My Sister's Prayer (45 page)

The conversation went on from there, but her words came back to mind a while later, over a dessert of blueberry mascarpone tarts. She and Austin were talking about books and reading, and it struck me that when I'd seen her with a psychology text at the office, she hadn't been trying to solve her own problems. She'd been exploring a topic
that deeply interested her, one she might even want to make a career out of. She had the right to dream and plan and hope—even expect. I should allow myself to do the same on her behalf.

Watching her across the table now, I couldn't believe this lovely young woman in the Stella McCartney blouse with the elegant makeup and expensive highlights was the same kid who, just a few months ago, had sported bleached-blond scraggly hair with dark roots, torn jeans, dirty shoes, and the jittery intensity of a hard-core meth user. If only she could see what I saw, the emerging of a beautiful butterfly from a dark and dingy cocoon. It wasn't even about appearance, though the difference was striking. It was about the person, the clarity of mind, the gleam of hope and promise that had begun emanating from her more and more each day. With every thought that stretched beyond the next hit, every memory that emerged painfully from the fog, every day of sobriety that built on the previous day, Nicole was finally becoming the woman God intended her to be.

I couldn't wait to see what He had in store for her.

As I sat at my desk doing my regular calendar review the next morning, I was reminded that it was exactly two weeks to the day when Nicole would have to give her decision to the judge on whether she'd be heading to rehab or jail. I realized I hadn't prayed nearly enough about that and made a mental note to start ASAP.

I also noticed that a week from tomorrow would be Nicole's thirtieth meeting in thirty days, just as she had agreed to do when I moved her in with me. The thought filled me with such joy that I decided to commemorate the accomplishment with a surprise party. With just a week to prepare it wouldn't be anything fancy, but a small gathering of those who had been walking alongside us in her recovery—Nana, our parents, Miss Vida, Austin, Greg, several PT assistants from the gym, Debra, a few of our coworkers—would be fun and might even help push her ultimate decision in the right direction.

The only damper in my week was the news I received from Detective
Ortiz about the license plate results. She said the vehicle was registered to “Franklin and Associates,” a name so generic she wasn't even sure what kind of business it was. All she knew was that it was a private company out of Richmond, with only a rented postal box for an address.

“So what happens next?”

She sighed heavily. “Nothing, at least not on my end. If you'd caught the man actively committing a crime—like breaking into the house rather than just snapping a photo of it—I'd have more leeway. But as it is, I'm sorry, Maddee. This is all I can do for now.”

The day of the party, I took Nicole to her regular 6:30 meeting on Monument Avenue and then raced home in time to let my parents in, help unload and set out the food trays they had brought, hang up decorations, and greet the other guests as they trickled in. Half an hour later I headed back to the meeting to pick up my sister. Sometimes these gatherings could be emotional for her, but when she came out of this one, she had a big smile on her face.

In the car, I could tell she was hinting around about why tonight's meeting had been a special one, and she even went so far as to mention a “new addition” for her headboard. I knew she meant her milestone key tag, but I pretended to be completely obtuse, changing the subject every time she tried to bring it back up. At the house, everything seemed perfectly normal, just a regular Tuesday night in November.

Until we opened the front door.

Pandemonium ensued as everyone jumped out from their hiding places, yelling “Surprise!” and blowing noisemakers and applauding. Nicole was dumbfounded, and it seemed to take her a minute to recover from the shock. Then she turned my way, tears brimming in her eyes, and wrapped her arms around me.

“I don't deserve you,” she whispered in my ear.

In that moment, all the pain and worry and fears of the last month lifted out of me, and I was again with my little sister, the most important person to me in the whole world. Truly, having her here and sober and
on the road to health and recovery were beyond all I could have asked or imagined.

As we pulled apart, the noise began to fade, and then everyone seemed to be looking at Nicole expectantly, as if they wanted a speech. I was about to rescue her when she held up a hand and addressed the group.

“Just one question,” she said, her eyes scanning the small crowd. “This is a real party, right? I mean, y'all aren't here to do an intervention, are you?”

Her joke was met with a burst of laughter. After that, everyone begin talking and milling around and coming up to congratulate her and give hugs. I directed them toward the food, and once the crowd finally cleared in front of my sister, I went over and presented her with a piece of tape. She looked at me quizzically for just a moment before thrusting a hand into her pocket and coming out with her new orange key tag. On the front was the same NA logo, and on the back were the words, “Clean & Serene for Thirty Days.”

“You stinker,” she scolded, “trying to act like you didn't know. I couldn't believe it. That was mean.”

“I know, right?” I grinned.

Together, we went to the bed, which I'd managed to turn sideways and push all the way against the wall, and hung this second tag beside the first.

“You did it, kid,” I said softly. “Now go get some food and enjoy your party.”

