The Tidewater Sisters: Postlude to The Prayer Box by Lisa Wingate Page A

better if we just sold it.” For some reason, Gina’s words ring true. “It’s time to move on, and the offer on the property was good. I think you’re going to be sorry you went this route.”
    “Well, at least now I can make the decision for myself.”
    It’s time to end the conversation, so I square my shoulders, settle a hand over my purse, and walk away.
    Curious glances follow me across the showroom again. People in Gina’s new world clearly know something has happened. Maybe they all think I have leukemia, too.
    Strangely, I feel both lighter and heavier as I reach my car. I’m just standing with my fingers on the handle when the dealership door swishes open behind me, and I catch a peripheral glimpse of my sister’s blonde hair swirling on the wind.
    I turn, and she’s carrying the box from Meemaw’s house. “You might as well have this.” Nose crinkling, she shoves it my way. “I kept the pearl necklace that was in there, but I’d never wear this old thing at my wedding.” She releases the box so that I almost have to catch it in midair.
    An awkward stalemate holds us in place, neither party willing to fly the white flag or fire another cannonball across the battlefield.
    My sister studies me as if I’m an alien life form she no longer recognizes. “Thanks for not saying anything more to Merritt.”
    “You should tell him the truth yourself.”
    A head shake indicates that I just don’t get it. “You know, Merritt is a really decent guy. The past just needs to stay in the past, that’s all.”
    I think of what Luke said about never being able to make a good life while you’re running. “I hope things work out for you, Gina. Thanks for letting me have the dress.”
    “You’re welcome.” She says it begrudgingly, but then our gazes meet and she softens. “ You need to leave things in the past too, little sister. Don’t let Luke Townley screw it up for you and Paul. You’re lucky you found somebody who really loves you, even if he’s not sitting on a fat checkbook.”
    “I know I’m lucky to have Paul.” And then for some reason, I feel the need to call it what it is. “Blessed.”
    Looking down at her red, high-heeled shoes, she hugs her arms around herself and glances back toward the dealership as if she knows we have an audience watching through the glass, and she feels the need to wrap up this conversation.
    Yet there seems to be something more she wants to say. “Listen, I didn’t keep it from you about Luke Townley because I was jealous. I mean, I was always jealous that he liked you the way he did, but . . . I wasn’t trying to hurt you by not telling.”
    Again, there’s possibly some underlying truth in all of that. Just enough to make the words burn soul deep. “How long have you known?”
    “Always.”
    “Since we left Meemaw and Pap-pap’s?”
    “Since not long after.”
    “How did you know?”
    “I heard Mama and Daddy fighting.” She sighs, seeming to suffer a pang of regret. “I couldn’t tell you. You were better off letting the Luke thing go. We were all better off.”
    “Why?”
    For the first time, somewhere in that pretty shell, I see the sister who protected me when she was just a child herself. Who fed me when Mama was too drunk or stoned and Daddy was off doing whatever he did every time he walked out on us.
    I feel like I’m standing in front of a firing squad blindfolded and waiting for the click of the trigger. What secret has my sister been keeping all these years?
    Gina’s expression suddenly deepens. The cool, glassy shield is gone. “Daddy told Mama the Townley boy’s eyes were as big as baseballs when he saw our truck coming at him that day. Daddy didn’t even see Laura in the truck, so she must’ve been bent over in the floorboard right before the accident happened, but he knew Luke saw who it was . . . and Luke knew our truck, anyway. Daddy and Mama were both afraid that if Luke did make it through all the surgeries, he’d