The sun had just begun to set as they flew over Charleston Harbor. The sky released brilliant shades of purple, pink, and orange, enveloping the plane the moment it dropped beneath the clouds.
Liz was glad Dorian had insisted she take the window seat, because she would have regretted missing this. It was as if the entire city had put on this display to welcome her home.
“So does any of it seem familiar yet?” Dorian asked while they waited for her bag at the luggage claim.
“Like maybe I once took this journey in reverse?” She shook her head. “No, nothing like that.”
“Well, the night is young, and we have a long list of places to visit. Where would you like to start?” He pulled out his phone and brought up the notes app where he’d stored all the information Ben had given him.
During the flight, he’d shared that list with Liz. And faced with the decision of actually going to one of these places now, she chose the place she knew would be most difficult.
“Let’s go to the cemetery,” she said, spying her suitcase on the conveyor belt and pointing it out to Dorian.
“You’re just jumping in with both feet, aren’t you?” He wore a look of admiration as he returned her bag to her.
She loved the way he looked at her, especially when he was impressed by something she’d done. It had become a kind of drug, surprising Dorian, showing him just how strong she could be all on her own. “Well, you keep saying I’m brave, and I’d hate to prove you wrong.”
Vanessa had booked a hotel and car for them, too, which Liz now really appreciated. What she didn’t appreciate was the flashy Audi coupe standing before her.
“This is—” A bit ridiculous, she planned to say.
“Awesome!” Dorian cried, running his hand over the sleek edges of the car appreciatively. “Sure beats my truck.”
“I like your truck,” she argued. It was a part of him, whereas this flashy vehicle represented Vanessa. Yup, she’d take his rustbucket of an F150 any day of the week.
Dorian’s happiness as he slipped onto the leather seats quickly changed her mind. Maybe Vanessa often went too far when it came to appearances, but at least her heart seemed to be in the right place.
And now Liz knew for sure Vanessa had made the travel arrangements for them. Her dad always rented the same make and model of the current car he drove, said it was like having a piece of home away from home.
Liz smiled, thinking of her dad and all the little quirks that made her love him. She had quirks, too. Much of who she’d become was a direct result of how he’d raised her. He’d encouraged her to explore even though she now knew he’d chosen to hide some adventures from her. Even now he wanted her to find what she was looking for. He wanted her to be happy, complete—and she loved him dearly for it.
Dorian let out a low whistle, drawing her attention back to him. “Built-in GPS. How perfect is that?” He punched in the address of the cemetery, and they were off.
During the flight, Dorian had shared stories of his grandmother, his college days, even his first love. She’d worked hard to keep him talking so that she wouldn’t have to offer much about her past. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to tell him about her life, but rather, she didn’t yet know how her perfect memories might have become tainted by the truth of her father’s sins.
Now, however, standing in front of the little pink granite headstone etched with a lamb and praying hands, she couldn’t stop sharing.
“My sister.” She gasped, and Dorian slipped an arm around her waist to support her. “I never even knew she existed. That feels so wrong.”
He stared down reverently at the grave with her. “How would your life have been different if she’d lived?”
“Everything would have changed. Maybe my father wouldn’t have taken me at all. Maybe he’d have taken both of us. I just… it’s so weird, being here. I feel like I’ve betrayed her by not remembering her all these years.” She rested her head on his shoulder and they stood together, joined.
“You never met her. You never knew,” he whispered in consolation.
“Actually, I’m starting to now. I remember feeling her kick,” Liz said as she let her eyes drift unfocused toward the horizon. “My mom, she put my hand on her belly. She was wearing this shirt with a beautiful black stallion on the front. It was my favorite piece of clothing she owned, so she wore it often. I remember staring at the horse’s nose and being so surprised when it twitched. That’s when my mom let me feel her and asked if I was ready to be a big sister.”
She laughed sadly as the long-forgotten memory continued to gallop forth. “I said no. I didn’t want to share. She was my mommy, and nobody else’s.” Liz used her forearm to wipe at her nose, then laughed again. “What a little brat I was.”
“That’s normal,” Dorian said, using one hand to massage her shoulder as they talked. “I remember being just as awful when my little sister was born, but she turned out okay. Now we have all these good memories together. Even though we were never close, we were always there for each other, you know?”
She felt the tears coming, and she let them fall. How many had cried at this headstone? How many even knew about the little girl who was laid to rest before she ever had the chance to live a life outside the womb? “I don’t. I never got the chance to know her, to make any memories other than this one.”
“Well, let’s fix that now.” Dorian sounded excited, and she was grateful that he wanted to help. But how was it even possible? The past was gone. She’d never recover what she’d lost.
“Let’s make some memories for you and your sister,” he explained when she didn’t encourage him to say more.
The tears fell down her cheeks and onto her bright turquoise blouse below. “Dorian, you can’t just make up memories.”
But he wouldn’t give up on fixing the unfixable. “Why not?” he demanded. “Here, I’ll even help get you started.”
He reached for both her hands and held onto them as he spoke, facing her. It was the same position a couple took when exchanging vows. Yet the two of them were inventing memories—her sister’s grave officiating. “Your mother just came home from the hospital carrying the baby bassinet. She introduces you to your little sister, and the first thing you notice is how she has bright red hair just like you.”
Liz laughed. She was beginning to understand his idea, and she liked it. “Then my mom whispers in my ear that the three of us are going on an adventure someday very soon, and I say that as long as I have my mommy, I will go anywhere.”
Now Dorian added to the memory again. “She introduces you to Ben and says he’s her very good friend and he’s going to help take you on the adventure. You pack up and leave for Anchorage the next day.”
“It’s a long drive, but I like showing my sister all the sights through the window. When we get to Alaska, they have a new puppy for me, an Akita named Goliath.”
“And if memory serves, you have a great time riding that dog all over the house like a pony, but you also get plenty of time to ride horses, because your mom opens up her own stables right there in Anchorage.”
She pictured it. Every word came alive as Dorian spoke. This could have been real. It could have been her life.
“Soon I can’t remember any other life, and I start calling Ben Dad. I like him much better than the man who used to yell at and hurt mommy. I love horses best, but my little sister is all about the dogs. Our father gets involved in the sledding community to share this passion with her.”
“As your sister gets older, she begins to race. She’s amazing at it, and you often go to her races to cheer from the sidelines. At one such event, you meet a handsome but awkward reporter. He asks you to dance.” He squeezed her hands and widened his eyes as if expecting her to curtsey and begin an old-fashioned waltz.
“And I remind him there is no dancing at sled dog events. Unless it’s the Miners and Trappers ball.”
“And I say, we don’t need permission to dance.” Dorian took Liz in his arms and swayed with her in the breeze.
She laid her head on his chest and listened to his heart. “Thank you. I liked that.”
“I like this,” he said, spinning her in his arms.
“I could have still had the same life. Well, in a lot of ways the same. We lost a lot, my father and I both, when we lost Mom and baby Elizabeth, but we still had a lot, too.”
“And you’re still you, either way.”
“And we still get to dance, either way.”
The dancing freed something in her, made the invented memory feel so real. Now as Dorian turned her this way and that, she imagined her sister and her mother sharing a similar dance in Heaven.
Whether or not she ever got the chance to really know them, she now had memories to fill in the gaps of time.
And that would be more than enough.