The Sister Season Read Online Free PDF Page A

invisible barrier that seemed to always spring up between Yancey family members, and bring her grandson into her arms.
    But Eli spoke first. “Car’s here,” he said in a new man-voice, changing the subject and shattering Elise’s hopes of a tender reunion moment. She noticed that the hems of his jeans were filthy and had holes, that his T-shirt was threadbare, his chin dotted with pimples, his mouth an uneven scowl.
    He had been the baby who was always in a clean bib. The one in tiny designer overalls and expensive baby shoes chewing on the edges of black-and-white flash cards with images of boats and balls and shapes on them. Bred to be as well kept and as brilliant as his mother and father. Now he was a slob. What had happened? Was it simply that he’d become an indifferent teenager, or was there something more?
    “Hey, sport,” Claire said, ignoring his news. She reached up and tousled his hair; he ducked away from her hand.
    “Hey,” he responded, and crossed his arms.
    “You remember me?”
    He shook his head. Elise caught Julia rolling her eyes from across the room, the unspoken question—
why would he?
—floating uncomfortably over the kitchen.
    “Ah, well.” Claire’s smile stuck in place, but her voice got a little tinier, and she seemed unsure how to go on from there.
    “Eli,” Julia said, “why don’t you go out and see if Aunt Maya needs help with her bags?”
    “She won’t.”
    “Go see.”
    “I don’t need to.”
    “I’m asking you to go out anyway.” Julia took two steps toward her son and crossed her arms over her chest to match his posture. There was an edge in each of their voices, and both Claire and Elise froze, embarrassed and confused by whatever was passing between the two of them. “Go help your aunt with her bags.”
    “Mom! God! She’s not alone! Uncle Bradley is with her.”
    All three women stared at one another.
    “Fabulous.” Claire sighed and pushed away from the table. “My room is calling.” She patted Eli’s shoulder on her way by, though this time he didn’t duck away from her hand. “Thanks for the warning, man.”
    They could hear the front door bang open and the pounding of Maya’s children’s feet across the wooden floor in the front room, followed by jubilant cries of “Look! Presents under the tree!”
    Claire stopped when she reached Julia, pulled up on her tiptoes, wrapped her arms around her sister, and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “It really is good to see you, Queenie,” she said. “Relax a little. This is gonna be . . .” She shrugged, then sauntered away. “Great! It’s gonna be just fucking great!” Her voice echoed from down the hall as she headed toward her room.
    Elise felt the corners of her mouth twitch into a nervous grin.
    It was going to be . . . something, all right.

Three
    M aya’s four-year-old son, Will, was lying on his belly on the floor under the Christmas tree, coloring, as Elise peeked into the den after washing and putting away the dinner dishes. Gray evening light pressed into the corners of the room, and the boy looked cozy and sleepy in his footed pj’s, his legs bent upward behind him, lazily kicking the bottom branches of the tree. A soft
clink
sounded with every kick as two ornaments butted against one another.
    Nearby, seven-year-old Molly played with Elise’s granny’s porcelain Nativity set as if the pieces were dolls in a dollhouse. Her tiny, lispy voice singsonged as she moved baby Jesus up onto the thatched roof of the barn, a cow sitting sentry by his side.
    Elise smiled. They were good kids. Well behaved. It broke Elise’s heart to think of their upbringing being anything like their mom’s, filled with difficulty and heartbreak. But she supposed it probably was. After all that had happened, it was impossible to pretend that things were good between Maya and Bradley. Not that marital problems couldn’t be fixed. But there were marital problems, and there were Maya and Bradley,