Beaten paths, p.2
Beaten Paths, page 2
She hiccupped in what had to be the cutest display of vulnerability I’d ever witnessed. “It’s just…” Her blue eyes sparkled with the first glimpse of hope I’d seen since I stepped into her room. “I didn’t even think you knew my name.”
My lips turned up in a grin I couldn’t resist. Despite the stitches and the scabs, the scars and broken bones, she was the most adorable thing I’d ever seen. Every fiber of my being wanted to pull her in close, to hug her, hold her. But for the first time in my life, I was afraid to touch a woman for fear of hurting her body and my open heart, so I just held her face in my hands.
I planned to stay there as long as she’d let me.
1
Sarah
One Month Earlier
There was a beautiful blue butterfly on the porch railing. I wanted to capture it and put it in a glass jar, even though I shouldn’t. Daddy always told me that rubbing the powder off a butterfly’s wings made it impossible for them to fly. I didn’t want to hurt the thing; I just wanted to look at it a little longer. And as soon as I walked up the porch, it would fly off, and I would never see it again.
The butterfly flew away, as predicted, and I had only made it up the first step.
With the slight distraction gone, I was free to focus on other things. I had a mission in mind now that Miranda was home. Through the screen door, I could hear her rustling around in the kitchen like a raccoon.
Honestly, there were some days where she wasn’t so bad. They were just buried underneath all of the other days where everything she did annoyed me.
She had her face stuck behind the fridge door, and I waited—patiently—for her to pull her head out. I had no doubt she lingered on purpose just to irritate the snot out of me. When she finally straightened, she had a carton of orange juice in her hand. Randi pierced my stare and twisted off the cap. She lifted the jug to her mouth and wrapped her lips around the spout.
I hated that. It was disgusting and unsanitary, and I just knew she would backwash. Now, no one other than her could drink out of it again. As always, my sister didn’t seem to care. She just burped and went back to drinking. Her thin throat convulsed with each swallowed mouthful. Then she burped again and set the juice on the counter.
Even though I couldn’t see myself, I felt the twisted way my features mangled into an expression of disgust. “It’s amazing you have any friends at all with manners like those.” The words just jumped out of my mouth before I could sensor or soften them.
She shrugged and didn’t respond. Randi would push every button I had right up until the point of detonation, but she never wanted to initiate a full-blown argument. I hated fighting with my little sister almost as much as I hated being the one to have to discipline her. But she was really good at careening us down a path toward a disagreement and then trying to deviate to save her own tail.
Randi popped back up and seemed disappointed that I hadn’t gone away. She sighed again and set her elbows on the counter that stood between us. That counter had kept us from lunging at each other and prevented us from gouging each other’s eyes out on more than one occasion, and today, it seemed to serve the same purpose—a barrier between the Adams sisters.
She squeezed her arms together in a sad attempt to make her breasts pop. They looked like biscuits exploding from the tube. I had no idea where she’d learned such crass behavior. Even before Mama had left, Randi had never been allowed to act like anything other than a young lady.
“I got a call from your coach this morning.” I threw out the information I had and stood my ground, waiting to see what she did with it. I kept my jaw clenched and my chin high.
Miranda would take it as a challenge, a dare for her to retaliate or rebut. And when she stood straighter and squared her shoulders, I had no doubt that a screaming match was quickly becoming a very real possibility.
She muttered something about a violation of privacy, and I knew I had her. She was uncomfortable and squirming—she’d also lied.
“She said you didn’t show up for camp yesterday, which is odd, since you left the house with your bag, and I specifically remember your telling me that was where you were going and why you wouldn’t be home last night.” The heat rose from my chest to my cheeks.
I was desperate to maintain my composure. I wasn’t trying to lose my cool and let her gain a single inch of moral superiority. But here it was. Randi had noticed just how irritated I’d become.
“It’s not a big deal, Sarah,” she huffed. Randi waved me off in an attempt to dismiss her actions.
