As Close as Sisters (26 page)

37

Lilly

“S
tand back, ladies, and see how this is done.” I took an exaggerated practice swing with the mini golf club. We’ve been coming to this pirate-themed miniature golf course for years. Since Mia and Maura were in grade school. There were better, newer places in town, but this was my favorite course; it was
our
course.

“Careful, Aurora.” McKenzie backed away from me, hands up in the air. “You better not get too close to her. Lilly’s dangerous with that thing.”

“Hey! I’m a pretty good golfer. I’ll have you know I’m a ten handicap without this passenger.” I indicated my belly.

Janine, standing next to the hole in front of a waterfall that was the most bizarre color blue, cracked up and waved for me to putt the ball. “Come on, Lilly. The next group is catching up with us. We’re going to have to wave them through.”

“Which will make, what? The fifth group?” Aurora waited, arms crossed.

It was after eleven, way past my bedtime, but somehow McKenzie had convinced us that we needed to play miniature golf. Talk about a new lease on life. I don’t know where she’s finding her energy, but she was still going strong, even after a late dinner at Arena’s. Now she was talking about stopping for frozen yogurt on the way home.

I eyed the hole in the middle of the strip of green indoor-outdoor carpet, then glanced up to catch McKenzie’s eye. I’m so happy about the news she came home from Philadelphia with that I’m not even upset that she hadn’t told Janine or me about the drug trial, but she
had
told Aurora. More than two weeks ago. I probably
am
upset . . . or at least I will be, once the euphoria wears off.

I understand McKenzie’s explanation as to why she didn’t tell us—because she was afraid to get our hopes up when she’d been told so many times that there was no hope. But that doesn’t let her off the hook. Not completely. And there was going to be hell to pay. Just not tonight.

I tapped my pink golf ball with the club. It banked left and rolled right into the hole. McKenzie clapped and laughed. “You’re not going to catch up with her, Janine. She’s going to win.”

“She hasn’t won yet. I’ll beat her on the next hole.” Janine scooped up her ball. “Even if I have to cheat.”

“Right, like you would ever cheat on anything.” Aurora led the way out of the fake cave, up a ramp toward the hole on the next level. “I couldn’t even get you to give me the answers on an eighth-grade social studies test, so don’t tell me what a lying, cheating badass you are.”

McKenzie took my golf club from me and looped her arm through mine so we could walk together. “If you’re getting tired, we can wrap it up and head home,” she said.

“And concede,” Janine threw over her shoulder.

“I’m fine. I’m good,” I told McKenzie. “And I’m going to beat you fair and square,” I called to Janine. I turned my attention back to McKenzie. “I’m so happy that the new drug is working,” I told her, squeezing her arm.

She smiled. “Me too.” She laughed. “Obviously.”

“So how do you feel?” I looked into her eyes. “Is it real yet?”

“No, not really. One minute I’m giddy, the next, I’m afraid I might wake up. When I went into the restaurant to talk to the girls, I almost chickened out. I kept thinking
, What if the hospital got my scans confused with someone else’s?
”

I laughed. “With another McKenzie Arnold? With the same social security number as yours?”

“I know.” She laughed with me. “I’m just . . . I’m stunned.” She thought for a moment. “And trying to keep my excitement tempered. There’s still no telling what will happen down the road. I could still die from this. I probably
will,
eventually.”

“The heck with tempering. We’re all going to die someday.” I rested my cheek against her arm. “I’m just so glad it’s not going to be any time soon.”

“Which means”—she let go of me to switch the golf clubs into her other hand and rub my belly—“I’m going to be there when this little girl is born.”

We walked past a speaker that was playing “Yo Ho, A Pirate’s Life for Me.” Loudly. Janine was already squaring up to take her turn at the next hole.

Aurora was waiting for us at the top of the ramp. “I say we let Janine win and go for a drink at Irish Eyes.”

I groaned and took my golf club from McKenzie. “The place will be packed.”

“Come on. It’s not every night we celebrate our best friend getting a reprieve from the grim reaper.”

“A
reprieve from the grim reaper?
” I laughed. I’d laughed so much tonight that my sides hurt. “It’s a good thing you’re an artist and not a writer, Aurora.” I took a practice swing. “Now step aside and watch me finish Janine off.”

