The Sometime Sister Katherine Nichols (reading in the dark txt) 📖

“Grace,” he brushed his lips over mine. “Shut up and go to sleep.”

When I woke the next morning, Justin was snoring softly from the recliner. He helped me dress, and we waited for the doctor’s arrival.

He showed up a little after nine with a list of what to expect while recovering from a concussion. I was now subject to a variety of side effects: everything from irritability, depression, and memory loss to chronic pain and personality changes. And, of course, that damn ringing in my ears.

I promised to check in with my doctor when we returned to the US, and my adorable young Ecuadorian physician wished me luck and sent me on my way.

On the drive, I pictured families gathered around crowded tables and wondered how many of those families set a place for missing loved ones. Would my sister be the ghost at our family table every holiday? Or would my mother give up and let us become one of those families who go out for all the meaningful holidays until those special occasions no longer have meaning.

Justin interrupted my gloomy thoughts to explain someone from the villa had done all my packing for me, so there was no need to return to Montañita. I should have been grateful. But despite all the terrible things I’d seen and uncovered during my stay in that beachside party town, I felt a twinge of regret about not saying goodbye to the place. Glass half empty again, Grace.

We passed a deserted construction site and I gasped. I knew Ben had died in the explosion, but what about Adelmo?

I turned to Justin. “Did they find Adelmo’s body in the trailer with Ben?”

Justin didn’t look at me when he answered. “No, Grace. Balsuto’s body wasn’t recovered.”

Chapter 35

Black clouds, heavy with rain, obscured my farewell view of the country where my sister died. When I closed my eyes, vibrant reds and yellows and oranges of the row houses scattered on the hills flashed, then melted into lush greens and blues of the river with the ever-changing currents.

Turbulence jolted the plane and my stomach. I dug my fingernails into the armrests. A flight attendant beamed at us as she demonstrated the proper way to put on our oxygen masks. Her emphasis that we should attach our own before helping others reminded me of my relationship with Stella. I focused on taking care of her and forgot about my needs. Now that she was gone, would I remember how to breathe?

My eyelids burned, and I rummaged through my purse for a tissue. I came up empty, except for a soggy one left from the scene I caused when we said goodbye to Harry, who had insisted on sending Stella’s ashes home to my mother. His act of kindness unleashed a flood of emotions I’d kept damned up for over three years. During the past two weeks, cracks developed in the foundation and the damn exploded. My passion for Justin, the depth of my loss, the kindness of people I just met—all of this overcame me at the gate. I clung to Harry, sobbing into his chest. Only his promise to visit me in the States kept me from collapsing.

I closed the window shade. Whether it was an electrical glitch from my brush with lightning or my inability to comprehend how Adelmo vanished, I was having trouble remembering the story.

I tapped Justin on the arm and said, “I know you already explained this, but are you sure nobody knows what happened to him?”

He shook his head and repeated how the authorities insisted that not only was his body not recovered, but no one had seen him since the incident. They credited the trouble he’d been experiencing from both the government and the competing gangs with his disappearance. They speculated the explosion might have given him time to skip the country while everyone thought he was dead.

My sister’s lover was an imperfect man, capable of walking into that shack and putting a bullet in Ben’s head. But if Adelmo was right and Stella had changed, it was possible he was also a different person. His being alive made me hopeful, as if a part of my sister survived with him. The better part.

“I forgot to tell you we found Eduardo,” Justin added.

The name eluded me at first, but I pulled it up. They had wanted to find Eduardo to ask questions about Eva and my ex.

“He was clearing his stuff out of the house when we got there. He agreed to get in touch with his aunt for us. Before we left, he asked us to tell you he was sorry your stay in Montañita was unpleasant, but you didn’t need to worry about the Señor.”

“Sounds like he didn’t expect Ben to come back.”

“Not much escaped him, so I would guess that’s right. With him out of the way, Eva might talk to you. Speaking of talking, you never told me what happened at the construction site.” He traced his index finger over the lines in my palm. “If you’re not ready, though, I can wait.”

“I’m ready,” I said. I started with Marco’s knock at the villa and ended with me crouching underneath the man. A sense of shame made me reluctant to share how I asked Adelmo not to kill Ben. But holding back the truth no longer seemed worth the effort. So, I explained how I begged him to let the justice system take care of my sister’s murderer. My only omission was that the lightning strike had illuminated the recesses of my memory.

“When it came right down to it, I couldn’t do it, couldn’t get the revenge my mother wanted. But he loved Stella too much to let anyone else hold the fate of her killer. He had more courage than I do. Or maybe I didn’t love her enough.”

Justin pushed up the armrest and scooted close. “There’s nothing courageous about shooting someone in cold blood,