LITMIR.BIZ

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community and there had been plenty of people sobbing at his funeral. Her mother hadn’t been one of them. Nancy Stewart had stood with her back as straight as the mast of a ship, dry-eyed, as if part of her was somewhere else. Lauren assumed she handled grief the way she handled everything else life threw her—by vanishing to her studio and losing herself in her painting.

      Lauren stared into her coffee.

      Growing up, her father had been the “fun” parent.

      “Let’s go to the beach, girls,” he’d say, and scoop them up without giving a thought to what they were doing. He’d bring them back long past bedtime with sandy feet, burned skin and salty hair. They were hungry and overtired and it was their mother who had dealt with the fallout.

      Nancy would be waiting tight-lipped, the supper she’d prepared congealing on cold plates. She’d serve the ruined food in silence and then dunk both girls in the shower, where Jenna would scream and howl as the water stung her burned flesh.

      By the end of the summer the sun had bleached their hair almost white and freckles had exploded over Jenna’s face. To Lauren they looked like sand sprinkled over her skin, but Jenna thought they looked like dirt. She’d scrub at her skin until it was red and sore and the freckles merged.

      “You could at least remember sunscreen,” Nancy had said to Tom one night and Lauren had heard him laugh.

      “I forgot. Loosen up.”

      It seemed to Lauren that the more her father told Nancy to loosen up, the tighter she was wound.

      She’d long since given up wishing her relationship with her mother were different.

      She and Ed returned to Martha’s Vineyard for ten days every summer, but Lauren felt edgy the whole time. It was part of a life she’d left behind, and being there made her feel uncomfortable, as if she was dressing in old clothes that no longer fit. Not having her father there with his endless jokes and energy made the visit even more awkward.

      The only good part about it was seeing her sister in person.

      Lauren saw Helen stand up and realized she’d missed half the conversation.

      Her friend reached for her bag. “Have your girls finished this wretched ancestry project? Martin’s been wishing we’d picked a different school to send her to. One that doesn’t take education so seriously.”

      Lauren grabbed her coat, too. “What ancestry project?”

      Helen and Ruth exchanged looks.

      “This is why we envy you,” Ruth said. “Your Mack is so smart she does all these things without your help.”

      “Mack does tend to figure these things out on her own.” All the same, she made a mental note to ask Mack about it, just to be sure.

      “Everything okay with Mack?” Helen held the door open for them and they swapped warm scented air for frozen winds. “No more trouble with those bitches from the year above?”

      Lauren was tempted to mention the pink hair and the fact that something felt “off,” but decided not to. She was still hoping it was nothing.

      “Everything seems fine.”

      “Abigail hasn’t mentioned anything, and she was the one who found that Facebook page when it happened.” Ruth squeezed her arm. “I’m sure it’s over and done.”

      She hoped so. She knew she had a tendency to blow things out of proportion. According to Ed, she catastrophized.

      If he was right, then his words earlier should be nothing more than a throwaway comment.

      If they had a problem, they would have talked about it.

      She checked her phone and saw she was on time for her hair appointment. “I’ll see you both later.”

      Ed was going to be fine and so was Mack. True, she was behaving oddly but the chances were it was nothing more than a phase.

      It didn’t mean she was keeping secrets.

      Lauren tried to ignore the voice in her head reminding her that she and her sister had kept secrets all the time.

CHAPTER TWO

       Sisters

       Loyalty: the quality of staying firm in your friendship or support for someone or something

       “PLEASE DON’T DO IT.” I watched her climb onto the railing. Below lay the water, dark and deep.

       It was early morning and the beach was deserted. Later in the season the place would be teeming with tourists all lined up waiting to jump off the Jaws Bridge, so called because it featured in the movie, but right now we were the only people.

       And we weren’t supposed to be here.

       Our bikes lay on the edge of the path, abandoned. The beaches on either side of the bridge were deserted. No cars had passed since we’d arrived five minutes earlier.

       “If you’re afraid, go home.” She issued the challenge with a toss of her head and a blaze of her eyes.

       My sister, the rebel.

       She was right. I could have gone home. But then who would have taken care of her? What if she knocked herself unconscious or was swept out to sea? The current was pretty strong and you had to swim hard away from the bridge once you jumped. I’d positioned myself down on the beach because I figured that was the only way I’d be able to rescue her.

       The seaweed was slippery under my shoes and the wind was cold.

       I was shivering, although I wasn’t sure whether it was through cold or fear. I wanted to be anywhere but here.

       Like all families, we had rules.

       My sister had broken all of them.

       Was I my sister’s keeper? Well yes, I was. Self-appointed, admittedly. What choice did I have? I loved her. We told each other everything. She was my best friend. I would have died for her, although I would have preferred that to be a last resort.

       I tried one more time. “The sign says No Jumping Off the Bridge.”

       She looked across at me and shrugged. “Don’t look at it.”

       “Mom will kill us.”

       “She won’t know. She doesn’t know about any of the things we do. She only cares about painting.”

       “If someone tells her, she’ll care.”

       “Then we’d better hope no one tells her.”

       That was her answer to everything.

       I squirmed at mealtimes, terrified Mom might ask what we’d done all day. Guilt stuck to my skin until I was sure she would be able to see it. I felt as if I was glowing like a neon sign.

       Fortunately for me, our mother usually had other things on her mind.

       “It isn’t safe. Come back in the summer when there are more people.”

       “I hate the crowds.” She clambered onto the top of the railing, balancing like a circus performer, arms stretched to the sky. “I’ll go on three. One, two—”

       Throwing a wicked smile in my direction she pushed off and flew.

       She sailed through the air and hit the water with a splash, disappearing under the surface. I felt a moment of raw terror. If she was in trouble, would I be strong enough to save her? The image in my head was

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