“I’ll give you five bucks if you make a hole in one here,” Aurora dared. “Better yet, I’ll buy you one of those big froufrou drinks you like. With extra umbrellas.”

I frowned. Janine had a two on the hole. It was a par two. I knew I could make it in one long putt. “Can you not see that I’m pregnant, Aurora?”

“So I’ll get you a virgin froufrou, and Mack can drink your alcohol.”

McKenzie laughed, and I saw her meet Aurora’s gaze. We were all so happy, but there was something about the light I saw in Aurora’s eyes that made me think that this somehow meant even more to her than it did to Janine and me. Maybe because of Jude? I couldn’t tell. And tonight wasn’t the night to ask.

38

Janine

I
walked out onto the deck. The light was out, but I could see Aurora leaning on the rail at the far end.

“Is that weed I smell?” I asked.

“Nope.” I heard her inhale and hold her breath. Then I saw her pinch out a glowing ember between her fingers. She exhaled heavily.

I leaned on the rail next to the steps. “Okay, boy,” I told Fritz. He ran down into the darkness to do his business. I glanced in Aurora’s direction. “Do I have to remind you I’m a state police officer?”

I could hear the frown in her voice. “
Please.
You guys have better things to do than chase down half a joint.” She lifted her chin in the direction of the neighbors’ house. “Besides, if you’re going to arrest me, you have to arrest the Greenes, too.”

I glanced at the dark house; they were always in bed by nine, and it was almost one. “The Greenes?” I laughed, knowing she was joking. She
had
to be. “They’re in their
seventies
.”

“You’ve never smelled it?” She didn’t sound like she was joking. She sounded like she knew something I didn’t.

I thought about it for a second. I thought about it so hard that I knew my forehead creased. “I smell . . . the smoker. He’s always smoking meat.”

“Ever wonder why he smokes so much meat? What smells he’s trying to cover?” Now I could hear her smiling.

I shook my head. The whole possibility was just too much to think about tonight. There was no way the sweet old Greenes were potheads. He was a retired CPA, for God’s sake. She was the head of some women’s circle at her church. “You’re crazy, Aurora. Certifiable.” I stared out over the grassy dunes. I could hear Fritz under the house, snooping around.

Aurora climbed up to sit on the rail, swinging her feet over to let them dangle.

I listened to the sound of the waves. It was so soothing . . . soul soothing. I thought about the last week, how crazy things had gotten. Spinning out of control, but for once, not in a bad way. I was still trying to sift through it all, trying to figure out how McKenzie’s new prognosis would impact me . . . our lives. Thoughts of Chris, Jude, and Aurora’s big revelation kept bubbling up, too.

I glanced at Aurora, then back out over the dunes. For a couple of days, I’d had the nagging sense that Aurora was watching me when she thought I wouldn’t notice. That she was waiting for me to
say
something. I had a pretty good idea what it was about. I thought about how to ease into the conversation, but this was Aurora. It was better to just plunge. “You and I haven’t talked about what you told us,” I said. “About killing Buddy because he walked in on you.”

She was quiet.

“You know that doesn’t really matter to me, right? It doesn’t change anything between us.” I waited. Fritz came up the steps, crossed the deck, and trotted into the house.

Still, Aurora was silent.

I sighed. Sometimes I wondered if Aurora truly believed the things she wanted us to think she believed, or if it was all a game with her to get attention. “You were a kid, Aurora. No one could blame you for saving yourself.” I hesitated, and then went on. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that it doesn’t matter to me why you did it. You still saved my life.”

The crash of the waves and the click and whir of the insects in the sea grass below filled the air for a few long moments before she spoke. “I let you believe I was someone I wasn’t,” she said so softly that I had to concentrate to hear her. “You thought I was a hero.”

I gazed at her; I couldn’t make out her face now lost in shadows, but I could imagine its stoniness. “You
were
a hero, Aurora. You were
my
hero. The motivation of a scared fourteen-year-old doesn’t matter. Buddy would have killed me one day. I truly believe that.”

She didn’t look at me; she just kept staring into the darkness, toward the ocean. “You mean that, don’t you?” Her voice was small, almost like a little girl’s.

“Of course I mean it. When have you ever heard me say something I didn’t mean, Aurora?”

She looked at me and smiled. “Thank you.”

“For what?” I asked.

