Free The Last Days of Summer by Vanessa Ronan Page B

on the vanity. Turns it over in her hand, regarding it before raising it to her head. Starts again to brush her hair, slow and steady, as though each stroke holds weight. ‘Eighty-five, eighty-six, eighty-seven … If Mom won’t take you swimming next week, I will. How’s that sound, Lady?’ In the mirror, Katie smiles.
    Joanne sits up so fast she’s dizzy. ‘You
know
, don’t you? I just know you
know
! Why won’t you tell me? This is
so
unfair!’ The last words a high-pitched whine.
    ‘Ssssh!’ Katie hisses. ‘Shut up or you’ll wake Mom.’
    Joanne bites her pouting lip. Glares at her sister’s reflection. ‘It’s ’cause of
him
, isn’t it?’ She can’t keep the excitement from her voice. ‘It’s ’cause of Uncle Jasper.’
    Through the mirror, eyes lock and hold. At length, Katie nods.
    Joanne pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them. Even across the room she can smell grease from the diner still thick on Katie’s skin, cigarette smoke still cloudy in her sister’s golden hair. Most nights Joanne would hate sleeping next to her sister when she smells like that. But not tonight. Not now that she can feel Katie softening. Excitement rises like butterflies in Joanne’s chest.
    ‘He hurt someone, didn’t he?’
    In the mirror, Katie nods.
    Joanne can feel her heart racing, slamming against her ribs, trying to break free as she tries to pull her still sleep-clouded thoughts together. ‘He hurt one of the Saunders? That’s why they won’t talk to Mom?’
    A hesitation. In the mirror, Katie nods.
    ‘What’d he do?’ She crosses her legs and leans forward on the bed, whisper strained with excitement.
    ‘You ask too many questions.’ A snapped reply. Then, softer, ‘Just be careful, OK? Don’t talk to the Saunders.’
    ‘They don’t talk to us anyway.’
    Katie’s reflection is drawn and serious. A cloudiness across her eyes Joanne does not recognize. It clears, and Katie smiles. ‘Just don’t talk to no strangers, OK? Saunders or no Saunders.’ She winks. Forced wink. Forced smile. Brush back to hair. Slow and steady with each stroke. Under her breath, ‘Ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six …’
    Mind racing, Joanne listens to the whispers fade. There’s a million questions she wants to ask, but she
knows Katie won’t answer them. Not now. She’s got to be careful. She likes that her sister is trusting her more. Doesn’t want to push and spoil it. Joanne wonders if maybe one day they will tell each other secrets again, like they did when they were little. She picks one floating question. One of the millions spinning round her head. One she thinks Katie might actually answer. ‘Was it like that when Daddy was around?’
    Brush strokes pause mid ninety-nine. ‘Was what?’
    ‘Dinner. Was it always silent like that? Is that what it’s like to be a family?’
    Second half of ninety-nine somehow tangles, catches in the hair, and Katie pulls it free. ‘We’ve always been a family.’ Eyes search for hers, reflected in the mirror.
    One hundred does not catch, and Katie places the hairbrush down.
    ‘Morning, Elizabeth.’
    The truck door slams behind him, the sound foreign among the softer tones of morning.
    ‘Reverend.’
    He smiles. ‘Mighty fine day, isn’t it?’
    She regards him coolly. Takes in his gut, the sweat on his brow, the sweat marks already forming on the crisp white of his newly pressed shirt, small circles round his armpits quickly forming, spreading. Now that he has emerged from the comfort of his fancy new pickup’s a/c, the reverend struggles in the heat, large form moving awkwardly in the thick humidity. She says nothing. Waits for him to speak.
    Around them the prairie stretches brown and dry as
ever, parched earth screaming for rain, the sky unmerciful blue and cloudless. He pauses at the foot of the porch steps. Smiles. ‘I know I said it last time, but your roses truly are divine, Elizabeth. My wife would be mighty jealous if she