Текст книги "Paper Thin"

Автор книги: Jennifer Snyder

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 4 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

THE NEXT MORNING I woke to the shrill sound of a smoke alarm going off somewhere in the house. I practically jack-knifed out of bed and darted out my bedroom door. The horrible scent of something burning wafted to my nose, tickling the back of my throat as soon as I started down the hall. The bathroom door swung open and Emma ran out, slamming into me. We butted heads. Both of us stumbled backward from the impact.

“Damn it!” Her hand went to her nose, which was what my forehead had collided with. “What the hell is going on?”

“You tell me. I was sleeping,” I shouted, rubbing where she hit with the palm of my hand.

“Mom!” Emma pushed past me, heading toward the kitchen.

I followed after her, not knowing what the problem was. Mom was in the kitchen. So what? When I rounded the corner, I realized how big of an issue that was. Smoke billowed out of the toaster, and something in a pan on the stove seemed to be burning. Mom stood in front of the stove with her hands cupped against her ears, her eyes squeezed shut, looking like a small child. It took me a moment to realize she was crying.

Emma turned off the stove and reached to unplug the ancient toaster. “Open the door! Let some of the smoke out so that thing will shut up!” She was talking to me, but I couldn’t take my eyes away from our mom in her fragile state. “Charlotte! Open the freaking door!”

I snapped out of it at the sound of her voice, and rushed across the kitchen. When I opened the door, cool air blasted me awake.

Mom had nearly burned down the house! Holy hell.

I moved the door back and forth like a fan, hoping it would help get the smoke out faster so the alarm would go off. Glancing back, I noticed Emma standing next to Mom. She was soothing her by rubbing her hands over Mom’s arms. The sight scared me more than I cared to admit.

Abruptly, the alarm stopped its incisive beeping, and it was almost as though the entire scene in front of me froze. Emma stopped her soothing motions, and Mom dropped her hands from her ears. None of us spoke. Emma’s sigh of relief was the only noise heard through the kitchen.

“Thank God,” she muttered under her breath.

I stopped fanning the door, and stared at my sister as she left our mother’s side to clean up her mess. With her hair still wrapped on her head in a towel, Emma picked up the pan on the stove and the spatula beside it. She scraped the charred bits of whatever our mother had been attempting to cook into the trash can.

“What were you doing, Mom?” Emma asked her in an exasperated voice. “I told you, I don’t want you cooking anymore.”

“I wanted to make breakfast for my girls,” Mom answered in a small voice. I watched her as she walked out of the kitchen and cut down the hall with her head in her hands.

A few seconds passed. When I finally walked away from the door, leaving it open, I moved to the toaster. “Has she done this before?”

“Yes.” The harshness in her tone surprised me.

I clamped my lips together. If I didn’t, I would mention moving her to a home again. I reached for a butter knife and attempted to get the burnt fragment of toast out, but it wasn’t working. It crumbled each time I stabbed at it and dissolved into dust when I gripped its edges. Giving up, I flipped it over to dump its contents into the trash can. The sight of it turning to dust before it made its way to the trash had me laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Emma snapped.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged, struggling to gain control over my hysterical laugher. “I was just wondering how many times Mom had to clean up our similar messes in the kitchen.”

“A gazillion for you.” Emma cracked a smile. “You never could cook.”

“I still can’t,” I insisted, laughing a little harder. “Remember that one Mother’s Day when you put me in charge of the toast?”

A laugh burst past her lips. “Yes! I still can’t believe I couldn’t even trust you to make toast of all things!”

“I don’t know how I screwed it up so badly.” I picked up a piece of Mom’s toast from on top of the trash. “It was like this, maybe even worse.”

“Worse. It was like bread dust!” Emma laughed even harder. “Remember how she ate it anyway?”

“Oh my God, you know how horrible that must have tasted?” The thought of eating something so dry nearly made me gag.

“I know! I watched her chug orange juice after.” Emma rinsed the pan in the sink and set it down. “Mom didn’t care though. She ate all she could; it was like three tiny bites. That was all that was salvageable.”

We both laughed.

“Remember what she said?” Emma asked, once we had managed to contain ourselves.

“A little burnt toast never hurt anyone,” we said in unison.

“And then she smiled and gave me a kiss.” I could remember the moment as though it were yesterday.

