Brass Ring by Diane Chamberlain Page B

death twelve years ago. Just before he died, he sent a letter to Mellie giving her Vanessa’s address. Mellie flew immediately to Seattle, only to be rather brutally turned away at the door to her daughter’s home. Heartbroken, she begged Claire to try contacting Vanessa. Claire wrote to her sister and heard nothing back, but she didn’t go to Seattle herself. Jon had been confused by Claire’s easy surrender to
    her sister’s wishes. Why hadn’t Claire pushed a little harder? It was not like her to give up so easily. She was too busy, she’d said, and obviously Vanessa didn’t want to see her. At the time, he’d wondered if she was giving up out of sensitivity to him. His only sister— only sibling—had died in the plane crash.
    “You know, I’ve always had this little fantasy.” Claire sounded as if she were about to reveal a secret, and he leaned closer to her. “Vanessa and I shared such a wonderful childhood together. It would be such fun to compare memories.” She ran her fingers through her long hair. “My fantasy is that she comes to visit, and we drive up to Winchester Village together to see Grandpa’s carousel.”
    He smiled at the idea. A hundred times over the years they’d talked of going up to that amusement park three hours north of them in Pennsylvania. Somehow, though, they’d never gotten around to it. He would like to see that carousel himself after hearing about it for more than half his life.
    “I’m forty,” Claire said. “And Vanessa is my only sister. How long am I going to put off trying to see her?”
    He wheeled a little closer and touched her knee. “You have a full life,” he said gently, “and she probably has one of her own. Can you just forget it?”
    “That’s what Randy tried to do, and it’s haunting him,” she said. “He didn’t say that exactly, but I could tell.”
    She sounded as if she and Randy were old friends, as if what this stranger thought and felt mattered to her. The disconcerting swell of fear washed over him again. He wanted to end this conversation.
    “Well, I think I’m going up to bed,” he said. “It’s been a long day. Are you coming?” He held his hand out to her, but she didn’t take it.
    “In a few minutes,” she said.
    “All right.” He lowered his hand reluctantly. He didn’t like leaving her alone with the thoughts that were upsetting her, the thoughts that were turning her into someone he didn’t know.
    CLAIRE SAT ON THE sofa for a while after Jon went to bed. She was finished with Margot now, she thought. It was over. Chapter closed.
    The Otis Redding disc came to an end, and the stereo shut off, but still she felt glued to the sofa. The evening had drained her. Ever since leaving the theater, she’d felt as if she were moving through molasses.
    Vanessa
. She pictured the little girl everyone had called “Angel.” Blond curls, like Mellie’s. Laughing as she rode the carousel with Claire. Petite and delicate, Vanessa had never quite managed to reach the brass ring chute without some calculated help from Grandpa.
    Claire rested her head back against the sofa and looked at the ceiling, an idea taking shape in her mind. She would write to Vanessa again. If she didn’t hear back this time, she would go to Seattle, try to find her. Well, maybe she would write a couple of times first. Give her every chance to respond. She didn’t understand the hesitancy she’d always felt about getting in touch with her sister. It was way past time. She had taken the easy way out for too long.
    She felt a rush of energy now that she had a plan of action. Upstairs, she took a quick shower and put on her short blue chemise.
    Jon was reading in bed when she walked into the bedroom. He looked beautiful, his eyes big and dark, the muscles of his bare chest and arms well defined. There was very little fat on his body, except for the spot low on his belly, which, given his injury, was impossible for him to tone. He ate carefully. He had an