Invisible (10 page)

“Sounds good,” Mr. Connolly replied. “Thanks.”

Her dad held out a can. “Dana?” he said, and she shook her head.

Mr. Connolly took the beer. “I’m sorry about your mom, Peyton.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled. Which was stupid. Thanks for being sorry, thanks for saying so? She handed her dad his piece of pie, licking the blueberry juice that had oozed out onto her finger.

“Thanks, princess.” He balanced the plate in one hand and gripped a beer can in the other. He looked from one to the other. Then he set down the pie and lifted the can to his lips.

Peyton frowned hard at her own plate.

“I brought over your homework assignments for the week, Peyton, but of course you don’t need to worry about them right now. Mrs. Milchman sent home a copy of
To Kill a Mockingbird
.”

“Great,” Peyton said. She’d get right on reading that. He didn’t catch her tone. He may have been talking to her, but he was watching Dana. It was as though a bubble encased the two of them, leaving Peyton and her dad on the outside. Peyton yanked out a chair with a loud, forceful clatter, and both Dana and Mr. Connolly glanced over.

He cleared his throat. “So the service is Friday?”

“One o’clock,” her dad said.

“I’ll make sure the principal knows. He’s planning an early dismissal so everyone can attend.”

“Appreciate that.”

How dumb was that, everyone making such a big deal? The kids would all be excited about missing school, but they’d try to hide it. Peyton was glad she wouldn’t be around to see any of their fake sadness in the days leading up to the funeral. By Friday, though, chances were good that everyone would have moved on to the next exciting topic.
Were Brenna and Adam doing it? Was that gross thing on Mrs. Olafson’s nose cancer, or just a disgusting wart?

“I’d better head out. I just wanted to come by and pay my respects.” Mr. Connolly shook her dad’s hand, nodded at her and Dana, and left, quietly closing the door behind him.

Her dad took a long swallow. “Couldn’t wait, could you?”

Dana was folding up the paper bag. She turned. “Wait for what?”

“Back in town one day.”

“Oh, come off it, Frank. He came by to bring Peyton her homework.”

“Yeah. That’s pretty convenient.” He reached around to pull another can out of the cardboard case. Her mom wouldn’t have liked that, her dad drinking two beers in a row, but she was gone. The rules didn’t apply anymore.

“Dad, he’s my teacher,” Peyton protested.

But he didn’t even look at her. “We don’t hear from you for
years. Then, bam! You’re back. Who called you? What the hell do you want?”

“To bury my sister.”

The words were flat and ugly. Peyton set down her fork and swallowed hard. She
hated
Dana.

“That’s it?” her dad jeered. “You don’t want a nice keepsake?” His gaze roved the room and came to rest on the hutch. “How about her plates?”

Her mom’s pretty blue wooden plates, lined up behind the glass. Every Christmas, her dad got her mom another one.

“Stop it, Frank—”

“How about this?” He grabbed the old pottery pitcher from the shelf, with its cream-colored finish and handle that curved like an ocean wave, the crack running up one side. “It’s damaged, though. Probably couldn’t get much for it.”

Her dad was using his sarcastic voice, the one that could melt metal. Peyton hadn’t heard it since she was little, but now it came rushing back. Her dad snapping at her for dawdling as she fumbled with her shoelaces. Her dad telling her mom the chicken was dry. Or even worse, her dad going silent and freezing out her and her mother as if they didn’t even exist.

“What is your problem?” Dana asked.

He smacked the pitcher onto the counter and the crack raced up to the lip. Peyton flinched. Her mom had
loved
that thing. They’d found it together at the flea market.

“
You’re
the problem. Julie took care of you. She did everything for you.”

“You can’t blame me for this.” Dana’s voice trembled.

“If you’d been here—”

“I
would
have been here. I’m here now, aren’t I? But you didn’t call me!”

