“Of course I thought about it,” she said, “but Daddy would have paid if I ever told the truth.”
“He paid anyway!” Danny pulled his hands from his pockets, raising them in the air to make his point. “We all paid. And it’s about time you paid, too.”
“Stop it!” Riley shouted. “I can’t handle this any longer! Please stop it!”
It was as though they’d forgotten Riley was in the room, and they both turned to look at her. Her pale cheeks were tear streaked, and she’d pressed her hands, one of them bandaged, over her ears. Jade moved quickly to her side.
“Sweetheart.” She sank onto the chair next to the bed, rubbing Riley’s shoulder through the thin hospital gown. “I’m so sorry. I know this is the last thing you need right now.”
“You two are tearing me apart.” Riley looked from Jade to Danny. “I love you both,” she said. “I need you both.”
Jade looked across the room at her brother. His expression was hard to read, and she thought he was avoiding her eyes. She turned back to her daughter. “I’m here for you, Riley.” Bracing herself, she waited for Danny to mock her words. How did she plan to be here for Riley when she was in prison? How had she been here for her over the last twenty-plus years? But Danny said nothing. Instead, he walked to the other side of Riley’s bed, and for the first time, Jade noticed his limp. She remembered the note from their father: Danny was seriously injured in a grenade attack. She remembered being unable to sleep for days, and losing her baby as she grieved and worried and blamed herself for everything that had ever gone wrong in her family. She wanted to reach across Riley’s bed to pull her wounded brother into an embrace, but that embrace would never be welcome. Her love for him would always be one-sided.
Danny bent low, pressing his lips to Riley’s temple, and he stayed that way for a moment, whispering something to her that Jade couldn’t hear.
He stood up, and without even a glance in her direction, headed for the door.
Jade panicked. She couldn’t leave things with him like this, or the next person through that door would be carrying handcuffs. “Please forgive me, Danny,” she begged, rising from her chair. “Please.”
He turned to look at her, and again she was struck by the pain in his face. “Someday this is all going to catch up to you, Lisa,” he said, making her catch her breath at the sound of her old name. “But it won’t be because of me.”
60.
Riley
The door shut behind Danny with a whisper, and Lisa looked at me. Her eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot, her face nearly white. She wrapped a hand around the safety rail, the way Danny had wrapped his a short time earlier.
“What does he mean?” she asked. “It won’t be because of him?”
“He whispered that he won’t tell Harry. The cop.”
I saw the tension dissolve from Lisa’s body and she lowered her head to her hands. For a moment she didn’t speak. When she lifted her head again, she wore a sad smile. “I feel like I’ve been given a last-minute reprieve,” she said.
“You have.”
“I feel terrible for him,” she said. “He’s so hurt.”
“I know.” I nodded. “His life’s been hard.” I gingerly touched the spiky stiff hair on the top of my head again. I’d need to ask for more painkillers soon, but the last thing I wanted right now was to dull my thinking. “Is Celia with you?” I asked.
“She’s giving us some time alone,” she said. “I’m sorry she went to see you last night. I never wanted that.”
“I’m glad she did,” I said. “I needed to know the truth. Even though I’m not sure how I’m ever going to live with knowing he was my father … and everything that happened.”
“Oh, Riley, I know!” She reached for my hand. She smoothed her fingers over my skin, and her touch felt like no other I’d ever known. I felt the love in it. “I was never an angry sort of person,” she said, “but when I walked into our living room and saw you on Steven’s lap, I lost it. I absolutely lost it.” She squeezed my hand. “I still feel sick when I think about it. Everything about that day … everything that happened afterward … it’s my nightmare.”
I didn’t want to hear any more about that day. I didn’t think I’d ever want to know more details—the details my nearly two-year-old self had managed to block out. They could stay that way forever, as far as I was concerned.
“I’m sorry for getting so upset with you last night,” I said. “Talking to Celia really helped. I don’t know what I would have done if she hadn’t come over.”
“I’ll thank her for that,” she said, “if I ever get over being mad at her about it.”
“Don’t be,” I said.
Lisa looked toward the window, a small, mystified smile on her face. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she said, turning her head toward me again. “I’m actually sitting here with my baby girl.”
“I can’t believe it, either,” I said. “I wondered how different our lives would have been if you hadn’t left. If we’d actually grown up in the same family, we probably would have moved in such different circles because of our ages. We never would have really gotten to know each other.”
“Oh, I would have known you,” she said. “I would have had my eye on you every waking minute.”
A wave of pain ran through my head and it must have shown on my face. She tightened her hand on mine. “Want me to get the nurse?” she asked.
“Not yet,” I said. “I don’t want the interruption.”
She nodded.
“I talked to a friend of yours,” I said. “Grady.”
She sat back in the chair, mouth open. “What? How could you have known about—”
“It’s a long story,” I said, not wanting to talk about Sondra Davis’s blog at that moment. “I’ll save it for another time. But he said to say hi if I ever found you.”
