The Sister-in-Law by Pamela Crane (best books to read in your 20s .TXT) 📕

and brush her teeth, I stepped into my bedroom and found Candace sitting on the bed, hands folded on her lap, waiting for me. Beside her sat the monkey-themed ultrasound frame I had planned to give her, the ultrasound placed neatly inside.

‘Was this for me?’ She picked up the frame and pressed it to her chest.

‘Yes, as a peace offering.’

‘I love it. Thank you.’ She stood. ‘I know you heard me crying.’

‘Yeah, I wasn’t trying to intrude. I just …’ I just what? Cared about her?

‘I know.’ She smiled, and for the first time I thought she was pretty when she smiled.

‘Was that about our argument earlier? Because I’m sorry, but I also felt the need to protect my brother. I wish you’d understand that.’

Candace stood and walked into the hallway, then waved me to follow. ‘I need to show you something.’

Once in her bedroom, she led me around piles of laundry, crumpled fast-food bags, and stacks of junk mail. Every surface was covered with garbage or mess. I hoped my inward cringe didn’t reach my face. Shoving her rumpled blankets and last night’s pajamas aside, she sat on the bed and patted a clear space beside her. I sat.

She opened the bedside dresser drawer and pulled out a wooden box. It was rough, the lid slightly crooked and clearly handmade, and stained a deep cherry. Carefully opening it, she moved a stack of letters aside, then flipped through a pile of photos and pulled one out.

‘Are those love letters from Lane?’ I asked, glancing at the top letter.

She pushed them under the photos and shrugged. ‘You’d be surprised how poetic a guy can be when he’s in love. But as beautiful as words can be, Lane doesn’t need words to profess his love. He does it daily in the way he takes care of me.’

Shutting the box, she handed a photo to me.

The paper was torn on one edge and creased down the middle. Based on the Backstreet Boys Millennium poster that hung on a wall in the background, and the girl’s zebra hair highlights, I guessed the photo to be taken in the early 2000s. I recognized a teenage Candace in fishnet stockings and camo dress with Doc Martens, sandwiched between a woman who looked to be in her forties and a sullen teenage boy, who stood almost a foot taller than her, wearing flannel over a Kurt Cobain T-shirt with grunge Johnny Depp hair and a ring piercing his lip. An older man stood behind the boy, his hand on the boy’s bony shoulder.

‘Is this your family?’ I asked.

‘No. These are my ex’s parents. And that’s my ex, Noah.’ She pointed to the boy. ‘After my parents died, I was shuffled around a lot. When I turned fourteen, Noah’s family took me in. He was a childhood friend, then my boyfriend since ninth grade, and his parents were so good to me. They basically raised me, and Noah and I became inseparable. I loved him more than anything.’

She took the picture back from me and spoke as if to the people in the picture.

‘I thought we were end game.’

End game. The popular teenage term reminded me just how worlds apart Candace and I were.

‘But he turned out to be an abusive, controlling asshole.’

I was coming to realize that men could be a lot of things. Abusers. Cheaters. Liars.

‘I understand … on some level. Ben hurt me pretty badly too, when he cheated on me.’ Candace didn’t say anything, so I continued to fill in the empty air. ‘It makes me wonder what else he was hiding that may have resulted in his death.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, everything around his death is suspicious. God only knows what the police will uncover.’

I realized this conversation was becoming all about me. We were sharing a moment, and here I was stealing it from Candace. ‘So what happened with Noah?’

‘After I couldn’t take it anymore, I left Pennsylvania and came here.’

‘Pennsylvania? I thought you said you were from Ohio.’

‘I moved around a lot. But Pennsylvania was where I ended up with Noah.’

Her life was a Monet painting. From a distance I only saw the big picture of a woman manipulating my brother with sex and lies. A closer look at her life was a lot messier. A tinge of guilt hit me for judging her so harshly. I hardly knew anything about the woman my brother had married, and I wondered how much he even knew.

‘Did Noah … physically hurt you?’

She held out her forearm and traced a jagged scar that ran up the skin.

‘He did this during one particularly emotional fight. It wasn’t usually this bad, but still …’

It was clear we were exchanging secrets as she opened a door so private that there wasn’t a key for its lock.

‘That was brave of you to leave him.’

Candace shrugged and rested the picture on the nightstand. ‘Maybe. Or maybe it was cowardly. But in the end it worked out. I met Lane, and he rescued me. He made me believe in love again. I know you question my motives with Lane, but after the life I’ve had, all I want is to have love and happiness and a family – things I never got growing up. I have it all now, and I’m not going to let anything take it away from me. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

I nodded. I did understand. It was all any of us wanted. But not as easy to hold on to.

‘I don’t want to fight with you.’ I touched her forearm, a gesture of sincerity. ‘You’re my sister-in-law, and I hope we can start over. Be actual sisters, friends. Would you be open to that?’

She sat in dense contemplation. What was she thinking? Then she reached across the gap between us and hugged me. It was the answer I needed. When she pulled away, a new connection strung us together.

‘All I ever wanted was to be enough. Smart enough. Pretty enough. Good enough.’

This, coming