NORA
IT WAS ALMOST ten thirty when Nora finally wound her way down the road to Redrock Bay. A sign near the ranger station at the entrance to the park admonished her to pay for admittance utilizing a wooden drop box and the honor system, but she drove right past it. She didn’t plan on staying long.
The small parking lot near the marina was empty save for a purple hatchback with California plates. Quinn was standing beside it, her legs and arms bare and golden in the glow of the headlights as Nora swung the car around. She hadn’t expected to feel much of anything, but the enormity of seeing her sister after so long hit Nora square in the chest. She struggled to breathe.
Quinn looked warm and wholesome, her skin tanned and her dirty blond hair pulled back in a high ponytail that put Nora in mind of her sister’s cheerleading days. At twenty-five, she still shimmered like a teen, her limbs smooth as pulled taffy, her expression so earnest, even at a distance, it was easy to tell that she still longed for approval. Love me, everything about her seemed to whisper. And it was impossible not to love Quinn. But sometimes, it was hard to like her.
Nora squeezed the steering wheel until her knuckles glowed white in the dashboard lights. A part of her wanted to put the car in reverse and speed away, leaving Quinn in a cloud of dust. But it was too late for that.
“I’ll be back in just a minute,” Nora finally said, clicking off her seat belt and swiveling around to consider the blanketed girl. The child had tugged the fabric below the line of her sea-glass eyes and was regarding Nora with an indecipherable gaze. “What do you think?” Nora attempted a smile but it felt fake and fragile on her lips. “Amy? Should we call you Amy?”
Nothing.
Nora sighed and stepped out of the car, leaving the door ajar so that the girl didn’t feel completely abandoned. What to do? Wave? Smile? The gravity of the situation made Nora’s feet feel weighted. She was halfway to Quinn and had no idea what to say to her sister.
But Quinn didn’t hesitate.
“Nora!” Quinn flung herself across the remaining distance between them and crushed her sister in a hug. “I didn’t think you were going to come!” Then she backed away and held Nora at arm’s length, a frown cutting a perfect line between her eyebrows. The wrinkle reminded Nora of their mother. But she would never say so to Quinn.
“Hey, Q.”
“I should hit you.”
“Maybe,” Nora agreed. She didn’t bother to apologize.
So Quinn wound up and smacked her in the arm, hard enough to sting but not hard enough to leave a bruise. It was a sisterly science, an exact measurement of force and velocity divided by the profound desire not to get on the wrong side of Jack Sr. He wasn’t a fan of fistfights between girls, even if JJ—the perfect child—had been the one to institute the mild sibling abuse that marked their home.
“I deserved that,” Nora said as her baby sister worried her lip.
“You cut your hair.”
Fingering the nape of her neck, Nora toyed with the feathered ends of her blond fringe, the frayed, wavy edge that made her look like a rock star. All she needed were tattoos and an abundance of earrings, but Nora had an unusual affinity for the purity of her own body. She had no desire to be branded or pierced, save a tiny tattoo on her shoulder in the shape of an arrow—her best friend, Tiffany, had a matching one—and when she dabbled in drugs it was only because she was an angsty teenager and that’s what angsty teenagers did. She didn’t like the way they made her feel. Nora figured she wasn’t the addictive type.
“I needed a change,” she offered, knowing that the haircut must be a shock to Quinn. The last time they’d seen each other, Nora’s flaxen waves had nearly touched her waist. Now, a long sweep of bangs complemented her cheekbones, and short layers exposed her neck and jaw. The overall effect was an aura of self-possession, of power. She used it to her advantage.
“It looks great.” But Quinn’s eyes were narrowed, hurt. They were strangers, and the strain of their awkward conversation was apparent. Nora wished she could rewind the clock, right past wrongs. But she couldn’t worry about Quinn’s feelings right now.
“Thanks.”
“It’s good to see you. I mean . . .” Quinn didn’t finish, and didn’t have to. Nora could see it all written across her face. I’m lonely. I wish things were different. I’m so angry at you. I miss you.
