Free The Sandcastle Sister by Lisa Wingate Page A

it does what all good books do: it takes me away from real life. My mind travels across miles and years and falls into a love story.
    By the time I’ve skimmed through it, I’m aching for Evan. I want to talk to him, at least. I can feel myself losing my courage on this Paris thing. I need a little bolstering. I can’t lose my courage. Not this time.
    The past need not determine one moment of the future. It’s something my childhood mentor, Wilda Culp, told me. I guess it’s taken me this long to finally absorb that lesson all the way to the core.
    Another call to Evan produces no results. I phone the office instead and speak to George Vida’s assistant, Hollis, who knows all. She tells me not to worry   —Evan checked in with her earlier, and then he was turning the phone off for the day to sleep. He’s been a little under the weather. Yes, he’ll be in Paris a few days longer.
    Long enough for me to get there.

CHAPTER 9
    RC and Johnny come home at lunchtime, and we’re on the road in less than an hour, rumbling up the Outer Banks in their old four-door shop truck, this time with the ocean on our right and the sound on our left. The water churns the world on one side, caresses it softly on the other. I’m more akin to the churning side right now. It’s a time of change.
    Rather than running away, I can feel myself stepping in. I’m ready.
    It should be a long drive to Norfolk in the old truck, but the conversation on the way is filled with laughter and revelations, and the time rushes by. We talk about strange habits we have in common   —certain foods we like to eat and clothing colors we prefer and subjects we were good at in school. When we arrive at the airport, Johnny insists on parking in the short-term lot and walking us in, even though I’ve promised that Lily and I can handle our luggage just fine.
    “Nothing doing,” Johnny says, thumping the handicapped permit on the mirror. “Got my tag. I can make the walk.”
    I worry that we are wearing him out and he’ll suffer for it later. He and RC have to make it all the way back to Hatteras yet tonight. I offered to pay for a hotel room here, but they refused.
    We all proceed into the airport together, Johnny moving at a surprisingly rapid pace behind his walker. “Better hurry up. Don’t wanna miss your flight.” But we’ve arrived over three hours early. There’s plenty of time for check-in and good-byes.
    By silent, mutual agreement, we all wander to a stop some distance from the ticket counters, the four of us forming a little island as people pass by, preoccupied with their own business.
    The farewells are sweet and sad. We all feel these new ties, still as fragile as spider thread. Stretch them too far and they’ll break and float away on the wind. Lily keeps glancing toward the door, like she’s thinking about running back to the Outer Banks instead of using her plane ticket. For half a second, I wonder if she’s about to tell me she’ll stay with the Jaguar and drive it back to Cullowhee once it’s fixed. I don’t want our time here to end with an argument about that.
    Best to move along before plans go awry.
    “Well, I guess we should get checked in,” I say.
    RC smiles at me tenderly, then sighs. My new sister’s eyes are already so familiar   —as if I’ve always known her, even though we’ve only just met. “Guess so. It was a good visit. Real good.”
    “Thanks . . . thanks for everything.” Tears strain the words. I have to swallow hard to manage a few more. “I’ll take that hug now.”
    Lily interrupts before I can reach for RC. A cell phone is shoved into my outstretched hand. “Here, take a picture of me and RC and Johnny, ’kay?” She’s stalling, I can tell, but I oblige instead of reminding her that we already posed for dozens of pictures back at the beach house.
    After I’ve snapped one, Lily grabs the phone. “Okay, now you three.” She motions for Johnny and RC to relocate, and they move to