“Julie wouldn’t let me. She didn’t want anything to do with you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you want. Whatever it was that you did—”

“I didn’t do anything! I loved her! She was my
sister
.”

He snorted. “You have a funny way of showing sisterly love.”

“You don’t know anything. We got along great until you came along. Julie—”

“Sure. Julie was real happy, working all day, going to school at night, and trying to keep you out of trouble. Did you really think she was going to spend her life taking care of you?”

“And what life did
you
give her? She never saw anything of this world. You kept her trapped in this dead-end town!”

Dana didn’t know anything. Her mom had
loved
Black Bear. She said she never wanted to live anywhere else.

“Julie was happy here.”

“Julie was
loyal
.”

“What does that mean?”

“She would have done anything to make you happy. She would have done anything to make you think she was happy, too.”

Her mom
had
been happy. She said that having Peyton filled her life with joy. Peyton wanted to clap her hands across her aunt’s mouth, and make her
shut up
.

“It kills you to know that Julie was okay without you.”

“Sure,” Dana shot back, mocking. “She did just
great
without me. How many experts did you consult, Frank? Did you even think about taking her down to the Mayo?”

Her father went still, all the air sucked out of the room. Dana wasn’t saying this was her dad’s fault, was she?

When her father spoke at last, it was in a low, quiet voice that sent a shiver down Peyton’s spine. “We haven’t seen or heard from you in years. You never even came home when your niece was born. But here you are, acting the devoted sister. You can try and fool the rest of the town, but you can’t fool me.”

“You’re the fool, Frank. You don’t know me, and you didn’t know everything about Julie, either.” Dana’s face was white.

What did
that
mean? Peyton shoved back her chair. “Stop it! It was
me
, all right?
I
called Dana.”

They stared at her.

“I thought she could help,” she persisted, hating them both. “How screwed up was
that
?”

“Peyton, I just—” Her dad reached out.

“Don’t touch me!”

Peyton whirled and ran down the hall. Slamming her door, she threw herself onto her bed and grabbed her iPod. Nothing was what it seemed. People could be related to you and be nothing like family. People could die and leave huge gaping holes. What rushed in to fill them was scary and wrong. She squeezed her eyes shut to let the music sweep her away.

… you didn’t know everything about Julie
.

Dana was the one who didn’t know everything about Peyton’s mom. She hadn’t been around for Peyton’s whole life, so why would she even say something like that?

Did you even think about taking her down to the Mayo?

Peyton couldn’t remember if her parents had ever discussed going to the Mayo Clinic. Would it have made a difference? They had lots of doctors in Black Bear, a whole clinic full of them, and Peyton’s mom went to them all the time. But still a tiny worm of doubt wriggled in, flaring briefly in the blackness before disappearing from view.

Maybe it
was
her dad’s fault.

 [DANA]

S
TREETLIGHTS THREW JULIE’S FACE INTO SHARP RELIEF
as our small car hurtled through the night. She gave me a worried glance.
I should’ve known something was wrong. I’m in nursing school, damn it
.

That scared me. Julie never swore.
Is it because it’s too early?
I grabbed the armrest as another wave of pain swept up my legs to my belly.

It’ll be okay
.

She was just saying that. She didn’t know.

We sailed over the train tracks, and I gasped.
Julie, slow down!

Sorry
.

The emergency room doors swept open.

“Name, honey?” the admitting nurse said, peering over the half-moons of her glasses. The creases on her face showed what she was thinking:
Aren’t you too young to be having a baby?
Of course I was.

“Julie Kelleher,” I lied.

Julie fished in her purse and pulled out the ID and insurance
card. The nurse examined the tiny photo, looked at both of us, then pushed back her chair. “Let me make a copy of this. I’ll be right back.”

Julie and I looked at each other, stunned. It had worked.

