Chapter Ten
The dishcloth had long since become damp, but we were almost done and it wasn't worth the effort to get a dry one. Robbie was washing, I was drying, and Marshal was putting away with the help of my mom. The truth was, she was out here supervising so Robbie and I didn't lapse into one of our infamous water fights. I smiled and handed a bowl to Marshal. The scent of roast beef and butterscotch pie was heavy in the air, a big trigger for the memories of the Sunday nights when Robbie would come over. I had been twelve and Robbie twenty. And then it had all stopped when Dad died.
Robbie saw my mood shift, and he made a fist half in the water, half out. Squeezing his hand, he made a short burst of water arc up and splash into my side of the sink.
"Knock it off," I complained, then shrieked when he squirted me again. "Mom!"
"Robbie." Mom didn't even look up from arranging the coffee tray.
"I didn't do anything," he protested, and my mom's eyes glinted when she turned.
"Then don't do anything a little faster," she complained. "Honestly, I never understood why it took you two so long to get the kitchen cleaned up. Put some hustle into it. Marshal is the only one out here working." She beamed at him, making the young man flush when Robbie muttered a good-natured "Suck-up."
Robbie and Marshal had hit it off great, the two of them spending much of the evening with talk about college sports and music. Marshal was closer to Robbie's age than mine, and it was nice seeing my brother actually approve of one of my boyfriends. Not that Marshal was a boyfriend, but watching them made me wistful, as if I was getting a glimpse of something I'd turned my back on. This was what a normal family must be like, with siblings bringing new people into the family, becoming part of something bigger...Belonging.
It didn't help that most of the dinner conversation had centered on Robbie and Cindy. They were obviously serious about each other, and I could just see my mother becoming happier by the moment because Robbie might start a family and find himself part of the "circle of life." I'd given up on the white picket fence after Kisten had died-finding out my kids would be demons was the nail in the coffin-but seeing Robbie getting kudos for doing something I deemed not socially responsible for me to pursue was irritating. Sibling rivalry sucked.
With Marshal here, I could at least pretend. Both Mom and Robbie were impressed that he'd just sold his own business with enough profit to put him through getting his master's without having to work at all. The swim-coach thing now was just to lower his tuition and give him a whole lot more disposable income. I'd hoped he'd heard from admissions about my declined check by now, but apparently not everyone was working over the winter break.
Giving Robbie a light smack from the back of her hand for the suck-up comment, my mother pointed out to Marshal where the glasses went, then busied herself arranging the last of the solstice cookies on a plate. The round sugar cookies were bright with solstice green and gold, and lettered with runes of good fortune. My mom put her heart into everything she did.
As soon as her back was turned, Robbie threatened to shoot another jet of water at me. I closed my eyes and ignored him. I'd been trying to get him alone all night to ask him about that book, but between Marshal and my mother, I hadn't had the chance. I was going to have to bring in some help. Marshal wasn't devious by nature, but he wasn't slow on the uptake either.
Humming happily, my mom sashayed out with a plate of cookies. The stereo in the living room went on, and I grimaced. I had thirty seconds, tops.
"Marshal," I said, pleading with my eyes as I handed him a plate. "I've got a big favor to ask. I'll tell you all about it later, but will you keep my mom busy for about ten minutes?"
Robbie stopped what he was doing and just looked at me. "What's up, firefly?"
My mom came back in, and following the pattern we'd laid down when we were conniving kids, Robbie turned back to the sink as if I'd said nothing.
"Please...," I whispered to Marshal when he came back from sliding the stack of plates away. "I've got to talk to Robbie about something."
Oblivious, my mom puttered with the coffeemaker, jostling Robbie and me aside and looking small next to us as she filled the carafe.
"Marshal," Robbie said, eyes twinkling as they met mine behind my mom's back. "You look as tired as a dead carp. Rachel and I can finish here. Why don't you go and sit in the living room and wait for coffee? Look at a few photo albums."
Immediately my mother brightened. "What a fantastic idea! Marshal, you must see the photos we took on our last summer vacation. Rachel was twelve, and just starting to have some strength," she said, taking his elbow. "And Rachel will bring the coffee out when it's done." Smiling, she turned to me. "Don't be too long, you two," she said, but the lilt in her voice gave me pause. I think she knew I was getting rid of them. My mom was nuts; she was not stupid.
I slipped my hands into the warm water and pulled out a dripping serving platter. From the front of the house came Marshal's resonant voice. It sounded good balanced against my mom's. Dinner had been pleasant, but again, almost painful listening to Robbie go on and on about Cindy, my mom joining in when they talked about her two weeks out there. I was jealous, but everyone I got attached to seemed to end up hurt, dead, or crooked. Everyone but Ivy and Jenks, and I wasn't sure about the crooked part with them.
"Well, what is it?" Robbie said, dropping the silverware so the rinse water splashed.