“It’s good to see you, too,” Nora said, because what else could she say? She didn’t want to see her sister now, under these circumstances, but what choice did she have? Quinn wasn’t the only Sanford sister whose life hadn’t turned out the way everyone had planned.
“Let’s get out of here,” Quinn suggested with an air of finality. “Let me buy you a drink. Malcolm’s serves Guinness now. Crown and Coke?” Quinn was already walking back to her car, clearly expecting Nora to follow so they could slide into one of the tattered booths at Malcolm’s on the Water and pretend things were different.
“Quinn, stop.” Nora hadn’t followed a single step, and when Quinn turned around the distance between them seemed unexpectedly large. “I don’t have time for a drink.”
“But you came all this way.”
“I can’t—”
“It’s late.” Quinn shrugged one shoulder and offered up her most charming smile, dimple on the right. But there was something sharp in the line of her mouth. Unforgiving. “Spend the night. Walker is working on a project and the house is so big. You can have the suite off the kitchen. I’ll make you crepes in the morning, whipped cream and all.” Was she being sarcastic? Nora couldn’t tell.
Nora didn’t mean to be harsh, but she shook her head and fixed her sister with a warning look. She had used this particular glare a thousand times throughout their childhood, and Quinn recoiled just like she had when she was eight and still in lopsided pigtails.
“What?”
“I need you to do something for me. To keep something safe,” Nora said.
Quinn put her hands on her hips. “Okay. There’s a safe in the master bedroom of the cabin. Walker knows the code.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“Then . . . ?”
“You have to promise me something first.”
Quinn raised an eyebrow. “You’re not involved in anything illegal, are you?”
“No,” Nora said quickly, but the truth was, she had no idea if what she was doing was illegal. “No, it’s not illegal. I just need to know that you’re going to take this seriously. That you’re going to do what I’m asking you to do.”
“Fine,” Quinn said.
“No, not fine. That’s not good enough.”
“Damn it, Nora. What do you want from me?” Quinn threw up her hands. “I don’t even know what I’m promising!”
“That you’ll be careful and wise. That you won’t tell anyone . . . what I’ve given you. That you’ll trust me to take care of things and not take matters into your own hands.”
“You’re scaring me.” Quinn crossed her arms over her chest, and the protective movement reminded Nora of when Quinn was little and would hide from JJ with her arms folded over her head as if the act of covering herself alone made her invisible.
“There’s nothing to be scared of.” But Nora wasn’t so sure of that. “It’s just a bit of a crazy situation and I really need someone I can trust. I trust you, Q. I believe that you’ll do the right thing.”
Quinn bit her lip as she considered this, but Nora could tell that she had gotten through. Her younger sister loved people. Loved them unabashedly and to a fault. It made her an easy target, though Quinn was far from gullible. She didn’t comply because she didn’t understand the implications, she just sincerely wanted to be helpful. To make everyone happy. To promote peace. There weren’t many people in the world as caring and guileless as Quinn Sanford. No, Cruz. Nora wondered if she’d ever get used to that. And she wondered if she could ever forgive herself for using Quinn in this way. For putting her in danger? But no, there would be no danger. They had worked out every detail.
“What do you want from me?” Quinn asked.
But Nora had already turned to the car. She didn’t see Quinn’s expression change from skeptical to hopeful, and if she had, she wouldn’t have known what to make of such unvarnished wistfulness anyway. Instead of worrying about her sister, Nora pulled open the passenger side back door and bent low.
“We’re here,” she said, smoothing corkscrew curls away from the tender curve of her cheek. The child was uncovered to her shoulders, but in the faint glow of the dashboard lights Nora could see that not much had changed. She was staring straight ahead, her emotions buttoned tight as a corset and her little jaw fixed.
“Hey,” Nora whispered, her resolve weakened by the child’s combination of strength and vulnerability. “You’re going to like Quinn. She’s my sister. She’s really, really nice, and she makes the best chocolate chip cookies I’ve ever had. You like chocolate chip cookies, don’t you?”
The girl blinked slowly, but otherwise didn’t move or acknowledge that Nora had spoken at all.