The urgent cooing of a dove woke me. Rolling over, I picked up my cellphone and glanced at the display. Seven. Halim would have been on the jobsite for over an hour by now, so why hadn’t he called with an update? He knew I’d be worried. Was he simply busy with the usual post-blast cleanup, or had he gotten into worse trouble? Had I? I wanted to trust him, this smart, older man who’d become my mentor, despite our many differences. I wanted to feel that we were in this terrible situation together, standing on the same side of the fence. But I couldn’t push away the memory of the calculation in his eyes as he stood over the dead woman. After all, a man who’d clean out a business account without his partner’s knowing was not someone to count on.

The house was gentle with pearly dawn light as I made my way down the hall. My favorite time of day, everything peaceful and new, with just the soft gurgle of the coffeemaker to keep me company. A fresh start, all the previous day’s mistakes erased. Beer cans rattled as I pulled the bin from beneath the kitchen sink. Six, seven empties? Frank would need more than a new morning to erase last night’s mistakes. I dropped the old, used coffee filter into the bin and shoved it back into place. Who was I kidding? I’d made my own share of mistakes, too, letting Frank goad me into a fight right in front of Peyton. But emotion had swelled up from nowhere, and in an instant, I’d blazed up into that bitter, angry girl I’d once been, and had almost undone everything I had struggled so hard to make.

Then Peyton had run out of the room, leaving us standing there glaring at each other, before Frank finally wheeled around to watch TV in the living room, and I pulled out a bucket and tin
of cleanser to scrub the kitchen like some madwoman. What he had insinuated about Joe was ridiculous. Insulting. If I was so intent upon rekindling a high school romance, I wouldn’t have waited until now to do so.

I filled a cup before the coffee finished brewing, and stepped outside into the morning’s dewy embrace.

Someone had built a rock garden. Our mother had had one, and Julie had always wanted one, so I supposed it was hers. Back home in Baltimore, spring was in full bloom, the rich vibrant colors of azaleas, lilies, marigolds, and peonies bursting across lawn after lawn. Here, the season was just getting under way. Smooth gray stones peeked out beneath a mat of leggy clover and dandelions. Furled violets waited for the sun to rise so they could turn and open their faces. A cement fountain, green with moss. Along the back fence, daffodils bloomed, cheek to cheek with straggly weeds that would send Martin into fits if he saw them. Near them stood a plastic playhouse, faded pink and blue. Peyton would surely have crawled inside it to have tea parties with her teddy bear. No, scratch that. Peyton didn’t seem the sort to wear dresses and talk in baby lisps to a stuffed animal. More likely, she’d made it into a fort and plotted war games.

“Good morning, Dana.” A short, square woman stood on the stoop next door.

I stared in disbelief. Irene Stahlberg lived next door?

Red-cheeked, black hair scraped tightly back from her plain features, Irene looked exactly as she had when Julie and I were growing up, even down to the floral housedress and the gold-wire eyeglasses perched on her pointy nose. She marched across the grass between the two houses, a bundle of flowers in one hand. “I have to say I’m surprised to see you, even given the circumstances. We all figured you were gone for good.”

Irene had always been the sort to cut right to it. She didn’t throw her arms open for a hug. No false show of affection for her. In that one way, at least, we could agree.

“Figured you had enough food.” Irene thrust the flowers at me. Old-fashioned pink roses. “Julie’s favorite,” she said, gruffly. “First of the season.”

The Julie I had known had loved tulips with their jewel tones and curved shapes, but I could understand the appeal of these flowers with their tightly clustered petals and heavenly aroma. “They’re beautiful, Irene. Thank you. Would you like some coffee? Everyone’s still asleep, but …”

“Maybe just half a cup. Before I head in to work.”

Reluctantly, I held open the screen door. Couldn’t she tell my offer had been purely polite, without a tinge of genuine welcome? I’d been enjoying the solitude, the first few moments of peace I’d had in weeks. But this was Julie’s house; my sister would have wanted me to invite her neighbor in for coffee. “Are you still at the high school?” I asked, quietly shutting the door behind us.