The Secret of You and Me - Melissa Lenhardt Page 0,11

face. Did she see the girl she once knew or an entirely different person? I held her gaze as the silence lengthened, and the tension between us was palpable until finally, I wasn’t seeing her at all, but our history: becoming best friends the summer before fifth grade when Coach Cress had given me a tennis scholarship at the country club; riding our bikes all around town, always ending up at the bakery sharing a piece of buttermilk pie; making grunge mix tapes at Sophie’s; clinging to each other and crying when we learned that Kurt Cobain killed himself; going through a very regrettable matching flannel shirt stage to honor his memory; celebrating when Sophie made the cheer team; celebrating when I made the basketball, tennis and track teams; Sophie showing up to cold early-morning track meets with a thermos of hot chocolate for me (and even bringing a can of Reddi Wip); reading our required English lit books to Sophie, my head in her lap, Sophie playing with my hair until it was greasy and needed a wash; our senior year.

Feelings I thought I’d long since buried flared in the pit of my stomach as I remembered the best year of my life. I hadn’t been sure of my place in the world—what teenager was?—but I was sure of my place in my best friend’s life. Until the day it all fell apart.

Sophie remembered that day, too. She blushed and opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came. My throat thickened with emotion—hope—and kept me from saying what I’d longed to say since that June day in 1995. Sophie found her voice first.

“Congratulations. You won.”

She walked out of the barn, letting me down again.

four

nora

I decided ice was overrated and finished off the whiskey before I returned to the house.

I stopped inside the kitchen door at the sight of Sophie and Charlie standing close together, talking low. Sophie’s arms were crossed over her chest, and she was staring at the floor, her eyes red. Charlie held a briefcase in one hand and had an exasperated expression on his face. They broke apart when they saw me. Sophie turned away, wiping her cheeks. I clenched my jaw, went into the laundry room and shut the door. I reached out with one hand to steady myself against the refrigerator and inhaled a few times. I had barely eaten, and the whiskey was doing its job nicely. But, not well enough. I reached into the green cooler, popped a beer and drank half of it. I stared at the Shiner label and came to terms with the knowledge that coming home wasn’t going to give me the closure I sought. Every emotion, good and bad, had been dredged back up. I would listen to Ranger Rick, and to the will, and leave as soon as possible. Tomorrow. The next day at the latest.

There was a knock. “Nora?” Charlie said.

I opened the door. Before Charlie could say anything, I skirted around him. Sophie stood in front of the kitchen sink, her back to me, staring out the window. I set my half-empty beer on the table with a thunk and went into the den. Rick Michaels sat forward in the recliner, talking to Emmadean and Mary on the couch. Dormer and Jeremy stood off to the side. I heard the children in the distance, with an older girl’s voice I recognized at once as Sophie’s daughter. Charlie came in and edged over by Dormer.

“That’s Ray’s chair,” I said to Rick Michaels.

Everyone stared up at me. Ranger Rick didn’t move, or look abashed, but sat back into Ray’s chair.

“Get up,” I said.

“Nora,” Emmadean said.

“What?” I snapped. Everyone went quiet. I walked to Rick Michaels and stood over him. “Get out of Ray’s chair, or I’ll do it for you.”

“No need to be testy, little lady.” He pushed himself forward and struggled to heft himself out of the chair.

“I’m not your little lady.”

“Nora, good God, settle down,” Mary said.

Michaels reached into his coat pocket and held out an envelope to Charlie. I snatched it away. “We found it in Ray’s desk drawer,” Michaels said.

Ray’s distinctive block lettering covered a single sheet of lined yellow paper with a jagged tear at the top. The date in the top right corner was one week previous. The title: Last Will and Testament of Raymond Arnold Noakes.

I looked at Rick Michaels in astonishment. “Ray wrote a new will, and he just happened to be in a freak accident the next