Sister Love
Once she was listed on the Snip ’N’ Save website, Tracy began helping out. She spent most of the week sitting beside Meghan at the computer learning how to use templates to create an ad.
“It’s not all that hard,” Meghan said, sliding a photograph of work boots into place. “Upload the image, then click on it and drag it into position.”
Tracy watched, and it looked easy enough, but when she moved into Meghan’s seat and tried to do it herself, the ad looked overcrowded in some places and bare in others. The block of copy was squashed together with a ragged edge on the right, and the headline floated several spaces above the spot where it was intended to be.
It didn’t take an expert to see the layout needed help.
Her hand poised atop the mouse as if she were still working, Tracy eyed the layout on the screen and frowned.
“I’m not exactly sure what I did wrong, but this looks—”
“It’s fine,” Meghan said. “You just have to tweak the copy.”
She reached across, covered Tracy’s hand with her own, and slid the cursor to the navigation bar. “Let’s left-click on the text box here . . . ”
Both sisters moved their index finger up and down at precisely the same moment and then laughed. Their laughter had a girlish sound. It was light and flowery like it had been all those years ago. Before the Snip ’N’ Save, before high school.
Before Dominic.
Tracy turned and glanced at Meghan. “This is nice. I mean, us working together. It feels . . . I don’t know. Sort of comfortable.”
Meghan smiled. “Yeah, it does.”
She looked at Tracy with her dark hair in loose curls, one strand dropping lazily onto her forehead. Despite the hardship of the past three years, Tracy hadn’t changed a lot. Her skin was still dewy and glowing. The only thing that appeared to be different was the look in her eyes. Meghan thought back to the time when they sparkled with the fire of mischief. Now they were softer, a more sensible shade of brown.
Tracy clicked “Justify,” and the ragged right edge of the text disappeared. It was replaced with a square of copy evened out on both sides. She laughed.
“You’re right, this isn’t as hard as I thought it would be.” She again turned to Meghan. “I wish I’d done this sooner.”
“Me too,” Meghan said.
She thought back to the early years when they’d walked to school together every morning. Although Tracy was only a year older, Meghan felt grown up walking beside her. Back then they’d been more than sisters; they’d been best friends. Friends no one could separate. Not Elise Conklin with her whispered “stupid kid sister” innuendos or sexy-eyed Bryce Miller when he rode up on his bike, inching along beside them, urging Tracy to hop on.
“Do you remember when we were in elementary school?” Meghan asked.
Tracy nodded. “Sure. Those were fun years . . . ”
Once they started talking, the fond memories rolled out one after another. They remembered the parties, the best friends, the whispered secrets, and the stories of the early years when they’d shared a bedroom. Meghan was recalling that last year in middle school when Tracy cut in.
“We were close for so many years, then we just kind of drifted apart,” she said wistfully. “What happened?”
“You went to high school,” Meghan said.
“But why did that change everything?”
“You were going to a different school, you had all new friends, and I felt left out.” Meghan gave an almost imperceptible shrug. “It wasn’t like we were angry with one another; we just didn’t do things together the way we did before.”
She remembered that year all too well. It was the same year Clancy disappeared. There were endless days of walking home from school alone and knowing that alone was better than being bullied by Madison Cramer or Kevin Hurley. They’d taken to calling her “Beanpole Briggs” and found a thousand different ways to torment her. That year her heartache was greater than she’d ever dreamed possible. She filled ten tearstained composition books, because feeling the scratch of a pen beneath her fingers was easier than wondering about Clancy or listening to Madison find ways to embarrass her.
“Left out?” Tracy said as she dragged a picture into position. “That’s odd, because I felt the same way. You and Daddy were so close, and you seemed to understand all the stuff he was doing.”
Meghan laughed. “When Daddy first started running the Snip ’N’ Save, I didn’t understand any of it. I hung around watching because it was better than going out and running into Madison Cramer or one of the kids in her clique.”
A puzzled look settled on Tracy’s face. “Madison? I thought you two were close.”