Silence bloomed between us as I thought about how much I missed the way our mom used to be, and how much I wanted her back. Everything about life was different now, even burnt toast.

I spent the rest of the morning trying to stay out of the kitchen while Emma cooked for her party. The sound of the mixer going nonstop and nineties music floating from the kitchen had been the soundtrack of my morning. If it were my party, I would have had everything catered, even if it cost enough to max out a credit card. It was one more thing added to my sister’s already heightened stress level. Again I was reminded of how strong Emma was.

A little after lunch, Emma finally took a break. She came into the living room with some sort of white substance crusted along one of her cheeks, and sprinkles of flour peppering her brown hair.

“Jeez.” I trailed my eyes over her. It had been so long since I’d seen her look so chaotic. “Who won in the war against the flour?” I popped another pretzel into my mouth, and paused the show I’d been watching.

“Oh my God!” she shouted. “What are you doing?”

My eyes widened at her sharp tone. “I’m eating and watching TV...”

“I can see that. Why haven’t you decorated?” She flailed her arms around in full freak-out mode.

“I didn’t know I was supposed to decorate.” Wrong answer. I knew the second the words slipped past my lips I shouldn’t have said them, because her hazel eyes grew dark and wild as they narrowed on me.

“I told you hours ago the decorations were in the hall closet!”

“I remember.” I rolled up the bag of pretzels, realizing now why she had mentioned where they were. “You meant you wanted me to get them out and decorate, right?”

“Yes! I did!” She smoothed her hair away from her face. The sound of her inhaling slowly and deeply let me know how frustrated she was. “Please, Charlotte. This is really, really important to me. I want everything to be perfect. There’s only a few hours left until everyone starts showing up. Help me get this place together. Please,” she said once she had composed herself.

Maybe my sister wasn’t a superhero after all; maybe she had finally hit her tipping point. Thanks to me.

“Okay.” My voice was soft and smooth, as though I were talking someone off a ledge. “Let me go get the bags.”

There were seven bags of stuff in the hall closet, as well as three boxes. I understood now why she had been freaked out.

“Wow, don’t you think you went a little overboard with the decorations?” I teased.

“No.” She picked up one of the boxes. It said Fondue Fun on the side in bubbly brown letters. “It will be just the right amount.”

I pulled a string of white lights from one of the bags, snaking it along the floor in front of me. “If you say so.”

Silk tablecloths, more white lights, napkins, the fanciest paper plates and plastic silverware I’d ever seen, and loads of crape paper decorations were what I found in the other bags.

A heavy sigh escaped me. There was so much to do, and hardly enough time. I wished I had realized what she wanted me to do hours ago.

SIX O’CLOCK CAME FASTER than I thought it would. I barely had enough time to shower and get ready before the first knock sounded at the front door. Smoothing my hands along the fabric of the black dress Sadie had said would look fabulous on me, I gripped the knob and opened it. Twice I had almost talked myself out of wearing the dress, but decided against it because I was hoping Dawson would be among the invite list. Time had not been on my side tonight to ask Emma if he was. Heck, I hadn’t even gotten a moment to ask who she was marrying. Every time I entered the kitchen, she kicked me out.

I swung the door open and the person who stood on the other side made me glad I’d stuck with my dress decision.

“Hey.” Dawson flashed me that charming smile I adored.

My heart pounded in my throat as I took in the sight of him. The light blue button-up shirt he wore did wonders for his tanned complexion and incredible eyes. Paired with khaki slacks and shiny leather shoes, he looked mouthwatering.

“Hey, yourself.” I tossed his words from last night back at him, along with a smile of my own. Nerves pinched at my stomach seconds later, making me feel stupid for doing so. I was being cheesy. I hated cheesy people.

“Can I come in?” His grin grew, making me realize I was blocking the doorway with my body.

“Yeah, sure.” I stepped to the side in a swift movement. “What are you doing here?” I was puzzled by his presence. When I thought for a moment, it made sense. Emma and Dawson had gone to school together. He’d lived down the road from us our whole life. Parish Cove was a small town. I was sure Emma had practically invited everyone to be polite.

“I—” He was cut off by Emma entering the room.

“You’re here! Thank God.” She walked straight to him and tossed her arms around his neck, pulling him against her body. “How does the place look? Is it too much?”

My heart stopped as I stared at them.

I watched as Dawson shifted his stare from me to the decorations, and then to my sister. “It looks good. You did great, babe.”