“It’s a huge deal. You made a commitment to those girls.” I couldn’t stop my own hands from balling into fists. “Do you have any idea how bad it looks for the captain of the squad not to show up?”
She pressed her lips together. “Previous captain. And it’s cheerleading, not the Nobel Prize.” Randi lifted a shoulder with a shrug. “There are tons of other seniors there to help.”
I hated how complacent she was about all of this, how it all rolled off her shoulders like water off a duck’s back. It was entirely possible that I wanted her to be angry because I was angry. It built faster than a forest fire, and it was going to spread just as rapidly if she didn’t start using language that made her seem like less of a self-serving prima donna.
“I’m going next week. Chill out.” She started to move away.
Without even thinking about it, I reached out and snatched her arm. My anger boiled right in the center of my chest. I didn’t want to do this. I wanted to have a reasonable conversation with my eighteen-year-old sister. But she refused to act reasonably. It was her MO. Randi took everything for granted—me, Daddy, everything we had worked for. She did nothing to pull her weight on the ranch, and she abhorred manual labor. Meanwhile, she trotted around, flashed her assets and stunning smile, and got away with murder.
Ever since Mama had left, Miranda Adams had refused to follow the rules and insisted on making her own.
I wasn’t about to let it keep happening. It had to end sometime, and I chose today—now. If nothing else came out of this, she would give me a straight answer. One way or another, Randi would admit where she’d been. I refused to let her skip out on me this time.
“Where were you?” I demanded.
Even I noticed the chill that took over the hot Texas air. My voice softened in a frightening way the angrier I got, and it cast an icy haze over the conversation. I swore Miranda shivered.
She licked her lips, trying to buy time to formulate a lie. But the longer she searched for a way out, the less likely she was to find one. And when she dropped my gaze, I had her. “The lake,” she said.
Bull.
I had to hold my breath and count to ten. If I didn’t, I was liable to explode. “All night?”
“No.” She was racking her brain as she spoke. My sister was a master at cutting up the truth to feed it to me in unrecognizable pieces. “There was a field party at Twin Creeks.”
That explained it. I still wasn’t happy about her sneaking around and offering me half-truths, but at least she had been in good hands.
“You were with Austin?”
Austin was a good kid who came from good people. The entire town was aware that the Burins were basically angels sent down to earth—Austin, Charlie…well, the whole lot of them.
“He was there. Along with two hundred of his closest friends.” Her sarcasm wasn’t winning her any brownie points. Miranda acted like she wanted a fight. The smug look on her face spoke of her resistance. She wasn’t giving in easily.
I’d been so focused on keeping my breathing under control that I was on the verge of passing out. My head was starting to spin the way it frequently did where my sister was concerned.
“Was Charlie there?” I didn’t want to ask and didn’t know why I had; it wasn’t like it mattered.
Charlie never remembered my name despite twelve years of school together and the fact that our families had Sunday lunch together more often than not. Charlie Burin wouldn’t know me if I slapped him in the face.
“Yes.” Miranda deflated a bit, but there was also a hint of pity in her eyes.
“You know he and Daddy are working on an irrigation project, right?”
“So?” She flashed back.
I was pressing too much, and I didn’t like the look on her face. “Did he mention it?” There was a knowing gleam in her expression—she thought she was on to me. I didn’t want to know what she thought I was trying to get out of this conversation. Heck, at this point, I didn’t know what I was trying to get out of it.
“I didn’t talk to him,” she said.
I could feel myself losing steam. This conversation was going nowhere, and it was pointless. If she hadn’t gone to the Burins’ to talk about anything useful, then there was no point in her being there at all. That wasn’t true—I knew exactly why she’d been there; it just wasn’t something I would have done. It didn’t matter that I wouldn’t have done it because I was never invited and not because I wouldn’t have wanted to be included.
