Chapter 17 - The Sister Who Knew
Sloan answered on the first ring.
“Thank God.”
“What do you want?”
She was crying.
Real crying, as far as I could tell.
Her voice sounded thin and exhausted.
“I don't know how to fix this.”
“Neither do I.”
“Thatcher won't speak to me.”
I closed my eyes.
“If this is about getting him back—”
“It isn't. Not exactly.”
I waited.
She took a shaky breath.
“I knew Mom used your card.”
The words seemed to drain the air from the room.
“When?”
“Thursday. Before the rehearsal.”
“Before you pushed me?”
“Yes.”
I gripped the edge of the table.
“What did you know?”
“That Mom and Dad used your work card to cover the final venue payment. She told me Dad would repay it after the wedding.”
“Did she tell you I hadn't agreed?”
Sloan didn't answer.
“Sloan.”
“She said you'd be angry, but you'd get over it.”
I felt sick.
“So you knew.”
“I thought it was temporary.”
“You knew it wasn't your money.”
“We were already so far into the wedding planning.”
I laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“That's your explanation?”
“No. I'm trying to explain what happened.”
“Then explain the staircase.”
She started crying harder.
“I wanted you out of the photographs.”
I stared at the wall.
“You could have asked me not to be a bridesmaid.”
“I did!”
“You asked me to remove a medical brace.”
“You made it sound like I was being unreasonable.”
“You were being unreasonable.”
“I was embarrassed.”
“And you pushed me.”
“I thought you'd stumble and get angry and go sit down somewhere. I didn't think you'd fall all the way down.”
My throat tightened.
“You pushed someone recovering from knee surgery on a marble staircase.”
“I know.”
“You knew what could happen.”
“I didn't think.”
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Then I asked the question that had been growing inside me since the hospital.
“Why did you think I'd forgive you?”
She went quiet.
Finally, she whispered, “Because you always do.”
I put my free hand over my eyes.
She continued.
“When I ruined your dress, you forgave me. When Mom and Dad used your money, you stopped bringing it up. Every time something happened, eventually you acted normal again.”
I sat perfectly still.
“I thought you'd be mad for a while,” she said. “Then you'd come back.”
There it was.
The most honest thing my sister had ever told me.
She hadn't believed she could do anything that would truly cost her our relationship.
My forgiveness had become something she counted on before she hurt me.
“Sloan,” I said, “I can't keep doing that.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
She didn't answer.
I told her that her attorney could communicate with Ruth about the injury claim.
Then I ended the call.
That evening, I wrote down everything Sloan had told me while it was still fresh.
I knew a phone conversation wasn't the same as a signed statement.
But I also knew what I'd heard.
May you like
For the first time in my life, my sister hadn't denied taking something from me.
She'd admitted she expected me to absorb the loss.
