The Sometime Sister Read online

  Today, at just under five-ten, Lesroy wasn’t a big man, but he was no longer the airy creature from our youth. My cousin discovered gymnastics in his early teens and was good enough to go to the University of Georgia on an athletic scholarship. He considered training for the Olympics but loved to party and spending all that time in the gym didn’t fit his schedule.

  “I brought you a vanilla latte with extra whipped cream, plus two so-fresh-they’re-still-warm Krispy Kremes.” He put the bag on the table. “Wait. Where’s the beast from Hell?”

  “You are such a baby. Scarlett O’Hara is not a beast. She’s just misunderstood. Don’t worry; she doesn’t get up this early.”

  Lesroy was referring to a seventy-five-pound Doberman who once belonged to Stella and Ben. When he and I were together, he droned on and on about how much he wanted a real guard dog, one who would scare the shit out of intruders. His obsessive desire for canine security should have set off an alarm, but it never occurred to me he had anything needing high-level protection.

  About a month before the happy couple left for Ecuador, they sealed their love with Scarlett. I assumed her name was a continuation of the Gone with the Wind theme Mom started with Stella Vivien Burnette.

  Ben hadn’t done his homework before selecting the Doberman. Yes, the breed has an imposing presence, and they can be ferocious, but only if someone they love is threatened. So, when the lovebirds ran off to Ecuador, Scarlett didn’t make the cut. Like me, she got left behind.

  They abandoned her on my doorstep with a note from Stella: We can’t take her with us. She’s a wonderful dog, and you’re the only one I know she’ll love.

  But Scarlett O’Hara didn’t love me. She tolerated me.

  “You know that monster despises me.” He reached out to hug me. We clung to each other for a few seconds before I stepped away.

  “It’s not personal. She hates most men. They remind her of Ben. So, what did my mother tell you?”

  He shook his head. “I’m guessing the same thing she told you. Stella was supposed to come home but never got on the plane. Aunt Marilyn thought she might have called me, but she hadn’t. We haven’t talked since Easter.”

  Mom insisted Stella had changed, that she’d had what Lesroy described as a conversion last March. She said she was planning her escape and repeated the same tale to Lesroy. Both had bought the story. Then, like now, she never showed.

  “I haven’t seen Aunt Marilyn this upset since Gran’s funeral.” Two years ago, our grandmother had a stroke. She lingered a few months before letting go.

  Stella didn’t make it home for the service.

  “I know you never stopped being pissed at her, but I have a bad feeling about this. I mean, she bought a plane ticket.”

  “And I’m sure she just changed her mind and is lounging around some expensive spa enjoying some Stella-time. I told Mom I’d check it out. I found Alisha’s phone number. If she were going to confide in anyone, it would be Alisha.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “God, I hate that bitch.”

  Alisha and her family moved into the house next door when my sister was twelve. Alisha didn’t just like Stella; she worshiped her. She saved her a seat on the bus, lavished her with compliments, and laughed at all her jokes. Her ass-kissing didn’t stop there. She laid it on thick with me and my mother. But there was one person she did not seek to impress, and that was Lesroy.

  Stella was crazy about our cousin. And he was devoted to her. After she and Alisha met, things changed. When that little snit was around, there were whispers and giggles and finger-pointing behind his back.

  I should have called Stella out on the hateful behavior. But I couldn’t stand the thought of hurting her feelings. I let her hurt my cousin instead.

  Although I know he noticed, he never said a word. He turned to his longtime love of Arthurian legends and transformed his childhood wonder into a series of graphic novels featuring knights without armor and damsels without distress.

  His drawings were beautifully detailed, and his storylines blended medieval charm with contemporary challenges. Stella and I were the models for his two leading ladies. His renditions of us were remarkably accurate. My sister loved to watch him draw and plastered her room with his sketches.

  A few weeks after she and Alisha started hanging out, the pictures disappeared and were replaced by posters of boy bands. When I asked her about them, she shrugged and said it was no big deal. Once again, I should have spoken up, but it was easier to blame Alisha than to question my sister’s character. Lesroy never commented on their absence. He continued with his artwork, but he stopped sharing it with us.

  “I hate her, too. But I think it’s worth a call.”

  “I’m not talking to the nasty little witch, but you’re right. You know, she visited Stella once, about a year after they ran off. Stella said it was awkward, like they’d grown apart.”

  I didn’t know. “I can’t imagine her experiencing any kind of growth.”

  He sighed before taking another bite of donut. “Have you ever thought she did you a favor? Never mind. Honey, you need to let it go.”

  “Maybe. But not today.”

  We agreed I would contact Alisha, and he would go through Stella’s letters to my mother, searching for clues into her disappearance. Then I told him Mom wanted to talk to me and asked if he would come along.

  “It’s so much easier dealing with her when you’re there,” I pleaded.

  He put his arm around my shoulder and pulled me into a hug. “Then I’ll be there. See you at ten.”

  I locked the door behind him and leaned against it. For the first time since my mother’s phone call, I believed my sister might be in serious trouble.

