Page 24 of Elijah’s Whim

“Please drive safely. I love you, Shep.”

“Yeah, whatever.” And my ill-tempered younger sister snatched her car keys off the row of hooks by the door between the house and garage and was gone.

The entire house collectively exhaled when we heard the weather seal at the base of the garage door make contact with the concrete floor once she was gone.

In silence, I picked up the laundry basket and went to my room to fold the clothes for my mom and pull myself together. My younger sister was becoming increasingly ill-tempered, and I had no idea what was causing it. I’d have to talk to Agatha when she got home and see if she had any insight. My personality had always been at odds with Sheppard’s, but the things she said tonight were downright hurtful. Intentionally so. We weren’t taught to treat one another that way, and I couldn’t understand what I’d done to make her so hateful.

Tears were trying their best to make a predinner appearance, but I took some calming breaths to banish the emotional onslaught. After the third cycle of ins and outs, I heard my mom clear her throat in my doorway.

“Han, I’m so sorry, honey. I don’t know what gets into her sometimes, but you didn’t deserve that.”

“I know that, Mom. She’s out of control, though. Do you need help with dinner? I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.”

“Don’t be silly. You cook all day. I’m sure it’s the last thing you want to do when you get home.”

“It’s different when I’m cooking for you guys. Well, you guys minus Sheppard.”

“Hannah. Rochelle.”

“What?”

We both laughed before she folded me into the best mom hug I’d had in a while. Somehow, she always knew when I needed one of her professional-grade embraces. Apparently after raising five children, certain things became second nature.

“I’m going to finish folding this before dinner. Plus, I’m enjoying the quiet in here,” I told my mom when she headed out of my bedroom. Something about a girl’s childhood sanctuary could still bring solace, even at my age. I didn’t have teen boy idol posters hanging above my bed anymore, or garish pink-and-purple wallpaper, but if these walls could talk, they would really embarrass me. Especially if a certain hazel-eyed sex devil was the one doing the interrogating.

Forgetting about the laundry now that he was in the foreground of my thoughts again, I flopped down on my bed and stared at the ceiling. I wondered if Elijah would like to go ballooning with me. I wondered if I was still allowed to do that. I remembered the initial set of house rules stated I could do whatever I wanted as long as I let him know my plans in advance. I laughed out loud, picturing him afraid of heights and finally finding the man’s Achilles’ heel. Oh, to have a bargaining chip to use against him.

Yes! I would bring it up tonight, or maybe I’d let him drive me to the kitchen in the morning so we could talk about it then.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Aaahhh!” I shouted when my sister Agatha caught me in the middle of my reverie. I knew I had the goofiest grin on my face as my sibling found me in a daze much more pleasant than the disaster of reality she’d narrowly escaped in our home.

She raised her finger as if hailing the bartender at our favorite watering hole at the Standard in the Financial District. Anytime we needed to let our hair down a little bit, that was where we went.

“Joaquin, I’ll have what she’s having,” she shouted, still playacting with her voice as loud as necessary to be heard in a crowded bar.

I hopped up from my bed and went to stand beside her, getting in on the silliness. It was exactly what I needed. “Tall, icy hazel eyes, and sexy as fuck. Better make it a double tonight, Joaquin.”

Agatha slowly looked across her shoulder to me and then back to the pretend Joaquin. “I better get mine to go. And hurry up, will ya?” She poured on an obnoxious accent of some sort, and I sputtered the start of a laugh but quickly sealed my lips when she dealt me a sidelong glare. With eyes forward again, my sister said in her loud, rude accent, “I’m not gettin’ any younger here!”

In a fit of giggles, we embraced and fell onto my bed in each other’s arms. It didn’t matter that we were an average age of twenty-five and laughing so hard we had tears rolling down our cheeks. It didn’t matter that our dad had to call to us at least twice from my doorway to let us know dinner was ready. It especially didn’t matter that less than an hour before, tears were threatening to run down my cheeks for a completely different reason.

All that mattered was Agatha Christine Farsey was one of the best friends I had in this entire world. And what was even better than that?

No. The only thing that mattered right here and right now was this amazing, perfect woman was my sister.

“What’s gotten into the two of you?” Our dad chuckled as he stood and watched us straighten our clothes and wipe our tear-streaked cheeks.

“Just letting off a little steam being silly, Daddy,” Agatha explained and stood on her tippy toes to kiss his cheek when he bent forward to meet her halfway. Our dad was a tall man at six feet three inches, and this particular sister was the shortest of the brood at an exact foot shorter than he was.

The three of us strolled toward the kitchen, and delicious aromas assaulted my senses. Everything smelled better—and tasted better—when you didn’t have to prepare it yourself.

“It’s too bad your other sister doesn’t just lighten up. I don’t know what got into her tonight, Hannah, but you didn’t deserve any of that. You know that, right?”

“Of course I do, Daddy. She must be under a lot of pressure at school or something.”

“Don’t make excuses for her. She doesn’t deserve your mercy all the time. She doesn’t deserve it from any of us at this point, and I’m wondering if that’s why she’s so nasty to everyone. Because she gets away with it. Your mother and I did not tolerate you girls treating each other that way when you were younger, so I don’t know what makes her think it’s okay now. This is still my home. My rules.”