“Not once you were gone. She and Kevin Hurley used to make fun of me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Meghan wrapped her arm around her sister’s shoulders and gave an affectionate squeeze. “I wanted to be more like you. I wanted to fight my own battles, not just count on you to stick up for me.”
Tracy chuckled.
“Funny,” she said as she clicked “Save” and moved the ad to the current week’s folder. “I would have loved the thought of you needing me. I was mad that Dad treated you like you were so special. He kept saying how smart you were, and that just made me feel dumb. That’s when I started hanging out with the not-so-smart kids.”
Meghan hesitated a moment, thinking of how for so long she’d seen things in reverse. All those years she wanted to be like her older sister and never once considered Tracy might want what she had.
“By the time I got to high school, you were so popular I figured you didn’t want to have your kid sister following you around.”
“Jeez, that wasn’t it at all . . . ”
The years of misunderstanding seemed to fade away that afternoon as the two sisters worked together in a way they had never done before. Instead of feeling frustrated or less talented, Tracy listened to what Meghan had to say. Before the day was out, she’d learned how to resize the copy, add leading to the line height, and space out the text.
At the end of the day, when Lila called them to supper, Meghan smiled at her sister and said, “You did a great job. Much better than I did when I first started.”
Tracy laughed. “Get out, you’re just saying that.”
“No, honestly.”
Tracy gave a grin that stretched ear to ear. It had been a good day. Oddly enough, concentrating on work had taken her mind off Lucas’s problem. For the moment anyway.
That evening the dinner table was abuzz with conversation. Everyone had a bit of excitement to share, Lila perhaps more than anyone else.
For years she had felt at loose ends with herself. She was a mother, a homemaker, and a woman with the ability to make meals that melted in a person’s mouth. With George gone and Tracy moved out, there was little for her to do. Meghan was happy to nibble on a bag of pretzels, and, besides, cooking for two was always problematic. You could search the world and not find a pot roast small enough for two people, and fresh vegetables, sold by the pound, meant days of leftovers. Now, with both girls living at home, she had a family to feed and a baby to care for. Lucas being there changed everything.
Lila couldn’t stop raving about what an absolute angel he was. He rarely cried, went down for his naps without a fuss, and although he pretty much ignored Beulah, the geriatric cat who was content to be ignored, he played with the dog and understood the need to be gentle.
She moved the high chair alongside her and handed Lucas the rubber-handled spoon that once belonged to his mama.
Tracy laughed. “I can’t believe you’ve still got that thing.”
Holding back a grin, Lila said, “Don’t laugh. I’ll bet when Lucas is grown up, you’ll find you’ve hung on to his baby things also. It’s part of being a mama.” She placed a few pieces of minced chicken on the brightly colored Cinderella plate and handed it to Lucas. With his left hand, he pushed a piece of chicken onto the spoon and clumsily maneuvered it into his mouth.
Lila gave a triumphant smile. “See that! I only started teaching him to use a spoon this afternoon.”
She went on to say that Tracy’s worries about something being wrong were clearly unfounded.
“You didn’t learn to use a spoon until . . . ”
The precise time frame had escaped her mind.
Tracy left her mama’s words unanswered. It was another five weeks until they’d see the pediatrician. Then she’d know for sure. With every ounce of her heart, she prayed her mama was right.
It was midmorning, and Tracy was working alongside Meghan in the Snip ’N’ Save office when her cell phone jangled with “On the Floor” by Jennifer Lopez and Pitbull. It was Dominic.
She ignored the familiar ringtone, and in time the song stopped. Determined not to let him get into her head, Tracy tried to focus on the ad in front of her. Minutes later the song sounded again. This time it was too much to resist. She tapped the green icon.
“I wish you’d stop calling,” she said. “We don’t have anything more to—”
“Hey, wait a minute, okay?” he cut in. “I know you’ve got every right to be pissed off, and I’m sorry. I acted like an idiot. But the thought of you not coming back sent me off the deep end.”
“What’s done is done. There’s nothing—”
“Please don’t say that, babe.”
His voice was different, more like it had been in the beginning. The arrogance was missing, replaced by an almost apologetic tone. He spoke quickly, and the words came rapid-fire.
