But it wouldn’t be a problem, would it? Beth wouldn’t call him if a killer wielding a butcher knife was chasing her through her house. 9-1-1, maybe. Him, she’d probably already deleted from her phone.
* * *
SHE’D SPENT SO MANY years hiding whatever she felt so that she could be the happy center of her family, Beth felt sure Emily hadn’t noticed anything was wrong. Red, puffy eyes? Allergies. Couldn’t be tears. Beth didn’t cry. No, Emily saw her as dull, her life so lacking in excitement or drama, why would she be upset?
Usually, Beth even convinced herself. She couldn’t remember ever feeling as if she was having an out-of-body experience. Big sister Beth, serene as always, sat on the sofa holding Emily, who still sniffed piteously into a soggy paper towel. Another Beth altogether stood watching, but it was as if she was looking through glass.
Tony was right: this Beth knew. Emily’s tears were real enough because she was good at stirring herself into an emotional state, but she was far too self-centered to try to kill herself. However unconsciously, she was making a point: she’d been hurt by any suggestion she’d done something wrong. And her feelings were so much more sensitive, she was so emotionally fragile, Beth needed to say she was sorry. She had to reinforce Emily’s belief she was always the victim.
I don’t want to do it anymore.
The Beth on the sofa was saying the right things. This Beth, weary, knew she had to make changes, or she’d be condemned to play this same role for the rest of her life. Tony could go to hell, but he was right about this.
It would be easy to believe that, if she was trapped by her family, she’d done it to herself, but Beth knew better than that. Her mother had made very bad decisions that left Beth the only one who could keep the family going. No, Mom hadn’t run off, the way they’d always thought, but she still bore a lot of the blame. Dad, too. Maybe he couldn’t help being so dysfunctional, but he’d lit a coal of rage inside her when he’d admitted he always knew the load he’d dumped on her and, yeah, he was a little sorry now that he hadn’t carried his share of it.
What was she supposed to say? Thanks, Dad, that means the world to me?
She had a right to be angry, too.
As if acknowledging that made her whole, suddenly she was back in her body, patting Emily’s back.
She sat up, smoothed messy hair from her sister’s face and said, “Go wash your face. You’ll feel better. Do you have iced tea? If not, I’ll make some.”
Emily hid her surprise with a sullen look. “I want a beer.”
Beth shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
She went to the kitchen once Emily dragged herself to the bathroom. Beth found a jar of powdered instant tea, not her favorite, but it would do. She mixed up a tall glass for herself, added ice cubes and sugar and went back to the couch.
Small and defiant, her sister stopped on the threshold of the living room. “Where’s mine?”
This placid smile was a lot easier to summon. “You said you didn’t want any.”
“You could at least have gotten me a beer,” she grumbled and went to get her own drink.
At least? Because Beth never did anything for her.
Yep. Mad.
Emily flopped onto the other end of the sofa and popped the top of her can. “So everything is supposed to be all better?”
“No, it isn’t.” Beth set her drink on the glass-topped coffee table. “Emily, you need to get some counseling.” Seeing outrage on her sister’s face, she held up her hand. “No, listen to me. I love you. When you really need me, I’ll always be here for you. But you need to deal with this over-the-top stuff. You did tell a lot of people something you should have kept to yourself. Common sense should have told you that. And, yes, word spread, and that’s probably why I was attacked.”
Tears glistened anew in Emily’s big blue eyes.
“Don’t you dare cry again.” Beth didn’t even recognize this hard voice as hers. “I’m not seriously injured. You’ve apologized. I wish I thought you’d learned a lesson, but once again you’ve made this all about you.”
A sob broke forth, and Emily clapped a hand over her mouth.