Caroline was so vital that it was difficult for me to even comprehend the notion that she might have cancer. She’d been dancing and teaching all her life: ballet, jazz, tap, and acrobatics, so she was in great shape. She’d noticed the lump, which had started out like a bee sting, almost three months earlier. I’d noticed it too, during moments when a lump in her breast was the last thing I wanted to think about. But it was there, and it was growing.
“Caroline, you need to go to the doctor,” I said. “Wait, let me rephrase that. Caroline, you’re going to the doctor. Tomorrow, or as soon as she can see you. If you won’t call and set it up, I’ll do it myself.”
“I’ll do it,” she said, turning away from the mirror and towards me. “I’ll call her tomorrow. I just dread it.”
Still topless, she reached up to hug me. “Are you okay? The murders have been all over the news. It’s terrible, Joe. Who could kill a child?”
“I’ll let you know as soon as we find out.”
“Do you have any idea?”
“None. The agents are working around the clock, but we just don’t know yet. Maybe we’ll get a break soon.” She smelled inviting.
“They said the police found the van.”
“Yeah. They’re processing it now.”
“Great way to start the new job, huh?”
“Just my luck.”
I could feel the warmth of her skin through my shirt. I pulled her closer.
“Sorry, big boy,” she said. “Sarah’s coming over.”
“Sarah? Why?”
“She’s leaving tomorrow, remember? I’ve got steak in the refrigerator.”
“Damn, I forgot all about it.”
My sister, the object of Alexander Dunn’s earlier insult, was a year older than me. She was a black-haired, green-eyed, hard-bodied beauty who leaned towards extremism in all things and had spent most of her adult life addicted to alcohol and cocaine. We’d been close as children until one summer evening when she was nine years old. That night, my uncle Raymond, who was sixteen at the time, raped her while he was supposed to be looking after the two of us at my grandmother’s house. My grandparents and mother had gone out shopping, and I’d drifted off to sleep while watching a baseball game on television. I heard Sarah’s cries, the pain in her voice, and I went into my grandparents’ bedroom and tried to stop him, but Raymond picked me up and threw me out of the room, nearly knocking me unconscious in the process. When it was over, he threatened to kill both of us if we ever told anyone.
Sarah and I went in different directions after that. I became an overachiever, subconsciously trying to prove to myself that I wasn’t a coward, while she became a suspicious, defiant, self-destructive rebel. She’d been convicted of theft and drug possession half a dozen times, and had spent a fair amount of time in jail. But last year, not long after our mother died, she and I had finally talked about the rape and its effect on our lives. Our relationship improved dramatically after that, and so did Sarah’s life, or at least that was how it appeared. After she was released from jail a year ago, she’d moved into my mother’s house, started going to Narcotics Anonymous meetings, and, to my knowledge, had been clean and sober ever since. She’d met a man at her NA meetings named Robert Godsey whom she said she loved. She was moving to Crossville, Tennessee, the next day to be near him.
Sarah told me her new boyfriend had been clean for five years, but I was concerned. Godsey had been a probation officer in Washington County for at least a decade, and I’d run across him several times in the past. My impression of him wasn’t good, although I hadn’t said a word about it to Sarah. I remembered Godsey as a belligerent hard-ass, always filing violation warrants against his probationers for the tiniest of infractions. He was also a sanctimonious zealot, a man who apparently thought he knew all the answers to questions involving faith and eternity. I’d heard him harangue people in the courthouse hallways about getting right with the Lord more times than I cared to remember. One time a few years ago, I’d seen him back a young woman against the wall with his chest and shove her face with the heel of his hand. I started to confront him, but by the time I broke away from my client he’d stormed out the door. Now he’d transferred to Crossville, and he was taking my sister with him.
Rio began to bark at the front door.
“She’s early,” Caroline said.
I walked through the house, quieted the dog, and opened the door. Sarah stepped inside, wearing black jeans and a pink, V-necked pullover top with short sleeves. I noticed she was wearing a silver fish on a chain around her neck. I’d never seen it before.
“Nice necklace,” I said. Sarah’s conversion to Christianity had been both recent and complete. Caroline and I had gone to her baptism back in mid-August. The ceremony was held on the bank of the Nolichucky River behind the tiny Calvary Baptist Church near Telford where Robert Godsey was a part-time pastor. Godsey himself had immersed her in the brackish water.
“Thanks, Robert gave it to me.”
“Come on in.” I kissed her on the cheek. “Let’s go sit out on the deck. I’ll get you a glass of sweet tea.”
A few minutes later, we were sitting on the deck beneath cirrus clouds that drifted high across the sky like giant kites. I looked beyond Sarah at the pale green lake below, the late-afternoon sun glistening off the ripples like thousands of tiny pieces of hammered gold. An easy breeze was blowing, so pleasant that I thought of falling asleep.
“You okay?” she said. “You look tired.”
“I’ll be fine as long as we don’t talk about the murders. I need to think about something else for a while.”
“No problem. The thought of them sickens me. Where’s Caroline?” Her lips turned upward when she mentioned Caroline. Sarah had a terrific smile, with deep dimples like miniature crescent moons.
“In the bathroom. She’ll be out in a few. I think she’s planning on grilling steak. You hungry?”
“Sounds great.”
“All packed and ready to go?”
“I guess so.”
“When do you start the new job?”
Robert Godsey’s father owned an insurance agency in Crossville. Sarah was going to work for him as a receptionist.
“I start next week.”
I took a deep breath and braced myself. I didn’t want to get into an argument with her on her last day in town, but there was something I wanted to get off my chest.
“Can I ask you a question without you getting all pissed off at me?” I said.
Her eyebrows arched.
“I’m serious. You know I love you and I only want the best for you.”
“You’re already hedging. What is it?”
“I guess I just want to ask you whether you’re sure about this. Really sure. You’ve only known this guy for a couple of months.”
“His name is Robert, and I’ve known him for close to a year.”
“But you’ve only been dating for a couple of months.”
“Three months, almost four,” she said.
“Exactly. So why do you feel the need to pack up and move almost two hundred miles away? Are you sure you don’t want to try the long-distance-relationship thing for a while and see how it goes? Get to know him a little better?”
“I’m leaving. The decision’s been made.”
“I know, but humor me for a minute. Does he make you thumpy?”
“Thumpy?”
“You know, pitty-pat. Fluttery. Heart pounding inside the chest when he comes into the room, that kind of thing. Caroline still does that to me.”
“I guess so.”
“You see? That’s what I mean. If he really made you thumpy, you’d know exactly what I’m talking about.”
“I’m not a teenager. It isn’t puppy love.”
“So you love him. You’re sure you love him.”
“He’s made me a better person. He led me to Jesus.”
“I think you were a good person before, and I guess that’s what’s really bothering me. Tell me this: Would you be going to Crossville if you hadn’t been baptized? Would Godsey accept you if you weren’t a born-again Christian? Or was that part of the deal?”