Chapter 14: Kaylee Cries

"Sister," I said from the stairs.

Kaylee looked up at me past Dad's shoulder.

"I know," she said. "I know I don't get to say that."

"You wore white to my wedding."

"I know."

The rain was coming sideways onto the porch, and she was shivering.

My father looked back at me.

It was my call. He was letting it be my call.

I came down the last three steps.

"Get in before you catch something," I said.

Dad put her in his chair in the kitchen and went to the stove without a word.

He filled the kettle and banged it onto the burner.

My stepmother's bedroom door stayed shut upstairs.

Kaylee sat with both hands around her stomach and didn't take her eyes off me.

"What happened?" I said.

"Nothing happened."

"You came here at midnight in the rain for nothing?"

She wiped her nose on the sweatshirt sleeve.

"He doesn't hit me," she said. "I want to say that first. He's never hit me."

"Okay."

"He just goes quiet. Like a door closing. And then he talks very nicely about what happens to people who make things hard."

She laughed, and it came out wet.

"He made a toast about railings at his own mother's table. You heard him."

"I heard him."

"He says it to me every night, Reagan. Every night, like it's a joke."

Dad put a mug of tea in front of her.

Lipton, two sugars, milk, a spoon left standing in it.

He'd made her tea that way since she was sixteen and had the flu in this kitchen.

Kaylee looked at the mug and started crying for real.

"You still remember how I take it," she said.

"You're still drinking it," Dad said gruffly, and went to get a towel for her hair.

I watched her.

I wanted to believe her.

That was the problem with Kaylee. I always wanted to.

"Why here?" I said. "Why not your mother?"

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