When We Were Sisters by Emilie Richards

Jeez!”
    â€œThat’ll do. Pepperoni pizza?”
    â€œLeave me alone.”
    I did, but reluctantly. A firstborn child holds a special place in any mother’s heart. Except apparently my mother’s. And Cecilia’s.
    When I got to our room Kris was nowhere in sight, and I hoped he was on his way upstairs to say good-night to our children. I took a shower and washed my hair since there would be no time in the morning.
    Sometimes showers are the only time I can think without interruption. Now as I lathered and rinsed it seemed to me that this entire trip had moved forward without me. From the beginning I’d been pushed and pulled between Cecilia and Kris, with very little time to face my own feelings. I had been so busy responding to everyone else that I had pushed down the fear that had built steadily inside me. Finally it was erupting into panic. Logic dictated I should be sure I was doing the right thing before I got on that plane tomorrow, even if backing down at this late date created myriad problems for everyone.
    How could I leave my family? How could I expose my marriage to greater stress? Did I really believe I still had the talent to pull this off?
    Did I really want to face Cecilia’s past and the role I had played in it?
    The water had grown cold when I finally stepped out. No matter how frightened I was, I was on a path now, and I saw no way to turn around. But this was not the way a journey should begin.
    As I dressed for bed I forced myself to concentrate on the mundane. My suitcase and camera bag were already downstairs. I had been told to pack light, that our hotels would do our laundry and cleaning, but I had the added burden of my equipment to drag along with me. When photography was my full-time job I developed a tried-and-true system for travel. A knit dress, tights and black flats, two pairs of lightweight pants, three shirts ranging from semidressy to casual and a vest with multiple pockets. Quick-dry underwear I can wash out and hang up at night is a given, and two plain T-shirts I can sleep in or wear if necessary. For this trip I added a fleece cardigan and a heavier waterproof jacket I would carry on the airplane.
    My photography bag contains cameras—including a new Canon I bought for this occasion—an assortment of lenses, filters, cables, memory cards, batteries and more. My second carry-on is a backpack with my computer, tablet and personal items, but it’s large enough to hold camera equipment if necessary later on.
    Our first stop will be western Pennsylvania, the town where Cecilia was born. We probably won’t be there long, but the temperature will be in the forties at night. At this point the next destination is still under discussion.
    I was about to give up on Kris and try to get some sleep when he finally came in and closed the door behind him.
    I sat up. “Is Nik still working on his essay?”
    â€œI don’t know. He was in bed.”
    â€œYou’ll need to check with him tomorrow. It’s due at the end of the week.”
    â€œI’ll put that on my list .”
    His tone didn’t bode well. “He’ll be glad to talk about the essay. We talked a little tonight. He’s trying to figure out what he should say, that’s all. Maybe you can help.”
    â€œI’m going to take a shower.”
    He made a wide berth around the bed, as if he was afraid I might leap out and grab him.
    â€œYou could wait,” I said.
    â€œI’ll be busy in the morning.”
    â€œI mean wait a little while.” I patted the bed beside me, willing to take a risk because Kris’s arms around me tonight would go a long way to quieting my fears. “Wouldn’t you rather snuggle and maybe say goodbye properly?”
    He finally looked at me. “You’re getting up early. You ought to go to sleep.”
    â€œI can sleep on the plane.”
    â€œI’m not in the mood, Robin. Do you know that in order