Gia jumped up. "I'll get it!"
Judah and Levi charged into the foyer from the living room, arriving at the door just a moment before she did. A wrestling match started over who got to actually open the door, but Gia reached over their heads and managed to pull it open while simultaneously sweeping the wriggling mass of skinny arms and legs out of the way. "Sorry," she said around a laugh, grinning up at the guy standing on the front patio. “Hey, Rickaroni.”
But he wasn't smiling. "Hey, Gia." Not Georgy Girl.
And then she saw the woman standing just behind him. Wait. She saw... herself standing there. Gia straightened, her shoulders lifting, her eyes widening. So did the woman's; it was like looking in a mirror. The long, red curls, the pale, freckled complexion, eyes the color of a sea swept day. And she was tall. Maybe even taller than Gia.
The boys on the floor stilled, quieted, and then Judah piped up. "You look like Aunt Gia!"
"Gia, this is Cheryl—" He broke off and turned back to the woman. "I'm sorry. I don't remember your last name." His voice shook just the slightest bit.
Cheryl stepped forward, tentatively, but in her eyes was a look of determination. "I'm Cheryl Wiley." She thrust her right hand out, and for a moment, Gia could only stare at the arm protruding from the flowered sleeve of the woman's dress. A dress that looked like it could have come off a hanger in Gia's closet. And Cheryl's hand—the shape of it, the length of the fingers, the pronounced knobby bones of her knuckles and wrists—it was like staring down at her own hand. When Gia didn't take it, Cheryl slowly, self-consciously, crossed her arms.
Gia blinked slowly and then shook her head. What on earth was going on?
"Is that you, Ricky, dear?" Granny G called from the kitchen. A moment later, she bustled into the foyer, followed by Phoebe and Juliette. "Oh!"
When Granny G came to an abrupt halt, Phoebe ran into her, almost knocking her over. Juliette scrambled to keep the older woman upright, but no one could take their eyes off Cheryl in the doorway beside Ricky. Then Renata entered, already reprimanding the two boys for being in the way. She stopped mid-sentence and stared, mouth open. The boys, not missing a beat, scrambled to their feet and dashed out of the tiny entryway that was suddenly way too crowded.
"Hi," Cheryl began. "Mrs. Gustafson—Sarah Gustafson, right? I'm Cheryl Wiley."
Instinctively, Phoebe and Jules closed ranks on either side of Granny G, Renata close behind them. Ricky stood like a deer in the headlights, apparently waiting for someone to tell him what to do, not exactly outside with the newcomer on the front porch, and not exactly inside with the rest of the family. Gia looked from him to the girl still hovering behind him, and then to her grandmother, who had gone white as a sheet.
"Y—yes. Yes, dear. I am." Granny G swallowed hard. "I think I need to sit down, girls."
Her words were like a starter pistol at a race. Suddenly everyone was moving at once, the three older girls practically sweeping their grandmother into the living room to the sofa, Tim corralling Levi and Judah out of the way—they'd gone straight in to tell him about the stranger at the door—and Vic and Trevor lurching forward to come to the aid of their womenfolk. Gia stumbled in behind them, not daring to look over her shoulder to see what Ricky was doing. Surely, he'd follow, too.
She didn't want to know what Cheryl was doing.
"Vic, honey," Granny G began, her voice tight, her face still blanched. She looked up at the man who stood at Juliette's side. "Can you please show Cheryl in?"
"Cheryl?" Gramps asked, having sat forward in his recliner, his footrest locked down. "Who is Cheryl?"
"I'm so sorry," the girl said from the living room doorway. "I didn't expect a crowd. I—I didn't mean to interrupt—" She broke off, clearly upset over the chaos she'd orchestrated. "Are you all right, Gra—Mrs. Gustafson?"
All eyes turned to the girl who'd stumbled over Granny G's name. Who was she?
"Whoa," Reuben said from where he was sprawled on the floor reading one of the latest YA novels that had met his mother's approval. "Dude," he said under his breath to Simon, who leaned against the wall beside him with another book. "She could totally be Gia's twin."
The room fell silent... and that's when Gia saw it. The look that passed between her grandparents was not one of surprise, no. It was a look that said they'd dreaded this moment, had possibly even known it would one day come. A look that told Gia the truth about one thing.
She'd been lied to by the people she loved—trusted—more than anyone else in the world. Her fingertips tingled, then her scalp, and she began to tremble just the slightest bit at first. When Ricky stepped up beside her and started to slip his arm around her waist, she jerked away. "Don't touch me," she tried to say, but all she got out was "Don't—" before her voice broke off into a sharp gasp for air. Oh God, she couldn't breathe, she couldn't breathe! She waved away Ricky's attempt to reach for her again, panting in short, shallow inhalations that left her lungs screaming for oxygen. Tiny lights flickered in her line of vision and she knew she was going to faint. She knew it as surely as she knew that this girl, this Cheryl Wiley held the keys to the missing places in Gia's life.
"Head down, Gia," Vic ordered, placing one hand on the back of her neck, the other around her waist, forcing her to bend forward. "Hands on your knees. Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth. Slow down." Where he'd come from, she didn't know, but his authoritative tone steadied her and she obeyed, gripping her knees with clammy hands, letting her head fall forward.
Breathe-two-three-four, out-two-three-four. Again. And again, until the lights stopped snapping and popping behind her closed eyelids. Without straightening, in a voice she barely recognized as her own, she wailed, "What is going on?"
"Oh, Gia. My sweet girl." Her grandmother's voice was tight with grief and misery, and when she didn't continue, Gia lifted her head to look at her.
"What is going on? Who is she?" She stretched out a hand and pointed at Cheryl. Gia couldn't look at the girl, but in her peripheral vision, she could see her still standing in the doorway.
"Gia, let's sit down," Vic said, leaning forward a little to speak quietly to her, calming, soothing.
Gia lurched upright and shoved away from him, her hands fluttering in front of her as though to ward off anyone else who might try to approach. "Stop it! Stop telling me what to do." She turned to her grandfather who had risen from his chair and was now crossing the room toward her. "Who is she, Gramps?" This time, her voice came out harsh and wretched. "Someone tell me!"
"I—I'm your sister," Cheryl said from the doorway. "You and I are sisters."
In her grandfather's anguished expression, Gia saw the truth of Cheryl's words. A glance at her grandmother confirmed it.
Gia fled, making it into her own room before her legs gave out beneath her. She closed the door and slid down it, wrapping her arms around her legs, pressing her forehead into her knees.
Breathe-two-three-four-out-two-three-four. Again. And again.
And then she began to weep.