“And she loves to read books. With voices.” Nora had no idea if there were children’s books in the cabin, but surely Quinn would rise to the occasion. Would make trips to the library and the quaint gift shop on Main to buy a plush lovey that Everlee could snuggle while they curled up and read together. No. No trips anywhere.
And not Everlee. She couldn’t call her that anymore. At least, not out loud.
“Have you thought about a name?” Nora asked. “We’re going to take a little break from Everlee for a couple of days. Remember?” She eased herself onto the bench seat beside the girl’s bowed head. A part of her wanted to scoop up the blanketed bundle and brush her lips against the place where the child’s hairline formed the bow of a perfect heart. She wanted to call her buttercup and tickle the spot beneath her slight rib cage that always elicited a giggle.
Instead, Nora sighed and patted her shoulder. “Come on, sweetie. It’s time to go, okay?” And because she still didn’t answer, didn’t protest at all, Nora slid her hands underneath the balled-up six-year-old and awkwardly cradled her. She should have been heavier than she was, at least Nora thought so, and she made a mental note to suggest that Quinn feed her more. Peanut butter and eggs and chunky guacamole with chips. Things to put some meat on her tiny bird bones.
It was difficult to ease out of the car with the child in her arms, but Nora managed. As she stood, she intentionally avoided looking at Quinn. She focused instead on securing the weight in her embrace, on the short list of things that she had to convey. Don’t overdo it on the dairy. Make sure there is a stockpile of ketchup. And whatever you do, keep her hidden.
“Nora?” Quinn’s voice was a high squeak. She hurried over to where her sister stood, still trying to shift and shoulder the bulk against her chest. Quinn extended a hand to fold back the blanket and regard the girl circled in Nora’s embrace. “Who is this?”
“A friend.” Nora rushed on before Quinn could ask more questions. “I need you to keep her for a while. It’s a long story and I’ll tell you later, but for now I need you to trust me. I need you to please just do what I ask.”
A note of desperation rang in her voice even though she had tried to sound casual. There was nothing casual about this. No way to downplay the fact that there was a child cradled between them.
“Nora.” Quinn’s wide eyes spoke volumes. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
“You have to.” Nora gave up trying to comfortably hold the girl and set her down on the gravel road. She unwrapped the blanket, folded it over once, and then settled it over the child’s narrow shoulders. Nora half expected her to start crying again, or at least complain, but she just stood there, mute, and stared at the ground by her feet. “Promise me you’ll keep her safe.”
“Nora—”
“Don’t let anyone know that she’s staying with you, okay? Not Mom and not—” Her voice snagged in her throat. She swallowed hard. “Not JJ, okay?”
“Yeah, ’cause I tell JJ everything.” Quinn rolled her eyes. “We’re BFFs. Come on, can we please talk about this? Alone?”
Nora put her hand over the girl’s mussed curls. “No. We can’t. I need you to take care of her for a couple of days while I sort something out. She’s the sweetest thing, Q. It’ll be a piece of cake. And when this is all over I’ll find a way to make it up to you.”
Quinn was shaking her head. “I don’t want you to make anything up to me, but you can’t do this. You can’t just leave her here, Nora. She doesn’t even know me. I don’t know her. What’s her name?” Seemingly thinking better of her question, Quinn sank to her knees and gave the child before her a warm, if hesitant, smile. “What’s your name, honey?”
Nora saw her chance. She ruffled the girl’s hair with what she hoped was a tangible affection and then hurried over to the car. It was running, her door open, and she was inside before Quinn could realize what was happening. Rolling down the passenger window, Nora called through it as she backed down the long drive. “Don’t tell anyone where she came from, okay? Just stay home for a couple days. Promise me, please.”
“Nora!” Quinn lunged up and jogged beside the car, her hand on the plane of the half-open window. “Please don’t do this to me. I don’t know anything about kids. She’s clearly terrified. I don’t even know her name!”
“It doesn’t matter,” Nora called through the open window. And then, changing her mind, she said, “Lucy. You can call her Lucy. Take care of her, Quinn. She’s one of us.” Tapping the gas a little harder than necessary, Nora resolutely looked away from her sister and rolled up the window. She left Quinn, and Lucy, in a billowing cloud of dust.