When We Were Sisters Read Online Free PDF Page A

And you?”
    â€œJust cuts and bruises. They let me out bright and early yesterday.”
    â€œThank God. And Margaret?”
    â€œShe’s out of the woods, but she’ll need rehabilitation. Lots of it.”
    Her eyes had filled again. I looked away. “I repeat—this was not your fault.”
    â€œYou’ll tell me that for a while, won’t you? Because it’s not getting through.”
    Nobody understood that better than I did.
    A fleet of black limos pulled slowly into view. My heart beat faster, and I glanced at Gretchen. She had seen them, too, and she reached for my hand. We remained that way until the prayers were said, the eulogy given and it was time to line up to scoop dirt onto Talya’s coffin.
    Afterward we didn’t approach Michael or any of Talya’s family, although almost a dozen neighbors I hadn’t noticed when I arrived joined us to flank the path as the family went back to their cars.
    As she walked past, Channa saw the tears rolling down my cheeks and broke ranks. She darted over for a hug before she continued on with her father. Michael nodded to me, and I could see he was barely holding himself together. We would speak when we went to the house to sit shivah. If we could find words.
    Only then, after I’d said goodbye to Gretchen and was walking up the road where I saw the Town Car in the distance, did I catch a glimpse of Kris alone in our silver Acura cruising slowly past, as if he were trying to find a parking space.
    I kept walking.
    * * *
    Nik and Pet weren’t home when Cecilia and I arrived. Ideally Kris should have taken them out of class for the afternoon and let them accompany him to the funeral. I don’t believe in protecting children from death or from the necessity of goodbyes, and I would have brought them with me if I’d been in charge.
    I don’t know if Kris chose not to include them because of conviction or logistics. And since he didn’t get to the service in time anyway, what did it matter?
    â€œGet a drink and make yourself at home,” I told Cecilia. “I’m going to change. Then I’ll join you.”
    She would pour herself a diet Dr Pepper, one of her few food vices. I always keep them for her, even if she hasn’t visited for months. It’s one of our little secrets. She never drinks any kind of soft drink in public. My sister is a vegan food crusader. Talya, who grew up in a kosher home, was less concerned about what she ate at my table than Cecilia is.
    Upstairs I noted our bed wasn’t made, but the room was otherwise neat. I knew if I went into his closet Kris’s dirty clothes would be in his hamper and his shirts would be hanging according to sleeve length and color. He’s not obsessive, he’s just busy, and anything that saves him time in the morning is a bonus. I might find hair in the sink, or the toilet seat up, but his toiletries would be sitting in single file in the order he needed them each morning.
    I wasn’t glad to be home, and I added that to my load of guilt. Views of the Weinbergs’ house would be a constant reminder of Talya. When would I stop expecting her to drop in with half a coffee cake her mother-in-law had baked or a handful of exotic herbs she wanted me to try?
    I removed Cecilia’s skirt and blouse, dark brown designer pieces that had hung on my thinner frame like sackcloth, and folded them neatly. I pulled on leggings and an oversize T-shirt before I went downstairs again. I could see Cecilia outside on the deck. Blessedly it’s on the garden side of our property, and the Weinbergs’ home is barely visible through the trees.
    There are no words to express how much I love this house and our garden, which I created myself and tend with only minimal help from a local landscaper. Meadow Branch is a newish development on what was formerly a horse farm. Our home was the original farmhouse, burgundy brick with a high peaked center