This Might Hurt(4)
“I think you’ve done enough, don’t you?” he says pleasantly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Perhaps your sister needs less interference with her happiness. You have a maximized day, now.”
The line goes dead.
What has she told these people about me?
Gordon sounded like he knows something, but if he’s behind the e-mail, why solicit me to come to Wisewood only to discourage me over the phone? I watch my screen until it turns off, thinking. First I’ll reply to the message. If I don’t get a response, I’ll call Wisewood a second time. If I can’t get through . . .
I skim the directions in the pdf again. Kit is a hundred and ninety miles of driving plus a seventy-five-minute ferry ride away. I could complain about her until I was blue in the face, but she’s still my little sister. Besides, it’s time. Over and over I’ve sworn to tell her the truth but have been too chickenshit to confess.
I have no idea what Kit will do when she finds out.
2
NO ONE HAD said a word the entire car ride. We were off to a good start.
No, a fortuitous start. Fortuitous: happening by a lucky chance, and also today’s word of the day from my bright yellow word-of-the-day calendar, which was last year’s Christmas gift from my parents.
I clutched Mr. Bear, climbed out of the station wagon, and stood in the driveway, staring. Aunt Carol’s one-story lake house had red clapboard siding and dark green shutters. It wasn’t as big or fancy as some homes we’d passed on our drive, but it had three whole bedrooms. I was going to have my own room for an entire week.
“Help your mother and sister with the groceries,” Sir said, carrying armfuls of luggage to the front door. I tossed Mr. Bear in the backseat and walked to the trunk, where Mother handed me a paper bag of food.
“Take two bags,” Jack said.
“They’re too heavy.” I scuttled toward the house before she could hand me another.
Sir opened the door. I peered around him. The cottage was musty but clean. I carried the groceries into the homey kitchen. Sunlight streamed through the open windows. I picked up a handwritten welcome note off the counter and sensed Sir reading over my shoulder.
“Of course she has house rules.” He snickered, then elbowed me and lowered his voice. “We’ll make sure we break every single one.” I couldn’t tell whether he was serious, so I made a noise that could have meant anything.
Sir didn’t like Aunt Carol because she was related to Mother and had the nerve to afford a second home without a man’s help. He rarely let us see her anymore, but I guessed he didn’t hate her enough to say no when she offered to loan us her house.
I barely had enough time to unpack and snoop through the garage before Sir called a meeting in the cozy living room. There were throw pillows everywhere, embroidered with sayings like Live, Laugh, Love and I just want to drink wine and pet my cat.
Sir clapped, eyes twinkling. “What do you say we have ourselves a family outing?”
Jack and I bobbed our heads. Nobody called my sister by her actual name. Sir had been hoping for a son. When the nurse handed him a baby girl instead, that didn’t stop him from using the name he’d picked out for his boy. The nickname had stuck, much to my sister’s and mother’s horror.
Mother wrapped her arms around herself. “I think I’ll say a rosary, then lie down while you three explore.”
Sir’s face darkened. “Our first family vacation and you’re going to sleep through it?”
“We have plenty of time, don’t we?” Mother said. “I only need an hour or so. The drive took it out of me.” She turned and walked down the hallway before he could respond, and closed a bedroom door gently behind her. Jack watched our father nervously, twirling a strand of brown hair between her fingers.
Sir shook his head. “Unbelievable.”
He walked out the back door. Jack and I followed, letting the screen door slam. The three of us waded through the ankle-high grass past centuries-old trees that made the flagpole in the yard look small. The Stars and Stripes waved merrily from their perch. “Woman is always tired,” Sir grumbled.
Thirty feet ahead was the man-made lake, olive green and murky. A pier and boathouse stood over the water. Aunt Carol’s motorboat was nestled inside.
Sir clocked the boat and grinned at us. “What do you say, girls?”
“I saw horseshoes in the garage,” I said.
He adjusted his thin-framed glasses and sucked his teeth, glaring at me. He wore his buzz cut so short you could barely see the white-blond hairs.
“I want to learn how to play,” I lied.
“I drove two hours and you want to stay on land? I don’t think so.”
Sir sauntered toward the boathouse, calling over his shoulder, “Jack, let’s get this thing in the water.” She followed him across the overgrown lawn. My sister was only three years older than me, but our bodies had begun to look different. Sir called us his toothpicks when we were little, but that label no longer applied to Jack. She’d started growing curves. I was beyond jealous.
Leaving those two alone was a bad idea. I never knew when she might be in the mood to rat me out. I hurried after them onto the pier.
Like Aunt Carol’s house, the boat was no-frills but well cared for. Sir and Jack hoisted it into the water. He hopped in, and she followed suit. They turned to me, waiting. Angry waves beat the sides of the boat. With seating for four, it was smaller than I’d expected. I chewed my lip.