Everything We Didn't Say(9)

“Thank you,” Juniper said quietly, surprising herself. But Mandy always made her feel vaguely grateful. Thank you for the sincere welcome. For trying so hard. For saving my brother.

“Everyone is so excited to see you, Junebug! We kind of can’t believe you’re here.” Mandy looped her arm through Juniper’s and sashayed them both into the dining room, presenting her to the group and declaring: “Here she is!” Juniper’s cheeks bloomed crimson.

Law was closest, and he dutifully draped an arm across her shoulders. “Hey,” he said, brushing the hard line of his jaw across her forehead. It was a wooden affection, but unexpected, and Juniper caught her breath. Then the brief moment of contact was over, and she was left staring at the only father she’d ever known.

Lawrence Baker hadn’t altered his look in thirty years: buzz-cut gray hair, short clean fingernails, starched shirts. He even instructed Reb to iron a crease into his jeans and buff out marks on his shoes every night. Or, he used to. As far as Juniper could tell, he still did. He was scrubbed and neat as ever, even if his shoulders had rounded by degrees and his back was no longer ramrod straight. “Welcome home,” he told her.

“Hi, Dad,” she said, stumbling over the word just a bit. She felt drunk. A little dizzy; a lot nauseated. The scent of her mother’s pot roast and mashed potatoes was overwhelming, and the old-fashioned radiator that ran the length of the room was pumping out dry, hot air that made it hard to breathe.

“Boy, it’s warm in here, isn’t it?” Mandy slipped an arm around Juniper before she could swoon, and eased her into a chair. “Crack the window, would you, Lawrence? I think we all need a little fresh air.”

Lawrence Baker wasn’t the sort to be bossed around, but he left the room without a backward glance, and Juniper found herself alone with Mandy and, across the table, Jonathan. He was sitting on the long bench with his back against the wall and a glass of wine in his fist. It was mostly gone. He stared at her over the dregs, and for the life of her, Juniper couldn’t make out his expression. Apathy? Disdain? Perhaps this was already his second glass and he was comfortably numb.

“Hey, J.” It was all she could think to say.

He laughed. It was a wry chuckle, but in his blue eyes Juniper could see a flash of the boy she had known. Something inside her gave way, and when Jonathan pushed himself up from the table and leaned over to give her a brotherly kiss on the forehead, she had to squeeze her eyes closed.

“You came home,” he said simply.

“I’ve been busy.” Juniper’s excuses were so tired, even she struggled to repeat them. “You’re always welcome in Colorado. Best skiing in the States.”

“We don’t ski,” Jonathan reminded her. “You don’t ski.”

“Hiking, then! Garden of the Gods or Estes Park or—”

“Enough. It was time. We’re glad you’re here.”

Juniper wasn’t convinced. She felt Mandy glance between them, but she couldn’t begin to guess at what her sister-in-law was thinking. After a charged moment, Mandy clapped her hands. “Well, then. I’m going to go see if Rebecca needs any help finishing up.”

“Tell the boys to take it down a notch or two,” Jonathan said without removing his gaze from Juniper’s flushed face.

“Boys will be boys,” Mandy chimed.

Juniper caught Jonathan’s eye roll, but Mandy was already gone. “I gave them candy,” she confessed.

“It’s official: you’re out of the will.” Jonathan downed the last of his wine in a gulp and grabbed for the bottle. He refilled his glass, then reached to pour for Juniper. She shook her head. “No?” He shrugged and put the bottle down between them. Lowering his voice, he said, “Look, June, we need to talk.”

She felt herself go very still. “We are talking.”

Ignoring her evasive response, Jonathan said: “I’ll pick you up from the library on Wednesday. You get a lunch break, right?”

“Well, sure, but—”

“Mandy will be at work and the boys will be at school, so I’ll grab something from Cunningham’s and take you back to our place.”

“We could go to the Admiral,” Juniper offered, imagining crowded booths and lots of people. The thought of being alone with Jonathan made her a bit uneasy. They had very different ideas about how to deal with the past—it was one of the many things that made her brother feel like a stranger. Juniper had thick files and chat room aliases and a thirst for answers she couldn’t slake. Jonathan vigilantly ignored the fact that their neighbors had been murdered in cold blood with no resolution, leaving him—in perpetuity—as the main suspect. Did he know about the podcast? Was she ready to tell him?

“I’ll pick you up at noon.” Clearly, Jonathan wasn’t going to take no for an answer. He ran his hand through his dark hair and sat back against the wallpaper. It was faded and floral—from another era—and suddenly Juniper could see her brother as he had been: tall and lean, with a perpetual smirk that meant trouble. Back then, he could make her laugh with a goofy look. She missed that boy more than she dared to admit. His easy smile, happy-go-lucky way. They used to talk for hours about everything and nothing, and shared a bond that betrayed their connection as virtual twins. Now, at thirty-two, gray peppered his temples.