The Lucky Ones(50)

“I remember the good stuff,” Allison said. “Roland reading to us and letting me turn the pages. All of us playing Mario Kart and Deacon beating the pants off us every time. And you taught me to ride a bike.”

“Right. In the school parking lot,” Thora said. “You and me and Dad. We made the boys all stay home because they made you so nervous.”

“They were too competitive,” Allison said. “I wasn’t trying to win the Tour de France.”

“What else do you remember?”

“Oh, lots of things,” Allison said. “What I don’t remember is my fall and the days before it happened.”

“You don’t remember what happened before?”

“All gone,” Allison said. “Nothing after the day, ah...you all went to the park and Roland and I stayed home. Why?” Dr. Capello had asked her the same thing, what she remembered before her fall. Same answer. Nothing.

“Just curious.”

“Do you remember the day I fell?” Allison asked, trying to keep her eye on the winding highway and watch Thora’s face at the same time.

“I remember hearing Dad scream. I ran out of the bedroom and saw Dad kneeling over you on the floor. It was terrifying.”

“You ran out of the bedroom?” Allison asked.

“Yeah, I was in there...reading. Or something.”

“You weren’t outside?”

“No, why?”

“Deacon thought he remembered you were outside with him when it happened.”

“Oh,” Thora said. She smiled but it was a brittle smile, like it was made of thin glass. “Yeah, that’s right. We were outside together.”

Allison smiled, though her stomach tightened.

“Long time ago,” Allison said. “Easy to forget things.”

They drove on a little longer and Allison stayed quiet. She wanted Thora to do the talking. Thora hated silence, always had. Eventually she’d open up again and say something.

“I’m worried about you staying with us,” Thora said.

“What? Why?” That wasn’t what Allison had been expecting, not at all.

“Dad’s dying. You don’t want to be around for that, do you? I’ve lived with him all my life and I don’t want to be around for it.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“I’m...I’m very happy to see you again,” Thora said. “I could cry I’m so happy. I thought... I was scared you were gone forever. But for your own sake, not mine, I think you’d be better off going. It’s not going to be pretty.”

“I won’t overstay my welcome, I promise.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then what are you worried about?” Allison asked.

“Oh,” Thora said. “The usual. Everything. Roland especially. I’m my brother’s keeper.”

“And sister’s?”

“Maybe,” Thora said. She reached over and squeezed Allison’s knee. “If you stay, I’ll want to keep you.”

“You wouldn’t be the first person to keep me.”

Thora looked at her out of the corner of her eye. “You have dirt to tell your big sissy?” Thora batted her eyelashes.

“If you want dirt, I got dirt.”

“Good dirt?”

“Sex with a horny billionaire dirt.”

Thora raised both hands and shook them in frenzied excitement.

“That’s the best kind of dirt. Head south. I don’t care if we end up in Big Sur, I gotta hear this,” Thora said as she took off her cardigan to get comfortable. It was then that Allison noticed something hanging off the belt loop of her jeans.

A little can of pepper spray.





Chapter 16

When they arrived back at The Dragon, Thora disappeared upstairs into her bedroom and Allison did the same. It was a relief to be completely alone again. She’d gotten used to spending her days by herself, and she’d probably talked more in the past twenty-four hours than she had in the last few weeks combined. She hadn’t asked Thora about the pepper spray. She’d never thought of coastal Oregon as a high crime area, but she couldn’t blame any woman for wanting to have a little protection on her. Still...it seemed odd that Deacon would want both his sisters to carry pepper spray. What was he afraid of around here?

The quiet and the solitude didn’t last long. Roland knocked on her door about an hour later, and by that time, she was ready for company again, especially tall, broad-shouldered, handsome company.

“Hey, you,” she said as she let him into her room. “How’s Dad?”

“Resting and reading,” Roland said. “You?”

“Reading and resting.” She sat on a white wicker rocking chair in the corner of the room. Roland sat across from her on the bed.

“You had fun with Thora and Deacon?” he asked.

She considered asking him about the pepper spray but decided to keep that to herself for now.

“Did they tell you I nearly killed myself today?” she asked.

“What made you think touching nine-hundred-degree molten glass was a good idea?” he asked.

“It was cute.”

“Third-degree burns, however, are not cute.”