Thicker than Blood

  He licked all night and into the next day, but Edna never opened her eyes again.

  ***

  In Christy’s dream the infant was always crying. Clasping him to her chest, she’d console him by rocking back and forth. Back and forth. Slowly and gently. But his cry only grew louder. Louder until it became an inconsolable wail. She didn’t understand. She was trying everything, stroking his forehead, wiping his silky hair, and kissing him, but none of it helped.

  Darkness encompassed her, and she could no longer see him, though she could still feel his warm body against her as he kicked and wriggled in her arms. But his wailing didn’t ease.

  Suddenly someone grabbed his feet and yanked . . . trying to wrench him from her grasp. She pulled back, but the other hands were stronger. They gripped the child with no pity. He screamed in Christy’s arms. She frantically squeezed him, but he was sliding from her anyway, his cries now shrieks of pain.

  In one movement he was gone. Torn from her. She desperately reached into the darkness searching to pull him back, but her hands groped in emptiness. She couldn’t move.

  Unlike any human sound she’d ever heard came a shriek.

  No.

  Christy struggled to get up, but invisible bonds held her.

  No!

  She knew what was happening. She didn’t have to see to know they were torturing him, cutting him, slicing off first a finger, then a hand, axing off an arm . . . his feet. Then silence.

  “Stop!” Christy shot bolt upright in the bed, the shrill cries echoing in her ears. “Please stop!”

  There was no answer, and she sobbed into her hands. Falling back into her pillows, she closed her eyes again, longing for a clean mind. Somehow, maybe this time, she could return to sleep. Just this once. But even as she yearned for it, she knew it wouldn’t happen. The vicious dream always held on and so did the guilt.

  She got out of bed and stood at her third-story window. Cracking it, the bitter wind blew over her sweat-drenched T-shirt. Guilt was always her companion at night. There were times she’d stayed up until morning drinking and watching the late, late shows rather than face her nightmares.

  All she wanted was one night of peace. One night of sleeping till morning. Christy dropped to her knees, her fingernails digging into the paint of the windowsill. One night without regret. “I don’t wanna live like this, God,” she whispered.

  It was a futile attempt at prayer. What right did she have to call on God? He had enough decent people to watch out for. He didn’t need to listen to a shameful woman like her. She wasn’t worth His time.

  Christy knew just one way to escape, and she hurried to the kitchen cabinet to find it. Leaving all the lights off, she brought the bottle of vodka to the sofa without bothering to bring a cup.

  It would only take a few minutes before her nightmare would fade.

  ***

  May opened the squeaky barn door and stepped into the darkness, the sweet smell of horseflesh and saddle soap teasing her nose. She left the lights off and flicked on her flashlight. She’d just finished her shift checking the herd, and thankfully there were no problems. Life went on as usual. But so did death.

  Exhausted, she slumped onto a hay bale and let her tears fall. When Aunt Edna’s attorney Harvey Kurtz called her this evening right as she was about to sit down to dinner, his voice betrayed him. She’d instantly known something was wrong. But she’d never guessed it would be Aunt Edna.

  May pulled in a jerky breath, clutching the Bible Auntie had given her when she was baptized at eighteen. The black leather was ragged and soiled now, and a few pages were almost pulled free, but it was what reminded her of the woman more than anything else. She lived her life by this book and had taught May to do the same.

  “I’m trying, Auntie,” May whispered. “I’m trying so hard.”

  She didn’t know how long she sat there, but all at once the door screeched and the barn lights came on. Squinting against the sudden brightness, she looked up to see Jim Parker, their ranch hand, walking through the doorway. He was dressed against the cold like she was, a frayed jean jacket and a stained down vest worn over his coveralls.

  He stopped when he saw her. “Oh. Sorry. Didn’t know you were in here. I’ll just get what I need and leave you alone.”

  She wiped at her cheeks with the back of her gloved hand. What time was it? “It’s all right.”

  Jim walked past her to the adjoining tack room and returned with a halter and braided lead.

