Page 139 of Our Little Secret

Brooke hadn’t realized she’d been caught dumbstruck. “Oh, right. I guess so—”

Did the lights just flicker again?

“For crap’s sake, Mom. She’s your sister. You two need to work this out. And she said that last year you practically begged her to get together at Christmas.”

That had been before she’d come to visit Seattle early to weasel money out of Neal. Brooke’s suggestion was just to shine her sister on. Now she was using it as leverage with Marilee.

Marilee sighed audibly. “Do you know what I’d give for a sister or a brother?” she demanded. Brooke’s fingers clenched over the phone. Her daughter had no idea how close she’d come to having a sibling, or a half sibling. If things had turned out differently, if she hadn’t miscarried on the dock of theMedusa. Even now, she remembered the blood running down her legs in the shower at the gym.

“Christmas is in two days,” she heard herself saying. “How would Leah even get here? Flights are booked and it would be nearly impossible—”

“That’s on her,” Marilee pointed out sensibly.

“I know, but—Leah should call me,” Brooke said, watching as Neal closed the door and walked into the kitchen.

“Okay, right. That’s the attitude, fight over who should call whom,” Marilee was saying, unable to hide her disgust. “You know that sounds absolutely ridiculous? Like you’re still in kindergarten? Phones work two ways, you know! And there’s FaceTime and Zoom and oh, I give up. Geez, aren’t you two, like, adults? Shouldn’t you both just grow up? Do you even know that she finally divorced Sean or that she moved to San Francisco?”

“Of course I do, but—”

“Forget it! I’ve said what I had to. Look, I gotta go; I see my ride.” And with that she disconnected.

Brooke clicked off, stunned by her daughter’s attitude. Not yet sixteen and more adult than both Leah and her. At least on this issue. Marilee was right. After her first attempts to reach out to Leah, she’d barely kept up with her only sibling. The only real facts she knew about Leah were from bits and pieces she’d gleaned in conversations with her daughter.

“Marilee?” Neal surmised. “Don’t tell me she’s trying to weasel out of coming again.”

“No. No.” She shook her head. “She’s already landed in Portland and should be here in a few hours. She was calling about Leah.” There was a sudden flicker of some emotion in Neal’s features—worry? Fear? Anxiety? It disappeared in a heartbeat as he pulled off his gloves and unzipped his jacket.

“What about her?” Kneeling at the fireplace, he stacked yellow, wadded newspaper, kindling, and a few large pieces of oak in the grate.

“She wants to come here. For Christmas.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Seriously? Like, in a couple of days?”

“I guess. I didn’t know what to say.” She filled him in on the sketchy details that Marilee had conveyed and added, “Marilee thinks I should call her.”

“What do you think?”

There was the question. She took a sip of her tepid coffee and shrugged as he found a barbecue lighter on the mantel and tried to ignite the fire. The lighter just clicked, no spark visible.

“I don’t know,” she said, “but she’s right. It’s stupid that we don’t even talk.”

More clicking of the lighter and Neal gave up. “Don’t suppose you still carry a lighter?” he asked.

“Not since I really quit smoking. But I think I saw matches in the junk drawer in the kitchen.” She retrieved the old matchbook and handed it to Neal.

“Thanks.” He struck a match and held it to the dry paper. Within seconds eager flames ate through the paper and reached the tinder-dry kindling.

“Oh shit.” Neal reached into the firebox and opened the damper so that the smoke that was starting to seep into the living room was drawn up the chimney. “Damn. I always forget that,” he said. “Now, what were you saying about Leah?”

“I don’t have her number anymore.” The last time she’d tried, on Leah’s last birthday, the call didn’t go through and she was informed by a robotic voice that there was “no new number.”

“So you gave up?”

“Two-way street,” she said, almost echoing her daughter’s point.

He rocked back on his heels, the fire growing, flames licking upward and crackling. “Yeah, that argument doesn’t hold a lot of water. Marilee obviously has no trouble keeping in touch. I’m sure she has Leah’s phone number.”

“I’m sure she does.”

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