Quietly I ran the back of my hand across my chin. And here I am, trying to resurrect a ghost. Maybe I could be friends with a ghost. I wouldn't be able to kill him. "Remember that book you gave me for the winter solstice?" I asked.
"No."
My eyes came up, but he wouldn't meet them. His jaw was clenched, making his long face appear longer. "The one that I used to bring-" I started.
"No." It was forceful, and my lips parted when I realized he meant no as in "I'm not telling," not "I don't know."
"Robbie!" I exclaimed softly. "You've got it?"
My brother rubbed his eyebrows. It was one of his tells. He was either lying, or about to. "I've no clue what you're talking about," he said as he wiped off the suds he'd just put there.
"Liar," I accused, and his jaw tightened. "It's mine," I said, then softened my voice when Marshal raised his voice to cover us up. "You gave it to me. I need it. Where is it?"
"No." His gaze was intent and his voice determined as he scoured the pan the roast had been in. "It was a mistake to give it to you, and it's going to stay right where it is."
"Which is...," I prompted, but he continued to scrub, his short hair moving as he did.
"You gave it to me!" I exclaimed, frustrated and hoping he wasn't going to tell me it was four time zones away.
"You have no right to try to summon Dad again." Only now would he look at me, and his temper was showing. "Mom had a devil of a time pulling herself back together after that little stunt. Took me two weeks and almost five hundred dollars in phone bills."
"Yeah, well, I spent seven years putting her back together when you left after Dad died, so I think we're even."
Robbie's shoulders slumped. "That's not fair."
"Neither is leaving us for a stinking career," I said, my heart pounding. "God, no wonder she's so screwed up. You did the same thing Takata did to her. You're both exactly alike."
My brother's face became closed and he turned away. Immediately I wished I could take it back, even if it was true. "Robbie, I'm sorry," I said, and he flicked a glance at me. "I shouldn't have said that. It's just...I really need that book."
"It's not safe."
"I'm not eighteen anymore!" I exclaimed, dish towel on my hip.
"You sure act like it."
I dropped the dry silverware in the drawer, slammed it shut, and turned. Seeing my frustration, Robbie softened, and with his voice carrying a shared pain, he said, "Dad's at rest, Rachel. Let him go."
Peeved, I shook my head. "I'm not trying to talk to Dad. I need it to talk to Pierce."
Robbie huffed as he drained the sink and rinsed the cooking pan under tap water. "He's at rest, too. Leave the poor guy alone."
A faint excitement lifted in me at the memory of the night Pierce and I had spent in the snow of Cincinnati. It had been the first time I had really felt alive. The first time I'd ever been able to help anyone. "Pierce is not at rest. He's in my church, and has been for almost a year, changing my phone's ring tones and making Jenks's cat stare at me."
Robbie turned, shocked, and I reached to turn the water off for him. "You're kidding."
I tried not to look smug, but he was my brother, and it was my right. "I want to help him find his rest. Where is the book?" I asked as I took the pan and shook the water from it.
He thought for a moment as he rummaged under the sink for the cleanser, dusting a little in the sink and then replacing it where it had sat for almost three decades. "The attic," he said as he started to scrub. "I've got Mom's crucible up there, too. The really expensive red-and-white one? And the bottle to hold the potion. I don't know where the watch is. Did you lose it?"
Elated, I put the roaster away half dried. "It's in my dresser," I said, trying not to sneeze at the sharp scent of cleanser as I jammed the dish towel over the rod to dry and started for the door. I was going to get everything in one go. How lucky could I get?
I was halfway to the kitchen door when Robbie caught my elbow. "I'll get it," he said, glancing past me to the unseen living room. "I don't want Mom to know what you're doing. Tell her I'm looking for my bottle-cap collection."
Snorting, I nodded. Yeah, like he'd really take his beer-bottle-cap collection on the plane with him. "Ten minutes," I said. "If you're not down here by then, I'm coming up after you."
"Fair enough." He smiled as he pulled the towel from the rack and dried his hands. "You are such a sweet sister. I truly don't know how those rumors get started."
I tried to come up with something, my mind going blank when he flicked the towel at me, scoring. "Hey!" I yelped.
"Leave your sister alone, Robbie," my mom said faintly from the living room, her voice carrying a familiar firmness, and both Robbie and I smiled. It had been too long. Smirking at his innocently wide green eyes, I grabbed the sponge and hefted it experimentally.
"Rachel!" came my mom's voice, and grinning, Robbie tossed the dish towel at me and sauntered confidently out of the kitchen. Almost immediately I heard the attic door being pulled down, and the thunk of the stairway hitting the carpet in the bedroom hallway. Confident now that I'd be going home with everything I'd need, I wiped the sink out and hung up the dish towel.
"Coffee," I whispered, sniffing at the coffeemaker and hoping she'd lightened up on the grounds in deference to having a guest.
Shoes a soft hush on linoleum, my mom came in. "What's Robbie doing in the attic?"