“Nothing,” they said simultaneously.
In the rearview mirror, I studied each boy in turn. Why were they talking about Brandy’s third birthday party? Were they just confused? Not wanting to make a big deal out of something that probably didn’t matter, I shrugged it off, figuring it had more to do with their active imaginations than anything else. Still, something about it bothered me.
At Brandy’s house, I parked behind her SUV. Troy must’ve still been at work given the absence of his car. Although I’d loved raising the girls, I didn’t miss those nights when Salvador was working and I was responsible for all the nighttime chores. Well, at least Brandy wouldn’t have to feed the boys dinner tonight.
Bursting into the house, Caleb yelled, “Mom, we’re home. Mom?”
When Brandy didn’t respond, he yelled a little louder. “Mom, where are you?”
“She’s probably in the guest room watching—” Ryan covered his mouth with both hands. “Never mind.”
I studied him carefully. Why was he behaving so strangely? Did this have to do with what he said in the car about me missing Brandy’s birthday party?
Caleb ran into the guest room and returned looking more irritated than worried. “She’s not here.”
“Where do you think she is?” Ryan’s voice held a hint of concern.
I hated the fact that he tended to worry. Had he inherited that from me? “She’s probably at a neighbor’s house,” I suggested. “Let me call her.”
I dialed Brandy. When the call went straight to voice mail, my pulse gave a little jolt. It’s all right, I told myself. She’s a grown woman who knows how to take care of herself. She’s fine. Most likely she’d gone to a neighbor’s house and would be home soon.
“Look boys, why don’t you go take your showers and get ready for bed. I’ll call your dad and see if he knows where she is.”
They agreed and raced down the hall. As I started to call Troy, I heard a phone ringing from the other side of the kitchen. Following the sound, I entered the guest room, surprised by the mess. Usually, this room was pretty tidy. Today, not only was the bed unmade, but the dresser and nightstand were littered with books, papers, VHS tapes, and used coffee cups.
Was someone staying in here? Maybe Troy was working on a big case.
At the foot of the unmade bed, I found the ringing phone, immediately recognizing it as Lia’s. As I picked it up, it stopped ringing.
Scanning the room, I tried to make sense of everything. Slowly, my eyes focused on the VHS tapes on the TV console. “Brandy’s third birthday,” one of the labels read with little hearts above the i’s. My heart slammed into my chest. My sister dotted her i’s with little hearts.
Compelled by a force I couldn’t explain, I turned on the TV and pressed play on the video player. The screen immediately sprang to life, showing my young, beautiful, and very much alive sister. Her favorite song from the ’70s, “Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl),” played loudly as Cheryl danced with a newborn in her arms.
Wrapped in a little pink blanket, the baby, who I suspected was Brandy, couldn’t have been more than a few weeks old. Off-screen, a man said something I couldn’t decipher. Cheryl looked right at the camera and gave the biggest smile. “I love you too.”
Tenderly, she kissed the top of Brandy’s head. “And I love you too, my fine girl.”
As the music crescendoed, my sister held her daughter tight and spun around and around and around.
I swiped at my tears. I’d never seen these home movies before. I hadn’t even known they existed. Oh, Cheryl.
Behind me, Brandy gasped. I turned to face her. “Oh, honey. Where did you find these?”
Her face filled with something I didn’t understand. Sadness? Longing? Fear? Without speaking, she strode across the room and turned off the TV.
“Brandy, it’s okay. You don’t have to turn it off. I’m just crying because I miss your mother so much.”
“But talking about her makes you sad.”
I swiped again at my eyes. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you more about her. I’m thrilled you found these movies. Where did they come from?”
Avoiding my gaze, she straightened a pile of books on the nightstand. “A woman named Dottie sent them to me.”
“Dottie?”
“Yes. The woman who’s living in my father’s house.”
My stomach dropped. “Dottie Kensington?”