  “Stella Star, what have you done?”

  Chapter 3

  Stella Star was the name Lesroy gave her the day she came home from the hospital. As soon as we heard the car pull into the driveway, he started jumping up and down and shouting, “They’re here! They’re here!”

  “For God’s sake, boy,” my father said through clenched teeth. “We just got her to stop screaming. If you wake her up, I’m going to—”

  “It’s okay, Jack.” Mom sat on the sofa and settled the tiny bundle on her lap. “She’s already awake and looks pretty happy. I think she likes you all.”

  It was true. I slid beside her, and Lesroy perched on the back of the couch, leaning as close to the baby as possible. She gazed at us with that unfocused focus only newborns have.

  “She is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Lesroy said. “I’m going to call her Stella Star because she is the most beautiful, beautiful, shining star in the entire universe.” My cousin had a gift for hyperbole. But she was lovely with her enormous aquamarine eyes and heart-shaped face. The name suited her.

  A soft whine brought me back from thoughts of Stella before her star had tarnished. I met the reproachful stare of Scarlett O’Hara, who sat regal and imposing, ears raised in elegant little points. Ben might be a jackass, but his taste in dogs was impeccable. Like her namesake, Scarlett was a beauty. Black with well-defined reddish-orange markings on her majestic face, the animal was a head-turner. She was also neurotic. Loud noises freaked her out, and she hated to be awakened before eight. It was 7:45.

  “Easy, Miss Scarlett.” I offered my hand in peace, but she wasn’t buying it. Her whine morphed into a low-throated growl. “Okay, okay. I’m getting your leash. Just don’t—”

  But it was too late. She hurled herself forward and pinned me to the wall. Eye-level with the beautiful creature, I braced myself. She thrust her muzzle into my hair, sniffing frantically. I read the hairline offers a canine vantage point for inhaling an owner’s
scent—that and the crotch, another of her favorite spots. Trapped in a mad Doberman ritual, the best I could do was wait it out. In a few seconds, she stopped her wild snorting. She dropped to the floor, sighing as she placed her head on her paws. I had been scent-tested and had failed.

  “Sorry, sweet girl.” I knelt beside the dejected animal. “I’m not her. I’m the other sister.” She let me scratch her ears but kept her face turned away. “What do you say we go for a quick walk and forget about her?”

  After our walk, I showered and proofread an article I was pitching for a local magazine. After being in advertising over five years, I took the plunge into freelance writing and editing. Requests from former agency clients paid the bills, and Lesroy’s graphic design company sent business my way. I picked up work from several area publications. The latest was my piece on the death of romance in the digital age. I was trying a new spin on the topic by comparing love letters my grandfather had written to my grandmother and teenage text messages. I wondered if Ben had written love letters to Stella or had sent her pictures of his penis.

  A little after nine, I called Alisha. She picked up, and I identified myself.

  There was a long pause. “Grace Burnette. Well, this is a surprise. How long has it been? Three, four years? Wait, don’t tell me. It was at your...” Her voice trailed off.

  “That’s right, Alisha. It was at the engagement party.”

  “I’m sorry, Grace. Stella was my best friend, but I was as shocked as anyone when she ran off.”

  I wanted to tell her she was only one of many who claimed to be my sister’s best friend, but snarkiness wouldn’t help my cause. “I’m calling about Stella. Have you heard from her?”

  Another pause. “She and I haven’t spoken for over a year, not since I went to see her. Is something wrong?”

  “We’re not sure. That’s why I’m calling.” I gave her an abbreviated account of the situation and asked if we could get together. She hesitated before agreeing to squeeze me in between her morning yoga class and an afternoon waxing session. I promised I wouldn’t take up too much of her valuable time. The irony appeared to be lost on her.

  I flipped the TV on to the local news. Scarlett snorted at the sound and shook her head until her ears rattled. She rose from the fancy orthopedic dog bed Stella had sent her last Christmas and strode out of the room. She hated the news.

  The story of the day was the approaching storm: thunder, lightning, heavy wind and rain, possibly snow and ice if the temperature fell. Icy weather in the South is always challenging, but it was the prospect of a thunderstorm that got my attention. Lightning terrified Stella and me. Mom said we inherited it from Gran, who took to her bed at the first rumble of thunder.

  Sometimes we joined her. We covered up with quilts and sandwiched Gran between us. She told stories of growing up in the country and meeting our grandfather at a church social. He’d been very handsome and extremely determined to get her attention. At first, she thought he was stuck on himself, but after time, she realized he was the love of her life. Stella and I would sigh and snuggle deeper under the covers.

  Years later, whenever I got ready to go out on a date, Stella would sit on the bed and watch me apply my makeup and curl my hair. Before I’d leave, she would ask if I thought this one would be the love of my life. “Just like Grandpa was Gran’s true and only love.”

  When I brought Ben home the first time, she took me aside and whispered, “This is it, isn’t it? He’s the one and only true love.”