“Come home,” he pleaded. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I’ll quit working at the bar. Find a steady job. I already got something lined up and—”
“No,” Tracy said in a flat voice filled with determination. “You’re no good for me, Dom, and what’s even worse is that you’re no good for Lucas.”
“That’s not true. I love the kid. Maybe I’m no good at showing it, but I can change.”
“You’ll never change, Dom. You know it, and I know it.”
Perhaps Tracy should have ended the call there, but she didn’t.
“I can change,” he argued. “I’ll go back to working construction. It’s good money. We can save up, get a better apartment if you want. You still love me, babe, I know you do. We’ll get married, right away, no waiting.”
Tracy closed her eyes and tried not to listen to his words. He was saying the things she’d once prayed to hear, but after all that had happened, the words had somehow become meaningless.
“Don’t do this, Dom,” she said, her voice shaky and thin.
“Don’t do what, babe? Say I love you? Say I’m willing to fix things?”
“Don’t ask me to come back, because I can’t. I’ve got Lucas to think about.”
“I already said I’m willing to go along with whatever you want to do for the kid. You want him to have hospitalization, then fine, I’ll make sure he’s got it.”
She listened to Dominic’s plea, but in between the promises was the same thread of insincerity that had always been there. He didn’t call Lucas by name, he called him the kid. To Dominic, Lucas was nothing more than an obstacle to be overcome, but to Tracy, he was a reason for living. Now she knew for certain she would never go back. Never. She was not a wife and never had been, but she was a mother, and it was time for her to act like one.
“I’m not coming back,” she finally said. “Not ever. I have to do what’s best for Lucas.”
Tracy hung up and turned back to the computer screen, but tears blurred the images. Instead of seeing the smiling face of Beverly’s Beauty Shop, she saw Dominic—not angry and red-faced as he’d been for all those months, but soft and caring as he’d been when they first left Magnolia Grove.
Turning to Meghan, she said, “I need to take a walk. You mind?”
“Not at all,” Meghan replied. “Do you want company?”
Tracy pushed back from the desk and shook her head. “No, thanks. I need some time alone.”
When she left the house, Tracy had no specific destination in mind. She just wanted to walk off her anger and frustration. Moving ahead with long strides, she turned down Lewiston and went past the elegant two-story houses without giving them a glance, then cut across the oak-lined median to Belmont and continued. By the time she reached the bungalows on Lakeshore, her calves were aching. She crossed the street, dropped down onto the grassy bank of the lake, and sat.
Only then did it dawn on her that this was Meghan’s spot. It was where she came to think and dream. Tracy had never understood the draw of such a tucked-away place, but somehow she now did. She sat there for a long while, thinking back on her life with Dominic, remembering the early days, remembering the passion and laughter they’d shared, saddened by the knowledge it would never be that way again and yet determined not to be swayed by his promises.
When she stood to leave, Tracy noticed the black-and-white composition book leaned against a tree. She picked it up and flipped open the cover. The first page read, “The Secret Thoughts of Meghan Briggs, Book 83.”
Some pages were stuck together, and in places the ink was blurred. But still she flipped through the book, wondering what Meghan had been writing about on the day she encountered the storm. Near the back of the notebook she found the final entry.
It was a prayer asking for Lucas to be healthy and Tracy’s heart to heal.
As she stood there reading her sister’s words, she could feel the love with which they had been written. That last remaining doubt, the one picking at her brain and reminding her of how it once was with Dominic, seemed to vanish as she reread the words. There was no longer a question about it—she was where she belonged. She was where she and Lucas were truly loved.
After several weeks of doing ad layouts and organizing folders, Tracy was proficient enough to handle most of the Snip ’N’ Save tasks without help, which gave Meghan time to make the customer calls she’d been neglecting. On Wednesday afternoon, she spent four hours on the phone and before day’s end had three promising new clients.
When Bruce Prendergast suggested they meet for lunch on Friday to talk about a co-op program the Chamber of Commerce was considering, Meghan readily agreed. Not only would it be good to get out of the office for a day, but Bruce also hinted at a special edition to coincide with the holiday festival.
