Page 103 of These White Lies

Jean’s eyes shine. “Good answer.”

“Mom?” Elizabeth’s voice calls across the yard, at the same time a low rumble of thunder sounds.

“By the roses,” Jean calls back.

“You aren’t boring him with the genus types, are you?” she asks suspiciously.

Jean laughs, shaking her head. “No, just talking to him about one of my favorites. You still remember which one we named after you?”

Elizabeth walks over and stands closer to me. The hand on her back is automatic. If she’s nearby, I want to touch her.

“Dad told me you named it after me because its thorns are so thick.” She wrinkles her nose.

“And because it’s beautiful and one of the more resilient varieties,” Jean adds lightly. “Don’t forget that part.”

I reach for Elizabeth’s hand. After what her mother said, I feel like I’ve got a better grasp on the complicated family dynamics, but it’s not my place to force the conversations they clearly need to have. Until then, I’ll hold her hand, offering her whatever support she needs from me.

29

BRADY

Luckily for us, the storm waits to break until we are in the car. As we pull out of the driveway, the wipers race across the windshield, barely keeping up with the deluge. The sound is deafening with thunder rumbling overhead and the water hammering the SUV roof. I keep my eyes on the road as the lightning flashes around us. Concentrating on the unfamiliar two-lane mountain roads, we don’t speak except for when Elizabeth calls out the turns.

It’s just as well because I’m still processing what her mother shared with me. At a stop sign, I steal a glance at Elizabeth. She is relaxed in her seat, but she’s clearly lost in her own thoughts.

We finally turn down what was once a dirt driveway to her grandmother’s former property. Mud splashes up on the wheels as we slowly make our way toward the old house. I ease the SUV to a stop in front of the house and shift into park. The downpour unbelievably thickens until it’s impossible to see more than a few feet ahead.

Elizabeth looks up from her phone. “The weather app says this should be over in about ten minutes, but we are going to be filthy by the time we get down to the pond.”

Her attention is past the glass, on the sheets of water pouring down on us, but not really seeing anything. The thrum of the rain creates a feeling like we are cocooned from the world.

“What’s going on between you and your sister?”

Her head jerks. “Nothing’s going on.” The words are automatic and defensive, just as I expected.

I hum a low sound of disbelief, and her eyes snap to me.

“Are you talking about her limp?” Her voice is sharp, and full of an anger that doesn’t match the question.

For a second, I consider not pushing her. “No,” I say evenly, watching her. “But it’s interesting that’s whereyourmind went.”

Color floods her cheeks, and she turns toward the window. I don’t let it go. I can’t force her to talk to her family, but I want… No, Ineedto know what is going on inside her mind.

“You watch her like you think she might fall down at any second. I don’t think it’s about the limp though, is it? Because it doesn’t seem to bother her.”

Elizabeth’s teeth catch her lip, and the pause stretches between us, the atmosphere inside the car as heavy as the storm outside.

“She’s my little sister. I’m always going to look out for her. If anyone should understand that, it’s you.”

My jaw tightens. “Nice try with the deflection. I’m not talking about me. I’m asking about you and your sister. There is more going on there than a normal sibling relationship.” I push my tongue into my teeth, knowing I’m probably pulling the pin on an Elizabeth grenade. “You look guilty every time you look at her.”

“Like you do when you look at Sera?” She shoots back, and for a second, I’m stunned.

“I probably do look guilty when I look at her. That’s because I failed her. I have a reason. What’s yours?”

Elizabeth’s whole body deflates. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” Her remorseful eyes meet mine. “I just… I don’t like to talk about it because…” Her hands twist in her lap and my anger dissolves.

“What are you scared of?” I hold her gaze. “What is the worst thing that happens if you admit you aren’t perfect… that you’ve made mistakes?”