Babe. He’d called her babe. Emma had her arms wrapped around his neck. Their bodies were pressed so tightly against one another that I doubted you could fit a penny between them. Still I doubted what I was seeing. Dawson and Emma could not be together. My sister would not say yes to the one guy she knew I always wanted. She wouldn’t. Their lips touched, and the situation came crashing in on me from all angles as my entire world tilted. Emma’s fiancé was Dawson. He had asked her to marry him, and she had said yes.

Dawson freaking Phillips was marrying my sister.

The pressure of my nails digging into my palms brought me back to reality. I released my fists and painted a smile on my face.

Emma got everything, didn’t she?

I couldn’t help the thought. It pounded through my head. Gathering my emotions, I closed the door.

“It really does look nice,” I agreed. My voice was more composed than I thought possible. It also reminded Emma I was in the room. Dawson didn’t need a reminder, he knew. He’d never forgotten my presence. He had gauged my reaction to the news. Sympathy entered his stare and I shifted my gaze to Emma, refusing to gape at him as though he had broken my heart any longer.

“Hey, you remember Dawson, right?” There was a light in her eyes I hadn’t seen in forever. It made everything I was feeling ten times worse.

“Yeah, I do.” I forced my smile to remain in place. How could I forget? He’d been my first kiss. He was my first real crush. Of course I remembered him.

“I figured you would. Well, um, he’s my fiancé.” She grinned and tossed her hands up in a ta-da fashion. She was so damn happy it caused my stomach to slosh with nausea. I wanted to be happy for her, with her, but I couldn’t. Jealousy burned through me too strong.

Emma would get to keep the guy I had always wanted. Dawson was hers. He would never be mine no matter the timing. He was another Will Pelzer. I wasn’t sure why this hurt as much as it did. After all, I hadn’t seen him in five years. It was hard to explain, but the sight of him had brought back all those feelings I’d harbored as a teen, shoving them to the surface of my mind again. For whatever reason, I’d thought this time things would be different, that this time Dawson wouldn’t see me as a child. I wouldn’t be the awkward girl he kissed on the dock that summer night so long ago, that I would be a woman he suddenly couldn’t live without.

I’d felt something between us last night. Dawson had been flirting with me, but then he’d remembered my sister. It was clear now why he had shut down. He’d shut down because of her.

Holy shit, this couldn’t get any more awkward.

“That’s great. Congratulations to the both of you.” I forced my smile to widen, hoping the twinkle in my eyes resembled happiness and not the tears of sadness I was trying to hold back. “I’ll let you two catch up. I’m going to finish setting the food out for you, Emma.” I speed walked toward the kitchen, only releasing my smile once I crossed the threshold.

Fate had screwed me over. Again.

The back door was wide open when I stepped into the kitchen. A sinking feeling slipped through me at the sight. Mom had been getting something to drink before I answered the door. Now she was gone. She couldn’t have gotten far; that’s what I told myself at least. When I reached the back door and didn’t see her, I realized that just because she wasn’t all there in the head anymore didn’t mean she couldn’t move fast. I scanned the backyard, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Shit.

I wasn’t sure if I should tell Emma or continue searching on my own.

“What are you doing? I thought you said you would set the rest of the food out for me,” Emma called from behind me.

“Mom’s gone,” I admitted. “She was in the kitchen getting something to drink when I answered the door. When I came back, the back door was wide open, and she’s nowhere in sight.”

“Damn it!” Emma muttered. She backtracked to the living room. I could hear her shouting for our mom, but I knew she wouldn’t get an answer.

I started around toward the front of the house, because the thought of Mom tromping through the woods didn’t seem likely. She wasn’t there either. The front door swung open, startling me.

“I’ve got it. I’ll find her,” Dawson assured my sister in his deep, soothing voice. “You wait here and greet everyone. I’ve got this, sweetheart. It’s okay.” I watched him kiss my sister on the forehead. It was such a sweet gesture. He loved her. He really loved her. My stomach turned.

I swallowed hard, and then spoke up. “Do you want me to help him, or stay with you?” I asked Emma. I wanted to stay with her. I didn’t want to go off with Dawson, because I couldn’t trust my mouth not to make an idiot of myself once I was alone with him. There were too many questions and harsh words waiting on the tip of my tongue for him.

Why the hell hadn’t he said anything to me?