I wasn’t as naïve as Randi liked to believe. It wasn’t a secret that my little sister judged me, but I often forgot just how deep it ran until she gave me certain looks or made catty comments. I might not have ever been popular or part of Mason Belle’s social scene in high school, but I did have some worldly knowledge outside of my dusty Farmer’s Almanac.
Miranda would never understand just how drastically my life had changed the day our mama left. Any chance I’d had at a normal childhood vanished just like the mother who’d abandoned us. I’d done my best, but I didn’t want to be Randi’s surrogate mother any more than she wanted me to be. The only thing I wanted from Randi was for her to do her part and act like she’d been raised with manners.
She would rather die, it seemed, than do something to contribute to the family in a positive way. Her association with the Burins was a blessing in a lot of ways, and I always prayed that Austin would be a calming influence on Randi’s wild ways. Unfortunately, it seemed to lean the other direction. Rather than his good qualities rubbing off on her, she did her best to smear her worst traits all over him.
I hated that line of thinking. I was the last person who needed to give up on Randi, and I did my best to sweep my attitude under the proverbial rug…for now. Small-town gossip could ruin a girl like Randi and kill any hopes she might have of keeping a boy like Austin. Rumors could be brutal, even if they weren’t true.
“Your reputation is already questionable.” I had my own impulse control issues—they just weren’t the same as my sister’s. I couldn’t help it; the words just sprang off my tongue. My own fury coiled tightly in my chest. “Pulling these kinds of stunts only cements what people in town think of you.” I didn’t want to hurt her, but I hated the way she looked at me like I was the pathetic one of the two of us.
She crossed her arms and narrowed her gaze. “No one in Mason Belle gives a flip what I do. And last time I checked, you weren’t my mama.”
Her words stung. Maybe it was the blatant, red-hot anger that colored them, but more than the anger, it was the contempt. It all hurt. And it had hurt since Mama had left, and I’d tried to fill in. Eight years of torture—not just for me, but Randi, too. Neither of us deserved the hand we’d been dealt.
This had gone beyond the scolding I’d intended and morphed into a full-blown fight, and I had no way of pulling it back. Words flew from my mouth in a way I didn’t intend before I could stop them. “I’m the closest thing you’ve got, and I’m ashamed of who you’re becoming. This is not how you were raised.”
Her jaw shifted, and then she sucked on her teeth. I wondered for just a second if my sister was going to spit on me or hit me.
She did neither. “Are we done?” she snapped, having far more self-control than I wanted to give her credit for.
“Not quite.”
Randi’s nostrils flared, and she looked like a horse ready to paw at the ground.
I wanted to nail her down with one final comeback. I wanted to end this exchange and put her in her place. But more than anything, I wanted my little sister to see what she’d done wrong. For once, she needed to admit the error of her ways. But she was far too stubborn ever to give me that satisfaction. She always bested me in the end. Randi stayed one step ahead, regardless of how hard I fought to keep her in line. That bullheaded streak was as wide as a river, and there was nothing Daddy or I could do to take it out of her.
“You’re grounded.” The words tumbled out, and the weight they held went with them. It was a suitable punishment if it stuck. “You can go to cheer camp. That’s it. There’s plenty to do around here.”
Her mouth fell open, and I felt an unsatisfying surge of victory. Not even the smile that lifted the corners of my mouth created a sense of satisfaction. There should have been far more joy in knowing I’d won the war.
She just looked so ridiculous with her flushed face and her jaw hanging open like a big-mouth bass. “For how long?”
I allowed myself a tiny shrug when I clasped my hands in front of me. Randi thought I took pleasure in disciplining her, but the truth was, I had to twine my fingers to keep her from seeing them shake. “Two weeks should make my point.”
“Not happening,” she muttered and pushed her way past me.
I called out just as she reached the bottom of the steps. “Don’t test me on this, Miranda. I’ve already talked to Daddy.” It felt a bit ridiculous pulling that card. We were both grown women—although one of us was a tad more mature than the other—and I shouldn’t have to.
