Chapter Sixteen

Meg

My hair whipped around my face as it was tugged loose from its ponytail. The day was dreary but so far the rain had held off. The wind coming off the ocean had a bite to it, the kind that took hold of you and burrowed down into your bones. My leather pants and jacket did only so much to keep me warm.

The waves crashed in front of me, the outcropping of rocks rising up behind me. This was my sister’s favorite place back when she was well enough to leave the house. I sank down onto a smooth ledge. It was more secluded here than the popular, sandy strips of beach.

I had visited the cemetery earlier out of a sense of obligation but hadn’t stayed long. I didn’t feel close to her there. Not like I did here. Sydney would sit at this beach for hours with her sketchpad, watching the ocean, listening to the waves, trying to capture the multihued sunsets. When I wanted to remember Sydney, and truly feel close to her, this is where I came.

This was where we spent the day before her test results came back. I think my parents were expecting the worst. I think they brought us here, hoping for one last, carefree day as a family before our world crumbled. We made sandcastles, had a picnic, flew kites.

Closing my eyes, it was easy to picture my sister. The sunshine on her cheeks, a smile on her lips. Her chin-length red hair would whip around her face. On windy days, her delicate body looked as if it might blow away.

Not for the first time I wondered what Sydney would think of my tributes to her. Would she adore them? Be worried? Fearful I would get caught?

I hadn’t painted a single mural since the night Luke caught me. Sitting here reminded me of why I’d started painting the murals in the first place. Would it really be so bad if I added just one more to my repertoire? As thoughts of my sister spilled through my mind, it was easy to justify my actions.

At least to myself.

Today was the anniversary I’d been dreading. Today, one year ago, was the day we’d lost her. She never made it to thirteen.

I tried to mentally sidestep those memories. I wanted to remember the good things. I wanted to honor Sydney today by remembering her life, not by dwelling on her death.

Today was a day we should be remembering her as a family.

Instead Dad had left for work before the sun had risen. Mom had started the day in Sydney’s room with the door closed. The silence of our house had been punctuated by tortured sobs. I had only been able to take so much.

I had ignored calls from both Kylie and Francesca.

When I couldn’t take listening to Mom’s heartbreak anymore, I’d taken off.

Eventually a sense of duty won over. I realized that today, of all days, Mom might need me as much as I needed her.

When I rolled into my driveway, Luke’s empty Navigator was the last thing I expected to see. I stormed into the house. Mom was on the sofa, a Hallmark movie on—though I doubted she was actually watching it—a box of tissues rested next to her.

Her expression was nearly devoid of emotion. She didn’t even turn to me when I stormed into the room.

“Is Luke here?” I demanded. Just this week she had asked about him, wondering who the boy was who had been picking me up for school. I had no intention of letting them meet. I was furious that Luke took that decision away from me.

Mom nodded. “I told him he could wait for you in your room.”

“You sent him to my bedroom?” I twisted around and marched up the narrow staircase. Of course she sent him to my room. Otherwise she would’ve had to enter the real world long enough to entertain him until I got home.

I took a breath in front of my partially closed door. I steeled myself before opening it, trying to shake away any sign of how emotional I felt.

He was seated in my desk chair, his large body out of place in my small room. He swiveled my way when he heard me enter. He held a pen in one hand and he continued to tap-tap-tap it against my desk even as I stood there glaring at him.

“Your mom let me in.” His blue eyes were crinkled at the corners, his forehead creased with concern.

“So I heard.” My arms were crossed tightly over my chest. My movements felt jerky and unnatural. I didn’t feel comfortable in my own space as I edged closer to Luke. I wanted to pluck the pictures from the edges of the frame on my mirror. I wanted to stuff them away somewhere private, somewhere that would keep my secrets safe.

I knew it was already too late. I could tell by the look on his face. Pity. Confusion. His expression was full of questions.

“Want to tell me what this is?” He motioned to the pictures. Pictures of Sydney and me. In the oldest of the pictures, my red hair was in pigtails. I was holding a squirming baby. In another, I was giving my toddler sister a piggyback ride at the beach. In the last one, Sydney was in a hospital bed, smiling though looking weak.

He looked away from me. His eyes rested on the picture in the frame. I had her drawings scattered all over my room. But that one? It was the most important to me.

It was a colored pencil drawing. Three figures stood on the sand, the rolling waves of the ocean crested behind them. Carefully scripted over each of us were our names: Mommy, Daddy, Megyn. Floating in the air above us all was our angel, in the way she envisioned herself toward the end. Her heart healthy and strong, encased in a pair of wings.

“Want to tell me what you’re doing here?” I countered.

He hung his head and had the decency to look sheepish. “I was being selfish. And stubborn. I figured you really didn’t have plans today. I stopped by to ask you one last time if you would come to Leo’s with me.”

“Didn’t his party start, like, an hour ago?”

“Yeah.”

“How long have you been here?” I was equally as furious with my mother as I was with him. Thinking of him alone in my bedroom all this time left a squirmy feeling in my stomach.