She shook her head, a look of wonder on her face. “Flash from the past,” she said.
“It must have been terrifying, leaving home like that without knowing a soul in San Diego. Starting your whole life over, knowing you’d never be able to see your family again.”
Her eyes filled and I knew that I’d tapped a bottomless well of sorrow in her. She let go of my hand to press both of hers to her face. I touched her knee through her jeans, sorry I’d upset her. This is my mother, I thought. I couldn’t believe she was right here. That I was actually touching her.
When she lowered her hands, her cheeks were red. “It was so hard,” she said, “but I thought it was my only choice. I knew they’d tear apart every word I said in a trial. I was afraid I’d end up in prison forever.”
“Daddy didn’t know the truth?” I asked. “That Steven Davis was my…” I let the sentence trail away.
“God, no,” she said. “I didn’t want him to ever look at you differently. He thought it was Matty, like everyone else, even though I swore up and down it wasn’t. And Matty never had a clue what was going on. He was my best friend, but even he didn’t know I’d had a baby.”
I was relieved now that I hadn’t been able to reach Matthew Harrison. I would have involved another person in the deception. He might have been the one to knock over the house of cards Lisa had so carefully constructed.
She gripped my hand again, more firmly this time. “Please, Riley,” she said. “Don’t think about it. Don’t dwell on it. Your father was a nameless, faceless boy I met in Italy. It’s better that way.”
I nodded slowly. For now, at least, she was right. “I want to be in your life, Jade,” I said, determined to use her chosen name.
She wore the first full, genuine smile I’d seen on her. “It makes me unbelievably happy to hear you say that,” she said.
“Is it possible, though?” I asked. “Is there some way we can make it work?”
She looked thoughtful. “I think it’s up to you,” she said, after a minute. Then she tilted her head. “Are you willing to live a lie?”
I thought about the question
, knowing it was an invitation to step into her world and leave mine behind. It was a world of deceit, but it had my mother in it, and that was all that mattered.
I nodded. “Whatever it takes,” I said. And I meant it.
JULY 2014
EPILOGUE
Riley
“Check this out,” Jade says, opening the door to a walk-in closet. “It’s bigger than the one I share with Celia.”
“I don’t have enough clothes to fill it,” I say, peering inside, “but I absolutely love this apartment.” What I love best about the apartment is that it’s less than a mile from Jade and Celia’s house, where I’ve been staying for the last two weeks. While I feel welcome there and I adore Alex and Zoe, their house is snug with a fifth person squeezed inside it. I will live nearby, as close as I can get. Now that I have a mother, I’m not letting her go.
I moved to Seattle at the end of the school year, and I’ve already had a couple of job interviews. I did well during those interviews, I think, although I hadn’t been able to tell the interviewers one of the main reasons I think I’ve become a better counselor. During the year I’ve known Jade, my counseling has definitely changed. I no longer see the depressed sister from my imagination in every student I work with. I no longer lie awake at night, worrying about the kids who are struggling, afraid they might harm themselves. My emotional detachment from them makes me better able to help them. I see their needs more clearly, unclouded by the haunting specter of the suicidal sister who never truly existed.
I know that the lies in our family hurt all of us, especially Danny and myself. Growing up in a household where something is terribly wrong, you feel the weight of that mysterious something even though it’s unspoken. It eats at you. Confuses you. It leaves you wondering if your view of the world will ever make sense.
And the thing is, I’m now willingly perpetuating a new lie, though it has its roots in the truth. To Jade’s and Celia’s friends and family, I am Riley MacPherson, the daughter Jade relinquished for adoption when she was fifteen. My adoptive parents died and I searched for her, finally tracking her down. She’s welcomed me, as have Celia and her family. We all feel fortunate to be together.
“This explains a whole lot about our Jade,” Celia’s mother, Ginger, said to me when I visited Jade over the Christmas holiday. She was showing me how to make ribbon candy, and she and I had thoroughly messed up the Linds’ kitchen. “I’ve always felt there was something missing in her,” she said. “Some sad place inside her. You’ve come along and filled it up.”
How does Danny fit into the lives we’re creating? He’s not ready to come to Seattle, and I’m not sure he ever will be. He has no desire to leave his trailer in the forest. He’s promised to respond to my e-mails and I’ll go back East at least once a year to make sure he’s doing okay. Jade and I don’t talk about it, but I worry that Danny may always pose a threat to her. It’s his love for me that will keep her safe and I’ll nurture that love with everything I have in me.
In the apartment we’re exploring, I open the door to a second bedroom and see that the window looks out on a park. I picture myself setting up my father’s rolltop desk in that room. It’s the one thing of his I’ve kept for myself. The desk will take up half the room, but it will be worth it.
When we’re together, Jade and I don’t talk about the past. We don’t talk about the mistakes or the deception. We talk about what Alex and Zoe are doing in school. About the music Jade and Celia are writing. About my job search. We take the kids to the park and museums, and we laugh a lot. I see the joy in Jade’s face and I’m happy to know that I’m part of the reason for it.
