Page 31 of Claimed By my Father's Enemies
She takes a step toward me. Her hands go to her waist. "It's true. Research it."
"I'll put it on my list."
I can see the effort it takes Sienna to control herself. She turns to Charlotte and says, “I hope Keith can help you with your mindfulness practice. Komorebi, ok?”
“Great, now she speaks in code…” I can’t seem to stop from trying to get a reaction from her.
"William." Charlotte's voice carries tired patience. And then she turns to Sienna and says, "I love it. What type of plant is it?"
"Snake plant," Sienna says, without taking her eyes from me.
"Snake," I almost snarl. "How appropriate."
"Oh, for—" Sienna starts.
"William." Charlotte again. Different tone this time. Less patience, more plain. "Behave. Sienna is my friend."
I look at my sister.
She has the hospital blanket pulled up to her waist, her arm in a sling and dark circles under her eyes. She's looking at me with an expression I've seen before many times. The please-don't-do-this-right-now expression, the one she uses when I'm about to make a situation worse than it needs to be.
I exhale. I nod.
"Besides," Charlotte says, and her voice shifts to the careful register she uses when she's about to say something she's been sitting on, "there's something I've been meaning to tell you about—"
"It's fine." Sienna cuts across her, not looking at Charlotte, looking at me. "I already told him. That we never stopped being in touch." A forced smile. "That we stayed friends."
She says the last part while looking pointedly at Charlotte. And, just like that, they are having another private conversation right in front of me.
"Yeah." Charlotte settles back into the pillow. "We have. For a long time."
Sienna picks up her bag. "Like I said, I'm heading out." She steps to the bed, leans down and kisses Charlotte's cheek. Whatever she murmurs is too low for me to catch. Charlotte reaches up and squeezes her hand once.
"Look after Keith." Sienna slings her bag onto her shoulder. At the door she turns, levels a look at me and with exaggerated sweetness says, "Bye, Billy."
She winks.
She leaves.
The door closes.
I stand there.
Behind me, Charlotte makes a sound. Soft. Controlled. Absolutely laughing.
I stare at the closed door.
"I'll be right back," I say.
"William—"
I'm already in the corridor.
She's at the elevator bank, her bag over one shoulder, her weight easy on one hip while she waits. There are two other people near her. She hears my footsteps, looks back, and her expression shows resignation and that she is not surprised.
"What now?"
I take her gently by the arm, just enough to steer us a few feet down the corridor and out of the immediate orbit of the other people waiting. She lets me.