  Later, I wondered if she meant mine or hers. But it didn’t matter because by then I’d realized love like Gran’s played better as a story than it did in real life. Maybe it was because times were simpler. Or could it be because my grandfather didn’t live long enough to disappoint her?

  Chapter 4

  On the drive to my mother’s house, I pictured what life might have been like for Stella and Ben. After they got together, I thought about it all the time. I imagined them in bed, entangled with sheets and each other. I saw them sitting on the couch under a big furry blanket trying to watch TV but getting distracted by passion and at fancy parties, their eyes meeting over glasses of wine, the connection so strong they barely made it home before falling into each other’s arms. It was like having a rotting tooth you couldn’t stop biting down on.

  I had all these images about Stella’s life with Ben, but I never considered what my life with him would have been like. I fell into our relationship because he was so charming and good looking, but I hadn’t really known him. And he hadn’t been interested in discovering the real Grace. Stella might have known him better all along because they were so much alike.

  Traffic moved nicely, and I reached Mom’s three-bedroom, two bath ranch fifteen minutes early. Mike Pemberton’s black Cadillac was in the drive. A retired Army captain, he had been my mother’s boyfriend for over fourteen years. He asked her to marry him on at least three occasions. But she never accepted. Apparently, my dad provided all the marital bliss she could handle in one lifetime.

  On the curb behind Lesroy’s red Mini Cooper was an unfamiliar dark blue SUV. The tinted windows hid the interior, and I assumed the car was empty. The engine started as I passed in front of the vehicle. Startled, I performed an awkward half-jump, half-stumble maneuver before stepping into the front yard.

  The driver lowered the passenger-side window and leaned over the seat. With the sun casting a shadow across him, it was difficult to make out his features.

  “Sorry if I scared you. Are you okay?” His voice was velvety smooth and deep.

  “I just didn’t see you sitting there, that’s all. But I’m fine, thanks.” I strained my eyes to see inside. His dark hair blended with the interior, but dappled sunlight revealed a wide smile and a flash of white teeth.

  “Sorry. Next time I’ll be more careful.” He shut the window and pulled away.

  Before I could speculate on what next time meant, Lesroy greeted me from the front porch.

  “Thank God you’re here. Aunt Marilyn is a mess. Mike’s been trying to calm her down ever since Ben called.”

  I stopped in the doorway. “What do you mean ever since Ben called? Nobody told me Ben called.”

  “Don’t pop a blood vessel. He called about an hour ago. Your mom must have left him a dozen messages. He finally got back to her.”

  Mike appeared in the entry hall. At six feet four, he took up most of the space.

  “Gracie girl, good to see you!” He surrounded me in his special aura of cigar smoke and Old Spice. I don’t like either fragrance, but on him it wasn’t bad. “Your mom’s in the den. I got her settled down a little. That son of a bitch got to her.”

  Lesroy and I followed him to where she lay on the faded leather couch with a washcloth over her face. She was so quiet I couldn’t tell if she was aware we were there.

  “Just resting my eyes.” She sat up, cloth in hand, and patted the space beside her. “Sit down for a minute, honey.” She tried to smile, but her lips quivered, and she abandoned the effort.

  “I’m going to get us something to drink,” Mike announced. “And Marilyn, you need to eat. No argument.” He touched her shoulder. “Be right back.”

  Lesroy volunteered to help, leaving me alone with Mom.

  “I guess they told you Ben called. I shouldn’t have wasted my time talking to that sleazy little bastard. What a fool I was to believe there was a chance he’d tell me the truth. I said I’d been trying to get in touch with Stella, but there must be something wrong with her phone. Then I asked to speak to her, like I didn’t suspect anything. He had the nerve to act as if he was worried about her, too.”

  Mom dabbed at her eyes before continuing. “The asshole said he’d been out with some
business associates on one of their yachts the day before and had stayed overnight. When he came home, Stella and her sailboat were missing. He told me he wasn’t worried at first because she liked to take the boat out by herself early in the day.”

  Her voice broke, but she kept on with the story. “When she didn’t show last night, he started calling around. No one had seen her. He notified the authorities, but there was a big storm, and they couldn’t start looking for her until this morning. He said he’d been out with friends searching for her himself, and that’s why he didn’t call me back.”

  Mike returned and set a tray of cheese and crackers on the coffee table. Lesroy brought a pitcher of sweet tea and poured a glass for my mother. She set it on the end table without taking a sip. The men crowded together on the love seat.

  “Your mom’s sure Ben’s lying, but his story sounds possible.” Mike cut a sliver of cheese, stuck it between two crackers, and handed it to her. “Eat, baby.” She nibbled it and held the remaining bit in her palm.

  “Grace knows why it’s not possible,” she said. “Don’t you?”

  I did know. My sister would never have taken a chance like that. If she’d been by herself, she would have stayed within eyesight of the shore and, at the first hint of rough weather, would have headed in.

  I explained Stella’s fear of thunder and lightning to Mike. My mother sobbed in the background.

  “Just because he’s a liar doesn’t mean something bad happened.” I put my hand on her back. She shook her head and kept crying.