I walk from the bedroom that will become my office into the hall bathroom. The entire wall above the vanity is mirrored. My bangs are askew and I can see the small scar on my forehead. The bright lighting makes it stand out more vividly than I’ve seen it in years, and I lean forward for a good look.
Jade is in the doorway, and she watches me.
“Everybody has a scar, Riley,” she says, touching my shoulder. “Maybe they’ve fought a terrible illness. Or they’ve lost a child, or been hurt by someone they love. Or maybe they’ve been unlucky enough to lose their family. But then again”—she smiles at me in the mirror, then reaches out to smooth my bangs over the mark—“maybe they’ve been lucky enough to find one.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Whoever says editors don’t edit these days does not have my editor! I’m enormously grateful to Jen Enderlin for her brilliant vision, her patience, and especially her passion. I thank you, Jen, and above all, Danny thanks you.
I don’t know what I’d do without my amazing agent, Susan Ginsburg. Susan’s a hands-on agent who treats my books as though they’re her own babies, and she reads them with insight and wisdom. Thanks for your skill as an agent and for your warm friendship.
I’m also grateful to my agent in the United Kingdom, Angharad Kowal, as well as to all the folks at Pan Macmillan in the UK, especially publishing director Wayne Brookes (whose e-mail always makes me smile), Louise Buckley, and Becky Plunkett.
I’m in awe of the entire energetic and talented team at St. Martin’s Press, including but definitely not limited to president Sally Richardson; my publicist, Katie Bassel; and the extraordinarily creative Olga Grlic, who I thank for this evocative cover. I’m so happy to be working with all of you.
Thank you to the two violinists who helped me bring Lisa and her music to life. Both Christina Wohlford and Fiona Warren Hirsh graciously answered my endless questions.
Thank you to my brother, mystery writer Robert Lopresti, who unwittingly inspired this story with one of his own.
For their various contributions, thank you Kathy Williamson, Frank and Janine Palombo, Reggie McAllister, Donna Cohen, Patty and Ed Toth, and Tania and Philip Little.
As always, thank you John Pagliuca, for listening to me fret about people who exist only in my head. I don’t know what I’d do without your patience and your out-of-the box brainstorming skills.
For the sort of support only other authors can provide, I thank the six other members of the Weymouth Seven: Mary Kay Andrews, Brynn Bonner, Margaret Maron, Katy Munger, Sarah Shaber, and Alexandra Sokoloff. I’m especially grateful to Brynn and Katy for reading a very early draft and not chortling with derision. Your comments were invaluable!
I’m indebted to my readers who join me on my Facebook page every day. I’ve turned to them for the names of characters and places, and they never fail to respond with enthusiasm and inventiveness. I owe Slick Alley, the Spoon and Stars Café, Verniece (my favorite!), and various and sundry other names to those creative readers. I’m grateful to them for getting into the writing spirit with me.
And to those of you who read and reread my books, thank you. Your e-mail and comments warm my heart and you are always on my mind as I write. I have the coolest job, getting to share my made-up worlds with people who care as deeply about them as I do. I look forward to sharing them with you for a long time to come.
ALSO BY DIANE CHAMBERLAIN
Necessary Lies
The Good Father
The Midwife’s Confession
The Lies We Told
Secrets She Left Behind
Before the Storm
The Secret Life of CeeCee Wilkes
The Bay at Midnight
Her Mother’s Shadow
The Journey Home (anthology)
Kiss River
The Courage Tree
Keeper of the Light
Cypress Point
Summer’s Child
Breaking the Silence
The Escape Artist
Reflection
Brass Ring
Lovers and Strangers
Fire and Rain
Private Relations
Secret Lives
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
DIANE CHAMBERLAIN is the international bestselling author of twenty-three novels. She lives in North Carolina with her partner, photographer Joh
n Pagliuca, and her shelties, Keeper and Cole. Visit her online at www.dianechamberlain.com.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE SILENT SISTER. Copyright © 2014 by Diane Chamberlain. All rights reserved. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
www.stmartins.com
Jacket photograph © Gary John Norman/Stone/Getty Images
eBooks may be purchased for business or promotional use. For information on bulk purchases, please contact Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department by writing to
[email protected].
The Library of Congress has cataloged the print edition as follows:
Chamberlain, Diane, 1950–
The silent sister / Diane Chamberlain.
p. cm.
ISBN 978-1-250-01071-1 (hardcover)
ISBN 978-1-250-01072-8 (e-book)
1. Fathers—Death—Fiction. 2. Sisters—Fiction. 3. Family secrets—Fiction. 4. Life change events—Fiction. 5. North Carolina—Fiction. 6. Psychological fiction. I. Title.
PS3553.H2485S55 2014
813'.54—dc23
2014021144
e-ISBN 9781250010728
First Edition: October 2014
Diane Chamberlain, The Silent Sister
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