21

ALL THE SNOW reported in the mountains a week ago —and here in the Springs, nothing. The roads had been clear. Dry. And still no hint of any snow to come. The sun shone bright, dappling the autumn leaves in the trees lining the streets leading to Jillian’s parents’ house.

How fun it would have been to run away and see snow. Drive up to Breckenridge or even Aspen.

Wishful thinking. She had a wedding to plan. And her second chemo appointment tomorrow.

“You told your parents that I was making chili, right?”

Geoff’s question cut through Jillian’s thoughts. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Chili. You let them know we were bringing chili . . . ?”

When exactly had she stopped listening to him? Let her thoughts wander to other things? Like snow in the mountains. Their wedding. And chemotherapy.

“Jill?”

“Yes?”

“Is there something on your mind?”

“I’m sorry. I was just thinking . . .”

“About?”

“I was thinking we should postpone the wedding.”

“What?” Geoff, ever calm, never slowed the car. Kept driving to her parents’, his voice even as if she’d asked about going for a drive up into the mountains. “Why? The nausea was minimal from your first chemo treatment —”

“Yes, but things are likely to get worse as time goes on. Johanna called and reminded me of all the possible side effects.”

Lack of appetite.

Mouth sores.

Headaches.

Skin sensitivity.

And those were the less serious ones —she didn’t want to think about the conversation with the oncologist.

“Sometimes your older sister ticks me off.” Geoff’s voice was tight.

“She meant well.”

“Right.” Geoff cleared his throat. “No matter what, you’re going to get through this —”

“I’m going to need radiation once I’m done with chemo.” Reciting positive thoughts had failed to soften the blow of that pronouncement. “And I . . . I just can’t handle one more thing.”

Cancer had reduced her wedding to one more thing.

“When do you want to postpone it to? The summer?”

“I was thinking later than that.” Jillian tried to keep her tone casual. As if postponing their wedding was no big deal.

“The fall?”

This was so like Geoff. Nothing discouraged him. “We’ll get through this. You can do this.” He kept working. She kept working. And now she was suggesting they postpone their wedding and he took it all in stride. So loyal —dogging her heels no matter what she did or said that should deter him.

“Why does he keep calling me?” Her question came in the middle of a regular Girls’ Night after she and Geoff had been dating for two months.

“Are you asking me why Geoff Hennessey keeps asking you out?” Harper paused the DVD they’d been watching. “Duh. He likes you.”

“But why? There are other women he could ask out. Cuter women. Women who are —”

“Stop right there. If you say he could ask out women who are skinnier than you, I swear I will toss this bowl of popcorn in your lap.” Harper raised the container high over her head.

“There are.”

“Geoff keeps calling you because he likes you. A lot. You just have to believe it.”

After a while, she had believed it. But now, the doubt had crept back in. Why was he staying through all of this? It didn’t make sense. If she could duck and run, she’d leave herself, but she had no choice. Geoff did. Was love keeping him by her side, or was he staying because he was so faithful that he wouldn’t leave her during chemo treatments? Didn’t he realize she’d rather he leave her now, than stick around, celebrating her survival —if they did get to celebrate it —and then leaving?

“Jill?”

“Yes . . . yes, I think we should postpone the wedding until the fall.” She twisted her engagement ring around her finger.

“Do you want to pick another date?”

“We’re almost to my parents’, so what if we look at the calendar later?”

“That’s fine. Once we do, I can call the vendors —”

“We’ll figure it out.”

She’d suggested they postpone the wedding, and Geoff agreed —almost too easily. Was he agreeable . . . or relieved?

As they parked in her parents’ driveway, Jillian gathered her strength. She needed to find a way to smile and assure her mother she was doing okay. To pay attention to the Broncos game. At least she wouldn’t have to worry about her sisters bickering. Payton hadn’t shown up for a family football Sunday in years.

The house looked the same. White paint. Black shutters anchoring the windows. The front door was decorated with a new fall wreath of red-and-orange leaves dotted with small black berries, which meant Johanna had decided it was time to update the old one.

The aroma of one of her mother’s favorite eucalyptus candles greeted them, along with the background noise of commentators discussing the upcoming game.

Her mother met them just inside the doorway and hugged her, smiling at Geoff as he carried in the Crock-Pot of chili.

Geoff nodded at her mother. “I’ll put this in the kitchen for later.”

“How are you feeling?” Jillian’s mother pulled away from her, holding on to her shoulders.

“I’m fine.”

“You can rest if you need to —”

“I’m fine, really. Ready for tomorrow.”

Johanna appeared in the hallway. “Oh, good. You’re here. You know how Dad likes everyone to be here before the kickoff.”

Jillian followed her mother and Johanna into the family room. “I don’t suppose Beckett made it down this weekend, did he?”