“I don’t know.” She lifted a slender shoulder and let it fall. “Just thanks.”

Silence stretched between us then, and I knew she was done talking about it, at least for tonight. We’d talk about it again, maybe not tomorrow, but soon.

I closed my eyes, suddenly realizing how exhausted I was. “I think I’m going to bed. You coming?”

“In a few minutes,” she answered.

“Okay.” I glanced toward the door; I could see Fritz waiting patiently for me. “See you in the morning.”

“See you in the morning,” Aurora repeated.

 

The next morning, Lilly and McKenzie greeted me almost in unison. “Good morning!”

I walked into the kitchen from the laundry room; the dryer and the washer were both running. I’d decided to take a personal day; it just didn’t seem right to celebrate McKenzie’s good news by spending the day making traffic stops and hauling in teenagers shoplifting at the outlet stores. I wanted to be here. With her and Aurora and Lilly.

Fritz went right for his water bowl on the floor at the end of the counter.

“How was your run?” McKenzie was perched on a stool, drinking a cup of tea. She was already dressed for the beach, a pair of shorts over the blue bathing suit we all hated so much.

“Coffee?” Lilly asked. She was still in her white
housecoat,
her dark hair up in a samurai topknot.

“Not yet.” I went to the sink and got a glass of water. “Run was good. A little hot. I should have gone earlier. I guess we all slept in.” I leaned against the sink to drink my water.

Fritz meandered out of the kitchen.

“No sign of Aurora?”

“Still asleep.” Lilly took a mug from the cabinet and set it next to the coffeepot. “Coffee’s ready when you want it. It’s going to be a nice day on the beach. It cooled down overnight. Only expecting a high of eighty-nine today. I thought we could all go down for a while.”

“Mia and Maura are trying to switch shifts with friends.” McKenzie reached for the local newspaper lying on the counter. “Either to get today or tomorrow off. They want to go to the waterslides. You up for it?”

As I opened my arms, I heard Fritz bark from the front deck. “Bring it on.”

“Any chance Chris might like to join us?” Lilly tilted her head to one side.

“I’m not asking Chris if he wants to go
watersliding
with a bunch of women.” I drained my glass and set it in the sink.

“Why not? It’ll be fun.”

I glanced at Lilly’s belly. “You’re going on the waterslides? With that?”

She frowned. “Of course not.” She dropped English muffins into the toaster and pressed the lever. “I can sit at the bottom on one of those benches and take videos and hold towels and such. I’ll pack snacks.”

Fritz barked again.

“Of
course
you’re going to bring snacks.” I tugged on my little ponytail that was held up more by bobby pins than the elastic band. I wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, but I was kind of proud of my ponytail. I hadn’t had once since I was fourteen. “Did I tell you I got on the scale at the gym yesterday morning? I’ve put on three pounds since we got here. Thanks to
your
cooking and snacks, Lillian.”

McKenzie flipped a page in the newspaper. “I’ve lost another four since my doctor’s appointment last month. I’m down to my college weight.
I
don’t seem to be having an issue with Lilly’s snacks.”

I cut my eyes at her. “Taking cancer drugs doesn’t count. If I was puking as many times a week as you are, I’d be down to my college weight, too.”

McKenzie flashed me a smile.

“I’ll pack something healthy.” Lilly took butter and strawberry jam from the refrigerator and set them on the counter. “Carrot sticks and stuff.”

I wanted to tell her that we could do without snacks between lunch and dinner, but I knew it would be a waste of breath. “Carrots are fine. No more chips or licorice.” I started for the door. “I’m going to jump in the shower, then come back for my coffee.”

“Skip the shower.” McKenzie began to fold the newspaper. “We’ll all go in the water. You can rinse your stink off in the ocean.”

Lilly opened the jar of jam. It smelled good, and I realized I was hungry. I was tempted to tell her to put a muffin in for me, too, but I really did need to cut back on the carbs.

“It doesn’t make sense to shower, then go swimming in the ocean and come back up and shower again,” Lilly said.

Fritz was barking again, now more insistently.

I glanced in his direction, then back at Lilly. “I know, but I feel gross.” I made a face. “My underwear is sweaty.”

“Eww,” Lilly groaned, putting up her hand. “TMI.”

