldn't have told-”

I slammed the phone down, tears spilling onto my face. Thanks. Thanks a whole bunch, Linda. Thanks for always wrecking everything. You meant to do it. I know you did. You hated Kelly.

The phone rang and I let it ring until the answering machine began to click on, then picked up the receiver and slammed it down again. ”Don't call me!” I shrieked at her. ”Don't ever call me again! You're rotten, rotten, rotten!”

I realized much later that the house was dark except for the one security light burning in the living room. I slowly rose from the kitchen chair and flipped on the overhead light. The clock on the stove read nine p.m. The phone was ringing again, but I ignored it, as I had for hours.

I walked into the living room and stared at the unlit Christmas tree, so dark and depressingly dead. I stood looking past it for many minutes, my arms wrapped tightly to my chest, my fingers vice grips in my flesh. I'd cried again for Kelly, given the night over once more to my terrible grief, begged that the one I loved most be returned to me.

It would do me no good. I could plead all I wanted. I could curse, and scream, and pound on the gates of Heaven itself. It would do me no good. The Lord had taken away. He'd giveth and he'd taketh away. My baby wasn't coming back. I'd never be with her again-not here.

I had only one remaining fragment of family left. Linda.

I stooped to plug in the Christmas tree and it glowed with light. I opened a box and picked out a s.h.i.+mmering ornament, hooked it to an empty branch. I watched as the bright ball swung delicately on the limb. Some of the ornaments were old and cheap, relics from my childhood. Always before, I'd placed them all on the tree, no matter how battered. Now, I left the worst ornaments in the box. I wanted my tree to be truly beautiful again.

Still, when it was done, the tree needed something more, and I promised myself to buy new ornaments tomorrow.

And I would call Linda too, and forgive her.

I remembered how it had been, though I'd sometimes ignored the increasing hostility between my sisters as we were growing up. Kelly had not liked Linda either, though Linda had tried hard to fit in, to be a part of the group. Kelly had wanted to shut her out, but I-when I was around-always put a stop to it. No doubt there were things only Linda knew, times she had suffered, but held them inside. She'd been the baby until Kelly was born. Surely, the close bond between Kelly and I had been very difficult to accept.

I heard Trevor come home at one a.m., and I debated going downstairs to greet him. I missed him, but it was like missing someone I used to know. I wanted to ask him about the woman, wanted to get it all out in the open, wanted him to admit it or deny it, but for better or worse, let him know I wasn't in the dark any longer.

I wouldn't do it, of course. Somehow, the deceit might all be related. If he could have an affair with this woman, then he might also have had an affair with Kelly. And if I let him know I was aware of his true character, he might begin to wonder what else I might know, what else I might have deduced.

He turned on the light in the hall. I pulled the blankets up around my chin and shut my eyes. I could hear him quietly drop his keys on the dresser, hear him pulling open a drawer. For just a minute, I wished I could be in his head. Was he remembering delicious details of the woman's body, her kiss as they parted, their plans to meet again very, very soon? Why did he say he loved me? Did he? Did he ever?

He silently rolled in beside me and I tensed as I waited for his hand to come up around my shoulder, for his warmth to close in on my back. I loved the way he loved me, even now, unsure of him as I was. But he didn't touch me, and that was even more painful.

Chapter 10.

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