“Go with him. Check the woods,” Emma gutted me by saying. “She’s gone in the woods once before. She never makes it far though. I’ll finish things for the party.” She glanced at her watch. I knew she was counting down. There couldn’t be much longer until the next guests arrived.

“Okay.” I started toward the back of the house without checking to see if Dawson was following me.

“Thank you, Char,” Emma said. I hated how sweet her voice sounded, how grateful she seemed that I was helping.

The sun beat down on me as I kicked off the killer heels I had on before stepping foot into the woods behind my house. They weren’t thick, but I knew better than to enter them with heels on. A broken ankle was not something I needed to add to this visit. It had already been crazy and hurtful enough.

I moved a few branches of low-lying bushes away so I could step through, my eyes scanning as far as they could for my mother. A gentle breeze blew against my skin, cooling me. I hadn’t realized how hot I was with emotion until then. Dawson matched my pace, his cologne tickling my nose. God, he smelled good. But he wasn’t mine. He was Emma’s. My back stiffened as I reminded myself of this.

“I thought you knew.” His voice was hesitant and low.

“Well, I didn’t.” I watched where I was walking, not wanting to look at him.

“She’s your sister,” he said as though it made all the difference in the world. “Don’t the two of you talk about stuff like that?”

“We talk. Sometimes.” I wasn’t sure why I answered him. We were supposed to be looking for my mentally unstable mother, not working through whatever this awkwardness between us was.

I wanted to dig a hole and die. Dawson knew I still had feelings for him. My mind flashed back to the lake last night, to the way I had looked at him as he climbed out of the water. How could he not? Jesus, I had made myself look like an idiot. My cheeks heated, and I could feel the warmth from my embarrassment spread down my neck.

“This was sort of a big thing,” he continued. His pace still matched mine, and I became hyperaware of the short amount of space between us. “Me asking her to marry me seems like something she would call you and mention.”

One would think. Why hadn’t she? Was it because she knew I would care? I frowned, because apparently she knew me better than I knew myself. She had been right. I did care for some crazy reason.

“She didn’t. Okay. I don’t know why it matters to you anyway.”

I could feel his eyes on me, but I didn’t meet his gaze. I swept the area, searching for my mom. Once we found her, I could end this moment with Dawson. There would be no more talking with him tonight. Or ever. I wouldn’t talk to him unless I had to, or at least until I could view him as my sister’s husband and not someone I had wanted for most of my life.

“I think it’s sad is all.” His words surprised me. I glanced at him then. “You two used to be so close. What happened?”

I blinked. Nothing. Nothing had happened between us. There wasn’t an argument that tore us apart or any life-changing event. Not really. We had begun to drift apart before Mom became sick. It was just life. My sister and I were different people, and that was it. Night and day.

“Nothing happened.” I shrugged.

“Something had to of happened to cause such distance between the two of you.”

“We grew up.” It was the only answer I could give, because there wasn’t another reason.

It wasn’t as though I wanted things to be this way between Emma and me. I had always wanted the opposite. I wanted us to be best friends, to call each other and talk for hours about everything and nothing. It just wasn’t the way we were. The distance between us was hard to erase, and we had nothing to pin the blame on.

We each sucked at being a sibling. It was as simple as that.

A soft moan caught my attention, pulling me from my thoughts. It was coming from somewhere to my right.

“That—” Dawson started, but I held up a hand to quiet him. Listening carefully, I waited for the noise to come again.

When it did, my eyes widened.

“Mom?” I called out. “Mom, it’s Charlotte. Where are you?”

Another moan rolled through the air to my ears.

“Over there.” Dawson bolted away from me, able to pinpoint where she was faster than I could.

We found her a few feet away. She was lying on the ground behind a large fallen tree.

“Are you okay, Mrs. Montgomery?” He helped her into a sitting position.

“Oh my God,” I gasped. There was a large gash on her cheek and scratches along her right arm. “Mom.”

“I’m okay,” she soothed me. Her eyes locked with mine, and in that moment, she was my mom again. She knew who I was. I could see it in the depths of her eyes. For the first time since I arrived, she was coherent.

“What were you doing out here?” I scolded her, feeling as though our roles had somehow reversed, and she was the child. “You could have gotten seriously hurt.”

Mom waved my words away as she let Dawson help her to her feet. “I wanted to come for a walk. It looked so pretty out here.”