The thought of handling things alone made Tracy a bit nervous.
“You’ll have your phone with you, right?” Tracy asked. “Just in case I have a question or there’s a problem?”
Meghan laughed. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. If something comes up, just use your own judgment.”
Pinching her brows together in a look of concern, Tracy asked, “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean, I could call you or maybe—”
“There’s no need,” Meghan assured her. “Sheldon already has everything for next week’s issue, and if anything else comes up, just do what you think I’d do.”
On Friday morning, Meghan dressed in the pale-gray business suit that had been hanging in the closet for far too long and headed off. Tracy got the urgent call from Sheldon at twenty minutes past twelve.
“I’m a half page short,” he said. “What have you got for fillers?”
She hesitated a moment, then asked if it could wait until Meghan got back later in the afternoon.
“No can do,” Sheldon replied. “I’ve got to get this to the print shop by three, or else the issue won’t go out on Monday.”
“Oh.”
“Meghan’s got a folder of fillers to use when we have extra space,” he said. “Grab something out of there and send it over.”
“Anything in particular?”
“Nah, just whatever you’ve got that can fill a half page.”
When she hung up, Tracy opened the FILLERS folder and started scanning the files. She spotted the ad for FOUND DOG and clicked on it.
Tracy remembered Meghan telling their mama that she planned to put a found-dog ad for Sox in the Snip ’N’ Save. She had said it was important to do everything she could to find Sox’s owner, and she wished someone would have done the same for Clancy. Tracy moved the ad to the Dropbox folder, then shot Sheldon an e-mail saying it was there.
A minute later, the Snip ’N’ Save line rang again.
“This is too small,” Sheldon said. “Can you resize it and maybe add a photo?”
“Um, okay.”
Using the skills she’d developed over the past several weeks, Tracy enlarged the nine-point type to sixteen points and added a border. The ad was still loose and empty-looking, so she used her cell phone to snap a photo of Sox, uploaded it to the computer, and dragged it into position. In this photo, he was looking straight into the lens. When she was finished, the ad looked as good as any Meghan would do.
She attached it to a second e-mail and sent it off to Sheldon.
Tracy leaned back in the chair, feeling quite good about the way she’d handled things, proud that she truly was learning the business. She could hardly wait to tell Meghan how well she’d done.
It was almost six when Meghan arrived home, and she came in bustling with news of the day’s meetings.
“This thing with the chamber looks like it could go big,” she said. “Bruce is talking about a quarterly shopping supplement with take-one racks in the participating stores.”
With the excitement of the new venture, Tracy forgot to mention how she’d devised a solution to fix the ad. She had been eager to share the good news—that she was someone who could be counted on to handle things. But the evening flew by, and somehow the thought slipped her mind until she was ready for bed. Now, with the hour approaching midnight, she wondered if Meghan were still awake. Hoping so, Tracy climbed out of bed, padded down the hallway, and tapped lightly on Meghan’s bedroom door. When there was no answer, she eased the door open and saw her sister fast asleep.
It can wait until tomorrow, she thought, but just as she began to close the door, she noticed the way Sox was curled up against Meghan’s chest. He lifted his head for a moment, then tucked it back into the curve of Meghan’s neck.
Seeing them together as they were, Tracy suddenly had the sick feeling that maybe she’d done the wrong thing. Meghan was in love with the dog. Maybe the reason she’d never gotten around to running that ad was because she was afraid someone would answer it.
In the dark of night, with only a sparse bit of moonlight to show the way, Tracy tiptoed down the stairs and returned to the office. Switching on the computer, she waited until the screen came to life, then sent Sheldon another e-mail. The subject line read, URGENT! The e-mail asked that he pull the found-dog ad and replace it with the attached Boy Scouts public service ad.
For almost a half hour Tracy sat there hoping for an answer, but there was none. It was after one when she climbed back into her bed and near dawn by the time she finally fell asleep.
The next morning, Tracy was still in her pajamas when she hurried down the stairs and powered on the computer. There were five e-mails. Sheldon’s answer was third from the top.
“Sorry,” he wrote. “We’re already on press.”