Between Sisters

“No. ” His voice grew soft. “Miscarriage. After that, there wasn’t much reason to stay married. We lasted less than three months. I’m a slow learner, though. I got married again at twenty-one. Unfortunately, it turned out that she wanted a different life than I did. Nice cars, nice jewelry. I got arrested when they busted her for selling cocaine out of our house. I lived with her for two years and never noticed it. I just thought she was moody as hell. Nobody believed I wasn’t a part of it. Laura was the only one who counted. She was—is—a pediatrician who loves country music. We were married for ten years. It broke up about a year ago. I could tell you why, but it’s none of your business. Claire knows everything, though. ”

A three-time loser and a felon.

Perfect.

And now the bad sister had to break the good sister’s heart.

How?

That was the $64,000 question. How did you say the things that needed to be said at a time like this? Especially with Mr. Better-Looking Than God sitting there? Harriet had been right about one thing: Meghann and Claire had been poised on a cliff of politeness and pretense for years. The wrong approach could send them over the edge.

Claire got off the sofa, moved toward her. She sat on the carved Chinese chest that served as a coffee table.

“I know you can’t be happy for me, Meg. ”

“I want to be. ” It was the truth. “It’s just that—”

“I know. He wouldn’t get a platinum rating. I know. And you handle divorces for a living. I know that, too. Most of all, I know that you grew up in Mama’s house. ” S

he leaned forward. “I know, Meg. ”

Meghann felt the weight of those few words. Her sister had thought of all the same reasons, had seen all the possible outcomes. There wasn’t anything Meghann could say that Claire didn’t already know.

“It won’t ever make sense and I know it’s crazy and risky and—worst of all—Mama-like. I don’t need you to tell me these things. What I need is for you to trust me. ”

Trust. Exactly what Harriet had predicted. But Meghann had forgotten long ago how to trust people. If she’d ever known.

“It’s hard for you, I know. The leader of the pack never makes a good follower. But it would mean a lot to me if you’d let this go. Maybe hug me and say you’re happy for me. Even if it’s a lie. ”

Meghann looked into her sister’s pale green eyes. Claire looked frightened right now; expectant, too. She was obviously preparing herself to be wounded by Meghann’s response, but a slim part of her couldn’t help believing. . . .

It reminded Meghann of their childhood. Whenever Mama had brought a new “friend” home, Claire had let herself believe that finally there would be a daddy in her life. Meghann had tried to protect Claire from her own optimism, but she’d never succeeded, and so, each stepfather had broken a tiny piece of Claire’s heart. And yet, when the next man arrived, her sister found a way to believe again.

Of course Claire believed in Bobby Austin.

There was no way Meghann would change her sister’s mind, or—more important—her heart. Thus, she had two choices: pretend to give her blessing or stick to her guns. The first choice allowed her and Claire to remain the almost sisters they were. The second choice risked even that tenuous relationship.

“I trust you, Claire,” Meghann said at last. She was rewarded with a small, uncertain smile. “If you say Bobby Austin is the man you love, that’s good enough for me. ”

Claire released a sharp breath. “Thank you. I know that wasn’t easy for you. ” She leaned forward and hugged Meghann, who was too surprised by it to hug her back.

Claire drew back and stood up. She went over to the sofa and sat down by Bobby, who immediately put an arm around her and pulled her in close.

Meghann tried to think of what to say in the awkward silence that followed. “So, what’s the wedding plan? Justice of the peace? I have a friend who’s a judge. . . . ”

“No way. ” Claire laughed. “I waited thirty-five years for this. I’m having the whole enchilada. White dress. Formal church wedding. Cake. Reception with dancing. All of it. ”

Meghann didn’t know why she was surprised. Claire had been one of those children who played bride endlessly. “There’s a consultant in my building. I think she planned Bill Gates’s wedding. ”

“This is Hayden, not Seattle. I’ll rent the VFW hall and everyone will pitch in with potluck. The Bon Marché has a bridal department now. It’ll be great. You’ll see. ”

“Potluck? Potluck?” Meghann got to her feet. Apparently there was something of her mother in her after all. She wasn’t going to let her sister have a Wal-Mart wedding. “I’ll organize the wedding and reception,” she said impulsively. Once she’d offered, she felt steady again. In control of something.

Claire’s smile faded. “You?”

“I’m not a social moron. I can do this. ”

“But . . . but . . . your job is so hectic. I couldn’t ask you to take time out of your busy schedule for this. ”