“You should have asked someone to come with you.” I reached for her, offering to help her walk back to the house.

“I’m fine.” She pushed my hand away. Her legs wobbled, but she caught herself before Dawson or me could touch her. “I’m okay.”

I watched her, keeping pace with her. What if she had a concussion? I debated whether I should take her to the emergency room once we got back to the house.

“I know what you’re thinking, and no, I don’t need a doctor,” she said as though she could read my mind.

Normal. This moment. This conversation with her. It was all so normal. Well, minus her disappearing act. Happiness bloomed through me. This was how it should be. Not the tromping through the woods, searching for her, but this ordinary conversation where she knew who I was and what was happening around her. She should always be this way.

“Thank God!” Emma shouted once we broke through the woods and into our backyard. She flew out the kitchen door and straight toward Mom.

“I went for a walk, and got a little turned around,” Mom said as though it was no big deal.

“Why would you do that? You know it’s not safe. We’ve talked about this,” Emma scolded. “What happened to your cheek?”

I watched as Emma gave Mom a thorough onceover, deciding yet again there was no way I could handle this. Was this what it was like day to day for her? How could she handle this? The fact became more apparent the longer I was here; things had gotten so much worse in the few short months since my last visit.

“Dr. Miles will be here shortly. I’ll see if he’ll look at you.” Emma ignored all of our mother’s protests and glanced at Dawson. “Thank you for helping find her again.” A large, gracious smile spread onto her face when she looked at him.

“No problem.” He leaned forward, and placed a soft kiss against my sister’s forehead. She closed her eyes, and I swore I saw all of her tension melt away.

I wanted to continue to hate them together. In fact, I braced myself for the wave of jealousy I expected to crash into me any second from his sweet gesture, but it never did. Emma needed Dawson. I could see that clearly. In that fraction of a second, I came to realize how much the statement was true. Dawson must be what made all of this bearable for her; he must be from where she drew her extra strength.

“Mrs. Nelson brought your dad by for you,” Emma told Dawson as they pulled apart, and started through the back door of our house. “He’s in the living room.”

“I asked him if he wanted to ride with me.” Dawson wrapped his arm around Emma’s waist and pulled her close. “But, he insisted I come spend some time with you first, before all the craziness of the night kept us apart.”

“I guess he was right.” Emma giggled. It had been forever since I’d heard my sister giggle like that. “I’m sorry. Mom has been a bit much the past few days. Her spells seem to be getting worse.”

Dawson paused outside the back door, and turned her to face him. His hands cupped her face as he stared into her eyes. “You don’t have to apologize to me. I get it. Trust me.”

I had been right. They both were stuck in this crappy little town, taking care of their parents. It made them even more perfect for one another.

I cleared my throat, interrupting their moment, and slipped past them. “I’m heading inside.”

“Right. Us too,” Emma said, but neither of them moved.

I found Mom leaning against the counter with a glass of lemonade in her hand. She looked peaceful as she stared out the window above the sink.

“Hey, how’s your cheek?” I walked to where she stood, curious about her cut and scratches.

“When are the puppeteers coming?” Her face was serious, but I knew she couldn’t be. Emma would never hire puppeteers for something like this.

“Do what?” I chuckled.

“I didn’t stutter, Debbie.” She looked me in the eye when she spoke, while she called me Debbie. “They were supposed to be here an hour ago, weren’t they?”

Mom was gone. I had become Debbie again. Charlotte didn’t exist to her for the time being. The weight of that realization crashed into me.

“Who was supposed to be here an hour ago, Mom?” Emma asked when she and Dawson walked through the door.

“The puppeteers,” I said in a soft voice. A sigh floated past Emma’s lips. I knew she was stressed to the max, even with Dawson whispering sweet nothings into her ear and holding her close. “It’s okay. I can take care of this. Let me know when Dr. Miles gets here,” I insisted.

Emma’s brows pulled together. “Really?”

“Yeah.” I flashed her a smile. “This is your party, go enjoy yourself. I’ll get her situated, and then be out to celebrate with you both in a bit.” It was the least I could do. Plus, it would give me time to compose myself.

“Okay. Thank you, Charlotte.” There was relief in her voice.

I sucked at being a sister and helping take care of our mother, but maybe tonight I would be able to redeem myself. The least I could do was try. She deserved to be happy. This was Emma’s moment. She was engaged, even if it was to my dream guy.