Page 7 of Dust to Dust

Thankfully, Brooke met us in the center of the studio floor. As I eased Henry into her waiting arms, the familiar pang of disbelief rocketed through me. A year ago I would’ve never fathomed my eighteen-year-old sister becoming a mother.

As a four-year varsity letterman and A/B student, Brooke didn’t fit the stereotypical teen pregnancy statistic. The only factor you might consider was absent parents. But that wasn’t our parents fault. They didn’t choose to leave us two years ago in a car accident after helping pack up my dorm for the summer.

At the thought of my parents smiling faces, memories of that fateful day assaulted my mind.

My father clutching his chest—his face flushing crimson.

My mom screaming his name as she unbuckled her seatbelt to try to take the wheel.

The car careening across two lanes.

My trembling fingers dialing 911 before the phone was knocked out of my hand by the sharp descent of the SUV going over the embankment.

The squealing sound of steel being wrenched and crushed against a stout oak tree.

The crack of my head against the passenger window.

The horn continuing to blare long after the SUV had come to a stop.

The metallic smell of blood that seeped through the SUV.

My father’s widowmaker heart attack set off the chain of events that took my mother’s life along with his. If she hadn’t unbuckled her seatbelt to try to steer the car, the medical examiner felt she would’ve survived.

Like I did.

Instead, we lowered two caskets into the ground of the Episcopal church where my father had been a minister. Whoever coined the phrase life can change on a dime wasn’t kidding. I went from a care-free twenty-one-year-old to a burdened executor of an estate. I also became a surrogate mother to Brooke who was almost seventeen. Besides some of our aunts, uncles, and cousins, we were all each other had left.

At the ache in my chest, I turned from Brooke to go to the mini-fridge in the corner. After grabbing two bottled waters, I made my way over to the couch where Brooke was nursing Henry. His dark eyes, that he had inherited from my father, tracked my movement. I swept my fingers through the dark silky strands of his hair—the very same color as my mother’s.

He was a tiny piece of their immortality. A living symbol that the life of one we love is never lost. It was the reason Brooke had bequeathed him with the name Henry to honor our father. I only wished my dad could be here for Henry to take the slack for his dead-beat asshole of a sperm donor.

When my phone beeped, I grabbed it off the desk. One glance at the message and my stomach plummeted to my knees.

This is Paula at Alainn. I’m confirming your audition tomorrow at two.

After sucking in a ragged breath, I texted back, “Yes! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

With trembling fingers, I put my phone back down on the desk and stepped away. As I started back over to Brooke, anxiety trailed up and down my spine. Absently, my fingernails scraped along the label on the water bottle as a battle waged in my mind.

Stop stalling and ask.

It’s just a little favor.

Oh, you know it’s so much more than that.

It could change everything between the two of you.

Even if you don’t ask her, everything is going to change once she knows about your audition.

As the battle raged on, my index finger continued scratching over the crinkly paper.

“Isla?” Brooke questioned.

I glanced up from the bottle. “Huh?”

Her brows furrowed. “Is there something wrong?”

A nervous laugh trilled from my lips. “What makes you say that?”

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