My Husband, My Sister: A Secret Betrayal novel · Chapter 3 of 32

Chapter 3: The Sister at the Door

Claire arrives in tears with a story about a debt and an ex who ran up her cards, Laura hugs her, and Claire denies knowing any Dr. Ames just as a text from Daniel about Ames on Monday lights her phone.

Claire was on Winnie's porch at eight the next morning with a bakery box and swollen eyes.

I watched her through the kitchen window while Winnie tied her robe.

I had not slept.

All night the word clinic had sat on my chest, and every question I could think of had the same ugly answer: it was about me.

I had decided to ask Claire one thing, and watch her face when I did.

"You don't have to open it," Winnie said.

"She's my sister."

"I know. I'm saying you don't have to."

I opened it.

Claire walked in with the box held out in front of her and burst into tears before she reached the table.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Laur."

She set the box down and wrapped both arms around my neck.

She smelled like strawberries and cold air.

I had not planned to hug her back.

My arms did it anyway, because she was my little sister and she was shaking.

"It's money," she said into my shoulder. "It's only money. I was going to tell you a hundred times."

"Sit down."

She sat, and Winnie put a box of tissues in front of her and poured her coffee without a word.

Claire wiped her face.

"Three years ago I let a man move in with me. You remember the man I lived with."

"I met him twice."

"He ran up my credit cards. Eleven thousand, then twenty, then more. He left, and the collection calls started."

She bent over the tissue.

"I couldn't tell you. You had Bea, you were barely sleeping, and you'd already lent me money for my deposit. I felt like such a fool, Laur."

"So you went to Daniel."

"He found me crying in the parking lot at your house. He said he'd cover it, and he said not to tell you, because he knew how it would hurt you to see me like that." She looked up, red-eyed. "He's been paying it off every month. B was for him. I told him it was a stupid note to leave, and he said you'd never look."

It was a good story.

It had a man in it, and a number, and her shame.

I wanted it to be true so badly that my chest hurt.

"And the text?" I asked. "The heart?"

"I told you yesterday. The kayaks. I was happy, and I put hearts on everything." She laughed, wet. "God, I'm such a mess."

I reached across and took her hand.

"Thank you for telling me."

"Do you forgive me?"

"There isn't anything to forgive. You were drowning."

Winnie had gone to the stove.

She was cracking eggs into a pan with her back to us, and she hadn't said a word since the coffee.

"Which card company was it?" Winnie asked, without turning around.

Claire blinked.

"What?"

"The cards. Which company? I did the same for my nephew. They don't all handle a payment plan the same way."

"Oh. One of the big ones." Claire waved a hand. "I honestly don't want to think about the names."

Winnie nodded and turned an egg.

Claire squeezed my fingers.

"Come home. Let me watch the kids today, and you can sleep. I made a list of things I can do for you. I brought your vitamins, too."

She took a small plastic organizer out of her purse.

It had my name on it in her round handwriting, and a pill in every box for the week.

I took the vitamins every morning, and I had for three years.

I had never once asked who filled the organizer.

"Thanks," I said. "I'll stay here for a few days."

"A few days?" Her mouth tightened for half a second, and then it was soft again. "Of course. Whatever you need."

I asked it as lightly as I could.

"Do you know someone called Dr. Ames?"

Claire's coffee cup stopped halfway to her mouth.

"Who?"

"Daniel mentioned him last night. He said it like I was supposed to know."

"I've never heard that name." She set the cup down carefully. "Daniel was upset. He probably meant someone from the pediatrician's."

"That's probably it."

Winnie put a plate of eggs in front of her.

Claire pushed it a quarter inch to the side without looking at it.

That was when her phone lit up on the table.

It lay between us with the screen angled toward me, and the message sat at the top of the lock screen for as long as it takes to read four lines.

It was from Daniel.

"Ames Monday, 9 a.m. Don't forget to bring the file."

Claire's hand came down flat over the phone.

"Spam," she said, and she smiled at me.

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