“Awhile.”

“Then you can go.” I managed to untangle my arms from where they were looped over my chest. I jabbed my finger toward the door. “Now.”

He stayed put. “I don’t think so. Not until you talk to me.”

I recognized the stubborn set of his jaw. He was a guy who was used to getting what he wanted. I didn’t have the energy to deal with him. I was emotionally drained. I wanted to be left alone.

“Luke.” My tone was a low warning. “I don’t want you here.”

“I know.”

“Then please leave.” My voice cracked and tears blurred my eyes. I blinked hard and pinched the bridge of my nose. I didn’t want to cry in front of him. My frustration was getting the better of me. It made me feel weak, and I hated feeling weak.

“Meg,” he said quietly, finally rising from the chair. He had to duck, mindful of his head and my low ceiling as he moved to the center of my room. He walked toward me slowly, as if I was an injured kitten he thought might bolt. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I want to talk to you.”

“I don’t have anything to say.”

He cupped his hands around my elbows. “That’s not true. I think you have a whole lot to say. I want to listen.” He paused, as if he thought his monologue would rattle my words free. He pressed ahead. “The girl in the pictures, she’s your sister?”

I didn’t want to answer him but how could I not? Not answering felt like I was denying the truth. I could never deny Sydney, or what she meant to me.

I nodded.

“And…” He cleared his throat, seeming to choose his words carefully, but we both knew there was no good way to say what he needed to say. “She died?”

Again, all I could do was nod.

“Oh, Meg, I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Why didn’t you tell me?” He gave my elbows a squeeze, gently tugging me forward.

I resisted and took a step back but that didn’t put enough distance between us. I pulled free from his grip and turned away from him.

“I didn’t tell you because it’s none of your business.”

“Sure it is.” His tone was quiet and insistent. “We’re friends, right?”

I closed my eyes and pulled in a few deep breaths, hoping maybe I could seal away the renegade tears that seemed intent on escaping.

“Meg?”

“Yes.” My voice was high-pitched, scratchy. “We’re friends.”

“Then talk to me. What happened to her?”

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell him. I felt like I couldn’t. My throat was so constricted it felt as if a giant fist was holding it in its grip.

“Can you at least tell me how long she’s been gone?”

“A year,” I said, my tone finally flat and not chaotic. “She’s been gone a year today.”

I flinched when his hand settled on my shoulder. He twisted me around but that didn’t mean I had to look at him. I kept my gaze averted, stuck to the calendar on the far side of my room. He tucked me into a hug that felt more comforting than a summer’s worth of sunshine.

“I’m sorry.” His words were simple, but I felt the sincerity behind them. “I’m sorry I pressed you so hard about today.”

“You didn’t know.”

“Because you never told me.” He glanced at the pictures again. “What was her name? How old was she?”

“Sydney. She was twelve.”

“What happened? Was it cancer…or…?” He left the question dangling because he didn’t have another guess.

“It was her heart.” The words choked me as I forced them out. “She was diagnosed with a rare form of pediatric cardiomyopathy when she was ten. She was such a little fighter. We were lucky we had her in our lives as long as we did.” I gnawed on my bottom lip for a moment, hoping Luke would say something. When he didn’t fill the silence, I did. “The disease is most often fatal. She was on the list for a heart transplant. She had already had multiple corrective surgeries. There’s no cure, but it bought her some time.” I shrugged, giving myself a few more seconds to put my words together. “A heart never came and time ran out.”

He glanced at the picture in the frame again. The heart encased by a pair of wings. I could see the realization dawning on him, taking hold.

My sister’s creation was my signature piece, my way of remembering her and honoring her. An angel, taken too young, finally set free.

“I had no idea you had a sister.”

“You would have no way of knowing. She was at the middle school until she got too sick to attend. Then my parents pulled her out. Mom stayed home to take care of her.”

“If I’d known what the murals represented, I never would’ve pressured you into this deal.” He scraped his hand through his hair. “I feel like such a jackass.”

“I haven’t minded all that much.” I realized I meant it.

He looked embarrassed and very much like he didn’t believe me. “No wonder you never wanted me to come around. Your life is complicated enough right now. I thought you were…”

“Being difficult?”

“I’m sorry I showed up here today. I was acting like an entitled ass. I’m sure I’m the last thing you or your mom wanted to deal with.”

I couldn’t really argue that point so I let it slide.

“Luke,” my voice was firm, “you should go to Leo’s.”

“I don’t want to leave you.”

I dropped down on the edge of my bed. “I want you to go. I’m not really in the mood for company. Truly, I’m not.”

“Right. You need to be with your family. I’m sorry I intruded.” His body language was screaming that he didn’t want to leave me. But more than anything, I needed him to go. “Are you sure there isn’t anything I can do for you?”

“Please.” It was all I could manage to say.

For once, he listened. He leaned in and kissed my cheek. Then he left me without another word.