She stared out at the cedars, in the direction of their pottery shed. I wondered if she’d create something back there ever again and Roger’s words echoed in my mind.

  “Are you planning on staying here?”

  She pushed her curls behind her back and rubbed the side of her neck. “Donnie’s had the paperwork drawn up to leave this place to me.”

  Like Roger had said the day before.

  The place was hers.

  “But what about Seever? He thinks he’s moving back in. That this place is his.”

  “Maybe it is,” she muttered. “I haven’t decided if I’ll take it yet.”

  “What’s there to decide? You dropped your whole life to take care of Donnie, and now Donnie wants to take care of you.”

  “That’s what Roger said, too.”

  “So, let him.” What was so difficult about it?

  She shook her head, the curls shaking with it. “It’s not that simple.”

  It never was for Lane, and few things annoyed me more.

  “You feel guilty?”

  She nodded and took a sip of tea. “It’s what he wants. He told Roger. It just feels like I’m failing him.” Her voice croaked out the last words and she broke down.

  I took her mug and set it down on the windowsill with mine, wrapping her into a hug, and holding her tightly. For the first time since arriving, I felt her with me—in the moment—and I savoured in it. She squeezed me back, dropping her guard, and I took it as a sign to keep trying. That I might actually be able to comfort her.

  “You’ve done as much as you could for him—more than his own son—probably more than he ever meant for you to have to deal with.”

  “I don’t think I can do it.”

  “Take the house?”

  She nodded into my neck.

  “Of course, you can. You just—what? Sign on the dotted line? Have it witnessed? I’m sure Roger knows what needs to be done to finalize it. C’mon, Lane. You gave up a career, a romance, and your freedom. It’s not too late to get some of that back, and this will help.”

  Was I about to give up on some of that with Nate? Had I made a mistake not saying yes to him straight away?

  “I don’t want everything to change.” She whimpered and I stepped away as she wiped her eyes. “I don’t know how to—” She pressed her fingers to her lips and flicked them away in my direction. “To be more like you.”

  “Don’t.” I laughed. “Don’t be more like me. Be more like you.” I took a step back to see her. All of her. The dress pants and blouse were nice, and the hairstyle and makeup, too, but they couldn’t conceal the sadness in her eyes. Guilt pains shot through my chest. “I should have done better, helping you here.”

  “No, you were right, you didn’t sign up for it. I assumed—”

  “You assumed I’d want to help my sister out, and my great-uncle out, and I should have.”

  I couldn’t get Seever’s words out of my head from the day before, about freeloading and being there without helping much, without anyone even asking much of me. I’d used this house and my sister as a refuge from the truth I couldn’t face, and I should have given more—been more like her.

  “Are you going to cry now?” She sniffled with a hint of a laugh.

  I shook my head and frowned, swallowing a lump in my throat and twisting my long, dark hair between my fingers for comfort as I mulled over my options.

  There was one last thing I could do. I could be there for them both on one of their hardest days yet.

  “I want to come with you today,” I told her.

  She cocked her head to the side. “You do?”

  “I want to be there for you.”

  Looking at her, it wasn’t what I could see, but what I couldn’t. She was the type of person who’d give everything she had for the ones she loved, and in the end, what else was there?

  I saw her humanity, her love of Donnie, raw and true. Her last bit of effort to show him care and respect. But the light that had filled her eyes whenever she came to visit with Donnie was gone.

  I’d tell Nate I’d see him when he got back, stay with Lane, and be the sister she deserved. I’d take a shower, put on some nice clothes myself, and I’d help unpack his clothes or whatever she needed me to do there.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  “Okay. And we’ll talk about the house on the way back? I have to work tonight, cover a shift, but we can talk before then?”

  “What time?” She sniffled and tipped the rest of her tea into her mouth.

  “Ten, I believe.”

  “We’ll be back before then.”

  I followed her back inside where Rita ushered Donnie into the kitchen and Annette set a mug of tea down in front of him.

  “Okay, Mr. Carpenter.” Rita stepped beside him. “We’ll be leaving now. You take good care,” she choked up and patted him on the shoulder.

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “Okay.”

  She tapped his shoulder twice more before walking back toward the foyer, crossing paths with the locksmith on his way to work on the kitchen door.

  “Goodbye, Donnie.” Annette stared down at him and gave him a warm smile as he nodded to her.

  “Yeah.” Some emotion rose in Donnie’s gentle voice. “Okay.”

  Lane followed them to the front door, and I took a seat next to Donnie as they said their goodbyes, watching out for him as the locksmith opened the door and began to drill.

  He frowned at the man and raised his mug to his mouth with a shaking hand. As he sipped his tea, I reached out and held his other arm. He set his mug down, staring at me, and we didn’t exchange any words.

  As he glanced out the back window, toward the cedars, I hoped a cardinal or blue jay would land by one of the feeders and say their goodbyes to him. Suddenly, I wished he didn’t have to go, but I kept the thought to myself. We watched the window intently as the locksmith drilled, my hand holding his arm, and Donnie sipping his tea.

  14

  Lane

  I needed more time.

