34
THE AROMA OF MOM’S BEEF STEW lingered in the kitchen. She probably had just enough left over for my father and her to have it for dinner again tomorrow night, what with all of us having seconds —and Geoff having thirds.
Johanna, Jillian, and I had made quick work of cleanup after dinner, and we’d all agreed to a game of Scotland Yard.
If anyone glanced in the bay window that bordered the breakfast nook, they’d probably see nothing more than a trio of sisters sitting at the table, talking on a mid-February evening —never imagining what a monumental event this was.
Johanna. Jillian. Me. All sitting together. Talking. For more than five minutes. And so far, no arguing.
I was certain Geoff and my parents were waiting for the three of us to join them in the family room, but they would have to continue to wait. We were in no rush to exchange our conversation for a board game.
“Anybody want more coffee?” I stood at the island, prepping the coffeemaker.
“Sounds good.” Johanna nodded. “Just black.”
“None for me, thanks.” Jillian tugged her purple sweater closer around her body.
“Johanna, how’s work going?” I could only hope I didn’t sound like a desperate TV interviewer, trying to avoid the dreaded dead air in front of thousands of viewers.
Me, trying to engage my oldest sister in a conversation. How different from a few months ago, when all I wanted her to do was leave me alone so I could set desserts out for Jillian’s engagement party.
None of us imagined how life-changing that night would be.
“Pretty well. We’re training a new pharmacy technician —and you know what that’s like.”
No, I didn’t know what that was like, but for the sake of continuing a pleasant conversation, I wasn’t going to say that. “Challenging, I would imagine.”
“Just getting her used to the routine, helping her learn the way around the hospital. The whole crawling-up-the-learning-curve thing.”
“Right. How’s Beckett?”
“He just got orders to Alabama this summer.”
Jillian took a sip from her water bottle. “He took the new assignment after all?”
“Yes. We talked about our options and decided postgraduate school was the right thing for him to do.”
There was no reason to ask my sister if that was really the way things went after her showdown with Beckett on Christmas Day. This was her story —a mutually agreed-upon decision —and she’d stick to it.
Although none of us liked talking about Jillian’s cancer, I still had to ask the question. To let my sister know I cared. “How are you doing with your radiation therapy, Jillian?”
“Managing. I’m tired, but there’s an end in sight.”
“You still like having a puppy?”
Johanna’s question, asked without a trace of skepticism, was almost not worth asking. Geoff and Jillian took Winston with them everywhere. Right now, the puppy was probably snoozing in Geoff’s lap —or my dad’s.
“Winston is part comic relief, part comfort, and part constant aggravation. I’m focusing on the first two and reminding myself that he will outgrow the third one.”
“Dad certainly likes the little guy. Makes me wonder if he’s going to talk Mom into a dog.”
We all laughed over the thought. If only someone could capture the moment —the three of us smiling and laughing.
We’d get back to normal soon enough. Occasional rounds in the ring between Johanna and me. Jillian taking up her position in the middle, forever and ever, amen.
I had to be realistic. Even with truth . . . with confession . . . some things were destined to remain the same.
“Sometimes you just have to forget all the other stuff and remember we’re sisters.”
The truth of Pepper’s words no longer seemed to remind me of what was lacking in my relationship with my sisters. Instead, they drew me closer to Johanna and Jillian —and Pepper —and made me grateful for the good.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about Pepper a lot lately.”
My comment was met with surprised silence. Johanna stared at me and Jillian glanced back and forth between the two of us as if uncertain what to say.
“I think . . . I think maybe this year was tough, what with it being ten years since she died. Or maybe I just made it tougher on myself. Tougher for everyone else, too.” I swallowed the salty taste of unshed tears. “I’m learning how to live without her . . . letting myself miss her.”
“I miss her, too.” Jillian reached across the table to touch my hand.
“We all do.” Johanna’s agreement united us.
I had to clear my throat before I could say the next words. “I have to tell you both something Pepper said. Something we all need to remember.”
And as I spoke the words, I heard the echo of Pepper’s voice with mine.