Carter was shivering when Bel climbed into bed.
Eyes staring, like she couldn’t remember how to blink, like she’d never been taught.
Bel pulled the blanket up over her shoulders. “It’s OK. I’m here.”
“What if someone finds out what I did?”
Bel rested her feet against Carter’s. “You didn’t do anything. And no one will find out. We won’t let that happen.”
Carter’s breathing was too shallow, too fast.
“Close your eyes,” Bel said.
“They are.”
“No, they’re not. Just take a few deep breaths.”
“I’m trying.”
Carted shifted onto her back, eyelids fluttering, struggling to stay shut.
“Is she back yet?”
“No.” Bel glanced toward the window, the gaps around the curtains. The darkness was softening outside, brightening, the first touch of twilight. “But she will be soon.”
She had to, before the world woke up and realized Jeff Price was now missing too. That Price family; had a thing for disappearing, they did.
Carter’s breaths slowed, rattling through her half-closed mouth.
“It’s OK,” Bel said. “You can go to sleep. I’ll wait. Won’t let anything happen to you.”
Carter breathed in and out, almost in the shape of a word.
She slept, and Bel waited.
Eyes shut because they were too scratchy, and she didn’t want to watch as dawn slowly crept up on them, filling the shadows of her room, creating new ones.
She waited. The hum of the refrigerator just a noise inside her head now, imagined, remembered. Carter sleeping too close to her ear.
Bel was listening, but she didn’t hear. Not until her bedroom door nudged open, shushing against the carpet, silent feet behind it.
She opened her eyes, a blurry half-blink before they closed again.
Rachel was standing there, in the darkened doorway, watching them.
She didn’t leave. She stayed.
Bel could feel her there, a calmness that reached her in this in-between place: asleep-awake, today-tomorrow, sister-daughter.
She could finally sleep, now that Mom was home. Now she was here to watch over them both.
Bel breathed out and let go.
Rachel didn’t let them sleep for long.
She came in with coffee at seven-thirty, sat at the end of the bed, crushed both their feet.
“Sorry.” She shifted, handing one cup to Bel. Her favorite mug. Waited for Carter to rub the sleep from her eyes, then passed hers over.
Bel yawned.
“You can sleep again later.” Rachel patted her leg through the comforter. “How did everything go?”
“All done my end,” Bel said. “The footage is gone.”
“And mine,” Carter added. “All the books.”
“Good.” Rachel smiled, strained at the edges.
Bel sat up. “Yours?”
Rachel nodded, a faraway look in her eyes, a deep drop behind them, all the way down the mine. “All done,” she said, quietly.
It didn’t look like she’d slept at all. And there was a dark bruise forming on her throat, the blues and reds of a dying universe.
“Actually, not all done.” Rachel sighed. “There’s something else we have to do, together. Carter …” She looked at her younger daughter. “We have to decide what to do about Sherry.”
“Fuck,” Bel whispered into her coffee. “I didn’t think … How will we explain Jeff going missing? What about Carter, Sherry’s not just going to let you go.”
“She’ll probably be here soon, looking for Jeff and Carter, wondering why they never came home,” Rachel said. “I have an idea. But, Carter, I want to know what you want to do. This is the woman you thought was your mom your entire life. I want you to know that it’s OK if you care about her, of course it is. You should be the one to decide.”
Carter took a sip to give herself time, even though it was too hot; Bel could tell by the tightening of her eyes.
“OK,” she said, tapping the mug, fingers always moving.
Rachel told them her idea, talked it through, and Carter decided.
“Are you sure?” Rachel checked. “Once we do this, we can never go back.”
Carter cleared her throat. “I’m sure.”
The doorbell rang at twenty past eight. One long held note.
They knew who it was, and they were ready.
Bel got up to answer the door.
“Aunt Sherry,” she said, blinking against the morning sun, her eyes craving the darkness again. “How are you?”
“Not good.” Sherry shuffled past her. “Is Carter here? She didn’t tell me she was staying over.” She made her way into the living room, uninvited. “There you are. Come on, let’s get going. Not sure where your father is. Did he stay at Grandpa’s?”
Bel shut the front door and followed Sherry.
Rachel and Carter were sitting on the sofa, Sherry standing in front, purse swinging from her elbow.
“Carter.” She clicked her fingers, impatient.
“Take a seat, Sherry.” Rachel gestured toward the armchair. She was wearing one of Bel’s sweaters, a blue roll-neck, to hide the bruise on her throat.
“That’s OK, Rachel,” Sherry said her name hard, biting down on it. “We have things to do today. Carter has dancing at twelve, then we—”
“Sit down, Sherry.”
“No, really, Rachel, that’s very kind, but we need to get going. Don’t we, Carter?” Giving her no choice at all. But Carter had already chosen.
Bel passed Sherry, sat on the end of the sofa, Carter in the middle.
The three of them against one of her. Sherry was outmatched.
“Sit down,” Carter said this time, through gritted teeth.