  We all did.

  As we left the house that afternoon, rain poured from storm clouds above. I held an umbrella for Uncle Donnie and me until he got in his Volvo. He’d willed it to be gifted to his dearest friend Roger and we agreed to make the trade-off after we got Donnie settled, but we still had one more ride left.

  I wished there was time for a picnic, time to let the rain pass, time to let him stay at the house a little longer, in the car a little longer, in my care just a little longer.

  But we didn’t have more time together, for things to be how they were. We’d have time apart. Plenty of that. The time would continue, and so would his memory loss, his motor function, and my heartache. He’d drift away from all the things he once clung to and nothing could stop it from happening.

  Cece climbed in the back and I turned the car radio on to an oldies station as the windshield wipers squeaked. We drove down the road, past the Prior’s and Gaudreau’s, and a new song came on—a woman’s voice—soft and sweet. I couldn’t recognize it, but a deep humming came from beside me. Donnie tapped his hand against his leg out of rhythm, but carried the tune, staring out his window.

  A swell of pain and raw emotion filled my chest and tears further clouded my view of the wet road ahead. I tried to swallow them back, but all I could think of were the things about Uncle Donnie I didn’t know. Would never know. All the music he loved, how new art would have made him feel, and what special thing he ever saw in me to have taken me under his wing in the first place.

  I used the back of my hand to wipe my wet cheeks and took deep breaths along the way to Sterling Heights, fighting the urge to turn around at every red light we encountered.

  As soon as we arrived, we met a care coordinator at the front desk. They showed us to his little rectangular room and Cece began putting his clothes away. He sat in his new, apartment-sized chair and pointed to the remote I’d taped up for him to only display the buttons he needed to use. I hadn’t expected him to disengage from me so easily in his new surroundings. I studied him, wondering if we should be spending time without the TV on. Time together he couldn’t have known would be limited from then, on.

  Roger gave me a gentle nod and I turned on his favourite channel, setting the taped up remote beside him, within reach.

  “It’s not goodbye for good,” Roger said under his breath as I joined them by the closet. “You’ll be back soon to see him. I’m coming for a visit on Tuesday, and again on Friday.”

  I cleared my throat and squeezed his arm. “I’ll come the rest of the days, then.”

  Roger took a seat on the edge of his bed—the only available seating—and I unpacked Donnie’s hygiene items while Cece finished hanging his clothes in silence. We watched Uncle Donnie as he watched TV, until someone came in and told us it was almost time to get him ready for dinner.

  Roger clapped his hand on Donnie’s shoulder and Donnie glanced up at him, then back to the TV.

  “You’ll call me if he asks for me?” I asked the coordinator as Roger joined my side. “I’ll be back tomorrow anyway, but he gets scared sometimes if I’m not—” The hard lump in my throat stopped me from continuing and Roger rested his hand on my back.

  “We’ll make sure he’s comfortable,” the woman said. “And when you come tomorrow, you just let any of us know if you have any questions about how he’s doing. With our locking system, he’s secure in our care. His son said he’ll be coming to visit tomorrow, too.”

  “He did?” Cece shot me a concerned look.

  What would Seever want with him? What was he playing at?

  “Mhmm.” The woman squeezed past us to the door. “He’ll have plenty of company between you all.”

  “Thank you.” Roger gave her a warm smile and leaned in toward me. “That’s our cue.”

  I sighed and approached Uncle Donnie with the same expression I painted my face with on the days I’d left for work. One of contentment and reassurance. Roger was right. This wasn’t goodbye for good. “I’ve got to—go to work, okay?”

  “Oh, yeah.” Uncle Donnie nodded slowly, as usual. “You get on now.”

  I grabbed his hand and squeezed it gently. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  He stared up at me with lingering confusion in his eyes, but his gaze softened when I smiled. He trusted me, and it took everything inside me to steel myself for him. To stay strong so he stayed calm, despite the tears blurring my vision as my body betrayed me, but he’d already turned his attention back to the TV. I could be thankful for that.

  “Love you, Uncle Donnie,” I whispered.

  I thought he was listening. I hoped he was, even though he didn’t acknowledge me.

  I was really trying to say I was sorry for leaving him there. For giving up on him, because he never gave up on me.

  I walked out the door, following behind Roger and Cece, out to the drizzling parking lot. Cece and I each opened our umbrellas and Roger stepped under mine as we switched keys.

  “We’re parked just over there.” Cece pointed to the front of the building and turned away, but I caught her wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

  Rain pattered above us as I turned to Roger, my arm already aching from holding the umbrella high above his head. “Thanks for your help today.”

  “Can we talk for a sec?” Roger nudged my arm. “Just us?”

  I jingled the keys in my hand and shook my head as my chest heaved. “I think I need to get home.”

  His gaze flitted from me to Cece and back. “Can we talk later? Tonight?”

  Why couldn’t he understand? I needed to be alone. I could barely breathe.

  “I think she just needs some time.” Cece wrapped her arm around mine and our umbrellas bumped together.

  “Yeah,” Roger hmphed under his breath.