I was still standing there when Greg came over, a plate piled high in his hand. Gesturing toward the key tag, he asked if I knew why it was orange.

I shook my head.

“That's the color of caution. At thirty days, they stress being cautious and avoiding old playmates, old playgrounds, and old playthings.”

We shared a look, knowing the battle was far from over.

Austin joined us then, placing one hand on my back in a casual yet possessive way. Feeling oddly uncomfortable, I ignored it as I launched into the story of Nicole's progress walking to Belle Isle. Then, spotting
Nana across the room, I excused myself and went to her, greeting the woman with a hug and a smile despite the fact that the last time I'd seen her she had been kicking me out of my own house. My feelings were still a bit hurt, but I tried not to let that show. Without knowing what the issue was, I couldn't say whether she'd been justified or not. I did ask what she had said to upset my sister so, explaining that the poor girl spent half the day crying. Without missing a beat, Nana met my gaze and replied, “Believe me, dear, so did I.”

About halfway through the evening, Greg was taking out a bag of trash for me when he texted from outside. I still hadn't given him a personal ringtone, so I wasn't sure who it was until I saw his name on the screen above his message:
Ask your grandmother how she got here tonight.

Confused, I did as requested then sent my response:
Silver Lincoln, driver is Jerome. (She doesn't drive after dark, uses Windsor Transport.) Why?

His reply was quick:
Tell you in a few.

By the time he got back inside, I had a feeling I knew what this was about. Sure enough, he explained that he'd spotted a man sitting in a car and had become suspicious until he noticed the small driving service logo on the back windshield and realized that was probably what it was. After texting with me, he'd gone over and introduced himself, and the two men had chatted for a bit.

“Your grandmother really makes him sit out there alone all night?” he asked, incredulous.

“I guess. That's his job, isn't it?”

“Yeah, but the least she could do is invite him to join the party.”

I smiled, thinking Greg surely hadn't grown up in Nana's kind of world.

“‘It's just not done, dear,'” I said, with enough primness for him to catch my sarcasm.

“I see. Well, if you don't mind, I'm going to pull together some food for him.”

“Be my guest.”

With a smile, I watched as Greg went down the buffet line, a paper plate in hand, filling it up and topping it off with a second plate turned
upside down. Then he grabbed a napkin and some plastic utensils and headed outside.

“Where's he going?” Nicole asked, appearing at my elbow.

I explained his little errand and she chuckled. “What a guy. This one, on the other hand…”

She subtly gestured toward Austin across the room. He was engaged in conversation with our grandmother, looking handsome and debonair and totally in his element.

“Watch this,” Nicole added under her breath. Then she called out, “Hey, Nana, should I invite your driver in for some meatballs and macaroni salad? Looks like we have plenty extra.”

Nana looked at Nicole in bewilderment, and then she said, stiffly, “I'm sure he's fine.”

“I don't know. He might be hungry. Austin? You want to take him a plate?”

He gaped at her blankly, as if she'd asked him to bring a pig to a cotillion.

And though I didn't think it was very nice for her to set him up that way, her little stunt had its intended effect. Standing there, watching him, it was as if the veneer cracked just a bit. Did I really want to spend my life with a man who was better looking on the outside than he was on the inside?

A short while later, I managed to get him alone out on the patio, where I asked the question that was really on my mind, if he'd taken Nicole's casts off early so I would be free to go to that party with him.

He seemed amused at first, perhaps at my naïveté. He wouldn't come right out and admit it. He just kept saying that the removal “was within acceptable medical limits.” In other words, whether he had or not, it wasn't something that would get him in trouble or could cause him to lose a lawsuit. That still didn't make it right.

“Can I ask you something?” Taking a deep breath, I turned toward him. “Which do you like more? Me, or the fact that I want to settle down and have a big family?”

He was quiet for a long moment, the smile now gone. Finally, he let out a sigh. “I could ask you the same question, Maddee.”

Our eyes met, and I could see that we both knew the truth. Though we'd wanted this to work, we didn't have the kind of connection that was going to lead to love and marriage and family. The whole thing looked good on paper, but despite our similarities—especially when it came to our dreams for the future—we weren't a good match and never could be.

After a final congrats to Nicole, Austin left. Nana had to go soon after, but as we said our goodbyes I told her something I knew would please her, that Nicole and I were planning to visit Williamsburg the next day, just as she'd been urging us to do. Thanks to some new computers my office was having put in, I explained, our workday was to end at two. We'd been talking about going ever since we'd finished reading the letters, so this seemed like the perfect opportunity.

“Of course,” I added, “the village as it's presented is from 1775, not 1704 when the sisters first arrived. But it will still be fun to see the different places they talked about.”

Nana seemed delighted—though almost overly so, as if this was the best news she'd heard in her life.