  May sniffed, trying to hold back more tears. Jim was a good guy. He wouldn’t make her uncomfortable, but she still didn’t want to blubber in front of him. They’d hired him six years ago when they bought the stock of a retiring rancher friend and increased the Triple Cross’s herd to two hundred head.

  In the beginning it felt weird to be anyone’s boss, especially a guy like Jim who was in his midforties and knew more about ranching than she did. But Jim had always respected her, and she’d appreciated that, making sure she never barked orders at him or took him for granted.

  May ran her hand across the Bible’s front cover. “I can’t believe she’s gone.”

  Jim hesitated beside her, like he was trying to decide if she wanted to be alone or not, then dragged another hay bale next to hers. He sat down, the halter dangling from his fingers. “She was a good lady.”

  Aunt Edna always visited the ranch for Thanksgiving and Christmas, and May was glad Jim and Ruth had gotten a chance to know her. Between Ruth’s flair for Hispanic cuisine and Auntie’s German, the holidays were all about food, laughter, and love. They’d even managed to get Aunt Edna on a horse a few times.

  “She gave me love when I felt abandoned,” May said, unable to keep her tears at bay. They dripped down her face, and she didn’t bother wiping them away. She knew Auntie wouldn’t have wanted her to grieve, but sorrow overpowered her. “She encouraged my dreams when everyone else told me they could never happen. Even this ranch. When I told her I was gonna ask Ruth for a job, she never once discouraged me.”

  As a kid, every time May passed a corral full of horses, saw grazing cows, or caught glimpses of men working cattle, something in her heart stirred.

  When all the other girls in high school wanted to become doctors, lawyers, and mothers, May said she wanted to be a cowgirl. Didn’t know a lick about being one, but Auntie said God wouldn’t have given her the desire if He didn’t have a way to fulfill it.

  “Always did have a good word for everybody.” Jim smiled through his handlebar mustache. “Even me.”

  “She kept me from feeling like the orphan I really was. Even when I moved out here her advice was always just a phone call away. You know the way she was, with that calm, reassuring voice of reason. I’m . . .” May bit her lip. “Never gonna hear it again.”

  He slowly pulled the braided lead between his fingers, then lifted his eyes to hers. “You will, May. She’s not gone forever. She’s in forever now. No more cryin’. No more pain.”

  “That’s the only thing that makes this halfway bearable.” May leaned her head against the barn wall, and it thudded against the wood. Auntie was truly happy. She was with her beloved Savior. Forever. But May longed to be held by her one last time.

  “I wonder if Chris’ll be at the funeral. Because it sounds to me like Harvey is in contact with her.” May stood and Jim did the same. “I asked him if he knew where she was, but he wouldn’t answer me. Which makes me think he does know. I don’t get that at all. I mean, for crying out loud. She’s my sister. He knows how much I’ve missed her. I was just over there for New Years.”

  Jim gave her a sideways hug, and she returned it. “You’ll find her when the time’s right.”

  May followed him out of the barn. A few stray flurries wafted down from the sky. What would she be feeling without friends like Jim and Ruth? They were her support now, and they would keep her steady. But what about Chris? Did she have friends? Was she happy?

  With the Bible held
close to her chest, May whispered a prayer for her sister as she walked toward the house. Chris was the only family she had left.

  Chapter 6

  Harvey said it was important they talk in person, but Christy still wasn’t sure why she’d agreed to meet him for dinner. What was she thinking? She hadn’t seen him since her parents’ funeral, and they’d only talked a few times on the phone after that.

  When she skipped town after Mom and Dad died, her intention was to lose contact with everyone, including Harvey. He’d been her father’s friend since high school, and they’d served in the Marines together.

  When Mom and Dad died, he sold the house, paid the debts, and gave Christy and May the gift of not having to worry about any of the financial details. An estate attorney, he’d managed to track her down and cut her a deal. If she would keep in contact with him, he would promise to keep her whereabouts confidential for as long as she wanted. She’d gone along with it. After collecting the life insurance money, she’d kept the calls few and far between. And she’d become adept at evading most of his questions and keeping their conversations brief and superficial.

