The Sister-in-Law: An absolutely gripping summer thriller for 2021, Pamela Crane [reading eggs books .txt] 📗

‘No, nothing I needed.’ She eyed my full hands. ‘You didn’t find anything you didn’t want to buy?’

I couldn’t tell if the lilt of her voice was attempting humor, accusatory, or simply annoying.

‘All of it’s for the baby,’ I answered.

‘Well, not all of it.’ Her lips straightened in a line with the touch of a frown.

If she knew about my sticky fingers, at least she didn’t push it. I imagined her whispering to Lane in secret tonight about my extracurricular thieving. I felt another she-said/she-said argument brewing.

Harper led the way outside through the automatic doors, to a large outdoor shopping and dining patio that stretched a good two blocks ahead. Between the rows of stores were street performers singing, fountains spraying water, and even a climbing wall where kids were clamoring to the cheers of their parents. One day I’d watch my own child’s unsteady legs and chubby arms heft her way up the climbing wall. I couldn’t wait for that day to finally arrive.

Harper halted in front of an Italian restaurant with a sandwich board announcing its specials for the evening. ‘Did you want to stop now for a bite to eat, or just make something when we get home?’

I couldn’t stomach a long meal of awkward silence or awkward conversation with her.

‘Let’s just head home. My dogs are barking.’ I chuckled, and Harper looked confused.

‘Your dogs are what?’

‘My dogs are barking. You know, John Candy and Steve Martin in Planes, Trains, and Automobiles.’ Nothing seemed to register. ‘Wow, you’ve never seen that movie?’

‘Can’t say I have.’

‘Harper, it’s from your generation, not mine. And it’s a cult classic.’

She shrugged indifferently.

‘How about we have a John Candy marathon? We’ll start with Uncle Buck and work our way down to The Great Outdoors.’ My spirits lifted. Maybe we could actually bond over the big-hearted buffoon. ‘Oh, and we can’t forget Spaceballs.’

Her grimace deflated all my hope. ‘Anything starring John Candy I wouldn’t enjoy. I prefer documentaries, nature shows – more educated entertainment, not slapstick comedy. I’m guessing you found Ace Ventura simply riveting.’

What kind of person didn’t love John Candy? I almost felt bad for her, going throughout life with such solemnity, no humor to lighten her existence. It explained a lot about her, though. Her personality was as stale as her film choices.

We wove our way through the crowd, past a man strumming John Mayer’s ‘Your Body Is a Wonderland’ on a guitar, toward a fountain with bronze statues of children splashing one another. I touched my stomach where my own baby swam inside me and thought about how she would one day run through a sprinkler, giggling as it sprayed her with water. In my heart, I just knew she was a she. Mother’s intuition, perhaps.

‘One second,’ I told Harper as I fished a penny from my purse. Lifting it to my lips, I whispered my wish, kissed the coin, then tossed it into the fountain. It made a plop before it sunk to the concrete floor where hundreds of other wishes glistened in the watery sun.

‘What did you wish for?’ Harper asked, sidling up to me.

‘If I tell you I’d have to kill you.’ I smirked, but Harper frowned. ‘I’m kidding. Geez, relax. You’re not supposed to tell your wish or it won’t come true.’

‘I thought only children believed that.’

I ignored her remark because the day had turned out better than expected and I wasn’t going to let her sour it. Lifting her chin high, she took off, her back stiff and straight. I followed a beat behind her, the pregnancy drain hitting me suddenly. As I paused and leaned down to adjust the American Eagle shopping bag that had slipped from my fingers, a man wearing aviator sunglasses bumped into me, nearly knocking me over.

‘Excuse you!’ I yelled. ‘Watch where you’re going!’

The man stopped and pivoted to face me, his body shadowed and just a silhouette with the sun sinking behind him.

‘Maybe you’re the one who needs to watch out.’ His voice was a low growl as he rushed off.

What did he mean by that? My stomach dropped inside me. My breath snagged in my throat. I shaded my eyes with my hand. It couldn’t be him … my past coming to revisit me.

Before I could know for certain it was him – because maybe I imagined his voice, maybe I was wrong – please, God, let me be wrong – the man disappeared into the crowd. The panic followed me all the way to Harper’s car, then all the way home as the gray ribbon of highway unrolled ahead of us, my thoughts drifting back in time …

***

Sweat and mothballs – that was the scent of the woman sitting next to me. Except not the sweet workout kind of sweat. It was the dank kind that soaked her armpits and collected under the folds of her neck when crammed into a Greyhound bus for six hours, wearing a hotbox knitted sweater that’s a size too small.

The scenery outside my window whizzed by in a blur of crooked trees, open fields, and an endless highway. After riding through the night, I opened my eyes to a streak of cardinal red that melted into burning ember orange. Kissing the sky was a dusty rose that receded into a swelling regal blue. It was the perfect sunrise for a perfect fresh start.

If only I was inhaling the hay-scented country air outside my window instead of the reek of offensive body odor. I would have switched seats if there were any other window views available. Instead, I curled up as best as I could into the cold vinyl seat and leaned against the glass, watching town after town drift into the background of my life. As I pulled my sleeve over my hand and covered my nose, I vowed never to return to my condemned love in my condemned city.

Every love had a story. Mine and Noah’s started in death and ended in death. We were