But Miranda forced my hand. She might not listen to me, but she wouldn’t cross Daddy—ever. Whether or not I had actually spoken to him, all I had to do was mention his name, and it instantly made my life a little bit easier.
Her shoulders sagged as the wind left her verbose sails. “Whatever.”
She stomped up the steps like a toddler pitching a tantrum; only, this child was my eighteen-year-old sister. But then again, it was Miranda. And I wasn’t at all surprised by the way she acted. Seconds later, Randi slammed her bedroom door just to make sure everyone on the ranch and in the house knew exactly how unhappy she was. And while I didn’t care to listen to her pout and throw things for the next two hours, at least I knew I’d made my point. It was bittersweet.
I made my way to the second floor and down to my room. I needed to allow myself time to cool down before I went back outside to work. It was hot and incredibly humid. I had closed the curtains over my windows, but that did little to keep the heat at bay. My covers were cool, however. My bed was tucked into a corner and cast in shadows no matter the hour of the day. I sighed and sank down onto the edge of the bed, putting my face in my hands to massage my temples.
I gave myself a few minutes to close my eyes and relax. There was stuff that needed to be done around the ranch, but the heat was so oppressive that all I could find the energy to do was lie down. We hadn’t seen a heatwave like this one in years. The air conditioner couldn’t keep up in our old farmhouse, and the only time it was bearable, inside or out, was after dark.
My clothes clung to my sticky skin when I laid back on the bed, and my eyes swirled with the rotation of the fan overhead. The hypnotic spin coupled with the heat had my lids drifting closed in a short amount of time, and I allowed sleep to creep in.
What I’d intended only to be a few minutes turned into a couple of hours. I woke with a start and glanced at the clock on my nightstand. And then I realized what had brought me to consciousness so quickly. I scrambled to my feet and opened my bedroom door just as Miranda slammed hers behind her. She had a head start, and I wasn’t going to be fast enough to catch her, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t try.
“Miranda!” My voice rang out down the hall, but I might as well have whispered because Randi didn’t stop.
Her flipflops clapped on the hardwoods beneath her feet with each step she took, and when she rounded the corner to the stairs, her dark hair flashing as it whipped behind her.
Heat fanned my face, but I couldn’t tell if it was from my growing anger or the deadly temperatures in south Texas.
My sister took the steps two at a time, and I knew if I didn’t catch her before she made it out the front door that I wasn’t going to. I hated this cat and mouse game the two of us played. It wasn’t fair to her or me. I had never wanted the role of surrogate mother any more than Miranda wanted me to have it. In my mid-twenties, I should be starting my own life, not picking up the pieces of the one Mama had left behind.
“Get back here, young lady.” I sounded just like our mom had years ago, and it made me cringe. But I couldn’t help myself. I wouldn’t have to step in to fill that role that both of us needed to have filled if Miranda weren’t so keen on acting like a child.
With every step my feet landed on, I was reminded of just how backward all of this was. Daddy should be chasing his daughter down. He should be doing the disciplining. But even if Randi wouldn’t admit it, she needed me in this role. The problem was she needed me to be her sister, too. And I just wasn’t cut out to be both. It wasn’t possible. Mothers disciplined; sisters conspired.
If I were just her sister, I could encourage her to go out, have a good time. Defy the rules. Be with her boyfriend. I could help her sneak out, take her places she was too young to go, confide in her, share secrets with her. Despite how much I wanted that relationship with my little sister, we’d had that stolen from us the day Mama left us alone with a man who wasn’t designed to be a single father of two girls.
Without so much as a glance over her shoulder, Randi grabbed the handle and flung open the door just as Austin’s truck entered the circular drive in front of our house. Her friends shouted words of encouragement, and someone let the passenger door fly open. Randi leaped from the top step on the porch to the gravel drive below, took two steps, and reached out to grab her best friend’s hand. The truck never slowed down, the kids only got louder, and Randi believed she’d won as she hung her head out of the window after closing the door. A wicked grin parted her lips, and her hair whipped around her cheeks.