  Christy pulled into the parking lot of the Olive Garden and switched off her engine. What could be so important that he couldn’t tell her on the phone? Even when she tried to milk it out of him, Harvey insisted he needed to speak to her face-to-face. Curiosity got the better of her, and here she was.

  She smiled as she got out of her car. Little weasel.

  Harvey was waiting for her in the lobby. Bespectacled and over six feet tall with a receding hairline, he looked the same as she remembered. When he saw her, he beamed. “How are you, honey? I wasn’t sure if you’d show.”

  Before Christy could answer she was enveloped in a hug—that same warm, fatherly embrace she knew as a child. She would play the part of the confident woman who couldn’t be better or happier to see him. “You piqued my interest. How could I resist?”

  Harvey held her at arm’s length for a second, but his gaze wasn’t critical. He gave her forehead a quick peck. “It’s so good to see you.”

  He already had a table and led her to it. When they were seated a waiter took their drink orders.

  “A glass of the house Merlot, please,” Christy said without looking at Harvey, who ordered a Coke. She made small talk until the drinks came and the waiter brought salad and hot bread sticks.

  Harvey tossed the lettuce in the serving bowl and reached for Christy’s plate. “All the hot peppers, right?”

  She laughed that he remembered she hated spicy food.

  Once they were eating, Harvey took on a serious tone. “Unfortunately, I have some bad news.”

  Christy paused with her wineglass to her lips, her fingers tightening around it. She took a long swallow of the Merlot as a sudden dread filled her veins. “Is May all right?”

  “Yes, she’s fine. But do you remember your great-aunt Edna?”

  Christy nodded, then set down her glass, the wine sloshing up its sides. Of course she did. May was sent to live with her.

  “Edna . . . she died two days ago. I’m her executor. I knew you weren’t close, but I still wanted to tell you in person. And I needed to give you this.” Harvey reached inside his coat and handed her a sealed envelope. “We found it on Edna’s desk.”

  She took the envelope from him. It was thin and letter-size, addressed to her in wobbly handwriting.

  “It seems she penned it the day she died.” Harvey set down his fork and folded his hands in front of his plate. “You may not know that you and May are her sole beneficiaries.”

  Christy didn’t attempt to hide her shock. She looked at him with the letter still in her hand. “No, I didn’t.”

  If she’d ever been in Aunt Edna’s will, she would’ve expected to be written out by now. Tact kept her from asking how much the woman was worth. Not sure what to expect, Christy opened the letter.

  Dearest Christy,

  I don’t know how to start, but I have prayed the words will come. It won’t be long before I’m gone. The Lord has revealed this much to me. Knowing that, somehow I wanted to express some things and let you know that I’ve never forgotten you. Years and distance may have separated us, but many times I have been on my knees asking that the Lord be with you. I’ve wanted so many times to hold you close and show you my love.

  May hasn’t forgotten you, either. She desires so much to see you again. She loves you too, dear; you must know this. And though I don’t know where you are, I can only hope that this letter will reach you. I understand that the passing time will make my request all the more difficult, but you and May need each other. This is what is on my heart. My very last wish on this earth is to see you and May together again as God intended.

  I love you.

  Great-aunt Edna

  Christy let Harvey read the letter and took another swallow of her wine. Touching. There wasn’t a hint of the condemnation Aunt Edna could have rightfully felt toward her. An honorable request too. The sweet dying aunt wishing her great-nieces together again, hoping for a storybook finish. But this was real life, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready to see her sister.

  Not that she didn’t want to. So many times over the years she’d been within moments of digging out the phone book and calling May. What path had she chosen for her life? Was she happy? But if Christy was truly honest with herself, she was afraid to have a relationship with May again. Because she knew if May got to know her now, she would be incredibly disappointed in her big sister. May had looked up to her, and she’d shattered that trust.