Sherry looked at Rachel instead, narrowing her eyes.
“What’s going on?” She sat but not really, perching at the very end. “Is there news, about Charlie?”
“This is about you, Sherry. What you did.”
She frowned. “Rachel, I didn’t know you were getting a cake too yesterday. I was trying to be helpful.”
“Not about cake, Sherry.” Rachel leaned forward, steepled her fingers. “This is about you stealing my daughter.”
Sherry’s eyes snapped open, fighting a gasp. Her gaze flicked to Carter.
“What are you talking about?” she said with a hoarse laugh, pulling her purse onto her lap, using it as a shield. “Bel only stayed with us for seven months, after Charlie was arrested.”
“Not that daughter,” Rachel said, darkly. “The baby you stole, almost sixteen years ago.”
Eyes wider still, too much white above and below. Sherry shook her head. “I don’t—”
“Yes, you do. Wearing fake bumps so you could pretend she was yours. She was just two weeks old when Pat took her from me, gave her to you.”
Sherry’s mouth moved, but no words came out.
“We know everything, Sherry. Jeff told us. But you’ve known a lot longer. Tell me, did you always know Carter was mine? You must have, how else did she look like a Price? Did you know, all this time, that Pat and Charlie had me locked up? That makes you complicit, you know.”
Sherry pulled her purse into her chest. She was trapped; to deny some of it was to accept the rest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, choosing another option altogether. “Is this some kind of prank … for the documentary?”
“No,” Carter said.
“Well, it’s not funny, whatever you’re doing,” Sherry snapped, rising to her feet. “Come on, Carter. Stop messing around. You have dancing.” She grabbed Carter’s arm, tried to pull her up from the sofa.
Carter snatched her hand back.
“No, Aunt Sherry,” she said, taking aim.
A shift; from shock to anger. It happened quickly.
“Don’t call me that!” Sherry shouted, a globule of spit falling to her chin. “I’m your mom!”
“No, you’re not. Rachel is.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Sherry,” Rachel said, a low warning growl. “It’s over, stop fighting it. Jeff told us everything last night. Carter is my daughter. You stole her from me.”
“No, no, no,” Sherry said, her denials weakening. “I gave birth to that girl. She’s my daughter, Rachel. Mine!”
Rachel cracked her neck, set her jaw, the same way Bel did before a fight. “You won’t mind if we ask the police to do a DNA test, then, will you? But of course, you’ll be going to prison for the rest of your life, because Carter is evidence of what you and Jeff did to me. Maybe you didn’t know Pat was keeping me, that Carter was my daughter, not until I returned, but that’s not what it looks like, Sherry. It looks like you and Jeff were involved in my abduction and captivity, then you kidnapped my child. The whole family in on it.” Rachel clicked her tongue. “I’m not sure you’re the kind of person who does well in prison.”
Sherry spluttered, and the anger became something else. She smacked her hands to her face, sobbed into them. Bel couldn’t see any tears.
“Stop that,” Rachel said, “there’s no time. You have a choice to make, Sherry. The same choice I presented to Charlie, and to Jeff last night.”
Sherry wiped at her empty eyes. “Where is Jeff? Where’s my husband?”
“He’s gone. He admitted everything to us last night and he left. I gave him two options. Either I tell the police everything, get Carter tested, and you, Jeff, Charlie and Pat all go to prison. Or I give you another choice, because you’re family.” Rachel paused. “You leave and never come back, never contact us again. Start a new life, somewhere else. Charlie took that option a couple of weeks ago. So did Jeff, last night. He’s gone.”
“Gone where?” Sherry wailed.
“He followed Charlie,” Rachel said, “to Canada. Probably there by now. He wants you to go with him, asked me to explain everything, so you could both start a new life together. Neither of you wants to go to prison, do you?”
Sherry swallowed, a shudder as she forced it down, eyes straying over to Carter. “No.”
“You sure, Sherry?”
She nodded.
“Good. Jeff will be happy. You can’t contact him but he’s waiting for you. You have to listen closely, Sherry, things you have to do to make this work. First, you need to pack, just a small bag, can’t take everything. Then you’ll go to an ATM. Jeff said to use all the cards, max them out. Get as much cash as you can, you’ll need it, and you won’t be able to access your accounts after this.”
Sherry stared down at her hands.
“Are you listening, Sherry?”
“Yes,” she croaked.
Rachel pulled two items out of her back pocket. “He asked me to give you these. His phone, and his car keys.” Rachel dropped them into Sherry’s hands. “His car is parked down the street, outside the cemetery. He left it for you, said it’s less conspicuous than yours. Once you’ve packed and you have the money, he wants you to drive to Barton in Vermont. His friend Bob—Robert Meyer—lives there. You remember Bob?”
Sherry’s hands closed around Jeff’s phone and keys.
