Page 1 of Canyon of Deceit

HILL COUNTRY, TEXAS

TWENTY YEARS EARLIER

THERESE

I smoothed a tattered quilt beneath a live oak about a mile from our home and laid my guitar atop it. “Are you ready for a concert?” I said to Kate.

My little sister sat on the quilt and lifted her pale face stained with blackberry juice.

She’d had her fill of berries on our walk here.

“I am. What a fun morning. I love spending time with you, and you picked the perfect picnic spot.” She touched her chin.

“Remember when we went to the mountains in... Colorado?”

“Yes. The best vacation Mom and Dad ever took us on.”

Kate nodded, her white-blonde curls brushing her shoulders. “We went before I got sick, when I was three.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “Five years ago. Anyway, sometimes I close my eyes and hear the water singing.”

“I loved the sound of it rippling over the rocks and rushing down the waterfalls. What else was your favorite?”

Kate tilted her head, and the sunlight glowed on her face. “The deer, elk, and the bighorn sheep.” She startled. “Remember the eagle, Therese?”

“Oh yes. We’ll ask Mom and Dad to take us back when you’re feeling better.”

“This time I want to learn how to do the special fishing.”

“Fly-fishing. Dad will teach us.”

Kate sorted through the remains of the picnic snacks. “Sissy, any more blackberries?”

“You ate them all, Katie-Bug. I wish you’d eaten your egg sandwich. How about a little more? I’ll peel off the crust.”

Kate shook her head. “No, thanks. Would you sing the Willie Nelson song about the road?”

I laughed and scooted next to her on the quilt. I tucked my guitar in the crook of my arm and pulled the pick from my shorts pocket. Every concert began and ended with “On the Road Again.”

“Why do you like that song so much?” I said while tuning the strings.

“’Cause I’m on the road to heaven, silly.”

I swallowed several times to rid myself of the acid-tasting fear. God would heal her. He had to. The doctors had made a mistake. “You have a beautiful reason. Mom says we are all on the road to heaven. But I’ll get there first ’cause I’m older.”

“But you’re not sick like me.” She patted my knee. “It’s okay. Angels tell me I’ll love being with Jesus.”

“You talk to them?” I held my breath. Please, heal my sister.

“Oh yes. At night they stand around my bed and keep watch over me.”

“Kate, I’m in the same room, and I don’t see them.”

She giggled and covered her mouth. “You’re not looking good enough.”

“Next time, wake me up, so I can see them too.”

“Okay.” She touched my arm. “Sissy, what do you want to be when you grow up?”

I smiled because she knew the answer. “I’d like to sing and play my guitar.”

Kate clapped her hands. “You’d be the best country-western singer in the world.”

I dreamed of performing at the Grand Ole Opry. I’d write my own songs, but Grandma said I should do what God said, and He hadn’t told me. “We’d sing together—The Palmer Sisters.”

Kate drew in a breath. “Ouch. Something bit my leg.”

I searched Kate’s matchstick-thin leg and found a quickly swelling bump on her ankle. “Looks like a fire ant nibbled on you. Let me make sure no more are crawling on the quilt.”

An ant hill rose three feet from our picnic site, and we moved several feet away. I washed the bite with water from the thermos and a clean cloth. “I’ll put soda on it once we’re home. Do you want to leave?”

“No. I’m fine.” Kate curled up on the quilt and closed her eyes. “I’m ready.”

I sang the song twice, picturing brighter days ahead for my family. My sister would win this fight.

Kate’s eyelids hung at half-mast. The ant bite? I stuffed the remains of our picnic into my backpack and hoisted my guitar strap over my shoulder.

“I’ll carry you,” I whispered. “Go ahead and sleep, and I’ll tuck you in when we’re home.” I picked up Kate and nestled her close to me.

“Would you sing your song about me on the way?”

“Of course.” The words and tune had come to me one night when Kate sobbed in pain. Love burned inside me, and I’d much rather God take me and heal her.

“Where are you going, my little girl?

Has your innocence laced the stars?

Are you warm in sugar-sprinkled dreams?

Have you seen the angels from afar?

Where have you wandered, my little girl?

Have you tasted nature’s honey?