“No. But I’m planning to go visit him for Thanksgiving and then he’ll come here for Christmas.”

“That’ll be nice for you two to see each other for both holidays.”

“Yes, he’s planning on staying through New Year’s.”

Jillian picked the love seat, knowing Geoff would settle on the floor in front of her and get caught up in the football game, right along with her father. She could fade into the background. No one would be surprised if she dozed off before the end of the first quarter. The important thing was that she was here, upholding —enjoying —the family tradition.

I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been home for a family football Sunday.

Wait. Yes, I could. I’d bowed out the year I went away for college. I didn’t need to invent any excuses, thanks to classes and studying and “things.” And from then on, I made certain “things” always interfered with any plans to make it home to cheer on the Broncos and eat grilled burgers or brats or one of my mom’s homemade soups.

Which was exactly what I walked in on —my family sitting in front of the TV, the aroma of spicy chili filling the air.

The Broncos made it all the way down to the red zone before anyone noticed me standing in the back of the family room.

“Payton!” Mom jumped from her seat and rushed over to hug me as if I’d disappear before she had the chance to wrap me in her arms. “When did you get here?”

“Payton?” Jillian turned, a smile curving her lips. She looked good. “How wonderful to see you.”

For just a moment, I allowed myself to rest in Mom’s arms instead of short-circuiting her attempt to hold me. Cherished the welcome in Dad’s voice. After years of avoidance, my parents thought I was here to watch football. They might wonder why . . . but they thought all I wanted to do was spend the afternoon rooting for the Broncos with my family. Well, once I made my confession, my mea culpa, I wouldn’t be welcome back for another football game . . . or Thanksgiving . . . or Christmas . . . or possibly ever again.

Would Mom want to hug me —would she be able to touch me?

I had to do this. Telling everyone the truth was the reason I’d come today. Not for burgers or chili. Not because I cared if our favorite football team won. Not for any familial togetherness, which had been missing for so long.

“Do you want something to eat? Geoff made chili.” My arrival had managed to pull Dad away from the game.

“That’s not part of her diet anymore, Dad.” Johanna stood off to one side. “Coffee?”

“That’d be great.”

“I’ll bring the sugar bowl, too. I know you’ll want to sweeten it the way you like.”

I could see Johanna’s offer as a gibe —or as a simple offer, nothing more. Today was not about bickering with Johanna over how many sugars I tossed into my coffee. I accepted Jillian’s invitation to sit on the love seat next to her, Geoff shifting on the floor to sit closer to her.

“We’re almost to halftime.”

In other words, no talking until then.

It had been a week —eight long days —since I’d visited Zach. Seen the bench he’d made for Pepper. Unburied the memories of the night she died. Convinced myself that, at last, I would tell my family the truth. Each day I’d battled the soft yet insistent voice urging me to stay quiet. But if I did, the truth would be silenced forever.

My heartbeat seemed in sync with the play clock, starting and stopping with the referee’s whistle.

25 . . . 24 . . . 23 . . . 22 . . .

Time-out.

Say. It. Say. It.

Wait.

I’d held on to the secret for so long, how was I supposed to release it now? It was as if I’d spent years leaning against a door, using all my weight to hold it shut, refusing to let the door open and the light shine inside. Let the truth be known. And now I was supposed to step away from the door? Stop exerting so much energy to hide what had happened?

Halftime came. The sportscasters began evaluating the game. And I remained silent, letting Johanna talk about work, Dad and Geoff discuss plays, Mom offer seconds of the chili. Jillian joined me in the silence zone.

“You start by telling the truth.”

I jerked as if everyone else in the room had heard my sister’s words. Pepper’s whisper jolted me into action.

“I, um, actually came over today because I wanted to talk to you —all of you —about something.” With everyone now looking at me, I pressed my fingertips against my lips, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.

“Payton, if this is about what happened at the awards ceremony —” Mom reached out to touch my arm, but I leaned away, raising my hand to stop her from saying anything else. From offering words of comfort.

“No. No, it’s not about that.” I paused again. I’d started something and I had to finish it. “It’s about Pepper . . . and the night she died.”

No matter what my family had expected me to say, they hadn’t expected me to mention Pepper. I never talked about my twin sister.

Dad muted the TV. “Go on, Payton. We’re listening.”

“That night, I was supposed to be racing the snowmobile, not Pepper. But I convinced her to . . . to trade places with me because . . . because there was this boy I liked. I wanted to hang out with him.” I stared straight ahead, unable to look at my parents’ faces, the image of football replays on the TV screen blurring. “So even though I knew she didn’t like racing . . . even though she didn’t want to at first . . . we switched coats. She raced. Instead of me. It’s my fault Pepper was killed. . . . I should have been on the snowmobile, not Pepper.”