“Bob will help you, OK, Sherry? Tell him you and Jeff are in trouble and you need his help. His phone number and address are in Jeff’s phone. You can turn it on when you get closer. I’ve written them down for you, in case the battery dies.” The details still memorized from her time in the red truck. “Bob will get a new passport for you and Jeff. New names, new identities. You’ll have the cash to pay him, need to wait with him until they’re done. Jeff didn’t have time, so you need to do it for him. He was going to stow away on a plane this morning because he wasn’t sure what choice you’d make, wanted to leave the country in case I got the police involved. But you’ll both need new identities if this is going to work, so now you have to help him.”
“OK,” Sherry sniffed, like it all made perfect sense.
“When your IDs are ready, you drive to a John Mayne airfield, just outside Newport. The same place Charlie and Jeff went to. The address is on that same piece of paper. When you get there, you need to dump all your bank cards and old IDs. Any trash can, no one will find them.” Rachel was a good liar, when she wasn’t lying to Bel, when she needed to, to protect her daughters. “You won’t need them anymore, and you don’t want any trace of your old life following you there. Then you need to get on a small aircraft that’s crossing the border. They’ll ask to see your passport for the flight plan, for the authorities, but that’s fine, because you’ll show them your new ID. It’ll pass all their checks and no one will know it was really you. OK, Sherry?”
“Yes.” A muscle twitched in her chin.
“Once you land, wherever you land, you make your way to New Brunswick. You’re looking for a small town in the north, called Dalhousie. Jeff’s waiting for you there, Charlie too. It’s a tiny town, you’ll be able to find them. It’s a nice place. Beautiful, mountains, quiet. You’ll be happy there, Sherry. A new life.” The life the three of them were supposed to have—Rachel, Bel, Carter—and now she was giving it to Sherry. “But once you’re gone, Sherry, you don’t get to come back. Whatever happens. If we hear from you at all, I’ll have no choice but to go straight to the police. I’m giving you this chance. Don’t waste it.”
Sherry dropped Jeff’s phone, keys and the small slip of paper into her purse.
“Any questions?” Rachel stood and Bel helped her, weight on her good ankle.
Carter rose too, and Sherry’s attention drifted up to her.
Her lips twisted, a downward curve. “None of this is my fault, you know. I love you, Carter. Only ever tried to do the best for you.”
“That’s not a question,” Carter said, fiddling, making mountains into valleys in the fabric of her sweatpants.
Sherry’s eyes weren’t empty anymore. She’d forced one tear to the surface, a slow crawl down her cheek. “Do you really want me to go? I raised you.”
“No, you didn’t,” Carter said, voice small, keeping it almost to herself. “Bel raised me. You can choose your family. And I choose them. I’m sorry.”
Sherry wiped the tear away, let it trail down her finger.
“It’s time to go, Sherry.” Rachel nodded her head, just once. Not unkind, even though she had every right.
Sherry didn’t say another word; she knew she was beaten, that she’d lost. Bel thought she might have put up more of a fight, like a mom was supposed to: bared teeth and glittering eyes.
Sherry hugged her purse to her chest and turned toward the hallway.
They followed, Rachel leaning on Bel, staggering beside her.
Sherry pulled open the front door, paused on the first step. She turned back, eyes only for Carter. “Bye, then,” she said, her lip threatening to go, taking her eyes with it, and her feet.
“Bye,” Carter said, the first crack in her voice. Her eyes told the truth; this goodbye was harder than she thought. Maybe she’d cry later, maybe they all would.
They stood in the doorway, their family of three, all that was left now, and they watched Sherry leave. Down the steps, down the street.
Carter broke free, leaning out for that last look, holding on for just a little longer, waiting until she was really gone.
“What about Grandpa?” she asked, to hide it. “I know Charlie started this, but Grandpa played a big part. He made his choices.”
Rachel wrapped her arm around her younger daughter’s shoulders, other hand reaching for Bel.
“He did make his choices, and I hate him for what he did to us. But … it seems almost cruel, to punish an old man who can’t remember any of the horrific things he’s done.” Rachel bit down on her lip, ghost imprints of her teeth when she let go. “He doesn’t have long left. We won’t visit. But I’ll keep paying for Yordan to take care of him, some comfort in the end. Saving him, but not really saving him. He’ll die alone and confused. I think that’s enough. Do you?”
Bel nodded.
Carter looked at her sister and nodded too.
They had to decide these things, together, as a family. Make their choices, to undo all the ones made for them.
Across the street, the door to number 32 opened, Ms. Nelson standing in her doorway, like they stood in theirs, watching them. A mother and her two daughters, though no one would ever know that, not even her, no matter how much she watched.
Bel raised a hand, waved, and Ms. Nelson waved back.
“Stop being nice,” Carter hissed. “We’re supposed to act normal.”
“I’m sometimes nice.”
They turned to her, her mom, her sister, the same look in their eyes.
Bel smiled. “You’re right, that was physically painful.”
Rachel laughed, twirled her finger in the ends of Bel’s hair. “You’ll live, Bel.”
And Mom was right; she would.
