Take It To The Grave Bundle 2. Zoe CarterЧитать онлайн книгу.
had died. Not Frankie, though. She didn’t sob like that when Frankie had died. I remembered my alarm at her tears; it was so unusual, so weird to see Sarah display that kind of emotion. She was always the one to whisper to me that everything was okay when I wanted to blubber. She was always the strong one. It had startled me, and I must admit, a fear had been born in me that day, that my sister could react in a way that I’d only ever seen in Alice.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered, trying to channel a little of Sarah in my tone, a little comfort, a little calm, when quite frankly she was freaking the crap out of me. I sat up in my bed, and she sat beside me, sobbing ever so quietly.
“Caleb’s gone,” my sister wailed softly.
My eyes widened. “Gone? What do you mean, he’s gone?” Did she mean he’d tried to shimmy down the drainpipe without her this time? Is that why she was upset? Perhaps then she might have a clue to how I felt, the night they broke the guttering.
“He just left,” Sarah whispered, her cheeks shiny in the moonlight streaming in through my window. She leaned over to rest her head on my shoulder, and I hugged her, patting her hair in a clumsy effort to soothe her.
I frowned. “When is he coming back?” I tried to keep the panic out of my voice. Caleb couldn’t leave. We were a family. He was part of our secret little clique, not only a co-conspirator, but a much needed support, and the buffer between his father and us. If he left—I swallowed, not wanting to think about what would happen, how things could go back to the way they were before Caleb had moved in with us, or how it could possibly be worse. Caleb was our safety zone. I didn’t want Caleb to leave.
“Where is he? I’ll go talk to him,” I said, and went to push the covers off.
Sarah shook her head, her shoulders shaking in grief. “No, he’s already gone.”
I blinked, stunned. “But...why?” I whispered. Why would he leave? Why would he abandon us? I thought we were good, solid. How could Caleb just...leave? Lucy woke up, listening intently.
“He doesn’t love me,” Sarah whispered, and the heartbreak, the loss, the anguish, in her voice gave me the chills.
“Of course he does,” I said automatically. Because the alternative, that Caleb didn’t love us, was unbearable. That fear started to grow inside me, pulling my insides out, and I let Lucy to take over. I don’t think there was anything I could have done to stop her. “We’ll sort this out. Don’t worry, Sarah, we’ll fix this.”
My sister sniffled, then wiped her nose with her sleeve. “There’s nothing left to fix. He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t love me.” Sarah kept repeating that phrase, over and over.
“It’s going to be okay,” Lucy whispered, but inside, I knew Lucy was full of shit. I had never seen my sister like this. Not when my mother was beaten unconscious. Not when Peter broke Alice’s arm that time. Not even when Frankie had died, and the police had handcuffed our mother and settled her into the backseat of the cop car. No, this was something new, something disturbing.
My sister’s spirit had been broken. She’d been shattered, fragmented into these sharp little pieces that would never quite go back together again. I could feel her shaking in my arms, feel her sorrow, her sadness. It smothered us like Peter’s hand over my mother’s mouth. Whatever had happened between her and Caleb, I knew. I had lost the sister I knew.
First Dad. Then Alice. Okay, let’s not forget Frankie...and now Sarah. Under any other circumstances, Sarah would be comforting me at the departure of Caleb, as she had so many times before when he’d had to return to his mother’s home as the school break had drawn to a close. But no. That loving, caring, generous and protective side of my sister had been broken. Everything had changed. All those people whom I looked to for love, protection and support were dead or damaged beyond repair. Lucy kept patting Sarah’s hair, and I stared up at the ceiling. I was on my own, and I had to learn to fend for myself. Well, if everyone died, so would I. I let Lucy take over.
A few hours later I slid out of bed, trying not to wake Sarah, her face still mottled from her tears. I was busting to use the toilet, and I tiptoed over to my bedroom door. I opened the door quietly, making sure I put my foot down close to the jamb to avoid the creak in the floorboard beneath the carpet, and that’s when I saw it.
A piece of paper, neatly folded, with my name handwritten in Caleb’s familiar sprawl. For a brief moment, Lucy stepped back, and excitement swept through me, bringing a slight, secretive curl to my lips as I bent down to pick it up. I scurried to the bathroom, locking the door, and then hastily unfolded the note.
I will miss you, Maisey.
Caleb
I must have blacked out for a bit. I don’t remember the rest of the night, so I must have fallen asleep. I was calmer when I woke in the morning. I clutched the note to my chest and closed my eyes. Keen sadness at his departure warred with gratitude and love at this little gesture. And frustration. Frustration that the guy I loved had left. I swear, if Caleb had been mine, this wouldn’t have happened. Just look at the note. He cared for me, really cared for me. If we were the close ones instead of Sarah and him, Caleb would never have left. I was sure of it. I wouldn’t have let him leave. I wouldn’t have dissolved into tears; I would have fought for him, I would have talked with him, listened to him, cherished him like he needed to be cherished. Instead I cherished that note, that little sign that showed me that for whatever reason he was leaving, whatever had caused him to walk out in the middle of the night, that I had been on his mind. I had carried that note around the world with me ever since.
Peter was livid when he awoke the next morning to learn his son had left in the middle of the night. I was in the living room when he’d made this discovery, and my eyes darted to Sarah as our stepfather stormed into the living room. I wanted to hide, but Lucy said it would be all right, so I stayed. He grabbed Sarah by the shoulders and shook her so hard, her head had jerked with the movement. He pulled her close then, snarling in her face.
“If I find this is your fault, I will make you pay.”
Sarah gazed up at him so calmly, so serenely. I braced myself in the corner, cowering and hoping he wouldn’t come after me next, but I may as well have not existed, because his full focus was on my sister.
And she just stared at up him. She wasn’t trying to hide, like me. She wasn’t cowering; she was just cool, composed, like the placid surface of a lake. Seeing that unshaken equilibrium in the face of Peter’s rage, and despite my frustration and anger with my sister for letting Caleb go, I had to hand it to her, she reacted brilliantly. My respect for her grew—from my hiding spot in the corner. Her lack of reaction frustrated my stepfather. Peter stormed out of the house, swearing, and flung himself into his car and drove off.
I watched as Caleb’s stride matched mine, and we walked in unison up the path to the house. Unlike half an hour ago, my steps were moderate, and not the frenzied, frantic pace I’d been running. My heart rate had nearly slowed to normal, and I was no longer sick with anxiety, guilt or any other negative emotion. Caleb always had that effect on me. It was like he was an anchor in my storm, the eye in every cyclone...he was the beacon that led me back to those warm, safe, beautiful memories of my childhood that were so bright and joyous in a forest of darkness.
“So, tell me, Caleb, what was it like in the army? How long were you in for?” Lucy asked him, staring up in that wide-eyed, curious way that always had a man responding. I listened as he talked about boot camp, and then where he’d been deployed. I know Lucy was flirting with him, but I drank his conversation in, eager to hear about his experiences, his time away from me. I tried to tell myself that I was slipping into that familiar habit of hanging on to his every word, of inserting myself into his “now,” to try and make up for our lost time. The adoration and love was like an old, cozy pair of yoga pants—easy to slide into, conforming to your shape, comfortable to wear.
There was a tiny part, though, one that I wanted to ignore, because it wasn’t big of me, I’ll admit it. It was small, it was petty, but it was instinctive. Right here, right now, I had something that Sarah couldn’t. She was married,