With every word I spoke, it was as if time slowed down more and more. In some ways, this was worse than a flashback. This was here. Now.

And I couldn’t escape the fact I’d confessed to my family that my actions had killed my sister.

Silence reigned in the room. So similar to the silence that greeted me in the house —in my bedroom —for months after Pepper died. Jillian and Johanna had gone back to their apartments, to their lives. Dad was at work, Mom in her room —resting. The only thing that greeted me when I came home from school every day was silence. And the unalterable truth of what I’d done.

What had I expected my parents, my sisters, to do? To say? I didn’t deserve anything else from my family.

“Payton . . .” My name was a whispered gasp on Mom’s lips. “Payton . . . you’ve held on to this for all these years?”

I stared at my clenched fists.

“Pepper’s death . . . it was an accident.” Dad’s voice overrode Mom’s. “Listen to me, Payton. It was an accident.”

“Dad, it’s my fault —”

He spoke again. “I could just as easily say it was my fault because I let you and your sister go away with the volleyball team for spring break. Do you know how many nights I used to lie awake in bed and think, if only I’d said no when you two asked to go? If only I’d made you and Pepper stay home and play board games?”

His words chipped away at the condemnation I’d carried for the past decade. “What?”

“All this time I felt like I lost two daughters that night.” Dad shook his head. “I just thought you were brokenhearted about Pepper. . . . I never thought you blamed yourself.”

“You didn’t know —”

Mom reached for me again. “No. No, but now we do. And I’m thankful you told us. . . . I just wished we’d known sooner.” She moved from her chair and drew me closer. “I know it won’t ever be the same without Pepper, but maybe, maybe we can figure out what our family looks like now.”

This time I relaxed into Mom’s embrace. Her hand caressed my back in a slow circular motion, her tears wetting the shoulder of my blouse. How long had it been since I let myself rest in her arms instead of allowing myself only a partial hug before backing away?

“I’m sorry, Mom. . . .”

“Shhh, baby, shhh . . .”

Tears stung my eyes, but instead of blinking them away, I let them fall. For me. For Pepper. For everything we lost the night she died. For everything my secret had stolen from our family.

White crystals descended from the sky, sparkling in the moonlight and dusting the ground. A perfect way to end the day. The day that offered me a chance to begin again.

With one last wave to Geoff as he helped Jillian into his car, I stepped onto my parents’ front lawn. Tilted my face up to the night sky, welcoming the whisper of tiny snowflakes floating down against my skin. Like a small child, I stuck out my tongue, tasting the wet, cold flakes as I flung my arms open wide.

If I believed in supernatural forgiveness, would it feel like this hushed silence finding its way into my heart like a heavenly benediction?

Behind me, the front door opened. Closed.

“You’re telling secrets now.” Johanna’s voice shattered the stillness. “Are you going to share all your secrets with the family?”

I sought my sister where she stood on the front steps, overshadowed by the porch. “What . . . what are you talking about?”

“Oh, come on, Payton, don’t act like that with me.” Johanna’s eyes glittered in the porch light. “You know what I’m talking about. You’re not the only one who knows your deepest, darkest secret.”

Why was she talking like this?

“Johanna, you’re not making any sense.”

Out of the corner of my eye, the taillights of Geoff’s car disappeared around the corner. If only I’d left sooner, instead of chasing some imaginary sense of blessing, I would have avoided this confrontation with my oldest sister. But this was what Johanna did best. She always found a reason to bait me.

Not tonight. Tonight I was going home and sleeping a sweet, dreamless sleep. I’d done what Pepper had demanded of me.

I was free.

“You want me to say it? Fine.” Johanna stepped out of the shadows. “I read your journal, Payton.”

Any lingering sense of consecration evaporated. “What did you say?”

“The journal you kept in high school? I read it.” Step by step, Johanna came closer. “I know you were going to kill yourself after Pepper died.”

Johanna’s declaration seared through my mind. “You had no right —”

“I had every right! Mom and Dad were distraught over losing Pepper —one of their precious twin daughters. Was I just supposed to let you kill yourself and completely tear this family apart?”

I sucked in a cold, sharp breath, trying to comprehend the depth of Johanna’s transgression. This wasn’t my big sister taking charge of the remote control and what TV shows we watched. Or bossing me around about my sugar addiction. Or questioning my decision to become vegan. No. Johanna thought it was her right to invade my privacy . . . delve into my innermost thoughts. To play God and control my life and death.

“I told Mom and Dad that you weren’t doing as well as they thought after Pepper died. As well as you were pretending to do. I’d researched several options and they decided to send you to that adolescent mental health facility for inpatient care. It was the best decision.”