  Had I disappointed him by refusing his help? Did I seem ungrateful?

  I met his worried gaze. “I’ll call you, okay?”

  He nodded once and we parted ways. He ran through the rain to Uncle Donnie’s car and we rushed around the puddles to mine.

  Once we got in, Cece spoke. “He was just trying to make sure you’re okay.”

  My phone vibrated once, and I pulled it out of my purse.

  Message from Roger: I know how hard today is for you, but…

  “Roger,” I muttered, tucking it back in.

  I’d check the text later.

  “He really cares about you.” Cece pulled her long, dark hair over her shoulder. “This has to be so tough for him, too.”

  I pulled my seat belt on and stared ahead, waiting for her to do the same as rain pounded against the roof of the car. I flicked on the windshield wipers, and the volume dial on the radio, enough to drown out my own thoughts.

  I wanted to get back, wash my heavy makeup off, curl up in bed, and never leave.

  As we crossed the border from Sterling Heights into Auburn Hills, Cece twisted the knob until I could hear my own breath and the rain on the car roof again.

  “Sorry, I still have a headache from the drilling,” she muttered. “I’ve been thinking. If you changed the locks, doesn’t that mean you want to stay?”

  “It means I want to keep him out for the time being, until I figure out what I’m doing.”

  I reached for the knob again.

  “Please.” She pushed my arm away. “My head.”

  I rested both my hands on the bottom of the steering wheel, staring at the long, wet road ahead.

  “We don’t have to talk about the house—”

  “Good,” I interrupted. “We don’t have to talk at all.”

  “Well, I was hoping I could talk to you about something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” She tucked her dark, shiny hair behind her ear and pressed her lips together, a little nervous habit she had before asking for a favour or telling me something she knew I wouldn’t want to hear.

  “Can it please wait, Cece?”

  “Fine.” Out of my peripheral, she rested her elbow on the car door, and her chin in her hand for not two seconds before turning to me again. “You know, I think this is good. It’s about time you focused on yourself.”

  “I don’t want to talk about this.”

  I don’t want to focus on myself.

  I want to sleep away this pain.

  “Sorry,” she muttered. “Just because I’ve been staying with you doesn’t mean I have a right to tell you how to live your life.”

  I bit my lip and turned off the main road, rolling the window down to let the cold, damp air keep me alert. “Maybe you should. Maybe I don’t know what’s right anymore.”

  “What’s right is for you to take ownership of the house. To start living your life for yourself. Be honest with yourself. I need to be honest.” I glanced over at her and she wrung her hands in her lap. “I left school.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t want to work with Dad. I never have. I thought I could—but I can’t do it.”

  Of course, she couldn’t. I knew it was only a matter of time before she stopped forcing herself to be who he wanted her to become. “Does Dad know?”

  “I told him yesterday.”

  “Okay, well, what did he say?”

  But I knew how the conversation would have gone already because he’d given me the same speech. He was disappointed, wanted more for me, and decided I wouldn’t amount to much while left to my own devices.

  She shook her head, and I assumed she didn’t want to rehash it. What child wanted to hear those things from a parent, much less relive them?

  “I should have told him the truth a long time ago—like you.” She sighed and turned the music up a bit, enough to let me know she was done talking.

  I wasn’t. Not when she’d just started opening up to me. I tapped the steering wheel, trying to think of something that might get her talking again. “Oh, hey. Someone called the house last night for you.”

  She frowned.

  “They didn’t leave their name. They actually hung up on me.”

  She turned her body toward me slowly. “Was it a man?”

  “Yeah. Roger’s age or older. Even close to Dad’s, I figured.”

  “What did he say? Tell me exactly what he said.”

  The shift in her tone sent a flutter through my stomach.

  She sounded… afraid.

  15

  Cece

  Rain poured against the windshield on the drive home from the navy-blue sky, filling the awkward silence between us. I turned the music up a bit, despite my throbbing headache. Anything to stop myself from getting into the rest of what happened back at college. To stop the ‘I told you so’ moment. It wasn’t the time. Maybe it never would be. Maybe it was time for me to go travelling.

  She tapped the steering wheel, and I could practically see the wheels turning in her head. She wasn’t done with me.

  “Oh, hey. Someone called the house last night for you.”

  I frowned, staring into my lap.

  Dunley. The thought gave me goose bumps and I rubbed at my arms. Nate wouldn’t call the house, would he? No. He didn’t have the number. It had to be…

  “They didn’t leave their name. They actually hung up on me.”

  Dunley.

  I turned toward Lane slowly, trying to ease myself out of the panic that was about to ensue depending on how she answered my next questions. “Was it a man?”

  “Yeah. Roger’s age or older. Even close to Dad’s I figured.”

  Nate was about Roger’s age. Dunley was Dad’s.

  As I considered the differences between their voices, Dunley’s words came flooding back.

  I won’t tell if you don’t.

  Vomit threatened to rise in my throat. I covered my mouth, choking it back, regaining enough control to try to distinguish between them. To assess the threat. “What did he say? Tell me exactly what he said.”

 

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