  “I spoke with May. She wants to talk to you.” Harvey leaned on his elbows. “She asked me directly if I knew where you were. I managed to avoid the question for the time being, but I thought after we talked you might release me from my promise.”

  Christy returned the letter to its envelope. Apparently he wanted them to reunite just like Aunt Edna did, but it looked like she was going to let them both down. She picked up her menu. “The manicotti sounds good.”

  Harvey cleared his throat. “Think about it. I know this isn’t easy for you, but I just keep picturing you two as little kids and the fun you had together. Remember those Monopoly tournaments?”

  Christy managed to smile. Lemonade stands and Monopoly. That’s what summers had been about for her and May. They’d set the game up on the big round marble coffee table in the living room and kept it out for days at a time.

  “Even roped me in a few times.”

  “And beat your socks off.”

  Harvey laughed. “How come you always managed to own Park Place and Boardwalk?”

  “I looked good in blue.”

  “Wasn’t May’s favorite game piece the man on the horse?”

  She nodded. Second choice was always the dog.

  “Can I ask you something?” Harvey fingered the edge of his napkin and didn’t wait for her to answer. “Why don’t you want to see her?”

  Christy didn’t respond for a moment and sipped at her Merlot. That was what it must look like. “It’s not that,” she finally said.

  “Then what is it? How can I help?”

  “I just need time.” She spotted their waiter two tables down and lifted her hand so he’d see they were ready to order.

  “Christy, this isn’t right anymore. You can’t expect me to keep this up.”

  When the waiter appeared, Christy welcomed the diversion. What must Harvey be thinking of her? Could he ever understand she hadn’t meant to hurt May like she knew she had?

  Harvey went for linguine Alfredo. She played it safe with pasta and marinara sauce. But after the waiter left, she found herself in the same awkward spot of not knowing what to say.

  “She lives about three and a half hours from here in Elk Valley on a cattle ranch,” Harvey said, continuing on like everything was perfectly normal. “Co-owns it. Did I tell you that?”

  Christy shook her head, hoping he’d elaborate but not daring to ask. It wasn’t hard
to picture May living on a ranch. She’d dreamed of owning a horse since she could walk, and Christy always seemed to be bandaging up some part of her sister. Like that time May scraped her entire shin, from ankle to knee, box sliding with the boy next door. Or when she’d tumbled off her bike into the creek and had to get twelve stitches in her arm.

  “The funeral’s this weekend.”

  She saw where he was going with this and smiled at him. “Work’s been very busy. I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it.”

  “I understand.” Harvey pushed aside his plate and removed a folder from his briefcase. “Now, to business. Edna requested her estate be split evenly between you and May. I don’t have the exact figures yet, but roughly it’s worth about a quarter million.”

  Christy felt disbelief spread across her face. A quarter million?

  “She also had a few personal items she specifically stated would go to each of you. She left her books to you.”

  It took her a moment to recover. She drank from her wineglass, then wiped her lips with her napkin. “Wow. This is . . . unexpected to say the least.”

  He smiled. “I know. She loved you both very much.”

  “And her books too?”

  “Several hundred.”

  She remembered Aunt Edna’s library. Each of the few times her family visited the old woman, Christy always managed to wander into the room lined with bookshelves. She could still hear Aunt Edna encouraging her to touch and read anything she liked, a wonderful privilege. Mom and Dad didn’t keep many books at home. Aunt Edna remembered her love of books after all these years?

  “Things’ll be in probate for a little while,” Harvey said. “But I don’t see any reason why you can’t take the books now. I have a big basement. You can keep them at my house if you want. I’m already taking care of Edna’s dog for May till she can come get him.”

  Christy might have taken him up on it if he hadn’t brought May into the picture. She wouldn’t put it past him to ambush her by inviting May over at the same time without telling her, and she wasn’t willing to risk a chance meeting with her sister. If they were to see each other again it would have to be planned, so she could prepare for it.

  “I appreciate the offer. But I don’t want to burden you, and I’d like to keep them with me anyway.” She’d have to stack them in her already cramped apartment until she could afford storage.