Fritz was still barking. Which was weird because he knows better than to sit on the deck and bark at every kid or rabbit that goes by.

McKenzie turned around to look in the direction of the front of the house. “What’s going on with him?”

I shook my head. His tone was strange. “Fritz!” I hollered. “Knock it off.”

He kept barking. Something about the sound made the sweaty hair on the back of my neck stand up. I walked out of the kitchen and through the living room. I could see him on the deck, his muzzle to the rail. He was still barking. I had never heard him bark like this before. “Fritz! Enough!”

He stopped barking and started to whine.

I stepped out onto the deck, looking in the same direction he was looking.

There was a knot of people crowded around the water’s edge, just north of the house; it was maybe seventy-five or eighty yards from the deck, but here, from the second story, I could see pretty well. Some sunbathers were moving toward the clump of activity, others away. On the wind, I caught the sounds of human distress.

“Stay, Fritz,” I ordered, walking toward the steps.

“What’s going on?” McKenzie came to the doorway.

“I don’t know.” I looked up from the third step. “Something on the beach. Fritz, stay,” I ordered. He had started after me; I had to point for him to go back up to the deck. This was so unlike him. He was never disobedient.

McKenzie glanced in the direction of the commotion. “I’ll come with you.”

“No. Stay here,” I said sharply. Sharp enough that McKenzie stayed where she was.

I hurried down the stairs. I’d left my running shoes in the laundry room, so I was in my socks. I didn’t take the time to take them off. As I crossed the dune, I heard the sound of a siren. The frequency of the tone told me it was police. Close, coming this way. I heard another, farther in the distance.

As I went up and over the dune, I looked back over my shoulder. Lilly had joined McKenzie at the rail. Fritz waited at the top of the steps, his whine practically a howl. “Stay there,” I called.

I hit the beach at a jog. Closer to the uproar now, I could hear a woman crying. Someone was clearing the area, forcing the crowd back. It took me a split second to realize what I was seeing; the group in bathing suits was standing around someone lying in the sand. I saw bare feet. Long legs. A red one-piece bathing suit. Then I saw the long, wet, blond hair.

I took off at a full run.

At the scene of accidents, I’ve heard people say that time slowed down for them. That everything seemed to happen in slow motion. For me, as I sprinted the distance, everything was a blur . . . of time and space. The sky whizzed by overhead; the sand moved under my feet. I heard voices, but I didn’t hear what anyone was saying. I saw the faces of the people gathered, but they had no features. Not even gender.

“State police,” I heard myself call out. “Step back, please.”

My back was to the beach house. I faced the ocean. Someone had pulled her just far enough out of the water so that her head was in dry sand. She was almost perpendicular to the water, but her feet got wet with each wave. Her goggles were gone. Her eyes were closed. Like my father’s had been.

“Step back! Please!” I barked. I realized I’d come down without my phone. “Did someone call 911?”

“I called.”

“They’re on their way.”

“I hear them.”

The voices seemed disembodied.

I crouched beside her. I knew right away that she’d been dead a few hours: Her hands and feet were beginning to slough off skin, she was slightly stiff, and her face and neck looked bruised— signs of lividity. I pressed my fingertips in the hollow between her windpipe and the muscles of her neck anyway. No pulse in her carotid. She was cold to the touch.

“Should we start CPR or something?” someone asked behind me.

“Here come the paramedics!”

“I see the police!”

I stood and took a step back. I turned to identify myself to the male and female paramedics. I spoke in a low, steady tone. I’d been trained for these types of situations, with the army reserves and the state police.

I provided Aurora’s full name. Then I stepped back to give the paramedics room. I heard them going through the motions of a resuscitation, but I knew, as I’m sure they did, that it would be unsuccessful. As I walked toward the first police officer arriving on the scene, in an Albany Beach uniform, I glanced up at the beach house. McKenzie and Lilly were still standing on the deck with my dog.

Could they see her lying on the beach?

I gave my name and Aurora’s name to the officer and explained my relationship to her. I pointed to the house, and then I walked away. A part of me thought I should stay with Aurora until she was loaded in an emergency vehicle, but my thoughts were now with the living.

My heart shattered into raw, bloody bits as I trudged over the sand in my socks. Tears ran down my face. I’d seen dead bodies before, even a drowning victim. But my knees were weak, and I felt like I might be sick.