Are you skipping down a rainbow path?

And singing with daisies in harmony?

Where will you journey, my little girl?

When life’s troubles are all you see?

Will you rest secure in childlike faith?

And remember the One who set you free?”

The mile of green rolling countryside to our off-the-grid cabin that my great-grandfather had built took me across the pasture where our temperamental bull, three cows, and two spotted goats grazed.

I kept one eye on the bull—Kate had named him Kitty.

Cautious of his horn-filled fury, I made it to the gate, then latched it behind me.

My shoulders ached. But Kate wouldn’t have made it on her own.

In the distance, corn tassels waved in the breeze. Our half-acre garden grew vegetables and every herb and plant our parents plied into home remedies to try to kill Kate’s leukemia. My sister’s soft snores and rhythmic breathing calmed my worries.

Please God, make her well. I’ll do anything You ask.

Once home, I laid sleeping Kate into her bed, cleaned her bug bite, then covered her with a new pink-and-green quilt that Mom had made for her. I pulled the rocking chair close and clung to her cool hand, the bluish color filling me with dread. I blew on it to warm her up.

Mom joined me and kissed Kate’s cheek. “You shouldn’t have worn her out.” She gasped. “Why is hydrogen peroxide and soda here? Did you let her get stung or bitten?”

I gazed into Mom’s furious face, and my eyes welled with tears. “A fire ant. I didn’t see the hill.” I showed her the swollen spot on Kate’s ankle, but Kate didn’t waken.

“What have you done?” Mom wailed. “Get your dad right now.”

I raced to the barn, my tears blinding every step. “Dad! Hurry! It’s Kate.”

He rushed past me. The smell of animals following in his wake.

He tossed back the blanket and examined her cold feet. “She needs socks. More blankets.” His eyes never left her ashen face. “Kate, wake up, honey. I want to see your sky-blue eyes.”

Mom and I tugged on Kate’s warm socks and piled blankets on her. She slept on. Mom crawled into bed with her, drew her close, and cradled her like a baby. “Please, Katie-Bug. Mommy’s here. Talk to me.”

Dad knelt beside the bed. “Sweet girl, wake up.”

Mom’s high-pitched demands grew shrill.

Kate jerked involuntarily and Mom screamed, “No. Not my baby.”

“Have you been giving her turmeric and ginseng? Essential oils?” Dad grabbed Mom’s arm. “Did you give her a massage this morning? When’s the last time she had water? Are you watching her diet?”

Mom’s splotchy face reddened. “I’ve done it all. It’s... it’s the ant bite. She was fine this morning until Therese took her on a picnic.”

I shuddered. Had my stupidity shortened my sister’s life?

Dad yanked his phone from his jeans pocket and called 911. “What do you mean over an hour? My daughter has leukemia!” He threw the phone at the door, splintering the wood.

“Therese, get me the thermometer,” Mom yelled.

“It’s broken.” My heart beat so hard, it felt like it would burst out of my chest.

“How?” Dad swung to me. “Don’t touch her. This is your fault.”

I stepped back. “Daddy—”

“Get out of here. Your mother and I need to take care of Kate.”

“Can’t I stay? She’s my sister.”

Dad’s jaw tightened, and he pointed to the corner. “Not one word.”

Evening shadows drew a shroud over the small bedroom. Kate took one labored breath after another, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. Why was she congested?

Fifteen minutes passed.

Kate gasped for air. Mom’s hoarse cries continued, like a wounded animal caught in a trap.

Dad paced the floor, swiping beneath his eyes, wiping his nose on his flannel shirt. Complaining about the slow ambulance.

Thirty minutes ticked by. No matter how hard I listened for the ambulance, silence met me.

Mom’s quivering finger touched Kate’s throat for a pulse. “No.” She shook Kate’s shoulders. “She isn’t breathing.”

A hollow emptiness trampled on my hope for my sweet sister. My ears rang with death’s gasp for air. Please, Kate. Breathe. I love you. Don’t leave me alone.

Three weeks later, both my parents were dead of natural causes, and a kind lady took me to a foster home. Had I killed my little sister, like they said? Had I killed Mom and Dad?