“The best decision? For who? For you? For Mom and Dad?” I clenched my fists by my sides. “What about me, Johanna? One day I come home from school and I’m told I’m going to a mental hospital. . . . Nobody asks me . . .”

The last day of school was over —and I had no one to celebrate with. No one to make plans with for the summer.

No Pepper.

I shut the front door behind me. Leaned against the hard wood, closing my eyes. Dropped my backpack to the floor, where it landed with a dull thud.

No more stares. No more unspoken questions.

Yes, the house was too quiet, but I preferred the silence to the school hallways filled with students who didn’t know me but had heard rumors . . . or who did know and whose glances slid away from me as I passed by.

Quiet. And then . . .

“Payton?”

I straightened, moving away from the door. “Dad? What are you doing home this early?”

“Why don’t you come into the living room?” Dad nodded toward the left, then moved out of view.

Okay.

The curtains were closed, blocking out the late May sunshine. Mom sat in the wingback chair, her legs curled beneath her, hands clasped together in her lap. Dad stood behind her. Johanna and Jillian sat side by side on the couch.

Why were they here?

“What’s going on?”

“Payton, we’ve all been worried about you since Pepper died.” Dad’s words were evenly paced as if he’d practiced what he was going to say. “We know, in some ways, losing her is harder for you than the rest of us.”

“I’m fine.” For a moment, no one said a word, but Dad and Johanna exchanged a glance. “I’m fine.”

“Payton, really —” Johanna spoke up.

“Johanna.” Dad raised his hand. “I said I would handle this.”

My oldest sister closed her mouth, crossing her arms, Jillian a silent, red-eyed sentinel beside her.

“Your grades suffered the end of this semester. You’re barely eating or sleeping. We talked to our family physician and he recommended an inpatient facility for you —”

“What does that mean?”

“There will be . . . doctors and counselors there to help you process how you’re feeling. . . .” Dad chose his words with care.

“What? Is this some sort of psych ward?” A chill coursed through my body. “I’m not crazy!”

“We didn’t say that. You’re grieving —” At last Mom said something.

Dad squeezed Mom’s shoulder, causing her to stop. Look away. “It’s just for a short while. A month, maybe.”

“A month? Or maybe longer?” I scanned the room, trying to understand what was happening. Who were these people?

Next to the coffee table was a suitcase. My suitcase —the one I used whenever Pepper and I traveled for club volleyball games.

“What is my suitcase doing here?”

“It was recommended that we have things ready to take you tonight.” For just a moment, Dad’s voice seemed to waver.

Tonight. Meaning now.

“Mom, please . . . don’t send me away.” Tears filled my eyes, blurring my vision.

“It’s for the best, Payton.”

“It’s for the best . . .” Had they really believed that —even as I sobbed my way to the car, collapsing in the backseat? Refused to look at anyone. To say good-bye.

Johanna’s voice pulled me from the memory.

“It wasn’t your choice, Payton. You lost that choice when you started talking about killing yourself.”

I closed the space between us. “I wasn’t talking to anyone about that —”

“No, but you were hoarding pills.” At my gasp, Johanna smiled, almost a grin of triumph. “Oh yes, I found the pills, too. You were just going to do it and let Mom or Dad or me or Jillian find you —”

“Shut up! Shut up!” I lashed out, the palm of my hand connecting with Johanna’s cheek. She jerked back, her breath hissing through clenched teeth.

Johanna’s fingers wrapped around my wrist, and she held my arm suspended between us. “Feel better?”

My hand burned and I fought to catch my breath. Everything she’d done —reading my journal, convincing my parents to send me away —this wasn’t about Johanna trying to help me because she cared about me. Because she was afraid of losing me. No, her actions were about being right.

It was always about Johanna being right.

“I’d just buried my sister, Johanna. My twin sister.” I choked back a sob. “Did you ever think I needed to be home? Not in some medical facility?”

“Not if you were going to kill yourself.”

“You could have tried to talk to me.”

“You would have denied it.”

“Denied it? You had my journal! How could I deny it?” I twisted my arm, pulling out of her hold, fighting to maintain some sort of mental foothold . . . some sense of stability as I battled my sister. But the louder I got, the quieter Johanna became.

“Maybe we can figure out what our family looks like now.”

Mom’s words mocked me. Johanna and me? Family —in some sort of loving, caring, honor-neutral-corners way?

No. Never. How could I ever trust someone who’d seen me at my weakest . . . and abandoned me?

“Stay away from me, Johanna.” I half turned, wanting nothing more than to put as much distance between us as possible.

“Always so dramatic, Payton.”

I whirled around. “I mean it. We may be family, but you stay away from me. You think you’re some kind of heroine because you stopped me from killing myself after Pepper died? You might as well have shoved those pills down my throat yourself.”